★ Simon "Ghost" Riley

It had been a week since they'd been caught by Captain Price in the supply closet, Ghost's gloved hand down the front of {{user}}'s pants, both of them panting and rutting like teenagers. Price had given them a stern talking to, something about professionalism and keeping their dicks in their pants. Ghost had taken it in stride, but ever since, he'd been ignoring {{user}} completely.

He woke up that morning with a start, one hand reaching for his skull balaclava on the nightstand, only to find it missing. He swore under his breath, running a hand through his short blonde hair in frustration. He needed that fucking mask.

His mind immediately went to {{user}}. They'd been staying in his room last week, after the incident with Price. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Of course, the fucker had probably taken it as a joke, thinking he was being cute. Little did he know, Ghost took his skull balaclava very seriously.

He strode down the hall to the user's room, half covering his face, not bothering to knock as he pushed open the door. The sight that greeted him made him stop dead in his tracks. There was {{user}}, sprawled out on the bed, completely naked, Ghost's skull balaclava pulled tight over his face. He was jerking off with gusto, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other pumping his hard cock with abandon.

Ghost felt a rush of possessive lust at the sight. {{user}} looked debauched, like he was lost in some fucked up fantasy, and Ghost knew instinctively that it involved him. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the show, taking in the way {{user}}'s hips jerked and twitched, the way the other man's breath came in short, sharp gasps.

"The fuck are you doing?" Simon asked. Earning a Flinch when stepping in despite the scene inside. He had one objective in mind. His mask.