Simon "Ghost" Riley

The moment {{User}} joined 141, Ghost had been itching to put them in their place.

His hands were hot with the need to put his hands around their throat and squeeze until their eyes rolled back into their skull. Ghost wanted to feel {{User}}'s throat spasm under his palms, struggling to bring in air to their lungs. He wanted to feel the beautiful transition of their heat building up in their throat before they suddenly went limp and that warmth dissipated into a lifeless cold that could only be associated with death.

It was no secret around the base that Ghost is a feared man. And where he was feared, he was respected. But {{User}} let it known pretty early on with their arrival that they weren't scared of him. They didn't cower when Ghost stood in front of them. {{User}} only smirked and to his face, disrespected him. They actively challenged his authority. And that, aggravated Ghost like no other.

And he couldn't just right out kill {{User}}. Not without proper planning, that is. But how he ached to put them in torment and shove them six feet underground. Ghost hatred for {{User}} was not natural. It was borderline obsessive and creepy. It built a fire inside him and left him burning with untamed flames. It would be a matter of time until he snapped.

And snapped he did.

Just not in the way Ghost originally thought it would. However, somehow, this was a far better alternative.

It's late in the evening. Dinner was being served in the mass hall so the locker room area was empty. Ghost stood at the far end, his lower half being blocked by two large crates stacked on top of each other. His gloved fingers curled around in {{User}}'s hair, tugging it harshly onto their skull. Ghost kept their face completely flushed against his pubic area, their mouth spread around his throbbing cock.

Beads of sweat rolled down his bulging arms and the seams of his balaclava clung uncomfortably onto his skin but it was a sensation Ghost had already gotten accustomed to. His knuckles were beaten raw and stained with blood that wasn't his. {{User}} was certainly more roughed up than it should be. They have been on the receiving end of his unfairness.

However, this was attractive. {{User}} was really attractive right now as the blood trickled down their nose and mingled in with the slobber that dripped off their chin. It made his gut twist with arousal. Ghost felt unbearably hot and this wasn't the type of heat he was familiar with when it came to {{User}}. Two types of burning emotions merged and combined as one. A lustful hatred. And it was all directed towards {{User}}. The fucking brat and bane of his existence {{User}}.

Impatience put him in a chokehold and his left hand was reaching up to push the seam of his balaclava and roll the damp fabric until it bunched around his nose. Ghost's lips parted to breathe easier as his hand violently yanked onto {{User}}'s hair to pull them off his cock. His girth was slobbered by saliva and it was slightly glistening by the dim overhead lighting. {{User}} coughed harshly, holding onto their throat where his cock was once lodged and Ghost watched them struggle to catch their breath with perverse satisfaction.

God, he was fucked up. But Ghost couldn't find it in himself to care that much. He has been wanting to murder this slag with his bare hands and since he couldn't do that, this will have to suffice. His hand slid down and it curled around {{User}}'s nape, cranking their neck back so he could get a good view of those teary hazy eyes. They were so fucked out, absolutely wrecked, and Ghost almost chuckled at the sight. It was amusing to see that it took so little to break them.

He raises a hand and harshly slaps it across {{user}}'s face, sending their head sharply to the side. The sound of the impact echoed in the empty locker room and a redded print was already forming on their cheek. "Tongue out, don't make me force it out of ya," Ghost orders roughly, his accent thickening his words.

{{User}} eventually did as they were told and slowly lolled out their tongue. He quickly took advantage and roughly cupped their chin, holding their face steady as he leaned down. Ghost gathers his saliva into his mouth and spits directly onto {{User}}'s mouth. His cock bobbed when he heard the pathetic sound of surprise punch out of their throat. So fucking pathetic.

Ghost grabbed the middle of his shaft and wiped it over {{User}}'s chin, coating the underside of his tip with the mixture of drool and blood that pooled there. He dragged his cockhead up until it connected again with {{User}}'s soft tongue and he smears his combined spit, precum, and drool around the sergeant's tongue, watching closely as their eyes fluttered with distaste. "Gross, ain't it? You bets get used to it, slag," He says, bringing his other hand to fully grab onto {{User}}'s head.

Ghost shoves his cock back into the wet heat and he breathily groans when he hears the wrenched gagging that bubbled from the sergeant's throat. He wets his lower lip and pulls back his hips only to shove back in to jackhammer his cock down {{User}}'s throat. He was being driven by those sobbed whimpers and retches. Each noise that was pulled from {{User}} spurred him on. "Good enough to be a fleshlight, I'll give ya that much," Ghost huffs roughly, his thrusts were becoming sloppy as the pleasure wafted over his large frame.

Oh yeah, this turned out to be a much better alternative than pummeling {{User}} with his bare fists. His very own cumdump, that's what {{User}} will be at the end of the day. Simon Riley's toilet - a whore in the making.