Work Text:
Perhaps the first thing that drew them together was the innate understanding that they were hiding something dangerous enough that they could both be jailed or killed for it depending on the day.
There was something unique about the way Soap smelled. It was the first thing Ghost noticed when they’d met, his nose subtly lifting into the air to sniff the scent that followed his new sergeant curiously. The man was a beam of light in human form, lighting up every damn room he walked into without even trying to. He smelled like it too, like warm sunshine, citrus, and earth softened up by the rain.
The idiot had taken one look at Ghost, terrifying and staunchly unapproachable to everyone else who knew what was best for them, and decided they should be best friends. He’d bumped his hip against Ghost’s, slapped him on the back good-naturedly, and spoke with a broguish drawl that Ghost found himself leaning into like he could physically feel it scraping pleasantly against his skin.
Ghost was hooked immediately.
Whatever it was that Soap was hiding, Ghost concluded that it meant nothing in the long run. He let Soap get unabashedly close to him, relished privately in the way Soap touched him so openly and intimately. Before Soap, Ghost would spend nights where he couldn’t sleep running his body ragged until he physically had to pass out. Now, he got to lure Soap back to his room, even into his bed under innocent pretenses, and let Soap run his perfect mouth until it eventually dragged him under.
Sometimes Ghost would drag him back to his barracks even if he didn’t expect sleep not to come that night. He suspected that Soap knew Ghost didn’t really need him there on those nights, but he went happily nonetheless. The next morning, Ghost always woke up with Soap still in his bed, stealing too much of his blankets and taking up too much space for being the smallest person in the bed.
Saying they were close was an insult to the bond they shared, in Ghost’s opinion. Soap had demolished his way into Ghost’s hollow chest, spruced up the place, and curled up inside of the cavity until he all but consumed Ghost.
The first hint Ghost got of Soap’s secret was quick enough to miss.
Soap had chosen to retire to Ghost’s room that night, splaying himself out on Ghost’s bed like he belonged there and sketching across the pages of his beaten up sketchbook while he chatted Ghost’s ear off. It was a typical night for them—Ghost doing paperwork at his desk while Soap claimed any and every inch of Ghost’s space and talked more than Ghost thought was humanly possible before he’d met Johnny.
Where Ghost held contempt for small talk (and, if he were being honest, talking in general), he thought he would be happy if he had Soap’s voice in his ear every second of every passing day.
“Which reminds me,” Soap sighed dramatically, “leave is gonna be a pain in my fucking ass next month. I wish Price would just put it off for a little while longer.”
One of Ghost’s eyebrows rose at that, but he remained focused on his work. “Price has been putting it off for months, Johnny. You haven’t taken leave this year,” he scolded.
“I ken,” Soap whined, huffing out yet another dramatized noise. “I love my sisters and my mam, but—” He made another noise, more frustrated and genuine. “I dinnae feel like seeing my dad’s side of the family at my little sister’s goddamn baby shower. Some of them are fine, but most of them still talk to me like—”
Suddenly, Soap’s scent flared and burned. His eyes darted up at Ghost quickly, but returned to his sketchbook in a split second. “I wish she had wanted to do something just with us,” he grumbled, smelling of anxiety.
Ghost paused, listening to the way Soap aggressively drew on paper to get out some of his frustrations.
“Is he going to be there?” Ghost asked slowly, not wanting to spook Soap.
Thankfully, Soap scoffed. “Christ no, just some of his relatives. The last time we saw him, Maisie decked him.”
Ghost snorted at that. “The twenty-year-old?” he asked, a little incredulous at the image of Soap’s youngest sister swinging on their father.
“Aye, but she was seventeen at the time,” Soap snickered. “She walked straight up to him and gave him one of the nastiest right-hooks I’ve ever seen, Ghost. She still brings it up to this day, especially if she has a little too much wine at Christmas.”
“So the ego runs in the family, then?” Ghost shot back, smiling underneath his mask.
“What can I say, I set a real good example as the oldest,” Soap said pragmatically.
An eraser was lobbed at Ghost’s head when he scoffed at that, but Soap was laughing and most of the unease had left his posture. He glanced over at Soap out of the corner of his eye, drinking in the soft, unconscious smile Soap had on his face as he scribbled into his book. The smell of safety and relief wafted off of him, brushing against Ghost’s nose and begging him to finish the fuck up so he could return to his rightful place beside Soap.
Although Ghost had gotten on Soap for skipping out on leave until he was forced to take it, he was in the same exact boat as his sergeant. He and Soap were set to leave at the same time, not even a full day after touching down from a successful mission in bumfuck, middle of nowhere Europe.
The question had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. He wanted to ask whenever Soap talked about his family and going home, and as their leave neared, Ghost felt the words forming on his tongue every time he merely laid eyes on Soap.
He refrained. Bit his tongue until it bled, felt the skin stitch itself back together with inhuman speed, and moved on every time the urge called to him.
“I fuckin’ hate Russia,” Soap huffed as they left debrief. He knocked his shoulder against Ghost’s playfully, then fell into step beside his lieutenant. Their hands brushed against one another’s with almost every step, and Ghost felt the taste of iron continue to flood his mouth with every stifled breath he took.
They both made their way towards the barracks with the same schedule in mind. Soap would go home to his family, spend time loving and being loved, and come back retelling Ghost stories about the abnormally ridiculous and large group of Scots. Ghost, on the other hand, would spend most if not all of his leave in the woods, distracting himself from how Soap tormented his every thought.
“Any fun plans, Lt.?” Soap pressed as they walked. He eyed Ghost out of the corner of his eye, a tinge of something suspicious tickling Ghost’s nose.
Ghost turned and squinted at him, trying to gauge Soap’s jitteriness. The safest bet was that he was simply dreading leave this time around, being faced with the task of mingling with his piece of shit father’s family for however long.
“Other than hunting for virgins to eat their souls? Not much,” Ghost said flatly, hoping to ease a little of his sergeant’s worries.
Soap’s eyes widened before he tossed his head back and cackled, smacking his arm against Ghost’s stomach like he always did when he found something Ghost said even a little bit funny.
“You’re a fuckin’ eejit, sir,” he chuckled, shaking his head.
“Oi, I know what that one means. Don’t get cheeky just because you’re not going to see me for a week, Sergeant,” Ghost chided.
Soap ducked his head and laughed a little, but Ghost scented the burnt ember of upset in the air around him. Frowning, Ghost bumped their shoulders like Soap had in a show of camaraderie.
A little startled, Soap looked up at him and smiled, nudging him back. “Actually, that reminds me. I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” Soap hedged. Again, he lowered his gaze to the ground and rubbed at the nape of his neck nervously.
Stopping at the intersection in the hallway where Ghost and Soap had to go separate ways, Ghost turned to face his sergeant and angled his head to the side as a sign for the other man to continue.
If Ghost didn’t know better, he would say Soap looked bashful as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked everywhere but Ghost’s eyes.
“Were you serious about not having anything planned over leave? Because, I don’t know, I was kinda thinking that maybe you could come visit?” Soap said unsurely, wincing as he did so. “I wouldnae make you come with me to see my family if you didn’t want—not that I’m inviting you to that! Well, actually, I kind of am, but it’s no’ really a problem if you dinnae want to.”
Ghost stared. Soap huffed out a quiet “Jesus” once he’d finished rambling, fidgeting in front of Ghost as he waited for a response.
Inhaling, Ghost could almost taste Soap’s shyness with how heavy the smell of it was cloying the air around him. He felt his jaw ache as his canines begged to grow. His nailbeds throbbed as his claws fought to make an appearance.
Silly pup, crooned the awaiting beast that prowled behind Ghost’s ribcage. Its maw drooled and snapped eagerly, hungrily as his prey delivered itself on a silver platter to the beast himself.
“Relax,” Ghost said quietly, directing it both at Soap and at the growing predatory urges clawing at his nerves. “Try again.”
Soap shook his head with a huff, and Ghost nearly howled at the sight. He reminded Ghost of a pup so much—almost painfully so, as he always had. It made Ghost want to scruff him with his teeth, maybe bend him over and show him that Ghost was a capable mate who could work all of that vibrant energy out of his bones.
He was blushing, Ghost noticed, when he finally looked back up and made eye contact with Ghost. “Would you… come home with me?” he stumbled, swallowing audibly afterwards.
Wide-eyed and utterly genuine in his worry over approaching his superior to ask him of something so unprofessional. So clearly over the line.
Although, Ghost knew certainly that it wasn’t the professionalism aspect of his request that was worrying Soap. He was worried to ask this of the man, of Simon, rather than The Ghost. Worried that Simon would turn him down, as if he had even an ounce of strength to resist his Johnny.
Ghost tilted his head to the side, swallowing a rumbling purr, and said, “Yes.”
Soap’s family was exactly how he expected them to be.
Over the past year, he’d been shown pictures and videos of his sisters and the two, now almost three if he counted the unborn child he was celebrating beside Johnny, kids shared between the siblings. If he were given a picture of Soap and his sisters, he could have pointed to each one with a name from eldest to youngest: Johnny, Ainsley, Caitlin, Sophia, Maisie.
Even without seeing them, he thought it was pretty easy to tell who was who. They were all just as loud as Johnny was, but Maisie was an especially even match. She’d launched herself at Soap as soon as he walked through the door. At first it was just a bear hug filled with nonsense words and heavy accents, but it quickly devolved into Maisie somehow ending up slung across Soap’s back while she held him in a headlock and tried to take him down.
“You must be Simon.”
Ghost tensed on instinct before forcing himself to relax. Here by Johnny’s side, meeting his family, he was Simon. He couldn’t allow himself to feel any inner turmoil over that vulnerability when the inhuman side of him was pacing with happiness at being shown off to Soap’s family.
Turning, he was greeted with the sight of an older woman, much smaller than himself, smiling over at her children wrestling.
“John’s told us so much about you. It’s nice to finally be able to meet you,” she laughed, directing her smile at Ghost instead. “My boy’s not like this at work, is he? I’d assume he’s much more behaved.”
Not being able to hide a small smirk behind his mask was an unfortunate downside of mingling with civvies, but the playful gleam in the woman’s eyes told him she appreciated his amusement.
“He’s worse,” Ghost murmured honestly, turning back to watch as Maisie began mimicking the movements Soap instructed her to. One long leg of hers outstretched, then kicked into the back of Soap’s knee, taking him to the ground with a triumphant shout. Soap, of course, laughed and teased her in a way that ended up showing how proud of her he really was.
Soap’s mother tossed her head back and laughed, reminding Ghost entirely too much of his sergeant. She chuckled as she wiped imaginary tears away from her eyes, shaking her head fondly at her children.
“Of course he is,” she laughed lightly. Again, she turned to Ghost and smiled so warmly that Ghost felt it radiating off of her. She stretched her hand out for Ghost, then said, “I’m Fiona, dear. I truly am so happy that John finally decided to bring his… to bring you home. He cares quite a bit about you, and from what he’s told me, it sounds like you take very good care of my boy.”
Distant memories of Ghost’s own mother were nothing compared to the way Soap’s mother was looking at him. He inhaled deeply, damn near getting high off of how strongly Johnny smelled like pure joy, and graced Fiona with a humble look.
“I try to,” he murmured.
“Nae, you do. It’s all my John talks about,” Fiona giggled, her eyes sparkling. She placed a hand on Ghost’s bicep and, somehow, Ghost didn’t feel the urge to flinch away. “Don’t tell him I told you that, though,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“Yes ma’am,” Ghost agreed with a short nod.
“Good man,” Fiona beamed. She rubbed Ghost’s arm warmly before veering in the direction of her kids and shooing Maisie off of her big brother.
Watching Soap in his element off the field, working his way through his mother’s home, greeting every relative he passed by radiantly and enthusiastically so, was akin to a religious experience. Ghost found himself enamored, having to remind himself that he couldn’t stare at Soap like he was the center of his whole universe without his mask protecting him.
It was art, the way he moved throughout a given room and pulled all of the attention onto him with his wide smile and obnoxious laugh. Almost felt like Ghost was the lone patron observing a precious installment in the Louvre, basking in soft, warm light while he suffered from an visceral emotional reaction to the most striking masterpiece he’d ever been lucky enough to lay eyes on. Ghost’s chest ached watching him. He could do nothing but stare at Soap, captivated, and keep himself mere steps behind the other man protectively.
“I know it’s a lot,” Soap sighed, tugging Ghost out onto the back porch after a long while of being repeatedly introduced to Soap’s family.
“What is?” Ghost questioned, snagging his pack out from his pocket and pulling out a cig.
“Talking to people instead of knives,” Soap taunted, knocking Ghost’s boot with his own. He cozied up next to Ghost, both of them relaxing back into the fence running along the perimeter of the porch.
It was barely October, so although the sun was halfway finished setting behind the horizon, the weather still felt comfortable for a warm-blooded creature like Ghost. Ghost found himself lulled by the sound of cool autumn breezes rustling the yellowing leaves of the large maple in Soap’s childhood backyard.
Each time he passed the cig over to Johnny, his stomach swooped with something terribly sweet. He’d lean in closer, despite not having to, to take the stick from Ghost with a private little smile. Bright orange lit up the tan skin of Johnny’s face with each drag, highlighting every single detail that made up his handsome features.
“It’s not so bad,” Ghost rumbled back after over a minute had passed.
Soap’s mouth quirked up into a smile, and he shuffled closer until he was pressed flush against Ghost’s side. He was clearly amused that Ghost was brushing off the idea of being bothered by so much socialization.
Lifting one shoulder to shrug, Ghost said, “I mean it. They’re nice. Remind me a hell of a lot of you.”
“You sayin’ I’m no’ one of a kind, Simon?”
Ghost could have fallen to his knees at the sound of his name in Soap’s mouth.
“Course not,” Ghost murmured, eyes drooping low to watch Johnny’s pretty mouth wrap around the cig as he took another drag. “I’m nothing if not a gentleman, Johnny. I’d never talk to a pretty little thing like that.”
“You’re flattering me, sir,” Soap laughed breathily. Smoke curled out of his mouth and into Ghost’s nostrils, and damn if Ghost didn’t find himself leaning in to chase it. “Is this why you always wear the mask? You’re too prone to smooth-talking and need to keep it at bay somehow?” he snickered.
Ghost snorted as he took the smoke back from Soap and took a drag. “Don’t push it,” he exhaled into Soap’s face. He didn’t hide his sharp smirk when Soap went a little too pink and a little too cross-eyed at that.
Desperate little pup, Ghost thought to himself, delighted. “I promise no one else is at risk of having me ‘smooth-talk’ them, Johnny.”
Soap went wide-eyed, his rosy cheeks flushing a little redder as he slipped further into Ghost’s personal space. “Why’s that?” he spoke, sounding more like a siren than a man. “Am I just all that special, Ghostie?”
Ghost lifted himself up off of the wood he was resting on, standing to his full height and crowding Soap against the very fence they were just sharing. Soap’s breath hitched. He craned his neck back to look up at his much taller lieutenant, and under the mix of low sunlight and new moonlight, his skin glowed with the healthy blush staining his cheeks.
Taking another pull, this one a little larger than the previous ones he’d taken, Ghost leaned in until their noses were inches apart. He exhaled slowly, cataloguing every little drunken expression that crossed Soap’s pretty face as he did so.
“Don’t ask me stupid fucking questions, Johnny,” he sneered, delighting in the way Soap’s eyes widened, then promptly melted. “You’re not stupid, are you?”
Soap shook his head slowly, seeming dazed. Ghost narrowed his eyes and quickly shoved one of his thighs in between Soap’s and dragged it upwards. The act yanked a surprised squeak out of Soap, one Ghost found downright endearing, and he scrambled to clutch onto Ghost’s thigh to stabilize himself.
“Simon! I—Wait, I—” Soap gasped.
A shocked moan tore out of Soap’s throat when Ghost intentionally jerked his thigh up into Soap’s crotch. He shot forward, burying the top of his head into Ghost’s chest and digging his blunt nails into the meat of Ghost’s thigh.
“You know who doesn’t speak when spoken to, Johnny?” Ghost began evenly, rocking his thigh in tune with Soap as the boy humped down on Ghost’s leg. Soap only responded with a high whine, sounding equally humiliated and desperate.
Ghost lifted the hand that wasn’t cradling his cig and buried it in the silky strands of Soap’s mohawk near the nape of his neck. He twisted his fingers in tight, holding Johnny close.
“Dogs, Johnny. People talk, but dogs don’t. Are you a dog?” Ghost asked meanly, yanking the strands a little tighter until he heard Soap whimper. He trembled against Ghost’s chest, his gyrating hips jerking unevenly when Ghost referred to him as a mutt.
Other than short, poorly muffled whines and whimpers, Soap remained silent like the good boy he was.
Ghost growled, the sound of it too deep and abrasive to sound entirely human. “Good fucking dog,” he leered, the rumble in his voice deeper than normal.
His jaw ached. Nailbeds throbbed. Gums ached. Bone shifted underneath skin, ready to break and reform. His cock kicked within his jeans, and a telltale tautness throbbing at the base promised that he’d have Johnny knotted and claimed before the night was over.
“God, Simon,” Soap choked, clawing at Ghost’s pant leg. “Please. Home, wanna make it home first,” he begged tearfully.
Ghost made a sound deep in his chest, again more animalistic than he intended, but Soap didn’t notice or simply didn’t give a fuck. “Alright, Johnny. Let’s get the little puppy home, yeah?” he purred.
“Yeah,” Soap mewled needily, shaking against Ghost and grinding down harder until Ghost curbed the misbehavior with another sharp tug to his hair.
Soap’s face was flushed and wet with delicate tearstreaks when he finally looked back up at Ghost. His pupils were blown out wide and his mouth was parted as he panted up at Ghost, looking just as sweet as Ghost imagined he would in this position.
Swallowing heavily, Soap smiled up at Ghost wide enough to show off both rows of his teeth. He looked drunk on attention from Ghost, ready to drop to his knees or bare his throat for Ghost’s knife depending on which one Ghost asked of him. Truthfully, he couldn’t decide which one would make him harder.
Breathlessly, he clung to Ghost. “Simon, can we—”
“Thank god we haven’t seen the oldest tonight. Did you see that picture of her with her sisters in the kitchen?”
Voices filtered in from the screen on the back door. While Ghost didn’t find himself bothered by the thought of Soap’s relatives catching them, he was immediately alarmed by the way Soap froze up completely.
His eyes went wide, shot to the door, back to Ghost, and then down between them as he tried to wiggle away.
“Ghost—” he pleaded quietly.
“Stop,” Ghost ordered firmly. Soap shook his head and pushed weakly at Ghost’s chest, but Ghost held him steady. Tugged him closer and splayed his hand low across Johnny’s spine. He rubbed soothing circles into Johnny’s back and bit down a not so human rumble that had begun to swell deep in his chest.
With a defeated, desperate whine, Johnny collapsed back into his hold and buried his face into Ghost’s sternum.
“Yes! I can’t believe Fiona seems proud of her,” another voice piped up. “She’s butchered her body, and her own mother is proud of her for doing it. No wonder Angus divorced her. She has no respect for God with that disturbed child of hers.”
The oldest, the other woman had said prior. Fiona’s oldest. Meaning Johnny. Yet they had to be speaking of her eldest daughter, Ainsley.
“Jesus help them,” the first woman sighed. “Letting her cut her hair and make everyone call her a man’s name is one thing, but letting her join the military? Goodness!”
Ghost frowned down at Soap, though the other soldier still refused to look at him. He was still cowering into his lieutenant’s chest, but he shook in Ghost’s hold.
None of Soap’s sisters were in the military, he knew that for a fact.
He shifted against Soap, which inadvertently brought it all crashing down. Soap flinched, spurring himself back into action as he tried to escape Ghost’s hold. His weak struggling had his hips canting down and grinding against Ghost’s thigh again.
And Ghost realized very suddenly that Soap was lacking any semblance of a bulge there even though he’d been grinding against Ghost like a bitch in heat mere moments ago.
Ah, Ghost thought as the realization sunk in.
He’d seen Soap’s file—he was his superior, after all. Soap’s file was extraordinary and normal all at once. Descriptions of how his performance outshined others and characteristic information that in no way indicated he was taking prescribed testosterone, nor did he have any medical reason to.
“Please—I’m sorry,” Soap whispered, the distress making him sound small and scared.
Ghost blinked. Sorry?
The two women seemed to have returned to the rest of the family further into the house as Ghost realized he no longer smelled them near. The scent of Johnny’s troubled thoughts assaulted Ghost’s nostrils, pulling a sneer out of him. To soothe him, Ghost softly shushed him and ran his fingers through Soap’s mohawk.
“We’re leaving,” he told Johnny. A growl threatened to burst from his chest, his body making its attempt to soothe the upset pup slumped against his chest with its mangled purr.
Soap sniffed, though he did his best to hide it in a sharp inhale.
Oh, Johnny, the beast inside of him mourned. I thought you knew we were one in the same.
“You won’t tell Price, will you?” Soap whispered.
That time, Ghost was the one to freeze. “What?” he asked blankly.
Soap jerked his head side to side uneasily. When he finally looked up at Ghost, he looked torn. His fingers twitched against Ghost’s stomach, clinging to the fabric even tighter. He was begging Ghost to live up to his expectations with his eyes alone; wide, shining with tears, impossibly breathtaking.
“You think I would do that to my—”
The word mate got caught in Ghost’s throat, frustrating him to no end. Ghost grunted, pulling away from Soap and catching his wrist to tug him in the direction of the door. Soap went willingly, eyes widening to the size of the moon.
Ghost swallowed the outpour of truth that threatened to spill from his mouth. “Let’s go home, Johnny,” he said instead, dragging Soap into the house without another word.
“Uh, Simon,” Soap called out hesitantly. “I’m no’ sure how you getting naked in my backyard is helpful right now.”
Over his shoulder, Ghost flipped Soap off.
Getting out of Fiona’s house had taken at least thirty minutes with all of the dramatic Scottish goodbyes that took place. Each sister had taken their turn in bidding their older brother goodbye, his mother had thrown herself into his arms and cried, and several of his aunts and uncles drunkenly told Soap how missed he was and to stay safe.
Ghost didn’t mind how long it took when it meant Johnny left the house looking much calmer than he’d been out on the porch.
When Ghost was down to just his briefs, he rolled his shoulders and let the festering urge begin to take shape. “You and I are the same, Johnny,” Ghost swore confidently. “I felt it the first day we met, didn’t you?”
He was several feet away from Soap. Where he stood in the grass of Soap’s lawn, Soap stood on the last wooden stair descending from his own back porch. Warmly tinted lights lit up the yard where Ghost stood, and he knew they’d glint like golden daggers against his desert-colored fur.
Slowly, Soap nodded. “Not like that, though,” he muttered, avoiding Ghost’s eyes as he scuffed his boot against the wooden plank he stood on.
“No, not like that,” Ghost agreed.
He could feel the shift crackling underneath the thick muscles decorating his body. Soap watched him openly, drinking in the exposed skin and tattoos he’d never seen before.
“Johnny,” Ghost called. “These scars aren’t just from torture.”
The word made Soap flinch, eyes flicking up to Ghost’s before mapping out over the visible scars on Ghost’s skin.
“What else are they from?” he questioned into the night.
Ghost ignored his question and took a few steps back, making sure Soap wasn’t in close range. “I’ll show you. Your secret is safe with me, Johnny. Even if you change your mind,” he promised.
Soap frowned and moved like he was about to ask something else, but any further words were immediately cut off by the tearing of flesh and bone.
After shifting so many times in his life, it came easy to Ghost. His bones shattered, melted, and reformed themselves within his body. Muscle mass and tissues shifted, growing, stretching over his changing body as his coat unraveled itself. The shift itself took mere seconds. One moment, Ghost stood in front of Johnny. The next, a wolf infinitely more massive than Soap landed on all four paws and shook out its honey blonde fur.
Reactively, Soap yelped and fell back against the stairs to put distance between himself and the newfound predator stalking towards him. His mouth fell wide open as he gawked at the huge wolf. It was even taller than Ghost’s human form, the tops of its ears reaching well over seven feet from the ground where its large paws stood firm.
Ghost huffed and stretched, growling quietly but happily when he felt the long term ache in his body ebb away with the relief that came from shifting. He tilted his head at Johnny and ran his long tongue over his extended, sharp incisors and canines.
“Simon?” Soap breathed, barely audible. He leaned away from the stairs hesitantly, though he remained seated still, and reached out a hand towards Ghost.
Ghost’s throat vibrated with a rough, affirmative growl, which was the most he could do in that form. He stepped closer to Soap, eyeing him for any sudden movements as he leaned in to press his muzzle to Soap’s offered palm.
Fascinated, Soap trailed a curious hand over his scarred muzzle and up towards his ears. Soap wiggled a little closer so that he could reach more of Ghost’s fur, his hand inching closer to the chip in Ghost’s left ear. The feeling of someone touching the healed injury made his ear flick sensitively, but he made no move to deter Johnny’s exploration.
Like this, Ghost’s senses were sharper. His human form still carried a significant amount of animalistic, predatory instincts, but his shifted form tuned every nerve ending in his body to make him that much more deadly. His sense of smell became deeper, more efficient, and the new way he was able to smell and feel nothing but Johnny went directly to his head.
Still growling, the sound resembling a bastardized version of a purr, Ghost nosed at Soap’s chin for a moment before moving in closer and pressing his nose to the crook of Soap’s neck. Soap made a surprised sound, then stumbled over a ticklish laugh when Ghost’s cold nose dragged itself over his exposed skin.
“Is your tail wagging?” Soap blurted out suddenly, yelping when Ghost nipped at him in retaliation.
“Hey!” Soap protested. His hands came up and buried themselves into Ghost’s fur, petting him curiously. A little warily, like Ghost might try to bite his hand for it.
But the tender way Soap’s fingers carded through his light fur felt heavenly, and Ghost found himself arching into Soap’s hands while he gave the man’s neck an appreciative lick.
Laughing easily, Soap teased, “And you were calling me the dog.”
Ghost’s tail paused its wagging. He wasn’t a dog, he was a wolf. To emphasize the distinction, he stepped closer and shoved Johnny’s back against the staircase with one paw against the center of his chest, the size of it covering most of the expanse of Johnny’s chest. Once he was pinned beneath Ghost’s unmoving weight, Ghost opened his jaw and snared Soap’s delicate throat beneath his sharp teeth.
Soap gasped, eyes shooting wide in instinctual panic as he was threatened by a beast that could easily pull him apart within the blink of an eye. Ghost growled, closing his jaw a little tighter around Soap’s throat until he knew the man felt uncomfortable from the way the wolf’s razor-sharp fangs were digging into his vulnerable skin.
“Jesus, Simon,” he keened.
His back arched, pushing his throat even further into Ghost’s dangerous grip. Ghost growled again, louder and more unfriendly, and laved his tongue over the column of Johnny’s throat.
Soap’s fingers tightened in his fur and then, suddenly, smacked him.
Ghost grunted, looking down at Soap for signs of true distress only to find the man pink and squirming.
“Turn back into a fuckin’ person and fuck me, you fuckin’ walloper,” Soap hissed, glaring up at Ghost and smacking his shoulder again
A soft puff of air hit Soap’s neck as Ghost showed his amusement. He released Soap’s throat, licking at the angry, red indents left behind. Letting go of a shift so soon after shifting in the first place felt uncomfortable, but they still had a whole week of leave ahead of them and Ghost would be sure to find more time to spend in his wolf form.
Ghost let it crackle and morph under his skin again, his body changing and shifting inhumanly as he took the shape of a man once more. He grunted in exertion, sagging a little against Johnny and burying his face into the man’s shoulder to rub his own scent there.
Briefly, he wondered how much convincing it would take to have Soap let him fuck him in his wolf form. Make him present like a bitch and breed him full of obscene amounts of cum until any other being with Ghost’s sense of smell would be able to catch one whiff of Soap and know that he was spoken for.
“Simon,” Soap ushered him back down to Earth. “You with me?”
Ghost hummed in assent, scraping Johnny’s cheek with his own.
“What was that?” Soap asked him, still slipping his fingers through Simon’s blonde curls like he’d been doing with his fur.
“They didn’t teach you about wolves in school, Johnny?” Another smack to his shoulder, and this time Ghost was able to laugh into Soap’s neck in response. “I’m not all that sure. I wasn’t always like this—it was… Roba. Tested me. Injected me with shit a lot. I was chained up in a cage for a few months when I was finally able to shift into a wolf,” Ghost admitted to him.
Some of his scars ached at the memory of being in that state. Crazed and delirious on his body’s foreign hormones that made him feel like he was in a constant state of life or death. Locked inside of his wolf form for months on end, chained in a cage as he was poked, prodded, electrocuted, and sliced.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Soap asked, deceptively soft. He sounded like he already knew the answer, but needed confirmation.
“Yes,” Ghost smiled. He could still practically taste Roba’s blood and flesh between his teeth as he tore him to pieces like a cheap chew toy.
Soap exhaled sharply, dragged his nails over Ghost’s scalp pleasantly.
“Wish I could’ve helped you, sir,” Soap swore softly, honestly.
“Yeah?” Ghost purred, grinding his bare hips down into Soap’s. He felt Soap nod fervently, tilting his hips up and begging Ghost to keep going, to give him more. “I’ll show you how I did it one of these days, Johnny. Show you exactly how I ripped him apart with nothing but my teeth.”
Soap panted, grinding against Ghost harder, more insistent. Nails clawed at the bare skin of Ghost’s shoulders. “Simon,” he pleaded.
“Such a sweet little puppy, aren’t you?” Ghost murmured against his jawline, scraping the skin with his teeth.
“Simon, fuck me,” Soap begged, his voice cracking with the intensity of his need. He scratched his nails up the planes of Ghost’s back and over his shoulders with more intent, drawing a hiss out of Ghost.
Soap was up and in his arms within the blink of an eye. He glared down at Ghost when the shifter laughed at Soap’s surprised little squeak. “Och, don’t be a cunt if you wanna get lucky tonight.”
Ghost gave him a dubious look as he carried the man back into his house and towards the bedroom Soap had shown him earlier that day. “You’re trying to tell me you won’t let me fuck you if I’m mean to you?”
When he’d kicked the bedroom door shut behind them, Ghost tossed Soap onto his bed and kneeled on the mattress between Soap’s spread legs. He yanked Soap close, wrapping his sergeant’s legs around his waist and looming overtop of him. “You want me to be nice to you, Johnny? Is that it?” Ghost asked, condescending.
He gripped Soap’s jaw, not unkindly but certainly not gently, and crushed their mouths together. He licked at the seam of Soap’s mouth, feeling drunk off of the moan he swallowed from Soap’s mouth as their tongues coiled around one another’s.
Nailbeds throbbed. Teeth ached. His fangs were suspiciously sharp, more than they should be for his human form. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to complain when that meant he got to lick fresh blood away from Soap’s split lip.
Pulling himself back up, Ghost held Soap down and swiped his tongue over his bottom lip to chase the addictive taste of Soap’s blood. He continued to roll his hips against Soap’s, enjoying the way Soap so clearly wanted to beg for more.
“Answer me,” Ghost ordered.
Soap squirmed underneath him, his eyes rolling back into his head each time he felt Ghost’s hard cock nudge against his ass.
“No,” he grumbled.
Ghost huffed out an amused breath as he buried his face into the crook of Soap’s neck, scenting him deeply. A continuous rumble rattled its way out of Ghost’s chest, content and ravished as he feasted on Soap laid out beneath him. He and his wolf had never been the best of friends, but they were always on the same page when it came to Johnny.
“Simon, wha’s that sound?” Soap breathed. He lifted one hand up to tunnel through the blonde curls atop Ghost’s head, scratching around the area where his hairline met the nape of his neck. It felt good, and the buzzing growl within Ghost’s chest deepened, pleased. “Are you purring?”
He didn’t protest when Ghost’s hands found their way to the button of his dark wash jeans, tearing them off with one rough motion. He slid his palms flat along Soap’s hips next, rising upward and sneaking under the hem of Soap’s shirt until he was touching hot, bare skin.
Ghost made a tortured sound, scraping his extended fangs against Soap’s neck where he would bear a mating mark the next morning.
“Not all that sure,” Ghost murmured as his hands took in every dip and curve of Soap’s torso. And honestly, he wasn’t sure what exactly it was. His body had never once wanted to make the purring sound currently shaking his ribs until he’d met Soap, and even then, that night was the first time it’d successfully escaped his throat.
“You were makin’ it earlier, too,” Soap whispered, clearly pushing for information.
Ghost rolled his eyes at his nosey excuse of a sergeant. He continued to scent the man to his heart’s content until his head began to feel hazy and loose with it. His spine tingled with warmth, and Ghost belatedly realized it was a more intense version of the feeling he got during his ruts.
“Just felt right. Wanted to calm you down,” Ghost explained shortly, inhaling at Soap’s neck with his mouth parted so that he could taste the scent of Johnny on his tongue. He was no longer in his wolf form, but he felt like the human ability to speak was close to escaping him.
When Johnny let out a sincere laugh, Ghost felt the vibrations sink into his very core. He groaned at the feeling of being so close to Soap, finally.
It was as if a thread inside of Ghost snapped. He snarled lowly, grabbed Soap’s hips, and flipped him over onto his stomach. Soap was already yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aimlessly across the room when Ghost kneeled behind him and went for his briefs. He was bared to Ghost’s eyes in seconds, and a sharp yelp was punched out of his chest when Ghost manhandled his ass into the air while pinning his chest to the mattress.
“Simon,” Johnny moaned wantonly and, oh. Ghost could fucking smell him better like this, with his legs spread whorishly wide and his perfect cunt glinting with wetness.
Keeping Soap pinned, Ghost nosed against his bare cunt and breathed.
“Simon, Jesus fucking—fuck,” Soap whimpered, bordering on a soft sob, as he arched his back for Ghost. Ghost could scent the way he flushed with aroused embarrassment, the smell of it melting into something molten when Ghost began laving his tongue over Soap’s slick opening.
Ghost felt crazed while he devoured Soap’s sweet cunt, making throaty, delirious sounds of possession against his sergeant’s blazing skin as he switched between paying loving attention to Soap’s little cock and attempting to eat out Soap’s cunt life a man starved.
Beneath him, Soap whined and cried just as feveredly. Such a perfect match for Simon.
Soap nearly jumped out of his skin when Ghost’s hand slipped around his hip until he was able to take his little cock between two knuckles while he dipped his tongue into Soap’s pussy. Trembling, Soap let out an obscene moan against the sheets.
“Don’t stop,” he gasped. “Please.”
Against him, Ghost huffed out a condescending sound. He smiled into Soap’s skin when the younger man choked on a moan and shook harder. Ghost pulled Soap further back into him and pinned him there with his hand around Soap’s hip, not shying away from using a little of his inhuman strength to keep him from getting away.
“Yeah,” Soap groaned deeply, followed by a drawn out moan that was poorly muffled by biting the comforter below him. “Simon—” he sobbed, his thighs wiggling and shaking as Ghost brought him to the brink. “Gonna—uh! Simon!”
Ghost growled against his cunt, feral at the mere thought of tasting Soap’s come. Soap shouted and tensed as his cock pulsed with his orgasm. He bit down on the comforter again, small, winded sounds punching their way out of his chest as Ghost worked him through it.
Soap collapsed after several seconds, but Ghost simply followed him, tongue still buried deep inside of his cunt as he savored the taste of Johnny. He took his hand away from Soap’s clit once the man was twitching away from overstimulation, but Soap’s relief was short-lived.
Two of Ghost’s fingers pushed into Soap’s entrance alongside his tongue, shocking a cry out of Soap.
“Please, Simon,” he pleaded, rocking his hips back into Ghost’s hand.
Growling, Ghost slipped a third finger into Soap’s drenched cunt and finally, mournfully, pulled his mouth away. He leaned back on his haunches to watch his fingers drive in and out of Soap’s sinfully tight pussy.
“Tastes good, Johnny,” he drawled above him. “I’m starting to think that you’ve been hiding this pussy from me on purpose. Worried I’d need another vice?” Ghost teased as he leaned over the length of Soap’s body, dropping hot, wet kisses up Soap’s spine.
“Aye,” Soap nearly slurred against the sheets. “You getting withdrawal yet, sir?”
Ghost snorted as he reached Soap’s shoulder, biting at his skin to show his displeasure at Soap’s attempt at humor. His humor rapidly faded into lust when he felt Johnny tighten around his pistoning fingers in response. The sounds of Soap’s ragged breathing, Ghost’s beastial huffs, and Ghost’s fingers spreading Soap’s cunt wide open echoed loudly in Ghost’s sensitive ears, making him acutely aware of how painfully hard his cock was.
“Yer bitey,” Soap murmured with a little smile and a knowing glance over his shoulder. He wiggled his eyebrows a little.
“Don’t,” Ghost said flatly, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Soap didn’t miss it.
“You sure you’re not at least part dog, sir?” Soap taunted, his lips pulling back into a daring, provocative smile. Somehow, Ghost had managed to resist this man for over a year. He had no fucking clue how he’d managed to not fuck the living daylights out of Johnny before that night.
Ghost withdrew his fingers from Soap’s body, nudging his entrance with the blunt head of his cock a split second after. Soap’s eyes slid shut with a blissful moan. He arched his back, shuffling up on his knees a little so that his cunt was presented perfectly for Ghost’s taking.
Without any preamble, Ghost pushed the head of his cock into Soap and surged forward until their hips were flush against one another’s. Soap’s brow furrowed as a moan tore out of his chest.
Snarling, Ghost’s hand shot out and landed flat on the bed beside Soap’s head. His other hand wrapped tight around Soap’s hip to keep him close as he pushed the base of his growing knot against his pussy.
“I’m sure, Johnny,” Ghost told him before he pulled his hips back and sank back into Soap’s body, setting a bed-shakingly brutal pace.
“Dogs get fucked until they’re too fucking stupid to talk, isn’t that right?” Ghost couldn’t help but sneer. Soap whined, but didn’t speak as Ghost began fucking the shape of his cock into Soap’s body.
He lifted his hand to grip Soap’s neck, holding him down as he drove into Soap’s heavenly cunt harder and harder. “Go ahead, Johnny. Speak, boy,” he taunted as he drilled Soap into the mattress.
There was no resistance in Soap as he kept quiet, save for blissful whimpers and cries. Smiling, Ghost murmured, “Good dog.”
Soap’s cunt throbbed around his cock as he sobbed into the bed. He took fistfuls of the sheets and clawed at them as Ghost thrust into him unforgivingly. The angle of Soap’s hips allowed Ghost to bump his cock against the opening of Soap’s cervix with each thrust. Suddenly, all Ghost could think about was his cum flooding Soap’s womb.
With a feral sound of desperation, Ghost changed their positions minutely to mount Soap and fucked him into the mattress with hard, aggressive thrusts.
“Fuck!” Soap squeaked. Loud, high-pitched cries of pleasure spilled out of his mouth as Ghost’s cock rubbed incessantly against his g-spot. “Simon! Jus’—please, jus’ like tha’,” Soap begged mindlessly, his words slurring together.
Ghost growled eagerly, maintaining his punishing pace as his hand once again wrapped around Soap’s hip.
Soap’s body jerked and bowed once Ghost got his cock between his fingers. His fingers were just as merciless against Soap’s clit, and mere seconds later, Johnny was sobbing wildly into the bed as he shook and babbled nonsense.
His knot had long since begun catching on Soap’s hole, but when Ghost went to resume his thrusting after a particularly deep thrust, Soap cinched down around him. Groaning, Ghost’s hips jerked forward on instinct. Soap released one fistful of fabric so that he could grab the back of Simon’s thigh, pulling him in closer.
“That’s a good boy,” Ghost grunted in encouragement, his teeth sinking into Johnny’s shoulder just to feel the way his sergeant squeezed his cock, his knot. Simon thought he might be dreaming. “Be a good dog and come on my cock, Johnny.”
Grinding his hips in a tight circle, Ghost knew his rapidly inflating knot was pressing against Soap’s g-spot. His fingers continued to circle Johnny’s cock as he growled and continued to lavish unblemished skin with fanged bites.
“Simon!” he cried, out of his mind on pleasure. His nails bit into the skin of Ghost’s thigh, pulling another delighted snarl out of Ghost’s mouth unwittingly.
With a gasp, Soap went off like a fucking gunshot. His pussy clenched down around Ghost like a vice as a sudden gush of wetness shot out of him. Ghost grunted and hunched over Johnny, rocking his hips into Soap unevenly as the walls of his cunt worked over his knot.
“Johnny,” Ghost groaned into the back of his neck, eyes falling shut as he got closer and closer. He huffed at Soap’s skin, letting his jaw fall open to take the nape of his neck into his mouth. He bit down firmly, just enough to hold his mate in place without hurting him, but the way he felt Soap pulse around him made his teeth dig in harder.
“Please,” Soap slurred, gasping out a sob as he rode out the aftershocks of an intense orgasm. “Inside, S’mon. Fill me up, please.”
Ghost’s eyesight went dark as he bit Soap’s neck, violent shivers wracking up his spine as he finally tipped over the edge and came deep inside of Soap. He continued to grind up against Soap’s cervix as he grunted in relief, probably cross-eyed and drooling like a mutt as he bred his sergeant good and well.
His arms wrapped snuggly around Soap’s waist, lowering himself down flush against Soap’s back comfortably as his knot was milked for all it was worth.
“Simon,” Soap whined, nothing more than a whisper as he panted, spent, against the bed. His entire upper body moved with his heaving breaths, though he was boneless otherwise.
Gently releasing Soap’s neck, Ghost couldn’t help but let out a small growl of approval at the ring of teeth marks imprinted there. He licked over the mark affectionately, snagging a low hum from Soap.
“Christ, how fuckin’ long are you gonna take, Si?” Soap mewled. If he was going for impatient, he missed by a fucking mile. Ghost felt his pussy tighten up around his knot while he came, urging Ghost’s already abnormally long orgasm to prolong itself further.
“Til you’re full, Johnny,” he murmured back, nuzzling into the junction where Soap’s neck met his shoulder. Ghost scented him contently, rubbed his stubbled cheek over Soap’s heated skin to mark him with his scent.
The two fell into a comfortable afterglow, with Ghost’s larger body blanketting his mate’s to keep him warm and safe while they waited for Ghost’s knot to go down. It took longer than usual with Soap’s pure fucking heaven cunt wrapped around him, but Ghost was able to separate himself from Johnny after the better part of an hour.
“Stay,” he shushed Soap when he pulled out and began to extract himself from the bed. He bit Soap’s shoulder with a warning growl, melting into thankful, open-mouthed kisses when Soap whimpered and sagged back down obediently. He pressed several lingering kisses to Soap’s mouth, which swiftly devolved into his tongue forcing its way down Johnny’s throat.
A sweet, unbidden laugh fell from Soap’s mouth when Ghost tore himself away with a tortured groan.
He took time cleaning Soap up carefully, running a warm washcloth over every inch of his skin until Soap was even looser than he was previously. He ignored Soap’s whining when he forced him off the bed for a moment just to switch out the comforter, huffing out a laugh when Soap immediately dove back in and under the covers. He tossed the washcloth in Soap’s hamper and went back into Soap’s open arms.
Their mouths met one, two, three too many times to keep track of as Ghost lowered himself into Soap’s bed. Soap hummed when Ghost broke away to trail reverent kisses down his jaw and throat. Gentle hands turned Soap around and pulled him in close, his back resting against Ghost’s front.
“Did you think I was a wolf too?” Soap asked quietly once they were both settled under the comforter.
Ghost snorted. “No,” he said. “You’re too damn loud to be a wolf, Johnny.”
“Och, tha’s no way to talk to me,” Soap complained with a smack to the arm that Ghost had wrapped around his middle.
Nuzzling into the back of Soap’s neck, Ghost let himself breathe in their mingled scents. Soap’s scent was noticeably heavy with satisfaction and ease, bringing another involuntarily rumble out of Ghost’s chest.
“Just knew you were different, like me,” Ghost admitted quietly.
Soap didn’t say anything. He intertwined their fingers across his own stomach and pulled Ghost impossibly closer.
“I love you,” he whispered, squeezing Ghost’s hand.
Simon let out a sharp breath. He nodded against Soap’s neck, lifting his head to be able to nose along Soap’s jawline instead.
“I’m—” Ghost breathed out shakily. He clenched his teeth, letting his eyes slip shut until he was able to focus only on Soap’s scent, his steady heartbeat, and the sound of his breathing. Tension melted away as the very presence of Soap soothed his mutilated wolf.
“I love you,” Ghost returned softly once he’d gathered the strength.
Soap’s free hand came around to tunnel into Ghost’s curls, scratching his blunt nails behind his ear and down towards the nape of his neck. Ghost sighed through a low, happy purr. He went lax against Soap, the weight of sleep dragging him down faster and easier than it ever had.
Ghost was more animal than man. He was no dog, he was no pet, and he was not worthy of being treated like anything other than a snarling wild animal. It’s how he’d become what he was, caged and feral until he’d lost his mind to it. He was used to frigid cold and isolation, and he liked it that way.
But Soap was scratching behind his ears, and Ghost hadn’t known it was possible for him to feel so relaxed. He was impossibly warm, but he held onto Ghost like he’d gut him for even trying to pull away.
When Ghost fell asleep shortly thereafter, it was with an imperfect, mangled, happy purr vibrating out of his chest.