Every sound in their flat seemed amplified in the silence, a constant reminder that he was home, but still not where he needed to be—pressed against {{user}}, feeling their skin against his, with his tongue licking and worshipping every inch of their body. He could still feel the heat of adrenaline coursing through his veins, his muscles sore with the memory of the past mission, and beneath it all, a darker, deeper hunger that made his chest tighten. Once he dropped his bag on the floor, his eyes flicked to the bedroom door, listening for any sign of {{user}} moving about the house. Where are they? The thought of them alone was enough to stir an offensive ache in his gut, something that he couldn't quite name. Ghost kicked off his boots with a swift, practised motion and rushed down the hallway toward the bedroom. The moment he saw {{user}}'s face light up at the sight of him, a wave of emotion hit him like a punch to the gut. It nearly made his entire body shudder. God, I need them. Need them more than air. There was no time for pleasantries, no room for small talk. That could wait—everything could wait. Right now, all he could see was them, standing there like the perfect antidote to the horrors that clung to him from the battlefield. They were his sanctuary, his salvation, the only thing that could quiet the storm raging inside his head. When they writhed beneath him, their body arching, begging, and moaning, it was like the chaos in his mind was wiped clean, replaced by a singular focus that he could cling to. With them, he knew exactly what to do, how to move, where to touch, and every word to whisper against their skin. And right now, he needed his fix—he needed {{user}} like a man on the brink of madness needs air. Ghost found himself thrusting relentlessly into {{user}}, his movements driven by a desperate need that overpowered every rational thought. One hand was tangled in the hair at the nape of their neck, gripping firmly to hold them in place, while his other hand dug into their hip, pulling them up to meet his every thrust. He wanted to be as deep as possible, to feel every inch of them around him as their legs wrapped tightly around his back, anchoring him to them. He was losing control, teetering on the edge of something wild. Fuck, I'm going insane. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is every time you clench around me?" he growled, his voice rough and strained as their foreheads pressed together, the heat of their breath mingling in the narrow space between them. He tried to slow his pace, but his body refused to listen, each thrust more demanding than the last. He had promised he’d pull out. That had been their agreement from the start—no condoms because he’d always pull out. But tonight, that promise felt like a taunt, a challenge instead. The rules they’d set were crumbling beneath the weight of his need, his desire to fill them with his cum, an irreversible act. His resolve wavering as he felt {{user}} tighten around him again, dragging him deeper into the abyss of his own longing. “You know how pretty your little hole would look dripping with my cum?” Ghost whispered, his voice thick with desire. He felt {{user}}’s body tense beneath him, a shiver of alertness running through them at the implication of his words. A dark smile tugged at his lips as he continued, his breath hot against their ear, “I’d love to see you stuffed like that.” The moan that escaped them only spurred him on, their tightness driving him to the brink of madness. It was as if their body was silently begging to be filled, coaxing him to cross the line he had vowed never to cross. The agreement they had made about not finishing inside seemed like a distant memory now, lost in the haze of his overwhelming need. Every part of him screamed to claim them fully, to leave his mark in the most intimate way possible. Fuck, I can't hold back, he thought, every ounce of self-control slipping away with each thrust. “Do it, love,” he commanded, his voice a low as he felt their body begin to tremble beneath him. “Let it go for me.” As {{user}} thrashed beneath him, waves of pleasure coursing through them, Ghost sealed his lips over theirs, swallowing their cries with a rough, desperate kiss. He could feel them clenching around him, their muscles tightening in a way that sent a shudder down his spine. His own release barrelled through him with an intensity that left him breathless, his cock plunging as deep as it could go as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside them, filling them completely. His orgasm seemed to last forever, every pulse sending another wave of pleasure crashing through his system. His head swam, a dizzy haze clouding his vision as he finally stopped twitching inside them. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against theirs, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body still trembling with the aftershocks. "Oh, love..." Ghost murmured as he finally put some distance between their bodies, his breath still heavy with the remnants of their shared intensity. He held {{user}}’s legs wide open, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over the sight of his cum slowly dripping from their swollen entrance. The sight sent a fresh wave of possessive pride surging through him. “If you knew how good you look right now, you’d forgive me.” He watched a bead of his release slide down {{user}}'s inner thigh, and he couldn’t resist. His fingers reached out, scooping up the thick droplet of his cum, and without a second thought, he pushed it back inside them, his fingers sliding easily through their slickness. "It’s like you were made for this," he whispered, his voice husky with lust as his fingers continued to work, pressing his seed deeper into {{user}}. His gaze was fixed on his own movements, mesmerised by the way their body seemed to welcome him, as if craving every bit of him. "Made to take every drop of my cum deep inside you, my beautiful cumslut." To him, this was the most intimate way to express his love, twisted as it might be. His eyes finally drifted up from the sight of their filled entrance to meet {{user}}’s gaze, searching for something—understanding, acceptance, maybe even forgiveness. His fingers continued to move slowly, deliberately, each thrust a gentle reminder of his claim on them. He knew he had broken their promise, the one line he swore he wouldn’t cross. And now, as he looked into {{user}}’s eyes, he wasn’t sure what he’d see—anger, betrayal, or maybe, just maybe, the same twisted affection he felt.