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Out to Dry

Notes:

A huge thank you to Saf, who read over this fic for me! I know she was highly and rightfully exasperated by my blending of US/BR English, all mistakes are mine to claim. She is lovely and can be found on AO3 and Twitter

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

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Soap discovered painting his nails after a night out.

Gaz had made him do it on a dare, had laughed the entire way through. But Soap liked the results, had enjoyed the process. Now he made a point to do it every chance he got. Got a couple of looks for it at first, but no more than he received on the daily for his hair. Took the ribbing for it once, let it become part of his ‘thing’ and never got asked about it again.

There was something relaxing about being forced to do nothing for an hour, to just sit and do idle work. Equally enjoyed the painting as he did the waiting that came from having to let them dry. The problem was that he was shit at doing his dominant hand.

The first time he asked Ghost to do it, Ghost gave him a good-natured shove and walked away.

Soap just snorted and did it himself. Had only been half serious about it anyways, hadn’t been too put off by the rejection.

Only thing was, Ghost couldn’t stop glancing over at him for the rest of the night. Soap could feel him looking, staring at the messy job Soap had done, the best he could with the little practice he had.

The second time he asked, Ghost actually considered it. Took the black nail polish, rolled the bottle around between his fingers.

Finally, he held out a hand for Soap’s.

It had been terrible work. Maybe even worse than when Soap did it for himself, but Soap loved it. Wore it until it chipped down to nothing more than little pieces, didn’t have it in him to erase that moment from his body. Of the way Ghost was forced to crowd closer so that he could see better. His bare hands on Soap’s, gloves off as to not get the polish on them, to make more precise work of it.

Soap wasn’t going to ask but Ghost brought it up first, had been so startled when Ghost slid a hand over his, lifting it to inspect Soap’s all but bare nails.

After that, it became a regular thing. Every week or so Ghost would slide into his personal space and hover. Would never ask outright, too proud maybe. Always waited for Soap to ask if Ghost had the time to repaint them. Ghost never turned him down, only ever sought him out like this on a day where he was free.

Soap fucking loved it.

Ghost even got good at it, made quick, clean work of the job. Sat with Soap as they dried, even started helping him to fan them after Soap jokingly complained that his arms were tired from waving them.

But tonight, Soap didn’t have Ghost. It was about that time of the week when the man would have hunted him down, would have come to find him. But Ghost was deployed, away for a brief mission and only due back in a couple of days.

Price had confirmed it when Soap asked after training. “Got delayed. Might only be by the end of the week now, lad.”

Soap wasn’t sure what his face looked like in that moment, but it must have been something akin to disappointment, because Gaz gave him a pat on the back.

“Fear not,” Gaz said, squeezing one of Soap’s shoulders. “I’ll do the job for you. Want to see what it’s all about if you’ve got the big guy doing it.”

Soap’s stomach pinched some, but he smiled, nodding.

Gaz did a good job. Fantastic even, suspiciously so, but Soap’s heart wasn’t in it. Sure, he had fun. Laughed along with Gaz, shared stories, but his mind kept drifting back to the last time he had someone else painting his nails.

Memories of Ghost, sliding up quietly behind him. Soap had felt the heat of him at his back, felt a hand reaching around him, glancing touches against his hip that had his heartbeat quickening some.

He remembered fingers, tangling in slowly with his own, pulling his hand up. Had never been gentle like that with him before, had made Soap’s head spin, equal parts confused and pleased.

Because Ghost had been softer with him than usual, had allowed himself just a little bit of closeness with Soap. Had been off that night, different, so much more tactile. Ran his fingers over Soap’s knees, had hooked his hands around Soap’s calves when he sat too far away, dragging him closer until they were touching. Hadn’t separated throughout the entire night, couldn’t fight the embarrassing flush colouring his neck and ears at the contact.

Soap hadn’t understood any of it then, but he did the next morning.

When he saw Ghost packed and leaving, not a single word as he left.

Now Soap found himself missing the man. Hadn’t been separately deployed since Las Almas, kept looking for Ghost throughout the mundane aspects of his daily routine.

Maybe that’s why felt almost like a betrayal to have someone else paint his nails like this. Had allowed himself to grow so close to a man as untouchable emotionally as Ghost. Stupid, he told himself. It shouldn’t be this deep. Would just go back to having Ghost paint them when the man got back. Would laugh about how Gaz was secretly a nail painting god.

But it certainly felt that way when Ghost finally returned to base, that guilty feeling rolling through him again. It didn’t stop him from immediately jogging over to Ghost, from patting the man on the shoulder.

He could see the moment when Ghost noticed it, his freshly painted nails. Ghost caught Soap’s wrist, pulling his hand up for inspection, looking mildly amused by it. “Couldn’t wait?” he asked.

Soap tried to laugh, to play it off. “Couldn’t be going around looking less than my best now, could I?”

Ghost had hummed at that, letting his hand go. “You’ve gotten better,” he said, voice low, appraising.

Soap felt his smile flag, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. Was about to lie, was about to say that he had when a hand thumped him on the back, hard and lingering. Watched the way Ghost’s eyes fixed to whoever it was.

“Admiring my handiwork?” Gaz asked.

A pit formed in Soap’s stomach. He couldn’t say why, it shouldn’t have. But somehow, it felt like cheating, like Soap had done something terribly wrong, like a secret had been laid out for everyone to see.

Ghost’s eyes cut to Soap, then down to his hands.

Like an idiot, Soap tucked them into his pockets. Had no reason to be saddled with this gnawing sense of guilt, couldn’t shake it regardless. Escaped to his room soon after with a laugh and a smile, a faked excuse sealing the deal.

Something changed after that morning. It was nothing overly noticeable, just small things, like how Ghost had become fixated on his hands. Couldn’t seem to help himself, watched them whenever Soap set himself upon a task, watched the way his fingers worked. Became quieter too, held himself at a distance from Soap over the next couple of days.

Soap almost wanted to strip the polish off himself, just so that he could have an excuse for Ghost to redo them. Thought that would be too suspicious of an excuse, didn’t know how deep this went for Ghost. Became extra rough with his hands when he worked instead, hoped to wear the polish down sooner.

Even spent an extra amount of time in the shower, trying to prompt some early flaking. No such luck, Gaz had done too good a job.

Frustrated, he dried off and made his way back to his room.

Stopped, surprised to find Ghost waiting for him at Soap’s door.

“Lt,” Soap called over, drawing his attention.

Ghost turned, an unreadable look in his eyes. Took in Soap’s wet hair and his t-shirt before finally and predictably landing on his hands.

Soap wanted to hide himself from that gaze, did everything he could to keep himself from tightening them into fists, from hiding them behind his back. Didn’t realize he had just been standing there, staring at his superior like an idiot until Ghost cocked an eyebrow at him, then looked towards the door.

Soap mumbled an apology, turning to open it before waving Ghost inside.

Soap was barely through the door before Ghost had pushed himself into his personal space. Soap couldn’t help himself, took a step back, thumping heavily against the wall.

Ghost didn’t follow, just watched. Seemed to take in the way Soap’s breathing had quickened, seemed to sense his anxiety. Took a step back with his hands up, as if reassuring a cornered animal. Turned to walk over to Soap’s side table instead.

Soap knew what he would find there. The small bottle of nail polish, the remover stored safely not too far away. Ghost picked it up, glancing over at Soap who was still glued to the wall. Didn’t even have to say anything, only took a nod of his head to have Soap moving to sit obediently on the bed, jostled as Ghost sat down next to him.

Soap fished the polish remover out of the drawer, only to have Ghost pulling it from his grip. Soap went to protest when he saw the look Ghost was giving him as he pulled off his gloves, tossing them over onto the side table before holding an expectant hand out to Soap.

Soap slid his hand into Ghost’s, didn’t mind the rough calluses that came from a workingman’s hands. Was used to the scars and cuts from time past, some newer than others, one even fresh from his last deployment.

“Don’t want to be completely replaced,” Ghost said by means of explanation, voice low, drawing Soap’s attention back up.

He was joking, but that feeling of guilt was back, twisting its way into Soap’s stomach. Felt the need to apologize, to explain that Gaz had only offered because he had been away, but Ghost waved him down. “I’ll stop,” Ghost said, glancing up at Soap, his expression sincere. “Was only teasing.”

Soap swallowed, but forced himself to let it go if that’s what Ghost wanted. Let himself be guided closer. Let Ghost work the polish off, squeezing just slightly at his fingertips. Could never admit to Ghost just how much he enjoyed being maneuvered around, being manhandled some. Could only listen to each of Ghost’s quietly spoken instructions, didn’t need to be much louder with their proximity, their thighs pressing together.

It felt good like this. Soap found himself leaning in a little closer. When Ghost didn’t say anything about the way they were pressed together, side to side, Soap took it as permission to continue. But the silence between them was just the tiniest bit uncomfortable, different from their usual times together. Soap had to force himself not to apologize again, biting at the inside of his cheek against the urge.

When Ghost finished stripping off the old polish, he handed the remover over to be put away. Only then did he take the hand closest to him to start applying a layer of paint.

Like with all things Ghost did, he was meticulous about it, surgical, taking his time to do it properly. As the first layer was applied, Soap felt the oddest feeling of relief. As if Ghost was covering up and erasing Soap’s wrongs with each stroke. Had to remind himself that Ghost had said there was nothing to apologize for, that he was just imagining things. Tried to get himself to relax, couldn’t shake the fidgety feeling that buzzed through him.

When Ghost finished with that hand, Soap went to pull it back, to offer his second hand, but was stopped.

Instead, Soap’s hand was placed gently onto one of Ghost’s thighs.

Tingles travelled up Soap’s spine, up the back of his neck. Told himself to relax, to not think anything of it. His hand wasn’t anywhere ridiculous, was closer to Ghost’s knees than anything. But he was touching Ghost because the man wanted it, probably for the first time ever.

Soap forced himself still, forced himself not to squirm. Let Ghost pull his second hand over, applying paint there too. Soap waited as Ghost finished the last of his fingers, interested to see what would come next.

Ghost just let him go, removing that first hand from his thigh.

Soap tried not to feel a little disappointed at that, had to remind himself that he should be taking anything that Ghost would give him right now, especially like this. Was ready for Ghost to let go of his hand again, understood that the first time had only been a fluke. Didn’t have their normal table between them to use, had been forced to try something new.

Instead Ghost put it right back onto his thigh, even higher this time.

Soap nearly startled at that, forced himself to keep it there. Found himself sitting up a little straighter, hanging on every single move Ghost made, waiting.

There was no mistaking it though. Ghost had made eye contact as he had done it, the motion purposeful, planned and calculated. Had made sure Soap was watching as he had placed it there.

Soap wet his lip as Ghost worked on the last coat for his second hand, his mouth suddenly feeling a little dry. Forced himself to wait patiently for whatever was next, his body strung taut, a little hot in his own skin.

Each touch of their bodies gave him a new awareness of Ghost. The way they pressed together, the fact that they sat on Soap’s bed, in his fucking room. Had never let himself hope, knew Ghost too well to try.

Apparently not well enough, though.

Ghost finished with his hand, letting it go. He capped the polish and handed it over to Soap to put back on his nightstand.

Neither of them said anything. Soap had to remind himself to breathe, was fixated on each little move Ghost made.

Ghost seemed to know this too, was playing with him. A hand ran slowly across Soap’s thigh, eliciting goose bumps as he went before taking Soap by his far knee, dragging him around so that he faced Ghost a little better. Pulled that second hand down to rest onto Ghost’s thigh as well.

A hand began fanning at Soap’s nails, all the while making eye contact with Soap. Even had the nerve to readjust that first hand, moving it to sit a little higher on Ghost’s thigh, so fucking close to where Soap wanted to reach up, to feel.

“Quick to find someone else while I was away,” Ghost said finally, tone casual.

Soap swallowed. “Thought you said you wouldn’t tease any more,” he said, voice low, had to work to keep it from wavering, from showing how nervous this conversation was making him feel.

Ghost hummed and leaned back, arm brushing against Soap’s side. It didn’t feel overly purposeful but had surprised Soap nonetheless, jumping some in a way that earned an amused look from Ghost. Soap could feel the tensing of muscles under his hands, wondered if Ghost knew he was winding Soap up with each touch.

“Wasn’t like that and you know it,” Soap added, hating the silence that Ghost was allowing to settle.

“Didn’t look like that from here,” Ghost said, eyes ducking to look at his work.

“M’sorry,” Soap said. Couldn’t understand why his voice had gotten so low, so breathy.

Ghost looked up at him again with an expression Soap couldn’t quite decipher. “Believe you,” Ghost said, sounding genuine. But the bastard was playing with Soap, toying with him. Had Soap hanging on every word, knew it too. Even made sure Soap was watching when he reached down, picking up one of Soap’s hands to lift it to his mouth.

Soap held his breath, waiting.

Ghost lifted his mask, his mouth just barely visible underneath, and started to blow.

Soap couldn’t help the sound he made, didn’t know where it came from. Just knew that he fucking loved the feeling of Ghost’s breath on him, bit his lip against all of the stupid things he wanted to say.

“Thought I was special, Soap,” Ghost said, pausing. Soap found himself leaning towards him, into the sound of his voice, into the heat of his body. “Came home to find another man had replaced me easily enough.”

“Wasn’t—” Soap tried, but Ghost just cut him off.

“I know, Soap, I know. Not blaming you,” Ghost said, had Soap’s head spinning at the tone his voice had taken. “Made me realize I wasn’t being direct enough.”

This time, when he set Soap’s hand back down, it was on his cock, already hardening in his jeans.

Soap let out a breath, a sound that was far too much like a gasp for his own comfort. His legs felt weak and he wanted to melt onto the floor. To put himself between Ghost’s knees, already spread for him and inviting.

Ghost seemed to have other plans, was already pulling Soap’s hand off him. Soap wanted to protest, but Ghost just shushed him. “Can’t have you ruining these,” he said. “I just finished.”

“I want to—”

“I know,” Ghost said. “But you look so pretty right now. I’m going to do the work for you.”

Soap couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Just watched as Ghost lifted a hand up, pulling off the mask. Soap got to see his face, marred with scars and hidden behind soft blond curls, got to feel it when Ghost tipped his forehead to Soap’s. Felt their noses bump too, felt his breath on Soap’s lips. Got just the phantom sensations of what he desperately wanted, wasn’t nearly enough.

When Soap tried to duck down, to steal something that wasn’t his to take this early, a hand wrapped around his neck, holding him back.

Soap made a sound, closing his eyes in frustration. Couldn’t touch Ghost’s cock, couldn’t feel his lips, couldn’t sink to his knees. Desperate for something to ease this building need that was filling him.

“Need you to do something for me,” Ghost breathed, brought his lips right to Soap’s ear.

Soap opened his eyes, listening. Was in such a dangerous place right now, hanging onto Ghost’s every word, so willing to give the man whatever he wanted just in order to get the tiniest bit more.

“You’re not going to ruin the job I just did, understood?”

Soap blinked, confused. Ghost pulled back some, looking fondly down at him, fingers still curled loosely around his throat.

“Your nails, Soap. You do anything to make a mess of the work I just did and I stop. Is that clear?”

Sounded easy enough. Soap nodded.

Should have known there would be a catch, because the moment he did, Ghost had him up and moving. Was stripping him of his pants, was yanking off shoes and socks, had Soap standing there in just his t-shirt and briefs.

“Can keep this on, or I can cut it off,” Ghost offered. “Which do you prefer?”

“Can’t you take it off?” Soap asked weakly, already knowing that was unlikely to be an option.

The answering look Ghost gave him told him everything he needed to know. Soap wanted to reach out, to feel the slight frown that creased his forehead, to touch one of those cheeks. Remembered his promise, kept his freshly painted nails out of the way and behaved himself. Knew what battles to pick, understood that keeping his shirt wouldn’t be one of them.

“Cut it,” Soap said finally.

That’s all it took for Ghost to have a knife on him, for the loud sound of ripping fabric to fill the room. Soap wanted to sigh, wanted to feel exasperated, couldn’t work himself up to it. Not with the way Ghost was guiding him down onto the bed, stretching him out to settle between Soap’s parted thighs.

Fuck, he was hard now. Squeezed his knees against either side of Ghost’s ribs, felt the working and flexing of muscles there. Wanted Ghost closer, wanted to hitch a leg around his hips. Knew better than to push Ghost, knew to try a softer approach instead.

Ghost’s pupils dilated as he watched Soap try and flirt his way into getting what he wanted. Soap knew he would be something pretty to look at, was doing it on purpose. Arched his back some to work himself down the bed, ass settling against Ghost’s hips. Felt him there, hard. Didn’t understand the self-control that came from the restraint Ghost was showing.

“Please, Ghost,” Soap said. “I’m behaving. Want you.” Couldn’t keep the breathiness from his voice, couldn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that he was fucking begging.

“You are,” Ghost allowed. Glanced up at Soap’s hands, carefully out of the way as to not ruin the nail polish. Ran a big hand over Soap’s ribs, sliding down over his stomach. Pushed lightly at the spot right above Soap’s waistband, eliciting a moan Soap couldn’t quite understand. Ghost smirked at that before continuing, finally moving to palm at him through his shorts, drawing out quiet, content sounds from Soap.

Loved it, needed more. Closed his eyes and tucked his face into his forearm, sucking in a sharp breath as Ghost explored, as he paid Soap quiet compliments that made his head spin and cock twitch.

Didn’t last, though, not when Ghost had a plan. Had come here with one apparently, all of this far too convenient to be happenstance. Was toying with Soap, was building him up in order to tease him. Soap cut Ghost a look when the man stopped again, sitting back on his heels, assessing. Gave Soap a pat on the thigh, urging him to flip onto his stomach.

Soap went without comment, allowing himself to be helped over and rearranged. Lost his briefs in the process, too turned on to feel embarrassed at being naked while Ghost was still fully dressed.

“Lube?” Ghost asked, reaching over to the bedside table when Soap pointed, pulling it out. Helped Soap to get his ass up and settled mostly onto his chest, arms stretched out in front of him.

His thighs already ached from a workout this morning, but he trusted Ghost, wanted to behave. Could already tell from the man’s mood that playing along was the quickest way to getting what he wanted right now.

The bed dipped as Ghost settled behind Soap, between his spread knees. A gentle tap against his inner thigh had him spreading his legs for Ghost just the slightest bit further. He couldn’t help but flush at the thought of himself on full display for Ghost. Would have been more embarrassed if not for the appraising sound Ghost made, running a hand slowly up Soap’s thigh.

Fuck, he couldn’t see anything like this. Had his arms up and out of the way, his back arching against the angle Ghost kept him at. Worst yet was the way he could feel his cock aching, hard and untouched with nothing to give him any friction.

“Ghost,” Soap said. Heard the way his voice had changed, had taken on a needier edge. Swallowed against it, cleared his throat. Hated having to beg, never chased after anyone, didn’t have to.

Ghost was changing that though, had turned Soap’s slow and testing advances to his own advantage, had used the situation to one up Soap, to take charge.

Ghost knew it too, let out a laugh that had Soap’s breath catching. “Not gonna call me that here,” Ghost said, voice low, serious. The kind of serious he reserved for missions, when you just fucking knew you had to listen. “That name’s for work, Johnny. Here you call me Simon.”

Soap would have called him Jesus-Fucking-Christ himself if that would get Ghost to touch him. Needed it, back arching some more, trying to find whatever right answer led him to Ghost’s hands where he needed them most.

Ghost chuckled but was kind enough, got his hands on Soap’s ass, spreading him some.

Soap sucked in a deep breath, holding it, waiting.

What he didn’t expect was for Ghost to get his mouth on him, to tease along his taint and lick so fucking lightly over his hole. Startled him enough that he jolted forwards some, caught only barely by Ghost’s hands on his thighs.

“None of that,” Ghost admonished, dragging him backwards. “Mind your hands for me, Johnny.”

Soap let out a little squeak, hadn’t even realized that he had been nearly clenching at the bed sheets. It was an embarrassing sound that had Ghost letting out a short laugh before returning his attention to Soap. Was gracious about it, got his mouth on Soap right where he needed it.

Fuck, that felt good. Had been ages since anyone had eaten him out. Ghost did it like he was a starving man, fucking desperate for it. Only went slow for the first testing laps of his tongue, was merciless after that. Worked some fingers in too, only a stepping stone to allow himself in deeper.

Soap was so fucked.

All of his pretty resolve and wishful thinking was out the window. Don’t beg for it, he had thought. Too fucking late. Couldn’t help the steady stream of “please” that poured from his mouth once Ghost got started, felt so good to get stretched out like this.

Tried to get a hand down, to relieve some of the aching between his legs. Got a hard slap on the ass for his trouble, had Soap immediately returning it after a firm reminder that stung harder than the hit.

“I’ll fucking stop, Johnny. Don’t test me,” came Ghost’s words.

Soap’s cock twitched at that, so fucking hard right now but he listened. Got a gentle rub along his ribs when he behaved again, felt good. Almost groaned in dismay when that talented fucking tongue left him, but Ghost didn’t go far. Just started mouthing at Soap’s balls as he slicked his fingers with more lube before scissoring him open.

Soap cried out when Ghost absolutely fucking nailed his prostate, almost lost control of his trembling thighs, almost collapsed into a pile on the bed. Had Ghost pulling off his balls to straighten himself some before shuffling closer to Soap.

Soap couldn’t see it, could barely keep his eyes open at how fucking good it felt. But he understood it in the way the bed dipped, in the way the fabric of Ghost’s pants scraped against Soap’s inner thighs.

“That’s so good, Johnny,” Ghost said, a hand rubbing big, soothing circles into the skin of his ribs. “Can see you trying, that’s perfect.”

Soap didn’t mean to let out the little sound that he made, couldn’t help it.

Ghost just laughed. “Liked that, did you? Hearing that you’re being good?”

Soap couldn’t answer, could barely think straight. His only focus was on keeping himself upright, balancing more than actually supporting himself on his shaky legs, to keep Ghost fucking into him like that with his fingers.

Could have fucking cried when Ghost suddenly stopped inside of him, fingers so close to where Soap needed them, almost deep enough to press into his prostate.

“Come on, sweetheart. Asked you a question.”

Soap couldn’t remember it, his brain caught on the way Ghost liberally used pet names, at how fucking soft he was being with Soap. “Yes,” he breathed out, voice muffled by the sheets. Couldn’t remember why his arms were stretched out the way that they were, knew only that Ghost wanted him just like this, that the only way he was going to get Ghost’s hand on him was by listening.

Ghost let out a laugh, likely knew that Soap didn’t know what he was agreeing to, was generous enough to resume fucking into him with his fingers. “I know you do. Knew you’d look just like this. Didn’t know you’d come apart so quickly though, going to remember that for next time.”

Next time, Soap thought. Next time, next time, next time.

Fuck his cock ached. Reached a hand down, needed the friction.

Suddenly the hands were gone. Off, out, everything.

Soap did let out a cry then, put his hand back, remembering himself. “Sorry,” he breathed, voice wavering. “I’m sorry, Ghost, please.”

“Told you not to call me that here,” came his reply, stern.

“Simon,” Soap gasped out, desperate. “Simon, please.”

A long breath, Ghost, struggling some. Soap couldn’t see, couldn’t gauge his reaction, didn’t know what the right answer was to get Ghost’s hands back on him in the way that he needed.

Finally, a sigh. Ghost patted Soap’s arm once before rubbing along his bicep. “You’re okay, Johnny. Just want you to keep them pretty for me, that’s all.”

Soap let out a sharp breath of relief as fingers ran teasingly over his trembling, tired thighs. Added a little bit more pressure until his hands cupped Soap’s ass again fully, spreading him again. Spat on his hole before going back in with his tongue.

Soap didn’t remember starting to cry, only registered that the sheets were wet beneath him, that his nose had begun to run. Hadn’t been able to listen, but needed to. Needed to try despite the fucking fog that threatened and tugged at his mind. Was narrowed down to just a series of feelings.

Of his cock, hard and untouched, accompanied by Simon’s tongue in his ass, fingers slowly rejoining him there.

Of his thighs trembling, exhausted and threatening to give. Fuck, he would be in trouble if they did, turned all of his focus towards that.

“So good,” Simon murmured, the vibration of his words making Soap’s eyes roll back. He sucked in a long, shuddering breath, focusing again on his thighs. Fuck, they burned.

Simon straightened himself. Soap heard the sound of a zipper, of some shuffling and readjusting.

Cried out some as the blunt head of Simon’s cock nudged at his hole, as lube was reapplied. When Soap tried to push back into him, to feel Simon against his rim, he was stopped by a hand on the back of his neck, pinning him to the bed.

“Don’t want to come home again to find another man on you, Johnny. Is that clear?” Simon asked.

Was he mad at Soap? He had said he understood, had told Soap that he wasn’t. Soap let out a little whimper and nodded, tried his best to look back at Simon. Couldn’t, not being held down as he was.

“Use your words, love. Don’t want to have to teach you this lesson again. Tell me you understand,” Simon said.

That hand curled into Soap’s mohawk, fingers stinging as they pulled at his baby hairs. “Yes, sir,” Soap breathed. Needed to be good, needed Simon’s cock so bad. Couldn’t be teased any longer, wouldn’t survive it.

“That’s right, Johnny. That’s right, so fucking pretty like this. You can cry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Fuck, Simon was right. He was crying. Was messy and desperate but Simon was slowly feeding him his cock and everything was about to be okay. Burned, but it felt like absolution.

“Going to do the work, Johnny, stay just like that. Making a mess all over yourself, going to give you what you need soon.”

Johnny didn’t even try to hold back his sob this time, had all of his focus on behaving, let the sound echo throughout the room.

Was fucking desperate and stretched out and felt so fucking good split open on Simon’s cock like this. Felt a pooling of heat in his gut that had nowhere to go, that kept coiling and coiling so tightly Johnny felt overwhelmed by it.

“Can you come from just this, Johnny?” Simon asked, voice low, soothing. Had his hips finally flush with Johnny’s ass, was letting him adjust.

Johnny tried shaking his head, but found that he couldn’t, not with Simon still pushing him into the mattress as he was. “No,” came his weak reply. Hadn’t tried before but could already tell. Simon had worked him open perfectly, had taken him apart and was about to fuck him within an inch of his life and Johnny just knew it wouldn’t be enough, felt so fucking blocked and frustrated.

“S’okay, sweetheart. Going to fix that for you, just need another moment.”

Johnny tried to answer, tried to show that he understood, wasn’t sure if he achieved his mark. But Simon seemed to understand, pulled back some, slowly fucked back into him.

Fuck, he was big. Felt good, only stung the tiniest bit. Johnny let his eyes shut, let himself give in to the sensation. Let Simon use him, was what he deserved. Had let someone else touch him, put their mark on him. Should have known he had been Simon’s all along.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Simon said. Let himself go some, fucking into Johnny in earnest now. “So fucking good like this.”

Johnny sucked in a shuddering breath. Couldn’t support himself any longer but it didn’t matter. Simon had let go of the back of his neck to grip onto his hips with bruising hands, was holding Soap in place. Was just a hole right now, getting fucked so fucking perfectly.

The sounds that filled the room were obscene. The skin on skin, the gentle words that Simon murmured, a direct contradiction to the rough way he was handling Johnny, the wet sound of Johnny’s breathing. Had never been taken apart like this before.

“Simon,” Johnny said, couldn’t help himself. “Please, Simon, please.”

“So good, Johnny. That a boy, so fucking close right now.”

Johnny let out a sob, was on a razor’s edge. “Please touch me,” he said, knew he was begging, didn’t care. Was so hard and so wet, could feel his cock slapping against his abs as Simon set a near punishing pace, drilling into his prostate more often than not.

“That’s it, Johnny. That’s it.”

Johnny gasped as Simon got a hand on his cock, had his eyes rolling back and a moan torn from his throat. Didn’t know this part of himself, didn’t know how to feel about how undone he had become.

But Simon’s hand was warm and tight, slick with lube and felt so fucking good. Was all he needed to come, couldn’t care that he was making a mess of his sheets, that he was crying out loudly as he did. That it had only taken two strokes to have him finishing, a dizzying display exploding behind his eyelids. Had him clenching down hard around Simon, who all but followed him into orgasm.

They collapsed into a pile together, both too exhausted to do anything but.

Johnny couldn’t help but to keep his hands up, his last bit of consciousness focused on that one task, on listening one last time. He could feel Simon’s heavy weight piled over his back and side, felt him sucking in deep, controlled breaths, trying to work it back into a more regular pattern.

“Fuck,” Simon said, still sounding somewhat breathless. Shifted some, pulled out so fucking gently from Johnny’s exhausted body.

Johnny groaned, felt a little empty, a little embarrassed at being left messy and completely drained of energy. Didn’t have to feel that way for long, had Simon urging him to hitch a knee up some, helped him to clean up. Only then did he address Johnny’s outstretched arms, ran his hands gently over his elbow, up his forearm.

He helped Johnny to roll onto his side, facing him. Took his hand and pulled it up to inspect his fingertips.

Johnny let out a deep breath, let himself relax some.

“Good?” Simon asked, inspecting Johnny’s nails, touching them gently to gauge the level of dryness.

Johnny couldn’t fully formulate words just yet, nodded.

Simon hummed. Seemed satisfied with Johnny’s efforts at keeping his nails out of harm’s way, of their level of perfection. Let them go, let Johnny tuck and curl them between their chests.

“Too much?” Simon asked, pulling Johnny in a little closer. Both of their hearts still pounding some in their chests.

“No,” Johnny said. Was embarrassed by how wrecked he sounded, but he meant it. Was sore, but in the right way. His body heavy, satisfied. “No, but maybe next time we can try something a little gentler.”

A hum. Simon rubbed a hand over Johnny’s face, wiping away what remained of those tears from earlier, pressed a kiss to his temple. “Anything,” Simon promised. Wrapped his arms around Soap’s middle, like he also needed the closeness.

Johnny didn’t mind, was too tired to do anything other than be babied at the moment. Let himself settle in and drift off to sleep, content and dreamless.

_______________________________

Soap stood with a group of guys. Was laughing, discussing some demos they had tried earlier, had enjoyed himself thoroughly that morning.

A hand slid over his shoulder, squeezing some. Gaz swung into view, smiling broadly. “Been looking for you,” he said, turning Soap around, pulling him into a hug.

Soap smiled back, let himself be dragged in, returned it with as much enthusiasm.

“Price wants to see us,” Gaz said, stepping back. Kept a hand on Soap’s shoulder.

Soap smiled. “What does the old man want this time?”

A laugh. “Best watch what you say, the man’s got ears everywhere. Can tell if he’s heard you by the state of his moustache.”

Soap cocked an eyebrow, laughed. Took a subtle step back, Gaz’ hand falling as he turned to make towards Price’s office. Gaz jogged to keep up, laughing and chatting with Soap as they made their way to their commander.

As he went, he caught sight of Ghost, tucked into the shadows as he leaned against a wall, eyes following them. Had a satisfied sort of look to him as the two of them passed, took in the way Soap was keeping himself just out of arm’s reach.

Soap couldn’t help it, felt himself flushing some. Felt Ghost’s gaze on him as he was led away, had the back of Soap’s neck and ears reddening.

Wouldn’t mind having to be taught a lesson again if it came in the same form as last time. Just needed a couple of weeks to work himself back up to the task, would need to find a way to behave until then.

Notes:

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