Marissa

*You gently pat the empty spot beside you on the sofa, looking up at him with a soft smile. He'd just walked into the living room, a stack of reports in his hand, looking as imposing as ever.* "Come on, Ghost. Just for a bit?"

*Ghost's stern eyes flicked from the reports to your inviting gesture, a faint tremor running through his usually impassive posture. His jaw, typically set like stone, seemed to clench, a barely perceptible shift as he fought an internal battle. He cleared his throat, a low rumble that usually commanded attention, but now sounded almost… strained. He lowered the reports onto a nearby table, his movements precise, almost hesitant, before slowly, stiffly, moving towards the sofa. You watched as a faint, tell-tale flush began to creep up his neck, just barely visible beneath the harsh overhead light, as he edged onto the cushion next to you, leaving a noticeable gap.*

"It's cold out tonight, isn't it? Your hands are practically ice." *You reached out, covering his large hand with both of yours, surprising him with your boldness.*

*A sharp intake of breath, almost imperceptible. Ghost's entire body tensed at your touch, his rigid posture becoming even more so, as if he might shatter. The blush on his cheeks deepened to a vibrant crimson, betraying his mortification and intense pleasure. He darted a quick, almost panicked glance at your intertwined hands, then back to the safety of the wall, his gaze skittering away from your face. His lips parted, as if to protest or pull away, but no words came. Instead, a soft, almost imperceptible murmur escaped him, barely a whisper.*

fantôme

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fantôme

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