The Medic || Ghost [Simon Riley] Story.

The Mask...

Ghost

Before I even have the chance to rip this fuckers windpipe out, Alejandro shouts in his best Colonel voice for his men to gather around. I suspect he wants to chin them on their escapades.
The soldier eyeing Nash with a salacious smirk etched on his lips doesn't flinch as the soldiers rush to the ops corner. Instead he takes a step forward, his chest less than a centimetre away from hers.

That's it, I'm going to kill him. I take a step forward fist flexing by my side, tickling the side pocket where I keep my favourite knife, ready to commit a heinous brutal murder on Casanova. When her autumn green eyes flash to me.

"Lieutenant Ghost," She pulls away from him advancing on me with worry creased in her brow.

Romeo drops his head, I see the little defeated lift of his lips. One nil fucker. "Staff Sergeant Nash, thank you." His gaze drops down to the bandage on his hand.

"Any time," She gives him a sweet smile, it has me curling my lip in disgust under this mask.

I hate the chokehold this newcomer has on me. I'm finding it impossible to navigate my feelings around her. It's been a long time since I've been attracted to someone as much as I am to Nash. And that fucking infuriates me. The last thing I need is a reason to think about the future, to picture myself in something other than tactical gear. Fucking pumpkin picking or whatever shit Americans do. I don't need this.

My gaze shifts down to Nash who stands just as close to me as fucking Duan Juan was to her.

"Hi," She grins softly, the amber flecks decorating the green in her eyes renders me useless.

She's waiting for me to say something in return, to tell her why I came in here and I can't very well tell her it was because I was riddled with jealousy towards the man making her laugh like a school girl with a crush. I can't tell her that.

She scans my body, "You're not in here with an oozing penis are you?"

"I've got better things to do that fuck some strange whore in the middle of Las Almas, and anyway when would I have had the fucking time?" I snap, a little to quickly.

Her shoulders jerk, "Relax Ghost, it was a joke." She turns away heading towards her pack. My hand reaches out, fingers curling around her wrist pulling her back to me.

"I don't like it." Grunting as I tighten my grip.

She lets out a breathy little scoff, her sweet breath hitting my chin, "Jokes? Noted. Wont happen again LT."

Fuck, this woman cripples me.

"No, I don't like this." Flashing my eyes between us.

"Oh, okay." Her voice trails off, part confusion, part hurt. The doll like smile drops from her face, replaced by sadness.

I'm the cause of that and now I lowkey hate myself.

"You bother me. Really fucking bother me."

She nods, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, "I'm sorry."

"No, fuck that. Don't be fucking sorry, own it. You really fucking bother me, you are borderline the most obnoxiously nice person I have ever met and it bothers me."

A short sharp breath pulls into her nose, "I'm sorry, Ghost. I'll stop."

"Don't you fucking dare." I spit, pulling her against my chest, "You're under my skin, Nash, embedded there now."

"I don't...I don't understand."

Myla

Short almost panicked breaths, thats all I manage. I'm not sure what's happening, or how it came to this.

I bother him.
I'm under his skin.

Negative connotations surround his words, but his actions are conflicting.

"I don't...I don't understand." My words tremble as he stares down at me. His chest is heaving so deeply.

I hear him swallow, "I don't want you to stop bothering me." He grunts, "I want you to bother me in a restaurant, in the pub, fucking... anywhere. Just keep bothering me."

I feel my lips part, part shock, part desire to be kissed. Then I remember his mask, I almost forget he wears it. Like its a physical part of him.

Then I remember where we are, Las Almas. The secrets and the lies. The vagueness surrounding their mission.

The grip he has on my wrist loosens and he moves his hand to my cheek instead, "Whats your name?"

Brushing small half circles under my eye, I feel him smile, "Simon." He answers right away, "Simon Riley."

I think it was nerves that caused it, but a tear slips free from my eye and rolls down. Ghost massages it into my skin.

His fingers continue to sweep featherlight against my face, his hand roaming down gripping the side of my neck, his thumb traces the curves of my lips. Such a beautiful soft motions. The urge to break every rule for him is overwhelmingly intense.

My throat dries as I prepare to ask my next question, "What are we doing here?"

Please answer, please tell me.

Thumb stopping right in the middle of my pout, he shakes his head from side to side. "It's better if you don't know."

"Why?" I snap back in an instant. I feel his frustration in the way his hand moves back to my cheek. His free hand reaches around the back of his head, gripping the black fabric at the top of his skull.

"Stop."

He pauses his movement, "Why?" Head cocking to the side.

I don't have anything to say, well I do but I don't have the balls to say it aloud. Him compromising by showing his face, it feels intimate. And we're not there yet. If he can't be honest about whats going on with a mission that I too am risking my life for, then I don't want to see his face. It's as selfish as that and I won't apologise for it.

I reach up and pull his hand away, lacing my fingers with his. "Maybe when this is over, but not now." I lift my eyes to his.

"Yes now," He almost growled, "I can't give you anything else."

"Well then, I can't..." he cuts me off by grabbing my hands.

His eyes blazing, "Please Myla," he pleads, "I can't tell you what is happening right now but I can give you this." Talking about showing me his face.

"If you won't accept me as part of the team, fully, then there is no point."

Admitting defeat he drops my hands, and it breaks me. "Well alright then." He grunts.

I wanted so badly to kiss him, to feel the warmth of his lips against mine. To know his taste.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, gently moving away from him.

His huge arm snakes around my back pulling me into him once more, palm resting on the small of my back. He tilts his head, dipping down.

"Do it." He orders, and as though we are in sync, I turn up the bottom of the mask to expose his lips. "Do it." Repeating with ferocity, his lips press together tightly.

Its against every army regulation. Every single one. But I reach up, and lightly press my lips against his. I hear a satisfied grumble in his chest.

"When this is all over," he speaks against my mouth, "you'll understand why I couldn't, why we couldn't tell you."

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A/N:
FINALLY!!!
A kiss.
I've been making you guys wait for it.