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Soap’s blood was like boiling steam and pushed against his skin like it was trying to get out. His brain throbbed against its casing, pounding to a ticking beat. His stiff joints were wound up, twisting him into a tight coil. If he didn’t release soon, he would snap and the machine that was his body would collapse in a heap of gears, wires, and blackened, oily blood.
He needed this to ease as much as he needed air to breathe and if he didn’t do something before the next mission, it would go as poorly as this one did. At least this time it wasn’t his fault, things beyond his control sending the mission spiraling off course. But if he didn’t deal with his tension from it, next time it would be his fault when he snapped like metal under too much pressure.
He tried to beat up a punching bag, lift weights, run, and even use the firing range. It was useless. He tried cleaning weapons, drawing, and disassembling the toaster. Also useless. He tried meditating, taking a shower, and having himself a treat from the kitchen. Useless, useless, useless. Nothing made the pressure of the steam release and every new action felt so difficult, like he’d never done it before, like he wasn’t built for it.
He knew a lot of humans sought out other humans to work through things like this, but he didn’t exactly feel very human at the moment. He was almost positive he wasn’t flesh any more, just a rusted, stressed out tin can twisted into a human form. But he was getting desperately tense and the need for help eventually drove him to Ghost’s door. He was so metallic in his emotions, he didn’t even think to feel guilty that it was the middle of the night as he knocked mechanically.
A moment later, Ghost opened the door, squinting tiredly at him. He was in sleep clothes and a face mask, but light had been shining under the door when Soap approached it. Ghost raised an eyebrow at him.
“I need…release,” Soap ground out, even sounding robotic to his own ears.
“I can see that,” Ghost agreed, stepping aside, “Come on.”
Soap stepped into his room, eyes instinctively sweeping it as Ghost closed and locked the door behind him. He’d never actually been in Ghost’s room before, but the barebones military style shoebox didn’t interest him. Ghost’s hand touched his shoulder and gently pushed, guiding him forward. He sat at the desk and Ghost leaned against it beside him.
“So…what kinda release are we talkin’?” He asked, crossing his arms, “You tryin’ to get drunk? Fight? Fuck?”
Soap didn’t know what he needed. He stared blankly at Ghost.
“That bad, huh?” Ghost prompted, eyeing Soap up and down, “Describe your problem. Don’t be shy, I won’t judge ya.”
“I…am a machine,” Soap offered, “There’s too much steam inside me that can’t get oot.”
“Hm, I see,” Ghost said, “So…What you need is to open a few vents.”
“Yes,” Soap whispered, “You understand.”
“I do,” Ghost confirmed, “And I think I can help you. But I need you to agree to listen to me and tell me if you need to stop. I also need you to understand we might have two very different reactions to what I do to you.”
“I understand,” Soap assured, “What will you do?”
Ghost pushed off the desk and opened a drawer. He reached in and pulled out a very wicked looking knife that he twirled around in his hand, Soap’s eyes tracking the movement.
“I’m gonna open some vents in you,” Ghost said simply, “No lastin’ damage, I promise, but this will release that pressure. Trust me, I’m a mechanic.”
“Okay,” Soap agreed.
“You are fucked up,” Ghost commented, shaking his head, “Let’s get you through some maintenance, Bishop. Get up, strip to your underwear, and get on the bed.”
Soap did as he was told in mechanical motions, body stiff and mind whirring like an overused computer. He laid flat and felt awkward, like somehow he was doing even this wrong. He watched Ghost put a bottle of water, a rag, and a first aid kit beside the bed before climbing up with him, straddling his legs.
“You’ve done colors before?” He asked.
Soap took a second to process what he was asking.
“Green, yellow, red?” He offered.
“Yes, that, you use that to let me know how you’re goin’,” Ghost said, “Don’t think I’ll give up helpin’ you if you say slow down or stop. I can do this all night and tomorrow too.”
“I understand,” Soap agreed.
“Also I’m gonna get turned on by this,” Ghost added, “But I won’t do anythin’ you don’t want.”
“Okay,” Soap said.
“Good, let’s get started,” Ghost said, twirling the knife again, “Stay still for me, Marvin.”
Soap laid perfectly still as Ghost leaned down, smoothing his hand over his half-bare thigh before bringing the knife to the top of it, just above his knee. The edge sliced into Soap’s skin so easily he almost jumped in surprise as it stung lightly into his flesh. Flesh. Perhaps he was still human and not metal after all. The cut was short and shallow though. Maybe Ghost just hadn’t dug deep enough to hit the clockwork inside him.
Ghost cut again, above the first one and again the knife glided through Soap’s skin as easily as if it were butter. There was no difficulty in this action. Soap didn’t have to bully his body into letting it happen, it just did. Ghost really was his mechanic, performing maintenance he wasn’t capable of himself. He could relax now and let it work, let the steam vent from the stinging slits, releasing the tension in him. Provided the vents could get deep enough.
Ghost cut him three more times with increasing depths before a drop of blood spilled out of him and he hissed at the thin escape of steam. It wasn’t enough, but it was something, he was getting somewhere. Ghost moved to the other thigh and this time cut five times, increasing in depth. Five hissing releases of steam had Soap sighing and relaxing against the bed, unraveling a bit as the steam dripped down his leg.
“There we go, that’s it,” Ghost murmured, “Now we’ve got it.”
He moved up a bit, shuffling forward on his knees and brought the knife down on Soap’s ribs. He traced curved lines over the lower eight ribs, four on each side and more steam spilled out, letting Soap breathe easier without so much pressure in his chest. But he still needed more.
Ghost gave him more. He cut a long vertical line over his sternum and it spilled much more steam than the others had. He cut a curved line into each of his pecs, the curve bowed upward toward Soap’s throat. As some of the buzzing in his mind cleared and he began to feel a bit lighter, Soap actually watched Ghost more attentively. Four more straight lines went over his collarbones, near his shoulder joints, two on each side. An upside down V went over his navel. Three small vertical lines went just beneath his rib cage on either side.
Although Soap couldn’t tell any pattern from it, Ghost was clearly picking his spots very meticulously, brushing his fingers over his skin and considering it a moment before splitting it under his knife. Despite all that focus and seriousness though, his hips kept pressing and grinding into Soap’s. He was clearly turned on, as he warned Soap he would be and with his brain somewhat back online, Soap was not unaffected himself.
He had always liked pain, so it was unsurprising that the stinging cuts were turning him on. Plus he’d have to be blind not to find Ghost attractive. His cock was beginning to stir, getting more interested the more steam oozed out of him. Then, when he’d finished the cuts, Ghost sat up a bit, pulling his mask off and licked the knife, tongue swiping from the handle to the tip on one side. Then he turned it to do the same to the other side.
“Ghost,” Soap breathed out, voice heavy and hoarse.
Ghost’s dark eyes flicked up to his, but he didn’t stop his tongue’s path, lapping up the few drops of Soap’s blood on the blade before pulling it away.
“You back with me, Johnny?” He murmured.
“Partly,” Soap offered, shifting a little.
Actually, having such a biological reaction to Ghost was helping him feel even more human. Ghost’s eyes trailed down Soap’s torso as he tossed his knife to his off-hand.
“You sure bleed like a human,” he commented as he reached out.
Soap looked down at his torso as Ghost’s fingers smeared through his blood, sending renewed stinging over each cut. The red did look human and with the pressure under his skin easing, he felt the sting in his flesh more clearly. He was unraveling, unspooling under Ghost’s gracefully painful touch.
Ghost leaned down and began to lick over his wounds which had Soap’s breathing struggling and his fingers curling into the bedsheets below him. Ghost licked every cut from navel to collarbone, tongue leaving wet smears over and between them. Then he lifted up just a bit, face even with Soap’s.
“Would you like another way to release?” He offered.
“Yes,” Soap whispered.
Ghost leaned down and kissed him, quickly shoving his tongue between his lips. Soap obliged him as well as he could, struggling to keep up with the sloppy, copper-tasting kiss. Ghost shifted over top of him as he kissed so forcefully, pushing down his bottoms then shuffling his knees down so he could pull Soap’s underwear down too.
Soap’s cock flipped up toward his belly and Ghost immediately pressed his own against it, rutting a bit clumsily along the length. Ghost’s cock was very small, so it made this action actually viable for getting off without having to hold them together. Ghost pulled off his lips and groaned softly.
“Color?” He grunted.
“Green,” Soap practically moaned, “I…I want…to feel human.”
“You are human, pretty boy,” Ghost assured breathlessly, “You’re alive and human. But I’ll prove it to you when I make you come all over yourself, yeah?”
“Please,” Soap begged.
Ghost straightened up as he pulled his shirt over his head. Soap’s eyes dropped instantly to his chest where two scars nestled under his pecs were twined with two snakes who had their mouths open, hissing at each other over his sternum. He had no nipples, replaced by more scar tissue which was abundant on his torso. Along with the scars were a few seemingly random tattoos of dogs, spiders, and the like and the pale lightning-like divots marking where his skin had stretched over his frankly massive muscles. Soap was having a very human reaction to his gorgeous body.
“Fuck, Ghost,” he huffed, “Why’re you so pretty?”
“Just to torture you,” Ghost answered, sounding really fucking smug.
He leaned forward, planting his hand on Soap’s bloody, stinging sternum and his hips, which had faltered thrusting, picked up again. His body rippled with each motion, every grind of their cocks and Soap was quickly struggling not to pant and moan and writhe like a desperate animal.
“Touch me,” Ghost ordered, “Feel that we’re the same.”
Soap pried his hands from the sheets and ran them up Ghost’s torso. He was so warm, definitely alive and his scars did feel like Soap’s own. Soap clutched at his hips, fingers digging into him and eyes closing tightly. The hot, tight feeling between his legs was pulled into focus, just as human as his scars and his blood.
“Ghost,” he moaned.
He bucked against him, pushing his cock urgently into him and Ghost ground harder against him, shoving his hips back down. He fucked against Soap faster too, seeming to be getting as desperate as Soap was. Between the harsh friction, the wound up tension, and probably a bit of repression, Soap’s body was pleased to be quickly hurtling toward orgasm. He tensed, abdomen and thighs flexing which made the cuts there flex as well.
“That’s it, Johnny,” Ghost coaxed between huffs, “That’s it. Come on, sweetheart. Let it out. Let it all go.”
A strained groan escaped from between Soap’s teeth and he let go, spasming a bit as he came. It was the final, perfect release of the coiled up tension inside him, like a ticking bomb going off. A burst of heat. A flood of warmth. A hazy cloud over his senses before the dust settled and he slumped bonelessly on the bed.
Ghost cursed above him and jerked to a halt. He slumped too, hand landing on the pillow beside Soap’s head. For a bit, the only sound was their labored breathing. The hum in Soap’s brain had stopped and the pressure was gone. He was human again. A very exhausted human.
Ghost eventually moved to clean up a bit and Soap just sort of laid there while Ghost wiped up his come and blood and put a few bandages on the deeper cuts. When he was done, he got up and flicked off the light then returned. He pulled the covers out from under Soap and crawled into the bed with him, grumbling at him to budge up. Soap sleepily rolled onto his side and Ghost pressed up behind him, carefully wrapping his arm around him.
“Ghost,” Soap started tiredly.
“You’re welcome,” Ghost interrupted, “Sleep.”
Soap slept easily now that the tension was gone and he was safe in Ghost’s arms.