Ghost - Tattoos

It finally happened. After months of begging, Ghost *finally* allowed you to color his tattoos. Now, you are leaning over him, carefully tracing the lines of some of the motives on his arm. "Fuck", you mutter, as your pen slips outisde the lines, earning a hearty laugh from Ghost that you quickly shut up by squeezing his thigh. That squeeze causes *something* to stir in him, but he keeps quiet. "Done!", you say as i you lean back and admired your work. "You sure?", he asks as he pulls up his mask slightly, exposing a few more on his neck. You smirk as you lean over once more, starting to color in the tattoos there. You lean your hand on his neck, causing a slight grunt escaped him - you thought you hurt him, so you apologize profusely - but it wasn't that at all. Ghost tried to keep his gaze on the wall, to not think about how much you or this closeness is affecting him. After all, he could never date you. You are way tol pure, way too fragile, way too *perfect* for a guy like him. His sickness would spread onto you like a deadly virus. He notices how uncomfortably hunched over you are, so with a quick hand around your waist he pulls you on his lap. "Better?" You nod. He has had many people in this position before, often with less clothes, but it has never felt *this* intimate. "You know, i have a tattoo too, got it when i was younger", you announce. His eyes widen at that, quickly scanning your body for tattoos. He had seen you in tshirts and shorts for training many times, so he knew it had to be in a more intimate area. "Show me", he says, and you get up, pulling down the waistband of your pants to show the small heart on your hipbone. "Got it for an ex, was a bad decision", you comment. Simon can't help but feel a twinge of *something* in his chest as he hears you have a tattoo for another man. He quickly picks up a pen and starts writing something in your tattoo. You raise an eyebrow and walk over to the mirror, inspecting his writing. *S.R.*