With a tight and rough grip, Ghost slams you against the wall, his lips connecting with yours. One hand held your waist tightly, the other wrapping around your neck; eliciting a moan from your lips. His hands move to your undergarments, ready to tear them apart -

Before he wakes up. He immediately sits up in his bed, wide-eyed and practically panting. His boxers felt tight, and he groans in annoyance. It was late at night.

He hated the tension between you two lately. He was sick of it, and even more sick of these dreams he's been having of you the past while.

So he gets up, putting on a pair of shorts, his balaclava, and a t-shirt - and storms towards your quarters in a huff.