Chapter Text
Roach turned 26 this year, and he’s never had sex.
In his high school days he’d had a few make out sessions with some heavy petting, but they never went farther than that.
He didn’t really mind. Sex wasn’t something he thought of often. Only when he heard the other boys jeering each other over it did he feel like he was missing out on something.
Only then did he wonder if there was something wrong with him.
He remained mostly unbothered, though. Content with late night solo jerk offs, and the knowledge that at least he hasn’t gotten some poor girl pregnant, or caught any STDs.
Sometimes it’s lonely.
Then he hit the military, which is like taking all the rejects and psychos from high school and giving them guns.
Well that’s not really fair. There’s some good guys.
The good guys are quieter, so you’re stuck listening to the nasty shit the loud majority bark about.
Literally. One guy called Hound actually barks at women.
Of course, Roach eventually gets pestered and teased by his comrades for never going after any of the girls.
Roach has long figured out how to play it cool.
“I’d never kiss and tell. I let the ladies decide if they want others to know.”
Years go by. He makes friends, and loses them to gunfire and explosions.
He’s selected for the SAS. The only one in his battalion to do so. Not even Hound could howl his way in.
Sex is forgotten again while he’s in the SAS. Missions are longer, and tougher. Coming back alive is all that he’s concerned about.
The other men and women he works with are much the same.
Mostly.
He still overhears sloppy slurping coming from showers, or skin slapping coming from closets.
He understands… sort of. The human need to feel alive after a near-deadly mission. The need for closeness and companionship.
Still not really for him.
Missions come and go, more time goes by.
Then Roach is ambushed during a stealth op.
You never forget the feeling of a knife slitting your throat like butter. The feeling of your life literally running through your fingers.
Most people don’t remember, because most of those people are fucking dead.
Not Roach. He’s lucky, he supposes.
His team swiftly dispatched the group and got to Roach in time.
He died twice. Once in the exfil helicopter, and once again on the operating table.
The guy who cut him didn’t get deep enough apparently. Roach’s arteries were spared.
His voice box and vocal cords were not.
He’s out of commission for a long time. He can’t speak for even longer. He learns sign language and brushes up on his Morse Code in the meantime.
The military is all he really has. If he’s discharged… what is he supposed to do?
He needs to remain a military asset, even if he can’t speak.
He gets hooked up with a speech therapist. With time, she’s able to get him speaking again.
A raspy, gravelly, scratchy voice, but a voice nonetheless.
And maybe his Colonel pulls a few favors to keep Roach in the field. But so what?
Roach is still the best of the best.
He rejoins missions and proves his usefulness. Specifically is stealth, given that he mostly cannot speak.
A couple more years go by. Captain John Price has selected him for the legendary 141.
Roach is 26, an elite soldier, and still a fucking virgin.
And it really doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t. He’s satisfied.
…
He was satisfied.
Until he overheard his other captain, Soap Mactavish, fucking the life out of Lieutenant Ghost.
It took a few moments of listening before he realized just who he was hearing fuck.
When he realized who those grisly commands, and whining moans belonged to… Roach had never felt harder in his life.
He nearly burst into the room and got in line behind the captain. Sloppy seconds.
The blood rushing to his cock damn near made him dizzy.
Roach has watched porn. He’s walked in on teammates fucking, sucking, whatever.
He’s overheard the most ridiculous moaning coming from Hound’s bunk.
Nothing has ever gotten him this worked up.
He runs off to the barracks (thankfully deserted) and jerks off to the thought of fucking his lieutenant.
-
It happens again. And it’s worse the second time around.
The three are at a safe house in a cartel-ridden city.
Roach took a shot to the leg earlier and is on mandatory “bed rest” until exfil.
It’s the dead of night. Soap is supposed to be on watch, Ghost is supposed to be resting too.
Supposed to be.
Roach can hear their voices from the other side of the room, pitched low. The couch he lays on facing away from the door, where Soap was keeping watch.
They’re quiet enough that he can’t tell what they’re saying, but Soap sounds mildly annoyed. Disgruntled.
Not surprising. Ghost likes giving his captain a hard time.
Roach fades in and out of sleep.
He wakes again to a new sound.
Stifled heavy breathing.
A distinctly slick, repetitive noise.
A very quiet moan.
Now again, Roach has seen his fair share of porn. Regardless of how realistic porn is or not…
Either the lieutenant carrie’s a fuck ton of lube around, or that’s not cock he’s hearing.
His own throbs in response to that thought. He has to grip his i injuries leg in order not to whimper.
Roach was never one to worry about what was in his potential partner’s pants, but holy hell.
The sloppy, lewd, wet sounds from across the room are going to drive him insane.
He needs to fuck it. Whoever, and whatever it is, he needs to fuck it. He’s shaking from holding himself still on the couch, and not getting up and pushing everyone out of his way.
He’s so hard he’s sure he’s going to bust the zipper on his pants, and send the button flying across the room.
As quiet as he can, he slowly palms himself over his pants, not daring to unfasten them.
The fear of being caught outweighs the ridiculousness of the predicament. Even if he gets caught, they started it.
The slick sounds go on just long enough for Roach to come in his pants like a teenager.
-
It comes to a head about a month later.
(No pun intended)
Another mission, but this one is long. Weeks long.
On and off stakeout, gathering evidence.
They’re given days to relax and recuperate before they have to get back at it, so it’s not too terrible.
Just boring.
For men used to gunfire and grenades, this is mind numbingly boring.
It’s the dream team again; Soap, Ghost, and Roach.
At least they’re getting to spend time actually getting to know each other.
Somewhat.
Ghost doesn’t say much about himself. And Roach doesn’t say much at all.
Which is fine. Soap doesn’t seem to mind chattering on.
Still, even if they don’t talk, Roach still learns some things about his teammates.
Ghost likes tea, but you have to make it a certain way or he’ll pout.
Soap loves to draw, and is quite good. Lots of skulls in his journal.
Ghost likes dogs, but Soap likes cats.
Ghost’s name is Simon. He doesn’t really like to be called that. He tolerates it from Soap
Roach already knew Soap’s name was John. Ghost calls him Johnny.
Yes, in the time they’ve been on this mission, Roach has learned a lot.
Ghost and Soap are not just fucking. They’re definitely head over heels in love.
They bicker like an old married couple. They tease and flirt like first loves.
And Roach knows from experience that they fuck like rabbits.
They haven’t done anything during this mission, though. Roach tries not to feel disappointed.
But then again, he’s not sure what he’ll do if he overhears them again. He might not be able to hold back.
But there’s tension in the air today. Even Roach can feel it.
Ghost has been driving Soap up the wall today. He seems so smug about it too.
Soap even stuffs Ghost at one point, growling something in his ear, that only has Ghosts eyes smoldering hotter.
Roach debates excusing himself to go sit on the roof for a while. Clearly the forced celibacy is getting to them.
“He’s a right fuckin tease,” Soap growls, suddenly next to Roach.
Roach tenses a little, but raises his eyebrows in question at his captain, Sir?
Soap’s smoldering eyes meet Roach’s before he backs off, almost surprised. “Sorry, Roach. Didnae mean for ye ta hear that.”
But Ghost also heard, and Roach is already a little weak in the knees from his captains gravelly brogue rumbled in his ear.
“What’s the matter Cap? Can’t handle it?” Oh Ghost is on a roll now. The only thing that’ll stop him in if he’s forced to stop.
(Preferably physically shut up by his captains cock down his throat)
God Roach is already so horny he’s thinking for his lieutenant.
Soap and Ghost have started going at it, arguing- flirting? foreplay?- in Roach’s reverie.
“Ghost. Enough. Roach is right fuckin there.”
Ghost’s eyes slide to meet Roach. Blue hitting green. He looks contemplative.
“Hmm. He could be fucking me right here though.”
Roach must be dead. He must have died from the bullet wound from a month ago, or when he got his throat cut.
There’s no way Ghost just said that out loud.
Soap looks outraged, and horny. Hornily outraged. Pissed off that he’s turned on.
“What?!”
Ghost just laughs softly. “Oh come on, Johnny. He’s been watching us and waiting since the safe house last month. Maybe even longer. At least give the boy a break.”
Roach can only manage a squeak as Soap whips his head around. Roach looks he tween them in fear.
How did they-
“How did I know? You were breathing pretty hard, bug. Hard not to hear.”
Roach is beet red. He was caught. And now Soap was probably going to beat the life out of him for lusting after Ghost.
Except, Soap no longer looks angry. He’s become contemplative. Still smoldering, but holding it back.
Considering what Roach has to offer. What Ghost is implying.
Roach is dizzy with the thought. The thought that’s plagued him since that night. The sounds that tortured his every jerk off.
Soap sighs a little, turning back to Ghost.
Roach tunes them out a little, trying to reign his own body back under control. The whole conversation has him hot and bothered.
He thought it was just Ghost he liked, but seeing the captain so commandeering, so brash, up close and personal… hearing his grisly voice…
Much to think about.
“-I mean, yeah I’d like to Ghost, but he’s our subordinate. Besides, this is the first time ye’ve said anything. What if he’s not even interested ye dafty?”
Oh Roach is interested. He’s not even 100% sure where their conversation has gone, but he’s interested.
“I am,” he rasps out, throat twinging from disuse.
Both men whirl around to face him.
“You’re interested.”
Roach nods.
“In us.”
Nods.
“In fucking us, Soap.”
Soap smacks Ghost. Roach nods emphatically.
Again he grounds out, “I don’t know how, though.”
“Ye’ve never…?”
Roach shakes his head.
“I see.”
Silence for a beat, then-
“We can show you,” Ghost says, smug tone to his voice again.