Work Text:
He doesn’t recognize the pain at first. Hard to, when his whole body is one screaming mess of agony and aches from head to toe. He cut his leg hopping through a window, his knuckles are aching from the grip on his gun, his knees might give if he has to boot open one more door.
And, of course, the fucking gunshot wound.
It’s not until he’s crouching, taking in his surroundings for a moment and giving a chance for the footsteps outside to pass by, that the new pain makes itself known. A flush crawls over the back of his neck, whispering down his spine, hips and lower back going tight when a twanging ache starts up low in his gut.
“Son of a fucking--not now. Not fucking now.”
“Soap?”
Shit.
Ghost’s voice is the last thing he needs right now, rough in his ear, commanding him to go this way and that. Orders Soap follows on blind trust and instinct despite a part of his head still ringing with the recent betrayal of another. He’d follow Ghost into hell, follow him out of it too, but he really wishes the other man would shut the fuck up right about now.
“Soap. How copy?”
“Fine.” He answers back shortly, chancing a peek out the window and moving on quick but silent feet when he doesn’t catch sight of any more shadows.
Or Shadows.
He’d laugh at his own joke if he didn’t want to start breaking shit out of pure frustration.
“Are you alright?”
“I’ve got a bleedin’ wound in my arm,” Soap snaps, “what’dya fuckin’ think?”
Ghost grunts in his ear as he rounds a corner, slipping down another dank alleyway.
“Think if that bothered you then you’d have been bitchin’ the whole time. Something’s new. New and wrong.”
“The whole sitch’s fucked. Always something new to bitch about.”
“Johnny.”
It occurs to him he could just lie. Just tell Ghost he did something stupid and hurt himself, complain about the 7000 aches and pains running through his body. But that voice, that Alpha command that normally he can shake off with a snort and a grin, makes him keen low in his throat and try to cover it with a half-hearted cough.
“No’ a big deal. Make it one and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Like to see you try.” Ghost responds immediately but there’s a tension to his voice, he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Reactionary heat.”
There’s dead silence for a long moment, just the sounds of rain and Soap’s boots on the pavement. He wants to break it but doesn’t bother--whatever hang-ups Ghost has can fuck off right now. Soap’s never been anything but a good soldier, no matter his desgination. This hasn’t ever happened before and given the fucking circumstances he thinks he can be forgiven.
“Your suppressants?” Ghost finally says, tone far too even.
“Don’t mean shit when I’ve got this much adrenaline. Like spraying a raging dog in the face.” Soap snorts, prizing open another door and wedging himself inside just in time to close it quietly on the sound of boots that aren’t his. “Or locking a door tryin’ to keep out a smart boy like me.”
“Ever had one before?”
“No, sir. Learned about them though. Supposed to burn nasty but quick. I’ll be alright to get to the church.”
The fact that they both have a very long ride to Price, however, goes unsaid. Soap can keep it together this close to the safe zone that is Ghost’s presence. Hell, he doesn’t even need the directions in his ear anymore, tracking the other man by the scent of him in the air. Ichor and blood that isn’t the rain or his own, a scent that cuts through everything else and always has.
Thank god he wears his own form of scent suppressors in the field or Soap wouldn’t get shit done when they’re teamed together.
Ghost blows out a frustrated breath and there’s the distant sound of a quick thunk, like a suppressed shot or a knife meeting target.
“No fuckin’ S.O.P for this sort of thing. Guess we make it up as we go.”
“Haven’t we always?”
“Not funny.”
Soap mutters “I thought it was” but the words are dropped halfway by a wave of heat that almost makes his knees buckle. Fuck. His dick jerks against his zipper and he can feel a wetness that has nothing to do with the rain that makes him grimace.
“Fuck. Comin’ on fast.”
No point in not being honest. Not when Ghost knows already.
“Get to me quick then. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Yessir.”
The tunnels help a little, the icy shock of the water yanking his breath from his lungs and clearing his head just enough. Also makes his cock shrink because not even a heat is gonna keep him hard in those temps, which means he can run for the church without limping around an erection.
One that immediately comes back when Ghost comes barreling out and jumps the fence like it’s as easy as breathing. Even with the chaos of it all, Soap can’t help but look him over, trace eyes across the breadth of his shoulders and the length of his body.
Ghost’s eyes flick to his for a split second, shining in the darkness of his mask and the area.
“Alright?”
“Been better.” He admits lowly, gut clenching in another wave of pain and heat. “Let’s move.”
“I’ll take point. Keep your eyes out for a vehicle.”
He’s thankful for it, not interested in any sort of dick-measuring, always happy to follow behind Ghost’s expert movements. Getting the truck isn’t difficult, even if his hole pulses a gush of slick when Ghost gives him an impressed look and a gruff “thanks” when he shoots the Shadow aiming for his Lt’s head.
The movements over the gate--and the Shadows--make his body ache, teeth gritted tight as he tries to provide enough cover fire for them to get out of the city. Thankfully it doesn’t last long and soon Soap’s slumping in the seat, flicking the safety on his gun and laying it on his thigh to grind his palms into his eyes.
“Fuck. Fuckin’...fuck.”
“About right.” Ghost agrees, hands flexing on the wheel. “We’ll get to a safe zone, back to Price. Figure out what to do now.”
“Alejandro…his men…”
Soap thinks of the easy-going Alpha, his bright grin and his shrug when his eyes had caught on Soap’s designation symbol printed under his blood type. He’d lost track of him in the fight, can only pray Graves hadn’t killed him the second they’d escaped in some mad vengeful move.
“We’ll get ‘em back. Got more pressing matters right now.”
Right. Because despite the wind whistling in through the shattered windows, Soap can smell himself. Smell the thickening scent that’s curling between them, nearly overpowering Ghost’s own. There’s slick sticking his underwear to his ass and his cock is trapped painfully behind his pants and he’s pretty sure he’s seconds from ripping his shirt off if it doesn’t stop rubbing against his nipples.
“Sorry.” He says roughly, swiping a hand over the sweat beading on his upper lip. “Didn’t think it’d happen. Fuck, I didn’t think any of this would happen. Fucking Graves. Fucking Sheperd.”
“They’ll be dealt with.”
In bloody and vicious ways, if Ghost’s stone cold voice is any indication. Good. Soap’ll give up any of his own plans for revenge if he gets to watch Ghost tear them apart.
He’s seen the man interrogate. It’ll be beautiful and brutal.
Which shouldn’t make his cock pulse but he’s going to blame that on the heat.
“You’re goin’ down fast.”
“No shit,” Soap starts working his vest off, the weight of it too much on his overstimulated skin. “Reactionary heat’s are a bitch. Gonna be droolin’ and beggin’ for cock in about an hour, I reckon.”
“Christ, Johnny.” The truck doesn’t swerve but there’s a definite jerk and Ghost glares over at him. “Kiss your mum with that mouth?”
“Not recently.”
“What are you doing?”
Soap ignores the question as he shoves his vest down by his feet and starts working on his belt. It’s not ideal, none of this is fucking ideal, but he’s been through enough heats to know what works for him. A quick orgasm--and the first one is always quick, so quick it takes his breath away and makes him boneless for a few long minutes--and he’ll be able to think clear enough to try and come up with a plan.
“Johnny.”
“Fuck off,” Soap bites out, wrestling with his pants until he can shove them and his underwear down towards his knees. “Keep yer eyes on the damn road. Lemme get off and I’ll--I’ll think better. Be better. Jus’ gotta--”
Ghost is quiet for long moments as Soap peels one glove off with his teeth and fists his cock, letting out a soft groan around the fabric. He’s so hard it hurts, the weeping head a desperate and angry looking red, and his hips buck as he strokes a hand up and down. His hole is aching, desperate to be filled, but he can get off without it this early in the heat. Not like he’s got a way to get his fingers in there anyway, unless he wants to turn himself into a pretzel and shove his feet onto the dashboard.
Which would give Ghost a show even the stoic man probably wasn’t ready for. Or wanting.
Fuck. Soap’s little infatuation with him was his well kept secret, held tight to his chest. But Ghost hadn’t ever given any indication that he liked him anymore than he did anyone else, affable enough and having his back in the field without question but nothing that couldn’t be chalked up to Ghost being a good and loyal brother in arms.
“S-Sorry,” he stutters out, spitting his glove aside as he swipes a thumb over the head and squeezes his eyes shut. “Know this ain’t ideal. Can’t help it but…sorry.”
Ghost exhales slow, a measured sort of thing, and Soap almost misses the rough there-and-gone half a laugh he lets out.
“Not a problem. Just don’t hit the wheel or the stick.”
“No’ what I meant. Not exactly somethin’ you sign up for, being stuck watching your Sarg paw at himself.”
“If I wanted you to stop, I’d make you stop. Not your fault.”
Soap hitches in a gasp at the thought of Ghost making him stop, holding his wrists away from himself, growling at him in that deep voice. Commanding him to knock it off. Fuck, he wouldn’t even need to wank at that point, probably come in his jeans.
“Fuck,” he barks, curling inwards at the thought of Ghost watching him come untouched, heat spilling over his knuckles.
His knees come up, body curling over to meet them, and Soap grits his teeth to make sure nothing else comes out--like Ghost’s name--before sagging back. He feels like he’s floating, a little, brain a pleasantly filled sack of static and little else. His hole is still clenching, needy and wanting something inside it, but it’s on the back-burner for the moment.
“Better?”
Ghost’s voice makes him shiver but he nods languidly, wiping his come on his pants half-heartedly.
“Bit, yeah. Gonna flare up again, cock won’t be enough in a while but I’ve got time.”
“What will you,” Ghost clears his throat and it almost sounded like he was gonna growl for half a moment to Soap’s cortisol soaked brain, “what’ll ya need then?”
“Later? Fucked, somehow. My fingers’ll have to do, worst case I gotta make due with a suppressor.” He’s pretty sure there’s one on the spare gun he grabbed from a Shadow. “Be a show, sorry about that, but I can probably get in the bed of the truck if ye want me to.”
“Not gonna make you get in the goddamn truck bed.” Ghost snaps at him and Soap feels his cock give a eager little twitch that he’s absolutely sure Ghost sees considering his eyes drop for a split second before refocusing on the road.
“I’m…an Alpha.”
“Yeah?” Soap blinks at him, still coming down from the orgasm high. “I know. S’why you smell so good.”
“I can fuck you through it if you need.”
The sentence makes his brain go offline entirely for a long moment, leaving him blinking wide cow eyes at Ghost.
Who is resolutely staring out the windshield and trying to strangle the steering wheel and not looking at him in the slightest. His shoulders are tense, everything about him is tense, and Soap swears he can see his pulse pounding under the fabric that covers his throat.
“Wh--wha?”
“Burn faster with a knot, right? Get your head on straight before we get back to Price?”
Oh.
Of course.
Ghost isn’t going to offer him some romantic confession about always loving him back. Ghost isn’t going to admit he’s spent nights in his bunk thinking of Soap. Isn’t going to say he’s woken up with Soap’s name on his lips as he groaned from a wet-dream so intense it made him feel like he was a teenager again.
No, it’s Soap who’s in love. Ghost is simply a coldly intelligent man who recognizes a knot makes a heat go by in half the time. He’s not offering out of love but out of logic.
And how fucking pathetic is it that Soap’s willing to take that? Absolutely willing to take a perfunctory service fuck if it gets Ghost inside him. Gets him that absolute monster that Soap has seen between the Alpha’s legs during shared showers where he was supposed to be keeping his eyes to himself.
“You don’t have to--”
“Yes,” Soap blurts before Ghost can take back the offer, “yes, please. Let’s get this sorted before we get back. Get me outta my head.”
“Got a bit to go before it’s safe. I’ll look for a place, you…get yourself ready.”
“Pretty fuckin’ ready,” Soap admits, head lolling against the seat. “Been soaked for a while, probably ruined the seat by now.”
“Not enough.” Ghost’s voice is gravel, thick with tension and something Soap really hopes is lust. “Not enough for me. I’ll break you, Johnny, if you’re not ready.”
“Yeah?” He doesn’t bother fixing how breathy it sounds, staring at Ghost’s profile. “What’dya want then? Give me some orders, sir.”
“Get your kit off. Finger yourself. Gonna need to be stretched for me.”
“Probably make me come again.” Soap admits, already bending to tear at his laces, cock poking into his stomach, stiffening once more.
“Good.”
It’s awkward but it’s so fucking hot Soap can’t think straight. He slides down the seat, props one bare foot on the dash and the other heel on the seat edge to split his thighs wide. His pants are stuffed into the footwell alongside his vest and he wants to take his shirt off too but he doesn’t bother, sliding his hands down his body until he can surround the base of his cock.
Not stroking. Teasing himself. It won’t be possible in a bit, he’ll burn too hot, want too much. But he knows Ghost is watching him and it makes him want to put on a show.
This is breaking so many goddamn protocols it’s not even funny, but who’s going to know? Soap doesn’t intend to tell anyone and he’s sure as hell Ghost isn’t going to start sharing anytime soon.
“Edging, Johnny?”
“No, sir. Just tryin’ to enjoy it. S’not all bad, the heats. Burn up yer mind and blood but it feels,” he sighs out a sound and cups a hand over his cock, “nothin’ like it. Gettin’ fucked outside one’s nice, but the want of a heat...”
Ghost grunts as Soap slides careful fingers of his free hand down until his fingertips slip in slick and he can rub two over his swollen hole. He doesn’t bother hiding the breathy little hitch or the groan when he slips one inside, just to feel himself clench down around it.
Not enough, never is, but there’s still some satisfaction in getting something inside him.
“Like a rut, I imagine.”
“Hmm?”
“Good outside one. A fuck’s good no matter how you spin it.” Ghost explains, eyes darting between Soap and the road. “But during one it’s a million times better.”
“Fucked in rut before, then?”
Ghost snorts derisively.
“Not some S-1. Been ‘round the block, Soap.”
“Bet you treat ‘em right, huh? Get them knotted up tight and whining for you?”
He’s always run off at the mouth in his heats, talked outside them too. Like something in his brain snaps when he’s horny and takes away what little filter exists between his mind and his mouth. Been told about a thousand times he needed his mouth washed out, little private joke that he likes to think helped with the callsign.
“Never had any complaints.”
“Off their heads to complain ‘bout you, Lt. Probably leave ‘em too come dumb to talk much anyhow.”
“Think a lot about how I fuck, Johnny?”
“Between me and my brain, Simon.”
Ghost swears something filthy that Soap really can’t track, slipping another finger inside himself and stretching to feel the barest hint of resistance. He’s not touching his cock, really, holding onto the base and rubbing a thumb over it but otherwise leaving it alone. He’s one of the lucky Omegas that can come from their hole with enough stimulation and time and Soap’s willing to give himself that time to continue the tease.
Maybe Ghost doesn’t love him. But he’ll sure as hell want him by the time this is done, Soap’ll make sure of that. One time would be enough, more than he’d ever thought he’d get, but if he can work Ghost up enough that the man comes looking for him next time his rut hits?
He’d give his left nut for that sort of chance.
“Mile or so left until we’re in the clear.” Ghost mutters, “better start stretching yourself for real. Not gonna give you much chance once we’re stopped.”
“Gonna make it hurt? Won’t mind it, like it when it does. Get me aching with you? Thinking about you all day tomorrow?”
“I’ll have you thinking of me for the week.” Ghost snarls in a promise and Soap feels his hole gush around his fingers.
“Please.”
There’s a tense silence until Ghost starts to drift the car to the side, Soap four fingers deep by the time he shoves the gear into place and kills the engine. He blows out a breath, eyes flickering over and holding Soap in place until he meets his gaze.
“Last chance to say no. Don’t let me force you. Doesn’t have to be like this if you don’t want it.”
Soap licks over his lips, watches Ghost track the movement with laser focus. What the hell’s he got to lose at this point? Worst case, if it backs Ghost down, he’ll tell him it was the heat talking. Omegas say dumb shit in their heats all the time.
“Been wantin’ yer cock for ages, Simon. Get over here and knot me up.”
The truck rattles as Ghost climbs out of his seat and slams the door behind him, rounding the hood like he’s on the hunt. Soap can barely see over the dash from his position but it makes him go hot all over nonetheless, the way he stalks, purposeful and almost threatening.
He rips Soap’s door open, almost off the hinges, and grabs for the leg on the dash, fastening one big hand around Soap’s ankle. Soap scrambles when he’s yanked sideways, falling and twisting so he’s laying across the front seat with his ass on the very edge and one foot in the well atop his clothes. Ghost has ahold of the other, propping Soap’s ankle on his shoulder and smoothing a hand down it, gripping when he reaches the thick muscles of his thigh.
“Up to date on your shots?”
“All clear,” Soap confirms, then adds with a sharp grin, “including the birth control. Y’can knot me without worrying about knocking me up.”
“Fucking pity,” Ghost spits, hands ripping at his belt with gorgeous efficiency. “Bet you’d look a sight pupped. All heavy and fat with it.”
“Probably say that to all yer Omega’s, huh?”
“Only the ones I think’ll slick up thinkin’ about it.”
Well, he’s got that one dead to fucking rights. Soap’s pretty sure he’s gonna start dripping onto the ground at this point, needy and wet for the Alpha that’s currently looming over him.
It’s not until Ghost gets that absolute monster of a cock free from his pants that something occurs to Soap, something that has him bouncing his foot on Ghost’s broad shoulder to get his attention.
“Oi.”
“Gave you a chance,” Ghost grunts, slowly stroking himself and glaring down at Soap. “If you’re gonna say no at least lemme get off first. Can’t drive with this fuckin’ thing.”
It’s sort of sweet that Ghost is not only willing to stop dead when he’s so close to sinking inside but to completely let the idea go on the whole. Soap’s confident if he did say no, did say he changed his mind, Ghost would work himself off and climb back in the driver’s seat.
Except he’s got a better chance of begging to suck Graves off than ever turning Ghost down.
“No, no, fuck no. But--Ghost. The mask.”
Ghost goes tense for a moment before his eyes narrow into slits.
“Can’t.” He answer sharply, with a single shake of his head. “Not this close. You might be heat struck but one o’ us has to keep his head on. Gotta watch out for you.”
Which is so sweet Soap wants to kiss him. He didn’t want the man to take the whole damn thing off, even he knows that’d be too big an ask in this situation, not to mention the fact that he wants to see Ghost’s face for the first time when he can focus and not when heat is slowly melting his brain.
“No, sir. Not all of it. Jus’ enough for me to see your mouth.”
“Want my mouth for something in particular?”
Fuck yes he does. He wants it all over him. Licking deep inside and sinking down over his cock and maybe even fastened around his scent glands or mating mark. But in lieu of all that, in things that are for the distant possible future and just for his dreams, Soap wants something else.
“Yeah,” he draws his fingers out of where they’d been idly toying with his hole, raising the slick digits up, up, up until he can drag them over the skeletal smile.
Smearing himself there. Hearing Ghost inhale sharply through his nose and exhale a vicious snarl, watch his eyes go wide and the pupils eat up the color until they’re just as black as the greasepaint around them.
“Want you to get a taste. Can’t do that through the damn mask.”
Ghost rips it up with one hand, leaving it bunched over the bridge of his nose, exposing thin lips and a strong jaw that is practically begging to be sat on. He reaches out the second the fabric is out of the way, gripping Soap’s wrist so tight it hurts and jerking his hand forward until those lips close around his fingers.
Ghost’s breath puffs against his knuckles, out his nose like a bull, tongue laving up every bit of slick that could possibly exist on Soap’s fingers. He moans, something so deep Soap feels it vibrate down his arm and into his belly, teeth scraping as he pulls the hand free and licks over his lips with a hum.
“Fuckin’ delicious, Johnny. Could eat you right up.”
“If we had the time,” Soap wriggles himself down further, until he’s in real threat of falling out of the truck entirely and Ghost has to catch him under the thigh. “For now, get that fuckin’ cock inside me. Feel like I’m burnin’ up.”
Ghost snorts like he’s amused, either by the words or Soap’s eagerness, tugging just a bit before folding his leg back towards his chest. He anchors his hand behind the bend of the knee, shuffling closer and giving Soap one last long searching look before there’s bruising, consistent pressure against his hole.
Fuck. Normally heat slicks the way for everything but Ghost is just so goddamn big. Soap lets the breath caught in his chest whoosh out, hands scrambling until he can grab the edge of the seat and the headrest, head tipping back on a groan when Ghost pushes in, in, in.
“Fuckin’...hell.”
“Call it if you need a breather.”
“Awa’ and bile yer heid.” Soap snaps and Ghost chuckles, leaning down to mouth at his throat.
“Fucked the English out of you already, huh? That was quick.”
“Big fuckin’ bastard.”
“Warned you.”
He did. But Soap didn’t really think it’d be like this. Not that he’s complaining in earnest, mind you, considering he’s wanted a cock to stretch him like this since he learned what a real heat was. It’s all consuming, the slide of Ghost’s cock, the way it fills him until he’s clawing at fabric and his cock is jerking against his belly. It’s hot and thick and so goddamn hard it feels like it’s re-arranging his insides, carving a space for only Ghost that no one’ll ever be able to fill again.
Finally, Ghost is all the way in, hips pressed tight together, breaths panted into the hollow of his throat. The tip of his nose rubs into Soap’s scent glands in a way that the romantic part of his brain thinks is like scent marking and there’s a comforting sweep of a thumb across his inner knee where Ghost has it palmed.
“Alright, Johnny?”
“Feels fuckin’ good,” Soap slurs, hips hitching up like he could get the Alpha any deeper. “Fuck me. Stretch me out on your knot and make me hurt.”
“Heat turns you into a filthy whore, doesn’t it?”
“Fer you.” Soap grins up as Ghost pushes away and braces himself for one long draw back and slam forward that makes them both groan. “Fuck yeah. C’mon, Si, give it to me. Wanna go back to the others with you spillin’ out o’ me. Maybe we get a few more miles down the road and I’ll use yer come as lube to fuck myself for you.”
“Christ,” Ghost groans deep with another harsh thrust. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, Johnny.”
Doubtful. Dead men don’t fuck like Ghost does. Soap goes from thinking a million things alone in Las Almas to thinking nothing at fucking all on the side of some backroad while Ghost fucks his brains out. The thrusts are fast and powerful, like Ghost is trying to fuck him through the seat, sopping wet smacking noises every time their hips meet and Ghost grinds in deep.
He’s so big it’s impossible for the thick head of his cock not to grind into Soap’s prostate, eeking out tiny whimpers and whines every single time as Ghost gives him a feral grin.
“Right there, love? Feel good? Like a goddamn vice around my cock, Johnny. Knew you’d have the sweetest hole, fuckin’ perfect for me.”
He wants to tease him about it, tease him for thinking about his hole, tease him to see Ghost’s eyes narrow and the muscle jump in that gorgeous jaw but Soap can barely breathe let alone talk. He’s reduced to mortifying mewling noises quick with this pace, one hand unclenching from the headrest to grab and hold tight to the strap of Ghost’s tac vest.
“Gonna come,” he mumbles around a numb tongue, teeth clamping shut when Ghost jerks forward impossibly harder.
“Yeah? Good. Good boy. Lemme feel you come around my cock, Johnny. I got you.”
He does. He knows he does. It’s the sort of freeing confidence that Soap has around Ghost, knowing the man always has his six. Knowing he could walk into a firefight and come out safe on the other side with the Ghost at his back. He arches so hard his back lifts almost entirely off the seat, yanking Ghost in as his cock jerks untouched and spills between them.
It almost hurts when Ghost tries to pull back out of his hole, clamping down as the waves roll through him, and Soap snarls in pure Omega instinct, pulling with a wordless sound of protest. Ghost curses and comes down over him in a rush of scent and warmth, bracketing his arms on either side of Soap’s head. He pants just over Soap’s mouth as he grinds in, sinuous rolls of his hips until there’s a pressure that’s almost too much and he’s groaning like he’s in pain.
“Take it,” he mutters mindlessly, so close the words make their lips brush. “Fuckin’ take it, Johnny. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck a pup into you and keep you forever.”
His knot is absolutely massive, just like Soap knew it would be, and thank god for the heat or there’s no way he’d be able to take it. With the heat, though, his body stretches and stretches until there’s a searing heat filling him up inside and Ghost is moaning his name.
He doesn’t think twice about it, letting go of Ghost’s vest to grab for this sides of his face and leaning up the scant few centimeters until they’re kissing. It’s rough at first, all teeth and shaky breaths, but Soap opens for the thrust of Ghost’s tongue just as easy as he did for his cock and it’s good.
It’s fucking amazing.
“So fuckin’ big,” Johnny repeats when they pull apart for a moment to breathe, panting the words against Ghost’s lips. “God, you’ve got a knot like a fucking baseball, Si.”
“And you took it so well,” Ghost says with a hard press of his lips, “like I knew you would. Like a good boy.”
The praise makes something in his chest go soft and Soap lets his head fall back, limbs going loose as his body floods with satisfaction after the shocks of orgasm. They’re locked together for a bit now, until the knot goes down, and he keeps hold of Ghost’s face to keep him in close, keep the man in place pinning him to the seats.
“How far to RV?” He asks, trying to fumble his brain into some sort of sense as Ghost rolls his hips with ease, trying to work them both through it, like he wants the pleasure to drag on.
Some Alphas come the whole time they’re knotted. Soap wonders if Ghost is one of them, if he’s still pouring come into him while they try and talk strategy.
The thought shouldn’t make him so slick but the next roll accompanies a squelching noise that proves it very much does.
“Hours, probably. We were supposed to be helo’d there. I’ll drive it.”
“Might have to pull over another time or two.” Soap admits, stroking a thumb over Ghost’s cheek. “S’ fadin’ but I know it’ll spark back up.”
“I’ll take care of you,” Ghost promises and it makes something that isn’t lust curl in Soap’s stomach, all warm and sweet.
“Know ya will. Never doubted it, Si.”
For this heat, at least. Who knows what the future holds at this rate. For the moment though, Soap’s content to hold this powerful and surprisingly sweet Alpha close, trading lazy kisses.
“What’s this gonna change?” Ghost asks after a few minute, clearly not content to leave it, and Soap distracts him by licking into his mouth for a few long moments.
“Dunno. Up to you, I s’pose. Wouldn’t mind taking that fuckin’ monster o’ yours in something more comfortable than a truck, that’s fer sure.”
“Dangerous.” Ghost warns but it feels half-hearted, like even he doesn’t wanna say it and he’s just repeating some bullshit reg in his head. “Fraternizing could get us both tossed on our asses.”
“Price couldn’t give a shit less.” Soap reminds him. “And he wouldn’t ever get rid of you. You could knot me in the war room and he’d ignore it.”
Both of them groan when Ghost’s hips jump forward at the words and Soap chuckles, grinning bright at Ghost’s wide-eyed stare.
“Like that idea, huh?”
“Shut it, Soap.”
“Mmm, better give me something better to do with my mouth then.”
He does, kissing him so deep and long that Soap doesn’t think about anything else for a long time. He doesn’t need to, really. They’ll be alright, him and Ghost, he thinks. They’ve walked through worse together and came out alright. Whether this ends in a one time fuck or both of them coming together every rut or heat to fuck through whatever surface is closest, it’ll be alright.
And given the way Ghost is still pressed in tight even when Soap can feel his knot starting to go down, still pressing idle kisses to his mouth and throat that are softer than they have any right to be, he has a wonderful feeling it’ll be the latter.