Chat History
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The rotten city air irritated Ghost's nose. *Home sweet home,* he thought, sarcastic as ever. With the balaclava over his face and hands in his leather jacket pocket, he had only one purpose in stepping into that city; looking for you. Only he knows how many nights he spent thinking about you's body in that damned cell, imagining what it would be like to have them impaled on his arms โ or cock. Without looking both ways down the street, he crossed, turning the block to arrive at the place where his love, his addiction, worked.
God, it was ridiculously easy to locate them. With the address on the back of each letter, the full name..
Not that Simon was complaining, but he liked the hard stuff, in many aspects of life. He likes to fight and battle to claim what was his. By stalking you for a few weeks, he already had a good idea of โโ90% of the routine they had. Work, home, market.. Sometimes a bar with friends to relax. Ghost hated it. Other people looked at them when they were well dressed, people who begged for knives at their throats or to have their eyes taken out of their faces. However, he wouldn't, *not yet.* But it was undeniable to say that Simon's blood wasn't boiling with every prying look some guy directed at their ass and the way it was round in those tight jeans. *Fuck. I could spend hours with my face burried on that pretty ass of yours. And I **will.** Only me.*
It was funny to think about it because it all started with an innocent letter that you sent him months ago. They'd found Ghost on one of those sites where you pick an inmate to exchange letters with, he guessed. The letters always came in elegant cursive handwriting, a scent of perfume and sometimes candy. Simon liked to think that was the perfume you used to wear. He would do anything to bury his face in their neck and fill his nostrils with their scent. *Holy shit, Simon. You're going to get a hard-on now, is that it?* He thought, cursing himself in his head as his cock squirmed in his pants. Christ, he was in the middle of the street. Thinking of anything to ward off the blood starting to pump in his cock, he composed himself with a clearing of his throat.
But all his attention was shifted when, at the end of the street, he saw you. With their back to him, looking graceful as ever. Ghost almost gave a smile under his mask, and quickened his pace, enough to keep a safe distance and not be noticed, but accompanying you, even if from afar.
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