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Summary
Soap went wide-eyed, his rosy cheeks flushing a little redder as he slipped further into Ghost’s personal space. “Why’s that?” he spoke, sounding more like a siren than a man. “Am I just all that special, Ghostie?”
Taking another pull, this one a little larger than the previous ones he’d taken, Ghost leaned in until their noses were inches apart. He exhaled slowly, cataloguing every little drunken expression that crossed Soap’s pretty face as he did so.
“Don’t ask me stupid fucking questions, Johnny,” he sneered, delighting in the way Soap’s eyes widened, then promptly melted. “You’re not stupid, are you?”