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The plane touches down on base and every member of the 141 takes a deep breath. Hassan is dead, the missile destroyed, and the Pentagon is still in one piece. Aside from a ‘successful mission’ high, Simon feels good. Something changed within him in just a few short days. He resented being paired with Soap: Price’s own golden boy. Went straight from a civilian to SAS and even after a few years his light never faded.
Price holds firm for his beliefs, he willingly accepted corrupting himself makes the world a better place. Gaz fares better, but there are still years of resentment built up while working domestically. Ghost is, well, Ghost . He detached himself in order to always put the mission first. He started to do it when he was Soap’s age now.
Soap still has that bright spark of a rookie. He’s no longer a FNG but he still wears that idealism like a badge of honor. It’s a choice. He could easily slip into cynicism, but he stands firm. That light nearly blinded Ghost when they first went to capture Hassan. But in Las Almas, Ghost realized he missed the warmth of the sun. Soap inspired him to risk more, be vulnerable, and to care more.
“It’s good to see you, Simon.”
Ghost missed being Simon. Soap helped him be more like Simon again.
As the two of them walk side by side off the tarmac he feels almost lightweight. Sure, the job is never really over and there are dozens of leads to track. But, Simon has made a connection he hasn’t felt in years. He wonders if Soap knows how much he helped him.
“Johnny!” A voice calls out. You, dressed in fatigues, run right up to a worn out Mactavish and give him a strong embrace. The man is beaming like he wasn’t fighting for his life in a high-rise a few hours ago. He makes it seem so effortless, to act normal.
Simon thought he was the only one allowed to call him Johnny
“Don’t. Only Ghost is allowed to do that.”
He ignores the sharp pain in his chest.
“Did you save the world?” You ask, stroking the scar in his chin with your thumb. He lets out a carefree laugh.
“Of course, doll. You wouldn't have it any other way. ” It's a tender moment that is rare between two soldiers. Soap pulls away and points his thumb over to Ghost. "My L.t. helped," he pauses, "I did most of the work."
“Ghost, right?” You ask. His reputation should precede him. Who else could the man in the skull mask be? But, you wait patiently and look him in the eyes like the mask isn’t even there. He nods. “Thanks for keeping him out of trouble.”
“Bastard couldn’t stop makin’ it himself,” Ghost replies. You respond with a laugh.
“See ya later, L.t.!” Soap shouts as he grabs your shoulder and pulls you into him. Simon watches the two of you leave. A new feeling settles in his stomach that he promptly ignores.
Simon can’t sleep, but what else is new? There are too many sounds on base; footsteps, machines, whispers, and more. It all adds up to a deluxe case of insomnia. It’s worse than before. He has too much to think about and no work to distract himself. He starts weighing the pros and cons of spending the next few hours in the gym.
A door opens and shuts. Then he hears stifled laughter.
“Quiet, doll.”
It’s Soap. His room is on the other side of Simon’s wall. Then there are more hushed sounds.
“I missed you.” It’s you. You and Soap. Together. In the middle of the night and trying to keep quiet. And Simon’s bed is just a few inches away with only a thin wall separating him.
He needs to leave. He can’t be here and hear what he knows is going to happen. Simon shifts his weight and the bed frame gives out a loud squeak. He flinches and the other room is silent for a few moments before starting again. Fucking hell. He’s stuck listening to needy whispered words that should be private.
“You don’t have to—”
Johnny hushes you.
“I saved the world, love. Give me my reward.”
Simon can’t see what is happening, but it doesn’t take long to figure it out. You're whispering his name and he's not saying anything back. He tries to tune out the soft pleas that turn into desperate begging. Muffled cries and sharp gasps.
“Missed the taste of ya, doll.”
Simon can’t stop himself, his hand wanders under the waistband of his sweatpants. He listens to the two of you sigh and moan. He tries to picture the positions when the moans stop and the bed shifts.
“Please.”
“Aye, that’s it.”
“Just like that.”
“Li'ah'.”
Simon’s chest is heaving as his hand pumps faster. He should stop. There are a hundred other things he should be doing than this, but he can’t stop. It’s been a few weeks since he touched himself and he can’t remember how many months, or even years, since he’s been with someone.
“Cum fer me,” Johnny orders.
Simon does. Simon doesn’t care that it isn’t addressed to him. His body can’t tell the difference. His teeth dig into his knuckles and he prays his groans are quiet. Cum spurts on his shirt before it simply flows out of the tip and down the length of his cock. Simon keeps stroking through his orgasm, chasing as much pleasure as possible, before he has to breathe.
The room comes back into focus as his hammering heartbeat slows down.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Quickly, any relief from his orgasm fades and is replaced by guilt. He waits until he hears a door open and close and the sound of Soap snoring before he dares move and cleans himself up.
Weeks pass. Endless, maddening weeks. Simon watches the two of you beam at each other, hidden caresses under a table, stolen moments alone. Things seem effortless between the two of you makes Simon feel more alone than ever. Every few nights Simon hears you two lovers through the thin walls.
Johnny still treats him like a longtime friend. Even you have started to work your way through his emotional walls.
As the light shines in he retreats more into the shadows.
It’s nearing the end of November. That means it’s the holidays, a time for reflection, and spending time with loved ones. Two things Simon avoids like the plague. He stopped talking to his father years ago and most of his small family don’t reach out. He doesn’t take it personally, it’s not like he ever reaches out to them.
He stands out on a 2nd floor balcony on base taking in the winter air. The chill keeps him alert, he can’t get comfortable and he can’t be complacent. It’s another limitation only he is asking for himself.
The door to the balcony opens and you walk out wearing a hoodie that might not be yours. You don’t speak for a few minutes, seem to be taking in the brisk air.
“May I call you Simon?” You ask, breaking the silence. You've always stayed cautious and called him by his rank before.
He nods.
“Johnny thinks the world of you.” You cross your arms in an attempt to keep yourself warm. “If there is anything you need, or want, let him know.”
Simon lets silence hang in the air. This is an olive branch. But for what, he doesn’t know. Is he that obvious? Or do you think he just needs a friend?
You sigh before turning back to the door.
“We're here for you,” you say just before leaving.
********
Simon can only hold out one more day. He listens to the two of you all night. It’s not just the sex, he starts to listen to tender words that were meant to be private. The next day, you and Soap will not stop touching him. Legs bumping up against legs, nudging him, or finding other subtle ways to get into his space.
"Sergeant, with me " Ghost orders. Soap follows him with a devious look in his eyes. Ghost leads him to an empty room, usually used for briefings. Ghost waits until the door is shut before addressing him.
"Johnny—" he cuts himself off. "Soap, I need you to stop."
"Stop what, L.t?"
"You know bloody what. I can't play this game. I won't play it."
“It’s not a game, L.t. I see you always looking at us.” Soap's thumb lightly touches his lips over the fabric. “Anno yer looking for something, mate. Or, someone.”
He snaps. Simon leans forward and kisses him. The mask is between them, but it’s his first kiss in what feels like forever. Soap's arm pulls Simon in close, chest to chest. A desperate noise escapes Simon’s throat before he can stop it.
Despite his own hang-ups, Simon clings to him. He’s been denying just how much he has needed this. Intimacy with another person feels so foreign. He almost doesn’t recognize it, like putting on a pair of broken shoes you haven’t worn in years. The idea of you is there, but it’s different. It might not even feel right anymore.
“Attaboy,” says Soap. His voice almost sing-song as a smile spreads across his face. The bottom of Simon’s mask is wet with both men's saliva. It wasn’t even a real kiss. And yet, Simon’s heart is racing.
“Having fun, you two?” You’re standing in the doorway. His heart skips a beat. Ghost never gets caught off guard, but only after making out with his subordinate he’s lost all of his instincts.
“Aye,” Soap answers. “Aren’t we L.t?”
Both of them are staring at Simon. Waiting for an answer, either a yes or a no. They just need something after Soap gave him that push. In his head he’s screaming that he needs to leave, get out of here, and forget this ever happened. He needs to chastise himself for such a silly indulgence and forget it ever happened.
But his feet won’t move. He looks into Soap’s bright eyes and feels genuinely wanted for the first time in so long. He’s only had a taste, but he might already be addicted to it.
Simon lifts the bottom of his mask up. Johnny gets the message and leans forward, but makes sure Simon closes the gap. His soft lips are searing and actually tasting him is making Simon dizzy. His fingers dig into Soap’s sides and when his grip is too strong Soap bites his lip in retaliation.
So dizzy in fact that he didn’t notice you getting closer. When Soap pulls away you plant a kiss on his cheek while the two men catch their breath.
Silently, you're asking Simon if you should leave or stay. Unfortunately, his brain is fried and words escape him. He doesn’t resort to words; he pulls you against him and kisses you. He doesn’t care if it’s too forward or desperate, the dam of self decency is broken.
This kiss isn’t as brutal. Johnny could handle brutality, Simon wasn’t so sure about you. This time it’s tender, experimental. He’s figuring out what he wants and you are making sure they are met.
With a soft sigh, you pull away.
“Let us take care of you, yeah?” You stroke his cheek, your fingers barely dip under the mask. Simon is guided back by two eager bodies onto a desk.
“Dinnae hold back,” says Johnny. Both of you pepper kisses where you can reach. Johnny goes low and kneels between Simon’s legs. Simon’s legs twitch when he squeezes his thighs.
Your teeth scrape his neck before gently biting his ear. He involuntarily shudders. It’s been so long since he’s been close to someone. Now he’s between two people who are working in tandem who are committed to overwhelm him. Johnny’s hand brushes over Simon’s hard cock and he grunts.
“Been that long, L.t?”
“Shut it, Mactavish,” he growls.
“Make me,” he teases.
“Hush, you two,” you interject. Simon opens his mouth to retort, but you kiss him to end this game.
Soon enough the only sounds between the three of you are content hums, low moans, and gasps. Johnny carefully wriggles Simon’s pants down to his knees. He takes the opportunity to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses over Simon’s boxer briefs. The moment a noise escapes his throat you’re there to swallow it with a kiss.
The fabric is soon soaked with saliva and precum. Simon jerks his hips against Johnny’s mouth faster and faster. His fingers run down the man's hair to urge him for more. He just needs a bit more and then—
Johnny pulls away. Simon tries to grab his mohawk to pull him back down so he can cum, but the Scot stands firm.
“Hells bells, Simon,” Johnny gasps. “Yer that fucking close?”
“Don’t bloody tease me, Johnny. ”His voice is rough as he speaks through gritted teeth.
“You caught us off guard is all,” you cut in. You kiss and nip at his earlobe over the fabric of the mask. He shudders. “Lay down, love.”
You pull away so he can lay down on the desk, his legs hang off the side so his feet touch the ground. Soap helps him pull his pants and underwear down as you undress from the waist down. Simon sighs as he is maneuvered around until you are crawling over his hips.
You pause and look in his eyes, asking for permission. Simon nods and breaks eye contact to watch you lower yourself on his cock.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts. Your body is welcoming, soaked, and warm. His fingers scratch at the wooden desk until you place his hands on your thighs. You start to grind and move against him. Slowly at first, testing the waters and testing Simon. He has just enough leverage with his feet on the floor to thrust up.
When the two of you find your rhythm, Soap kneels behind Simon to speak directly in his ear.
“Taking a shine to my bonnie, aye?”
He replies with a grunt.
“A man should be raging when he sees his girl’s eye wandering. But, yer such a good mate.”
“Johnny,” you whine.
“Glad to know yer not disappointin’ her.”
You pick up your pace and your face turns bright red. Johnny’s words affected you more than they did Simon. Maybe you weren’t expecting your partner to reveal your filthy little secrets. At least not now of all times.
“Simon!”
“Fuckin—I can’t. I’m—” he warns.
“That’s it, love,” you encourage.
He rips the mask off. The fabric is thrown, god knows where. He doesn’t even see either of your expressions because his eyes are closed tight. His body shakes and he gasps for air. Feeling your stuff cunt get filled until his cum leaks out.
Your hips keep rolling as you chase your own. Simon grunts when your fingers dig into his chest and he responds with a bruising grip on your hips. You gasp as your body tightens further and further until that pressure snaps.
It’s his best orgasm in years.
Simon feels his heart starting to even out. As his vision comes back into focus the room seems a bit brighter. Your bright smile beams down on him. He can’t see Johnny, but he feels his calloused fingers lifting his calves. Even the light brush against his leg hair makes Simon shudder. Johnny pushes Simon’s knees up and you lean forward while keeping him inside.
“Don’t slip out, love,” you say. It’s a difficult task considering he’s getting soft and his cum is spilling out. Johnny pulls your shoulders back and sticks his fingers deep into your mouth.
Simon listens to you choke on the sudden intrusion and cracks his eyes open. Johnny looks full of himself as he coos and encourages you to coat his fingers with saliva.
When he pulls his hand away you lean forward and continue kissing whatever parts of Simon’s chest and neck you can reach. Simon’s hands hold your hips against his in an attempt to keep his half-hard cock inside you.
Simon flinches when he feels Johnny’s finger pressing against his asshole.
“This alright, Simon?” He asks.
He answers with a whimper. A truly undignified noise for a soldier like him. He covers his eyes with his forearm and nods rapidly. You chuckle softly, but Simon doesn’t have the capacity to be self-conscious.
"Use your words, dear,” you order.
“Y—” Simon chokes out. “Fuckin’ bloody blimey fuckin’ yes!”
Before he can even finish blabbering, Johnny’s finger is pressing inside. His fingers soaked with saliva help ease him inside inch by agonizing inch. Simon shudders and his mouth hangs open. While his arm is still up and covering his face, you plant kisses along it. When Johnny needs more lubrication he wipes up some of the cum spilling out between you and Simon.
Simon bites back a wail when Johnny adds a second finger.
“Fuck, love,” you moan. Johnny hums as if to ask you what’s going on. “He’s twitching. He likes that.”
Johnny peaks over your shoulder to get a look at the terrifying and intimidating Ghost. Eyes shut tight, bright pink cheeks, and disheveled hair sticking out in all directions. Truly a magnificent sight.
“Bloody Jesus, Simon.”
He looks up and sees two pairs of bright eyes staring down. He shifts and squirms, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. In the end it only makes you close your eyes to moan and gasp. Johnny enjoys his position of power. As his fingers stretch and prep Simon, he jerks and moves causing you to mewl.
“He’s hard again, love,” you say. You emphasize the statement by grinding against him. Johnny pushes just a bit farther inside. Simon can only respond with pathetic noise.
“He feels ready ‘ere too,” says Johnny. “What do you think, L.t?”
“Fuckin’ hell—just blimey— fuck!”
“I think he’s ready,” you add. You lean forward and lift the arm Simon is using to cover his face. He needs something to ground him, so he pulls you into a kiss. You hesitate for a moment before leaning into it. Behind you, Johnny is unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down to his knees.
Your kiss muffles the uncharacteristic noises Simon makes as Johnny pushes his cock inside. Thankfully, he moves slowly. Neither of you knew that Simon had done this before. Well, not all of this , but he’s not the prude everyone assumes he is.
Carefully, inch by inch
“Fuckin’ tight, mate,” he groans. “Fuckin’ perfect, aye.”
Everyone moans when Johnny is all the way in. Simon has never felt this way before. Every nerve is on edge, the smallest movements make him twitch. He can’t even worry that he won’t survive this encounter.
When everyone starts to move, Simon’s mind melts. Two people with stunning teamwork are set to destroy him. Sometimes thrusts are in sync, occasionally offbeat. Either way it’s maddening. He’s never been used like this. Never felt needed like this.
“Don’t stop,” he demands. It’s not a plea, if they stop now he will make their lives hell. Your hips pick up. Short cries warn that you are close. Johnny nips at your shoulders and Simon can barely hear his encouraging words.
"Simon!" You cry. "Johnny!"
You break first. A sharp cry rings out before Soap slaps a hand over your mouth to muffle you. Simon follows. The feeling of your body gripping his cock like a vice tips him over. And, he was already close when Johnny started abusing his prostate.
Soap holds out the longest. Grunting and goading on his two partners as they reach new heights. When he finally succumbs, he keeps thrusting deep inside. Like he’s trying to be as close as humanly possible.
This might be the best orgasm of his entire life.
The shared bliss is almost silent save for the wet thrusts and labored breathing. As everyone attempts to collect themselves they relish this moment. Something so perfect
Johnny pulls out first. Nice and slow as he savors the feeling. You lean forward to kiss Simon and his cock slips out. Simon is a mess from the waist down. A beautiful, happy mess. Carefully the two of you help lower him onto the floor. Someone’s poor sweatshirt is underneath him.
As Simon comes down, the two lovebirds give him soft kisses and caresses. Gentle things he’s not used to. Part of him wants to tell them to stop. He can’t get used to tenderness like this.
But he doesn’t.
“I think our friend had a fine time inna.”
“Shut your bloody trap, sergeant.” His voice is weak, but the authority is still there. Simon is reaching his limit for Soap’s usual attitude. He’ll never forgive the Scot if it ruins the moment. Simon can’t remember the last time he’s felt this much bliss.
You giggle. “Even after getting his brains screwed out he won’t put up with your shit.”
“Wouldn’t have ‘im any other way, hen.”
Everyone is a tangled mess of limbs as they support each other on this poor desk. Tender words spoken are breathless and a little labored. They should get up and clean up the floor and themselves, but Simon can’t let go. Usually this much physical contact would put him on edge.
He’s sandwiched between two lovesick fools and he never wants to leave.