Upon the Gaze (Ghostface X Reader 18+)

CHAPTER 20 - Secrets Are for the Woods

When we arrived home, Ghostface helped me carry the groceries in. I felt like being playful as I said, "Thank you Johnny," while I gently bumped my elbow into him.
"Don't mention it, beautiful." He responded, and I immediately felt like I lost that little play-fight we had going of being coy, as he immediately made me blush with his comment. He carried the bulk of the groceries in, but I carried my own weight in bags so we didn't have to make more than one trip. It was just one of those things father's instilled in you, that there could only be one trip, because more than one would be far too inconvenient. I paused for a moment unlocking the door, remembering my father was in the hospital.
"You okay?" Ghostface asked, taking notice.
"Yeah, just a little tired from today." I responded, trying not to worry him more than I may already had with our run in with Calvin. He proceeded to pester me for answers in a caring way as I unlocked the door, and we carried in the groceries.
"Come on, what's on your mind?"
I huffed slightly as I lifted the bags onto the kitchen island. "It's nothing, I just remembered I needed to get something done is all." I forced a smile but it seemed to be convincing enough for him as he stopped pressing for clues to my moment at the door. Though I knew he probably could see through it, he likely was trying not to upset me. He was a killer but regardless of that, he seemed to be a caring individual in that way.
We put all the groceries away, and as we did so, talked about what we should make for dinner, as now we had many options. Ghostface had implied that he wasn't much of a cook, so I decided it would be up to me. I chose for us lemon oven baked chicken. It was something my mother used to make often while I was growing up, while her and my father were still together. I pulled out an apron, hanging behind the pantry door. I liked wearing it while cooking or baking, even if it did feel a bit old fashioned. I wrapped the white apron around my waist, and began pulling the ingredients back out of the fridge.
"Cute." Ghostface commented, leaning against the kitchen island, staring at me.
"What? You mean this old thing?" I asked, pulling the apron from the side with me thumb. "Yeah, looks nice on you. Would look even better if it was the only thing on you~" he teased, and I tried my hardest not to let red take over my face, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly. He giggled slightly and gave me an apology. He watched intently as I cooked.
"You seem like a good cook. Who taught you?" I smiled at the compliment and replied, "Well, my mother was a good cook. Gradually I had to start making dinners for myself, even while I was still living at home, so I guess I got pretty decent at it."
Once again, the thought of your father came into your head. Thinking back on all the nights he wouldn't come home until late, when it was just you and him stuck in that cramped apartment. He was the kind of man to expect the women to do all things for him, so when my mother left, there was no dinners at the table. I refused to cook for the man, and often had to bite my tongue when we got into slight spats over it, trying to avoid calling him a deadbeat. He did work hard, but he wasn't deserving of my praise let alone my dinner. I had gotten a job at sixteen so the arguments over food would stop, but it eventually was replaced with the reverse of it. Now he felt entitled to what I bought, and told me that it would suffice as the equivalent of rent for me to buy the groceries.
The smile I had while cooking, shifted to more of a frown. Goddamn, I really wished the man would just die already. I wondered about his condition while he laid in that hospital bed. I wondered if my mother had gone to see him since she spoke with me. Though I thought likely not. I was now simply standing in the kitchen in front of the oven as it cooked, and with a serious expression as I thought. I heard Ghostface sigh, and he said, "You know, if you're going to look like that, you gotta tell me what's on your mind." I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at him. I sighed myself, seeing his concerned expression. "Sorry, it's really not a big deal. Just something my mother told me." I really didn't feel like getting into a conversation with him about my father, so I tried to ease my furrowed brow, and took another deep breath to loosen my tension. Ghostface came up behind me and began rubbing my shoulders. It felt quite nice, and I couldn't remember the last time someone had done so to me, let alone if anyone ever had the more I thought about it. I closed my eyes and eased into him. I heard him give a quick chuckle, and he leaned down and gave my neck a couple pecks as he massaged my back.
"You've got quite a few knots. You must be pretty stressed." I laughed slightly myself, "Can't be anymore stressful than being a killer." I joked. He laughed lightly along with me, then gently tugged my arm.
"Come here." He said softly, guiding me to the living room. I took off the apron and placed it on the kitchen island, then followed him. He gestured for me to lay down on the couch, so I did. He instructed me to flip over, so I did. I felt his weight gently press into me as he straddled me slightly, and began massaging my back. I let out a peaceful exhale, and relaxed as he continued to press his knuckles and rub his thumbs into the grooves along my spine. It felt as though years of stress and tension were being released as he moved his hands up and down.
"Wait here just a second," he said as he rose off of me. He jogged up the stairs, and it sounded like he had gone into the bathroom. I waited curiously. He came back down and I heard him open some kind of container. I was still in a relaxed state so I didn't even bother to open my eyes. I felt his pressure behind me again, and then he started to lift my shirt up on my back. I waited quietly to see what he was doing. I heard him fiddling with something and then felt a slightly cold substance on my back as his started massaging into me again.
"Lotion?" I questioned in a low voice.
"Mhm. It makes the massage ten times better, believe me." He wasn't wrong. I didn't think it could get any better than before but it did. His hands glided along my back, and I became so relaxed I was almost weaving in and out of consciousness. I was woken slightly at the feeling of my bra being unclipped. I felt my heart beat quicken but tried to steady it while thinking, he likely did it so he wouldn't get lotion all over it. His hands continued to rub, and gradually they seemed to explore more down my sides, and up my neck. He bent downward, and kissed my head. I turned slightly, to look at him. He sneakily slid his hand up, and around my side, drifting his hand underneath my bra he firmly, yet gently, grabbed one of my breast. I gasped slightly at the action, and he smiled against my cheek as he began to fondle me gently. I hummed in response, still feeling relaxed but gradually growing aroused by his new actions. He flipped me over so I was now laying on my back. He rose me up slightly and removed my shirt, then pulled my bra off, exposing my chest to him. It still seems as though no matter how many times these amorous interactions occured, I still couldn't help but blush. I wasn't feeling as shy as the previous times I had been exposed to him though. I believe he took notice of that as well as he said,
"Starting to feel more comfortable around me?" I smiled at him slightly and said,
"I've always been comfortable around you. I just didn't know how to react to you before." Though the statement sounded contradictory, it was true. My anxiety stemmed from societal norms, rather than who he was. He leaned in once more and kissed me softly, as he ran his fingertips in little circles over more chest. As the kiss grew more passionate, he began to grope my breast and lightly pinch at my nipples. I moaned softly to his actions, and his tongue glided along my lip before entering my mouth. One of his hands began to trail down, and his fingers tucked under both the waistband of my pants and underwear. Just as he was nearing the in-between of my legs, the oven alarm went off. We pulled away, and looked at each other. With a slightly feverish face I said, "Uh...dinners ready?"