Chapter Text
They were in a seedy industrial estate, looking for intel about the locations of a shady figure that Laswell had pointed them to. It was fairly straightforward, as far as these things usually went - maybe even a little bit boring, if Soap was being honest.
And hot as hell. He mopped the sweat from his brow with the back of his glove, grimacing at the wet sheen.
He was guiding Ghost through a maze of dangerous rooms in a seedy old warehouse, complete with a contingent of goons suspiciously armed to the teeth in every corner.
Watching Ghost’s little figure through the CCTV he’d tapped into almost made him feel a little nostalgic.
“You’re like my little video game character,” Soap said cheerfully, eyes darting around the screen for any hidden danger. “One on your right, just up the hall.”
Ghost dispatched them quickly, and Soap had to resist the urge to sigh in satisfaction. He truly should not find his smooth and deadly grace as attractive as he did. “Nice one, Lt. Another behind the partition, he’s on the move.”
Quick as a flash, their throat was cut, and Ghost continued on his merry way.
Pointing out another target, he was hit with a sudden idea.“Suppose we should swap and put you on the monitors one day instead, could literally be playing ‘Simon Says’ then, that’d be brilliant.”
“Oh for fuck -” Ghost grunted, as he snapped the neck of an unsuspecting guard, “For fuck’s sake, Soap, shut up.”
Soap did shut up.
He drummed his fingers on the counter impatiently, chin in hand.
For all of five seconds.
“Aye so, did you wanna know about the guy around the corner, or am I still keeping quiet?”
Ghost huffed a tiny laugh, and Soap frowned, sure he’d imagined the sound. He eyed the ageing systems with scepticism, before drifting his gaze back to the screen.
“Don’t think you’ve ever been able to stay quiet for more than 5 seconds in your life,” Ghost muttered quietly, palming a wicked looking blade in his hand as he crept forward.
Soap allowed the words to spill out of himself before he’d thought of any potential consequences. “Oh I’ve had my mouth occupied for far longer than 5 seconds before, Lt,” he said flippantly, then winced, rubbing at his temple in mortification.
Well that’s one way to out yourself, Soap.
He watched Ghost stab a man with particular vigour, wincing at the viciousness of his strikes, before he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor. There was no localised sound, but he could tell through the grainy screen that Ghost was breathing harshly, chest heaving up and down as he stood motionless over the body.
“Is that right, Johnny?” He sounded deeply irritated and out of breath, the dismissal clear in his tone.
Swallowing harshly, Soap tried to ignore the growing unease in his gut as he guided Ghost through the deadly maze of the warehouse. He tried to instil his usual levity, but Ghost’s mute, judgemental silence stole the wind from his sails.
Right then, Soap thought, stomach miserably curdled. Mood ruined.
+
Hours later, Soap waited for Ghost by their vehicle, chugging water desperately, feeling far too hot and slick with sweat for someone who’d been sat on their arse looking at a screen.
A light tapping at his shoulder exorcised his soul from his body, and he spun, wide eyed to find Ghost standing right behind him. “What the fuck, Lt,” he wheezed. “Warn a man next time, will ya?”
He watched his dark eyes roll in his sockets. “Pay attention and I won’t need to.” His hands crept up to his neck, and Soap stared, entranced as he slid his hands around the fastenings of his mask.
Christ, he thought wildly. He’s taking it off?
He silently watched him lift it up, fearing if he spoke he’d ruin the moment and Ghost would pettily withhold his face after all.
When he pulled it over his head, Soap blinked at him, astonished. “You’re wearing a fuckin’ balaclava under that get up, too?”
Not just any old balaclava, Soap realised with a little jolt. Ghost’s upturned, pink lips were poking through a hole in the fabric at his mouth, and Soap looked at the revealed flesh reverently.
Not his whole face, he thought dopily. But his lush fucking mouth, at least.
Ghost was still smirking when he presented his upturned hand, nodding at the canteen in Soap’s grasp. He wordlessly passed it over, shivering when their gloved fingers brushed in the transferal.
There was something deeply erotic about those pretty, pink lips wrapped around the rim of his canteen, mere seconds after his own mouth had been there.
I’m light headed from the heat, he assured himself, blinking furiously. I’m not fucking swooning.
He startled when he realised Ghost’s eyes were still locked on him as he drank deeply, not once looking away. Soap watched his throat undulate under the fabric with every swallow, and felt a bolt of something hot and slick pool in his gut. When he pulled off, his lips were wet, and Soap watched in slow motion as his tongue swiped along his bottom lip, chasing the moisture away.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Soap was truly panicking now. He’d gone from disgustingly hot and sweaty to disgustingly hot, sweaty and painfully hard in mere seconds.
I’m staring. He jolted, darting his eyes away for a moment before instantly drifting back to Ghost. But then again, so is he.
Ghost abruptly tossed the canteen back to him, and he fumbled, almost dropping the thing in the dirt. He laughed huskily at his misfortune and sauntered around the truck, Soap watching after him in disbelief.
Mystified and slightly embarrassed, Soap scrambled, heart racing curiously as he followed after him.
++
Soap was losing his mind, and it was all Ghost’s fault.
It had been weeks since he’d first seen his mouth through the balaclava, but his once ignorable, simmering attraction to Ghost had erupted into a raging firestorm of hunger.
If Soap had seen it once and never again, he was certain he wouldn’t be nearly so out of sorts, but the evil fucker had taken to wearing it around base, too.
He was being haunted by a Ghost alright, and it had the most fuckable, smirking mouth known to man.
Soap was being inflicted with inconvenient, raging hardons on a daily basis, and he was sure his circulatory system was being overworked, with all of his blood pooling southward and depriving his brain so fucking often.
Sexually frustrated and dizzy with lust, every night Soap would lock himself in his room, palming his already wet and throbbing cock and throwing himself on his bunk. Foregoing lube, he’d have tight, desperate wanks in the dark, thinking of Ghost’s smug little laugh and his stupid pink mouth, fantasising about what he looked like under that fucking mask and promptly coming hotly all over himself.
Rinse and repeat, Soap would face a new day, and watch Ghost innocuously wrap his mouth around something, and he’d be immediately beelining for his bunk all over again. Be it a water bottle or a banana, if Soap saw that mouth around another similarly phallic object he was going to implode.
What was worse, Ghost’s strict barrier of personal space seemed to have been thrown out the window.
Ghost had taken to creeping up on him constantly, scaring the living daylights out of him, and then blessing him with a painful erection from his sheer proximity.
Soap would be stretching bodily after a sweaty session at the gym, and he’d turn around and find Ghost inches away, lip turned up as his eyes creased down at him. Soap would be so flustered by his simple presence, he’d stare stupidly until the other man walked away.
He wasn’t doing anything particularly egregious, but just having his body and his stupid fucking mouth so close to him was tying up his insides, and taking the air from his lungs.
Soap knew that despite his current physical obsession with the other man, he’d always liked him far more than he should, and those two feelings converging could become very dangerous for him if they didn’t settle down anytime soon.
But after a few weeks of just himself and his hand in the dark, Soap had hit a breaking point.
Soap’s wild attraction to Ghost seemed to show no signs of waning, and he figured he either needed to get laid, or miraculously lose the crush.
He’d had no luck with the latter, but the former he hoped might at least take the edge off. And since he was fairly certain the source of his fantasies would not be up for a roll in the hay, he would have to find someone else.
Dressed in his tightest black tee, and skinny jeans that sat too tight around his muscled thighs, he decided he’d try his luck at the local bar off base.
Christ, not sure I’m up for this. He fingered his mohawk pensively. Might be a bit rusty.
And pretty sure my flirting game has been warped by all of Ghost’s fucked up jokes, too, he thought sullenly. He blinked harshly at himself as an image of Ghost’s smirking eyes flashed in his mind. No, Jesus, not thinking about him again.
He truly hoped he could pull, or he’d have to toss himself off yet again, and probably develop a new callus on his hand in the process. Or worse, chafe the skin off his prick.
++
It was a clear and black night when Soap finally exited his room, resisting the urge to check his corners for fear he’d be caught.
I’m not doing anything wrong, he insisted hollowly. There shouldn't be too many familiar faces up and about right now anyway.
Of course, he had been painfully close to leaving their living quarters when he came face to balaclava with the star of his depraved fantasies himself, almost colliding with Ghost in the darkened hallway.
Sweet Jesus, anyone but you, he thought with growing horror.
Ghost steadied him with a firm hand to his shoulder and paused as he seemed to take in his unusually dressed down attire. Soap stared back, words curdling in his mouth as he stared into the blackened sockets of his mask.
There it is again. That pink, plush mouth, turning down at the corners as he eyed Soap up and down.
The two were grounded for the moment, stuck in a holding pattern as they awaited Price and Gaz’s return from god knows where, while they did god knows what under Laswell’s clever watch. So they weren’t on duty, and he technically hadn’t been doing anything wrong.
That didn’t mean he wanted Ghost to be aware of his nighttime dalliances, especially when he’d been the motivation to seek it out in the first place.
“Going somewhere, Soap?” he asked blandly, looking at his watch significantly. “The briefing is at 0900 hours.”
“Aye, yeah, was heading out for a little bit,” Soap said, somewhat sheepishly. He made to put his hands in his pockets, before he remembered the bastard things were too bloody tight. Ghost was awaiting further explanation, so he sighed wearily and added, “To the bar ‘round the block.”
Ghost tilted his head ominously, narrowing his eyes. “Drinking before a mission, Sergeant?” The silent, ‘since when do you do that?’ was loud and clear in Soap’s mind.
It would be highly unusual for Soap, but the truth was he’d only planned to have one drink, if any. His main goal had been to hopefully find a broad shouldered lad to bend him over and hopefully make him forget Ghost for at least a few minutes.
“Ah, no,” Soap groused, averting his eyes. “Don’t drink before missions, you know that.”
Ghost stepped closer, forcing Soap to stare up at him to look him in the eyes.
“Then what are you up to?” His voice was a low husk, his eyes inscrutable and searching as they roved over him.
Suddenly this doesn’t seem like such a great idea.
Soap suddenly wondered if it’d be best to go to bed and hope Ghost simply never mentioned this again. He made to pull away, but his shoulder was still being held in a firm grip.
“Tell me.” His tone had all of the flavour of an order, without Ghost actually explicitly pulling rank and making it one.
Soap didn’t want to tell him, but he didn’t want the situation to escalate worse than it already had. He’s forced my hand, the canny bastard.
“Hand not good enough, Johnny?” Ghost whispered suddenly, and Soap jolted.
How does he know? He thought, panicked. The surprised quirk of his mouth told a different story. He was just guessing, and I went and confirmed it.
There was a very specific, crawling feeling creeping along his spine, that he was sure only came with being caught seeking out casual sex by the one you actually wanted all along.
Chest aching, Soap replied, “If it was good enough, I wouldn't be leaving, now would I?” The grip on his arm tightened as Ghost’s eyes shuttered. He looked him up and down once more, and Soap’s skin tingled unpleasantly.
Embarrassed and disappointed, Soap let the words vomit right out of his mouth.
“You always tell me I need to keep my mouth shut, Lt, surely you’re not mad that I’m trying to find someone to help occupy it.”
The moment the words were out, he was suffused with regret.
Shut the fuck up, Soap.
Ghost seemed to freeze, the temperature around them plummeting terribly. If the hope of his idiotic crush being reciprocated was a door, he was sure it was firmly shut now.
He then realised that Ghost was filling the hallway quite impressively with his menacing form, and blocking his only exit.
“So can I go?” Soap asked, giving him an unimpressed look.
Ghost remained completely still, much to his growing irritation.
Fed up and mortified, Soap decided to throw caution to the wind. “Unless you’re offering yourself up as tribute, can you kindly get out of my way,” he said through gritted teeth.
Ghost’s answer was immediate, and staggering.
“If you like.”
“Let me -” Soap had been primed to rant, when his words formed properly in his brain. “What?”
Ghost gazed placidly back. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, and the words slid right down his spine, making him dizzy. “Quid pro quo, Johnny.”
Take care of me? His thoughts were a thin wheeze.
Soap blinked at him, unmoored at the rapid change in trajectory. Hope beat heavily in his chest.
Quid pro quo. The words swirled in his mind. Something for something?
“What do you want?” Soap whispered, voice pitched low and intimate as he leaned forward instinctively.
The smile forming on Ghost’s pretty, pink mouth was slow and dangerous. “The same thing you do.”
Sweet baby Jesus, he wants to get off with me? Soap caught himself quickly. He wants to get off, too. Not with me specifically.
Soap stared at him momentarily, uncertain. God he wanted it, more than anything. But he was worried what casual sex with Ghost might do to his idiotic, fragile little heart. He was already out of his mind for him just from seeing him daily, but being intimate would definitely complicate things.
“On one condition.” Ghost’s voice interrupted his agonising, and Soap looked at him weakly. “You come to me first, if your hand isn’t good enough.”
“What,” Soap spluttered, intrigued and bemused. “Not just tonight?”
“It’s an unnecessary risk, picking up strangers, even for us,” Ghost said blandly.
Risk?
Soap couldn’t help but laugh. “Ghost, it’s a one night stand, not a deadly infiltration.” He raised a pained eyebrow at him. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Take it or leave it, Johnny,” Ghost said shortly. Soap noted his clenching fist with a blink.
This convoluted, casual arrangement was not exactly what Soap had dreamed of in his darkest fantasies, but his shrivelled, desperate heart and hot blood were more than satisfied with his terms.
Ghost watched him silently with lidded, inscrutable eyes.
Soap swallowed, nodding. “Aye, alright then,” he said slowly.
The pleased smile curling Ghost’s lips was shocking to behold, as were his words. “Lead the way then, Johnny.”
Now?
Ghost took a breath of a step closer, until their chests were almost touching. Soap could feel the blood rushing down, his cock filling warmly, and he spun away, overwhelmed. Clearing his voice, he muttered, “Right then, this way.”
Heart thrashing a painful tattoo in his chest, Soap led Ghost silently to his room, resisting the urge to check behind him to see if he was following.
++
When they arrived, Soap stood in the doorway to his room, lips twisted as he considered the lighting situation. The bright fluorescents were far too cold and revealing for his liking, but his lamp would cast a soft, warm light that would indicate a far more romantic coupling than this was sure to be.
Ghost crowded his back in the doorway, a warm hand encircling his flank, causing his cock to jump. “Alright, Johnny?” he rumbled softly.
Soap startled, and made a quick decision. “Aye, one second.” He walked out of his grasp and into the room, turning on the lamp on his bedside. “Could you turn that one off?”
Fuck, I was right, he thought nervously, as a soft gold light filled the space.
The door clicked shut softly, and he turned. Ghost’s towering presence in his room was startling, a real life fantasy coming to life before his very eyes. Having him here, washed in warm light with a faint smile tilting his mouth, stole the breath from his lungs.
Ghost slowly approached, crowding him again, and unceremoniously tugged at the edge of his tight shirt. His huge hands slid under the fabric, and Soap jumped at the feeling of his callused hands wrapping around his bare sides
“Sensitive?” he murmured quietly. His thumbs circled his skin for a moment as he took his fill of Soap, gaze unreadable as he studied his expression.
Christ, what am I doing?
Whatever he saw made him smile slightly, and suddenly his shirt was being tugged up and over his head. Swaying on his feet, he let out a surprised huff when Ghost trailed his hands down his flanks again, before he nimbly unbuttoned and unzipped his fly.
Soap’s mind was so pleasantly empty, he almost missed it when Ghost spoke again. “Take them off, Johnny.”
The words sent a bolt of heat through him, and he immediately obeyed, kicking off his shoes and tugging them down, silently cursing himself for their tightness.
“Those are indecent,” Ghost snickered, trailing a distracting hand around his sides as Soap struggled with them.
“I know,” Soap grumbled. Peeling the pant leg from his shins, he staggered and almost fell, but Ghost curled a muscled arm around him before he did.
Warm in Ghost’s arms, standing in only his pants, Soap stared at his amused eyes and mouth and knew he wouldn’t be surprised with himself if he did pathetically swoon from his dizzying proximity.
Ghost gazed down unashamedly at the damp, tented cotton with a pleased little laugh. “Eager?”
Christ, you don’t know the half of it, Lt, he thought, strained.
“Show me.” Ghost still hadn’t unfurled the arm from around his back, Soap realised distantly. “What was so wrong with your hand, that you needed outside help?”
Soap gaped at him. “You want me to toss off, now?”
The arm around him tightened. “Want to see what you like first,” Ghost said roughly.
Soap shivered slightly, the idea sending a delirious haze over his mind. He didn’t think he liked being watched, but then again, he wasn’t sure he’d ever tossed off in front of anyone else either.
Detangling from his grasp, Soap sat slowly on the bed where it was pressed against the wall. He distantly wondered if the size would fit the both of them, but Ghost’s dark, liquid gaze stole the worry from his brain.
“How’s this any different from what I’ve already been doing?” he grumbled weakly, obediently lowering himself down onto his pillows.
Ghost said nothing, leisurely untying his shoes and steadily watching his prone form. Soap wondered if he’d see Ghost’s body, if not his face, but his hopes were dashed when he knelt heavily on the bed, fully clothed.
“Show me, Johnny,” his voice was a low, husky timbre, and Soap’s lashes fluttered at the noise.
Soap was floating, the edges of his reason feathered and weightless. A slick, heavy heat coiled in his abdomen, and he gasped, overwhelmed.
He’s not even touching me, he thought deliriously. What is wrong with me?
“Should I take those off for you, then?” His darkly delighted voice pouring into his ear lit his blood alight, and his cock jerked obscenely and obviously beneath his pants.
Soap’s breath was tight as he gazed up at him, momentarily at a loss for words.
Don’t think that’s ever happened before.
Licking his lips, he held his breath as Ghost’s hot fingers hooked around his waistband. He slowly pulled downward, and Soap mindlessly raised his hips, allowing the sodden fabric to easily slide down his thighs.
His embarrassingly heavy and wet cock bobbed to his stomach when freed, and Ghost ran his dark eyes over it.
His gaze was almost a physical weight that Soap could feel, and his stomach clenched tightly as he emitted a tiny, breathless little noise, overwhelmed at the feeling.
Ghost’s eyes snapped to his, widening slightly behind the balaclava.
Christ. He bit his lip, brushing the sensitive skin of his neck against the pillow restlessly. I think I do like being watched.
Ghost quickly slipped the pants from his ankles, and then Soap was naked on his back with his fully clothed Lieutenant knelt between his legs.
Ghost’s voice was unusually deep and roughened when he ordered, “Touch yourself, Johnny.”
Oh sweet Jesus. His toes curled, thighs trembling as he spread them slightly wider.
Weightless and harder than he’d ever been in his life, he trailed a slow hand down his chest, breathing hard as Ghost watched his trajectory. The other man licked his lips, shifting slightly on his knees in a move that struck him as unusually restless.
He groaned when he wrapped a hand around himself, surprised and embarrassed by his slick length. Shuddering, he let his eyes fall shut, free hand resting at his sensitive middle as he firmly stroked his cock. The first few slow glides up and down his shaft emitted a filthy, wet noise, and he bit his tongue to stop himself from crying out in pleasure.
“Jesus, Johnny,” Ghost laughed softly, and Soap snapped his gaze to him. Looking between his cock and Soap’s eyes, his voice was soft when he said, “You’re so wet already.”
Soap garbled mindlessly, light spotting bright in his eyes as he arched his back into his sliding fist. “Fuck,” he gasped, staring at him in disbelief. He definitely liked Ghost watching him.
What have you done to me?
“Look at me,” Ghost demanded. Soap hadn’t even realised he’d shut his eyes, but when they darted to Ghost it was almost unbearable, having those shadowed, inscrutable eyes on him.
A warm, callused hand curled around his ankle, and his cock jumped at the touch.
“When were our last checkups, Soap?” The hand on his foot was brushing his skin in a slow circle, and all of his senses were pinpointed to that touch.
He gasped wordlessly, looking at him blankly for a moment.
“Answer me, Johnny.” His voice was deeper and smoother, an undercurrent lurking that he couldn’t discern.
Ghost’s eyes were moving up and down, following the slick motion of his hand as though hypnotised. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The hand on his foot tightened, and he stuttered mindlessly, “Few weeks ago?”
“Who else has had you?” he muttered, fingers encircling his entire ankle.
Ghost shifted forward insistently, the mattress dipping under his bulk. He sat between his spread eagled thighs, watching him calmly as Soap stroked his weeping cock. The fingers on his ankle trailed lightly up his calve and back down again, and his leg tensed under the touch.
“No one.” Shuddering strongly, he admitted, “Just you.”
A Shadow loomed over him. He looked up hopelessly, gaping. Ghost’s stupidly pink, smirking mouth was poking through the balaclava. He was looking down on him like he was small, a tiny spec under his greatness. He’d never felt more vulnerable, splayed out so shamelessly as he was, and it was coiling his insides into thick, hot lava.
“Do you like being watched, Johnny?” Ghost’s voice was rough and uncharacteristically hushed, as though discussing a secret.
“I think so,” he whispered instantly, eyes lidded on those shadowed sockets. Ghost’s grey eyes crinkled, laughing at him.
Pretty eyes.
His cock pulsed a warm line onto his hands, and he moaned softly.
Ghost’s eyes shuttered, watching the slick trail over his wet fingers.
It shouldn’t have been any different, any better - he was just wanking off in his bunk, same as before. Only, the addition of Ghost’s mere presence had driven him to heights he’d never experienced before in his life.
Soap moaned, rubbing his other hand over his sensitive stomach and stroking faster, thighs clenching rhythmically as his release suddenly crested. The hot lava inside was unspooling and boiling, and he arched, crying out -
Ghost snatched his hand away from his cock, tangling their fingers together and pressing them heavily to the sheets.
“Oh God, oh Christ,” he cried, watching his cock jerk ominously for a moment, before it settled in a wet line against his heaving abdomen. His cock was almost purple from the pressure, his head drooling pre-cum, orgasm screaming at the edges of his senses.
He trembled, staring up at Ghost in delirious outrage.
“Did you want to come, Johnny?” he laughed softly, tracing the sensitive join of his thigh and crotch with his thumb. His cock jumped at the touch, and he groaned.
“Was just about to, thanks,” Soap grumbled, blinking hard. “Before you ruined it.”
Ghost hummed thoughtfully. “Thought your hand wasn’t enough?” He was smirking again, but it was softened slightly when Soap felt him stroke a thumb over his wrist soothingly. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”
Soap blinked, looking at their tangled hands in faint confusion, before looking up at him again.
He didn’t want to admit he’d been about to have the most earth-shattering orgasm of his life, just from Ghost looking at him while he touched himself. His ego didn’t need the added boost, and he was sure he’d never hear the end of it.
Their fingers were still intertwined when Ghost unzipped his own fly, nudging Soap’s thighs further apart to invade his space.
Ghost rolled his head on his shoulders and sighed as he freed himself one-handed, licking his lips as he pinned Soap with his lidded stare.
Soap hungrily zeroed in on his cock and sighed happily despite himself, flushing warmly at Ghost’s amused huff.
His cock was better than anything in his wildest daydreams. Long and fat and straining heavily in his big hand, streaked with pre-cum and already so, so wet. Ghost fisted himself tightly and groaned, watching Soap as he rocked slightly into his own grip, coating his hands slickly and emitting a lewd, slapping sound at every pass.
His own cock jerked desperately, and he gripped hard on Ghost’s hand, wide eyed and breathless.
If being watched had set him alight, then watching Ghost sparked a roaring inferno inside.
“Please,” he begged, eyes darting between Ghost’s meaty hand gliding slick and shiny on his cock and his dark, intent eyes.
Ghost groaned, gripping his hand back just as hard. “Like it when you beg, Johnny,” he rumbled, sounding out of breath as he stroked himself.
Not as untouchable as he’d thought, after all.
He watched Ghost’s ministrations greedily, his own abdomen jumping in sympathy with every teasing twist to his tip. Ghost noticed with a husky laugh. “Like to watch, too, do you?”
Christ, yes. Out of his mind with desire, he crept his free hand down his middle, desperate to touch himself, when Ghost snarled, “No, you’re not coming by your own hand tonight.”
Bleedin’ Jesus. He gaped up at him, and Ghost groaned breathlessly back.
Soap gasped when his legs were spread wide, pushed until his outer thighs were flush to the sheets. The pace on Ghost’s cock was lengthening slickly, and he groaned as he lowered his hips, the tip of his cock hovering inches above Soap’s straining length.
“Please, Ghost,” he pleaded, hips rotating mindlessly as he stared into his dark, heavy stare. “Please.”
“So good, Johnny,” he praised roughly, pressing their intertwined hands to Soap’s upturned thigh. His praise licked a fire up his spine, and he writhed, whining softly. “Fucking hell, just look at you.”
Soap opened his eyes weakly, sweat pouring into his eyes, crying out mindless little pleas up into his dark, wild gaze.
He watched Ghost take his own lip between his teeth and gasp, before he abruptly moaned, low and rough. Watching Soap as he panted, he gripped the base of himself and suddenly stroked his velvety head firmly against Soap’s frenulum.
“ Johnny. ”
Soap keened as Ghost pulsed hot, pearlescent ropes onto the underside of Soap’s cock, the thick load coating his sensitive glands deliciously. He could feel himself leaking hotly as Ghost slid the heavy length of himself up and down Soap’s cock, groaning as he rode languidly through the waves of his orgasm.
The mere feeling of Ghost’s heavy length on his, and his warm come pooling on his own cock had brought him to the brink again. “Ghost,” he gasped, high and uncertain, clutching his hand tight and panting heavily.
“Close again?” Ghost murmured, voice low and hoarse from climax. When he nodded back weakly, Ghost smiled, and Soap’s mouth parted at the rare sight. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised, gently pulling his own softening cock away.
Ghost paused as he looked at Soap’s cock, and ran a light finger over his pearly streaked length. “Fuck,” Soap hissed and arched, and Ghost laughed.
“Look good covered in my come, Johnny,” his hot breath suddenly ghosted over his cock, and Soap moaned in disbelief.
“Off yer heid, Lt,” he slurred, tossing his head. Gonna to be the death of me.
Their hands still intertwined, Ghost pinned him with his gleaming eyes, running a hot stripe of his tongue from the root of his cock and up to his tip, licking up his own spend. “Hngg,” Soap garbled, hips jerking up before Ghost pinned a heavy arm over his middle. “Holy fucking Christ, Ghost,” he wheezed, unable to look away.
Ghost lapped at his slit firmly before he wrapped his lips around the tip and slid slowly down, cunning eyes on him as he descended.
Oh god, oh god, Soap cried out as warm heat enveloped him. His stupid pink lips are on my cock.
With his mouth full, Ghost paused at the base, curling his tongue around his underside and moaning softly. “ Ghost,” Soap whined, mind going white as he bucked up ineffectually, pinned by the arm on his abdomen. Soap watched in agony, shivering as his cheeks hollowed under the mask, before pulling up to his glands with firm, steady suction.
Something had shattered inside his mind, and he was pleading shamelessly, eyes locked wide on the steady up and down grip of his shiny lips on his cock. When his head hit the wet softness of his throat, Soap cried out brokenly, grabbing at the arm on his abdomen desperately. Ghost laughed at the noise, and his eyes rolled back as he thrashed his neck against the pillow.
Ghost pulled off with a soft pop, the tip pressed to his pearly coated lips, and blinked slowly at him. “Good, Johnny?”
“Ghost,” he whispered. He’d meant to say yes, but when he tried again, all he could do was repeat his name in a low cry, “Ghost.”
Ghost hummed in satisfaction, and the vibrations made him gasp. “Hmm just like that,” he praised huskily, moving the hand from his middle to give him a few slow glides of his hand. “Wanna hear my name when I drain you dry, Johnny.”
Soap moaned, guttural and low when he slid his mouth down again, hot and sucking as he set a brutal pace up and down his length. Ghost’s hand rubbed circles onto his clenching abdomen, pressing down when he tried to thrust desperately into his mouth.
The soft suction, the arm pinning him and the thumb circling his hand, alongside his irresistible, cloying stare took him sweetly to the brink. Sensing his imminent release, Ghost hummed around his cock, sending Soap into a tailspin.
“Simon.” The fingers around his hand jerked, before they tightened harshly as Ghost moaned eagerly.
Pinned to the bed, Soap’s thighs clenched painfully as he spilled hot and warm into his mouth, keening as Ghost slid his lips slowly to the root. Eyes watering, he gasped brokenly as his tongue twirled cleverly up his vein. Ghost bobbed his head up and down his length, letting him ride every slow wave into the sucking heat of his mouth.
When he was finally spent, Ghost pulled off gently, lapping up every drop with long strokes, not letting Soap look away as he did. Shivering from oversensitivity, he was about to beg him to stop when he finally pulled away.
Exhausted, Soap’s trembling legs fell to the sheets, breath leaving him in a whoosh as his blood thickened with endorphins.
Blinking up at the ceiling weakly, he clutched at the sheets below him. He absently registered the hand on his stomach petting him soothingly, and his skin jumped at the touch.
Soap felt a bit embarrassed, yelling his name like that, and wondered if he should say anything. He distantly wondered how much of his obvious little heart he’d revealed by crying his name so loudly and desperately. Ghost didn’t seem bothered by it at least, judging by his contented neck stretch, so he decided ignoring it was the best course of action.
And while Soap thought maybe it had been a bit presumptuous to cry out his first name like that, Ghost greedily drinking down all of his come definitely had a way of blurring their professional boundaries.
Ghost patted his thigh, smirking down at him. “Better than your hand, Johnny?”
Soap laughed weakly, pressing his forearm to his eyes, overwhelmed and speechless.
Sleepy and unthinkingly, he wriggled his body over, leaving a gap between the wall and himself for Ghost to occupy in silent invitation.
There was a pause as Ghost slowly untangled his fingers from his, and Soap sighed mulishly.
He didn’t truly think Ghost would stay - they were simply working off steam so Soap didn’t throw himself to the local barflies.
But having a close facsimile to his deepest desires so near, yet so far, was a hellish new form of torture he hadn’t truly thought through.
He mostly expected Ghost to give a smug parting quip and leave, but being proven right didn’t lessen the churning disappointment in his chest.
The mattress dipped to his side suddenly, and he blinked, removing his forearm to stare hugely at the bizarre sight of Ghost sliding into bed with him.
You’re staying. His heart raced, hope swirling over his uncertain heart.
He stared silently back for a moment, the soft lamp casting odd shadows over his eyes.
“Turn off the light, then,” Ghost murmured, slowly unfurling the sheets and wrapping them around himself. Stunned, Soap turned and fumbled with the lamp, swearing when his fingers caught on the overheated bulb.
With the light off, he squirmed his legs up and sightlessly pulled the covers over himself, stunned at the heat radiating nearby. Turning on his side, he faced the darkened room, blood roaring loudly in his ears.
The other man’s bulk was slightly too wide to fit both of them, and Soap teetered awkwardly on the edge of the bed, coiled tight for fear he’d go tumbling to the floor.
Ghost abruptly sighed and pressed his heat against his back, wrapping a muscled arm around his side. Soap jolted in surprise, and his near slowing heart accelerated into a painful gallop in his ribcage. His other arm slid underneath him, and Soap made an embarrassing choked off sound when he was pulled bodily into his arms.
“Too cramped, otherwise,” Ghost explained quietly, resting his head above Soap’s on the pillow.
Wide eyed, he stammered, “Aye.” He opened his mouth to say more, but only air came out.
Ghost slowly trailed a hand over Soap’s chest before he found a hand, intertwining their fingers again and giving off a pleased, rumbling sigh. His thumb pressed slow circles into the soft skin of his wrist, and Soap shuddered softly, overcome with the strange intimacy of it all.
Shutting his eyes, he begged his pounding heart to calm, for fear Ghost could feel it vibrating through his chest. Enveloped warmly in Ghost’s arms, Soap felt himself fall away, the hand on his wrist soothing him softly to sleep.
+
Ghost hummed to himself, pleased beyond measure.
He’d spent weeks testing the waters with Soap, getting close and watching patiently, wondering if Soap felt even a fraction of the devastating want that Ghost felt for him.
His little plan had almost backfired spectacularly, but he’d luckily caught Soap before he’d thrown himself to the wolves. The mere idea of some drunken idiot pawing at Soap incensened him, and his embrace tightened involuntarily. When Soap grumbled sleepily he loosened his grip, stroking his wrist in silent apology.
Having Soap had been everything he’d dreamed of and more. He’d been so responsive, begging so shamelessly, a picture of artless desire, sensitive and hot under his hands.
Hearing his name torn out of his mouth in ecstasy was something he didn’t realise he needed until it had curled so sweetly around his ears. He knew he would do just about anything to hear that sound for the rest of his life.
Ghost’s offer was positioned as a casual, temporary thing, but he’d do all he could to convince him to let him take care of him permanently. Not just his pleasure and body, but he hoped for his heart and mind, too. He’d have him pliant and sated in his arms every night, if he had anything to say about it.
Delightfully warm, with an armful of Johnny, Ghost allowed his eyes to slide shut, tracing the frantic pulse in the other man’s wrist with a smug smile, as he allowed himself to drift away.