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Omegas were such a rarity these days. Special little things that only the wealthiest of alphas amongst high society could afford. While the rest of the poor alpha sods stewed in their jealousy, coveting something—no, someone—they felt entitled to but could never have.
It left most of society’s alphas bitter and unhappy. Settling for a beta they found tolerable but could never quite make them happy, could never truly give them what they needed. It never mattered how enthusiastic and accommodating their beta partners were, they were just biologically incompatible. No amount of love or attraction could fix that, but they adapted and made it work. Never another alpha though, it was considered taboo, perverse even. An alpha pairing could never work. Hormones so thick and revolting to the other alpha’s sensitive nose, neither willing to submit to the other. It just didn’t happen.
And even rarer still, were alpha and omega soulmates. See, it wasn’t like those silly romance novels that seemed to flood the shelves of every bookstore, the ones where an alpha and omega are born with their soulmate's name already etched into their skin. Happy endings because they knew the strength of their already established bond would lead them to find each other in any universe.
The reality of it was that most alphas and omegas lived and died without ever knowing that there was a soulmate out there created just for them. They lived long lives with a feeling of hollowness they could never quite shake. And eventually, they died alone, without ever knowing the other soul the universe had specifically carved out for them.
Soulmate connections didn’t reveal themselves until the destined pair crossed paths. It was only then two fortunate souls burned hot and heavy with the realization and a soulmark seared itself into their skin. It was why omegas were allowed some degree of freedom until they reached the age of 25—a chance to happen across their soulmate and live happily ever after just like the romance books illustrated.
Soap snorted at the thought. Only daft fools believed the politicians' laws were based on the policy of fostering love and family. He knew they only encouraged finding soulmated pairs because soulmated pairs tended to produce more omega offspring. If it wasn’t for that, he’d imagine omegas would be immediately whisked away the moment they came of age to some high society gathering for the rich and powerful alphas of the world to court.
Soap found it all to be quite pathetic, actually. He never understood why anyone would bother with an omega, let alone a soulmate you would be legally required to care for and reproduce with just to give the world more omegas for all of those rich and greedy high society alphas. They were pathetic and weak little things, only good for stroking an alpha’s ego and milking their knot during a rut, if you cared about such things.
He scoffed at the idea ever since he was a young teenager and knew he wanted to join the military. An institution that didn’t allow omegas, hell, they only let betas in if they managed to prove themselves. Soap knew what kind of life he wanted to lead and that didn’t include a needy omega that needed to be cared for. So he never gave it another thought. Threw himself into training and eventually became the youngest and best to ever pass SAS selection. Alpha and omega politics were beneath him, so he filed it away and never thought of it again. He knew what he was and what he wanted, and an omega wasn’t on his list.
Of course—that all went to hell.
On his routine holiday leave, 2 weeks back home for Christmas. Several pints deep and showing off in some shit pub with his old mates was not how Soap expected to find his fucking soulmate. In fact, he never expected to find a soulmate in the first place. Was certain he had effectively removed himself from the path of any pathetic whimpering omega by joining the military, an institution made up almost exclusively of alphas and the few betas that managed to prove themself in basic.
But there she is, smiling coyly across the rowdy pub at him. Her eyes flash knowingly as she reaches up to caress the soulmate mark slowly etching itself into the delicate skin of her throat.
He should feel relieved, joyous even. He should be tearing his way across the crowded pub to finally embrace the soul the universe crafted just for him. And yet, Soap feels bile pool low in his throat as a soothing heat licks up his spine and a burning sensation spreads across the expanse of his neck, as his soulmark burns itself into his flesh the second he makes eye contact with that pretty little omega across the pub.
Soap would be lying if he said she wasn’t his type. He’s fucked plenty of betas that looked just like her over the years. It makes sense.
His alpha thrashes around in his chest, baring its teeth and snarling as it sulks in its cage, whining and thrashing against the bars as it tries to get closer to her. His mind reels and screams at him to run, trying to soothe his alpha.
His alpha doesn't fucking know what it wants.
The universe is lying to him, it's some sort of test. He knows this isn’t right. He doesn’t want this. He grits his teeth as the bond pulls him towards her and as his mind latches onto none other than his favorite memories with his stoic lieutenant—Simon “Ghost” Riley.
Another alpha.. the world would scoff at him, shun him, and spit on his corpse if he revealed his true desires. His gran would stare in horror if she saw her favored boy reject such a pretty god-given gift to him. But the universe is wrong. The universe doesn’t know that his perfect half smells like ash and granite, not that sickly sweet smell of roses and cotton. How his own scent of gunpowder and burning timber mingles with his superior’s scent and paints the picture of a battlefield on fire. Two sick war dogs with the stench of death and destruction following them. Two mutts that came back from their objective with blood still dripping from their filthy maws. Licking their own wounds clean and secretly wishing they could lick the blood off of the other’s skin.
Maybe it was those trivial soulmate romance novels that Soap always scoffed at but would sneak peeks at that fed this idea, no delusion, that Ghost was his perfect half. Soap knows what he wants but he can’t bring himself to admit it.
And so, he flees the dirty pub before his soulmate can reach him. He makes a quick excuse that his mam needs him to come home and he quickly shoulders his way through the thick glass doors of the pub. His alpha howls at him to go back, to mate and claim what is his, the pretty little thing that has been left confused and alone. The mark on his neck feels like a curse branding itself into his skin as he slinks into the dark streets.
The brass finds out, because of course they do. He’s questioned, sent through dozens of interviews, told to sign papers he barely even glances at. And worst of all, he’s met with congratulations that barely mask the envy seeping through their insincerity. Even, Gaz who seems to know pats him on the back and mutters a halfhearted “At least she’s pretty, mate.”
Soap is placed on indefinite leave, and he lashes out at Price for it, something out of his control but Soap doesn’t know where else to direct his anger. Price gives him a pitying look that makes Soap's skin crawl, like he knows, and fuck he probably does know but he can't think about that right now. Because if Price knows, then Ghost almost certainly knows. Price tries to placate him, and assures him that he’ll still have his job once he fulfills his duties. Those "duties" include wedding and consummating his marriage to produce more omega offspring to be exact.
-
Worst of all is how Ghost reacts to the news. He seems almost unfazed, amused even. And it makes Soap gnash his teeth together in frustration and confusion as flashes of that night come back to him. What happened that night was unexpected, in fact, Soap had thought Ghost was angry with him. He remembers how terse Ghost had been with him on the drive back to the safe house, didn’t understand why, he had done his job perfectly, they took down their targets and secured the intel exactly as planned. He recalls how he had snapped his mouth shut when Ghost barked at him to shut up, turning his head to watch the moonlit trees flit by as Ghost drove them down an old dirt service road, too exhausted to bite something scathing back.
It wasn't until he had finally snapped at Ghost that he realized Ghost wasn't angry—he was frustrated. Ghost had been angrily pacing back and forth in the living room. His boots thudded heavily against the ground, tracking dirt and blood against the already filthy carpet with every lap he made. It made Soap's head start to pound. The thumping came to an abrupt stop as Ghost whirled around, his eyes flashing and pupils blown wide when Soap finally asked Ghost what his fucking problem was.
“You’re my fucking problem, Johnny.”
He squints his eyes shut and slams his fist against the wall with a snarl. Trying to fight the intrusive memories, the ones that have been keeping him awake at night for weeks. Soaking his bedsheets with sweat and come when the memory would replay itself so vividly he couldn't help rut against his mattress so hard the headboard had left a dent in the drywall. He tries to tell himself that it was a mistake, a one-time thing. But fuck, he can still feel the heat of Ghost’s breath against his ear, grunting filthy promises into Soap’s ear, fueling his delusions with promises of ownership and loyalty.
It should have meant nothing to him, just two pent-up alphas working off some steam. Incredibly taboo, but not unheard of in the military. But it felt different. Quick and dirty hookups didn’t usually involve promises of possession and devotion, and Ghost’s low rumbling voice in his ear telling Soap that Johnny was made just for him.
Soap’s fingers twitch as the memory unwinds further. Of Ghost’s ragged voice in his ear growling about how Soap belonged to him, his hot breath huffing against Soap’s neck as he ground his hips down hard against Soap. Soap's tip drooling precum through his fatigues as his lieutenant pinned him to the dirty couch and shoved a hand between them to take Soap’s aching cock in his calloused hand. Cooing at him and squeezing his already swelling knot so tight it punched the air out from Soap's lungs. He’d never cum so hard in his life. Back arching as he moaned Ghost’s name like a prayer.
And yet, despite that night, Ghost doesn’t seem bothered that Soap has an omega soulmate. His eye had twitched when Ghost asked him if he thought the omega was suitable for him as if he was merely asking how Soap’s coffee tasted. The alpha in his chest hisses and snarls once again, not for his promised omega, but for the man standing before him who told Soap they were made for each other.
-
He’s sprawled across Ghost’s bed as the man sits across from him on the couch sharing a few drinks together. Well, a few would be an understatement in Soap’s case. This was a bad idea. He’s too drunk for this. And now there’s a brief flash of doubt in his mind, because… what if he got it wrong. He can’t undo this if he got it wrong. Soap frowns down at the tumbler of scotch in his hands, eyes glazing over. No, he can’t be wrong.
He knows what he felt that one night in that safe house in Prague. Memories of kissing and biting and rutting against his superior like some untrained beast. He remembers the way Ghost had bit down on his mating gland and growled that Johnny was his, that some needy omega wouldn’t be able to give Soap what he needed.
The problem is, Soap can't figure out what he needs. His body had screamed at him to seek out his soulmate while his mind couldn't let go of the fact that his lieutenant had tried to lay claim to him just some weeks ago. He shakes the memory away and downs the rest of his scotch.
He’s drunk and the memory of what he’s done is still at the forefront of his mind. There’s still blood caked under his fingernails. His soulmate mark no longer feels as if it is scalding him, which is a relief, but he can’t quite shake the look of terror and betrayal in his omega’s pretty eyes.
Ghost has always been a prickly bastard and Soap doesn’t think that he would say the right things right now. He thought it’d make it easier, getting a few drinks in him to loosen his tongue, but now he’s not thinking clearly and he can’t make sense of what he needs to say.
He swallows the last of his scotch with a wince and stands. He should come back tomorrow when he’s got a clear head and can do this properly.
“Forget it LT. I'm heading to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Soap says.
Ghost doesn’t respond, just watches as the bed creaks under Soap’s weight as he stands on shaky legs. Swaying slightly as the alcohol rushes to his head again. Soap curses under his breath and stumbles across the room to where Ghost is sprawled comfortably on the old couch he seems to favor over his own bed. Perks of being an officer he imagines. Bastard. He takes up the expanse of that couch and it's hard to ignore the bulge under Ghost's sweatpants when the man has his legs spread so wide and both feet planted on the ground. He feels Ghost’s eyes still fixed on him as he reaches out to hand over the empty tumbler.
“Here, I dunno where you keep this,” Soap says, his words slurring slightly.
Ghost just stares up at him from the couch and doesn’t say a word as he rolls up his mask to take a sip of that shit bourbon he loves so much. Soap shifts on his feet and his eyes flick down to the nasty scar that mars Ghost’s lips. Watches the way Ghost’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His breath hitches as Ghost swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving Soap’s face even as he leans over to set his now empty glass down on the rickety side table. Ghost’s shirt pulls tight against his chest as he settles back against the couch with a sigh and Soap’s eyes scan greedily over the expanse of his Ghost’s broad chest. He wonders why such a big bastard like him wears such tight fucking shirts anyways.
The ticking from his watch sounds deafening the longer he stares at the sweat glistening along the expanse of Ghost’s thick throat. He takes a breath and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. When he grits his teeth, his eyes finally refocus and Ghost is still staring back at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes that makes Soap’s scent flare and his cock swell even further.
“Are ye gonna fucking take this or not?” Soap snaps.
The sweat cools on his neck as Ghost’s thick fingers begin to drum lightly against the armrest and Soap’s heart plummets to his stomach when a slow grin splits across Ghost’s scarred mouth. It's predatory and smug and it makes the hairs on the back of Soap’s neck stand on end and Christ, his cock stirs in his pants. He fucking knows what Soap did tonight. Soap doesn’t know what gave it away but Ghost knows and Soap needs to fucking leave, he can’t do this right now, can’t have this conversation.
He makes it about half a step when a sharp pain shoots up his left leg as the bottom of Ghost’s boot connects hard and fast with Soap’s knee, his bad one. The glass tumbler slips from Soap’s fingers, shattering just seconds before his leg crumples, and a series of unintelligible curses fall from his lips as his knees crack against the linoleum floor.
“You fucking cunt, what the fuck?” Soap snarls.
Ghost doesn’t answer and Soap lets out a strangled groan as gloved fingers tangle through his mohawk, pulling his head up so harshly he’s forced to meet Ghost’s gaze. His lieutenant’s eyes are bright with rage and what Soap thinks might be desire. He growls and blindly takes a swing at Ghost. Aiming between Ghost’s legs where he’s most vulnerable, only to feel another bolt of fiery pain shoot up his leg as the thick sole of Ghost’s boot stomps down on his knee again. Words freeze on his tongue when he hears the low growl rumbling throughout Ghost’s now heaving chest and he blinks blearily up at Ghost as his teeth gnash together.
The room reeks of Ghost’s scent now, flaring with his flashy display of anger and control. It makes Soap’s head swim and his nostrils flare. His alpha is furious, snarling and hissing at the blatant display of challenging disrespect while his traitorous cock swells some more, aching in his boxers as the smell of ash and pinewood floods his senses. Soap sags for a moment as his head spins, a cocktail of endorphins, cheap scotch, and the overpowering smell of his apparently pissed-off lieutenant.
Ghost yanks at his hair again and his bad knee throbs as it gets dragged through the broken shards of glass that cut through his military fatigues. He thrashes in another futile attempt to break out of Ghost’s hold but freezes with a loud hiss when the heel of Ghost’s boot stomps down on his knee again.
This time the boot doesn’t move. The sole of Ghost’s boot now a cruel and heavy pressure on his knee that renders him immobile. He could try to move again but he’d risk fucking up his knee even further if he did. Soap’s alpha snarls in his chest and a low growl escapes him. He grits his teeth when he realizes the way he’s kneeling between his superiors legs like some sort of bitched omega.
His eyes squeeze closed as the room spins and he feels his mind begin to splinter again, another memory threatening to overwhelm him. This one, however, is so recent and unpleasant that it leaves him raw.
A low chuckle escapes him as he slumps in Ghost’s hold and curses himself yet again for coming to Ghost’s room tonight of all nights. He blinks his eyes open as he stares down at himself, at the blood still stuck beneath his fingernails. His hands flex and he takes in another strangled breath as his ears begin to ring.
He’s no longer kneeling between Ghost’s feet but outside of a quaint little farmhouse nestled amongst Scotland’s countryside. He swallows and shakes his head trying to shake the memory from the recesses of his mind. Except now he’s in the foyer of the picture-perfect farmhouse, his soulmate—no the omega stares at him briefly in shock before a smile splits across her face.
He’s not supposed to be here, not until they’ve married. He blinks again and now he’s watching the omega’s face twist in horror and betrayal. He’s howling in pain and anguish as his knife cuts cleanly through flesh that isn’t his. He feels as if he is the one being gutted, the soulmate mark on his neck now scalding him, but his mind has never felt more clear.
“Soap… Johnny,” Ghost says.
His ears are ringing like he just set off one of his bombs without standard ear protection. He can hear the blood rushing through his veins. Someone is screaming his name. First his callsign, and then the name reserved for just one person. They sound like an angel. Maybe he finally kicked it and one of God's angels is here for him. He bites out a laugh at that, harsh and grating, his throat like sandpaper. Heaven’s angels coming for him. He huffs a laugh again as fingers twitch over the shiny crucifix hanging heavily around his neck. The dried blood under his fingernails is a stark contrast to what the little piece of metal represents.
It feels like a noose now. The chain tightens around his throat every time he swallows. Heaven’s angels, if they’ve come for him, certainly wouldn’t be here to usher him through the pearly gates. They probably watched quietly as he had sinned. As he scrubbed the blood from his skin, as he tried so desperately to search for any feeling of guilt or remorse but all he could feel was relief. Like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, it was nearly cathartic. His fingers twitch again when the angel’s voice calls to him once more.
“Johnny,” Ghost says.
Soap’s ears pop and his head snaps up, his chest heaving uncontrollably as he kneels between Ghost’s spread thighs and his vision comes into focus. He chokes back the bile inching its way up his throat and sags against Ghost’s knee with a heavy pant.
The scent of ash and granite seeping from Ghost is almost overwhelming from this position, just as intoxicating as the scotch he had been gulping down like water. He fights the urge to nuzzle even closer between Ghost’s legs because fuck, he’s still pissed. The ache in his knee and the humiliating position he is currently stuck in still makes a part of him want to fight back, while the other part purrs in contentment with the knowledge that he’s once again in Ghost’s grasp.
“Not like you to run from me, Johnny,” Ghost says as the hand that had cruelly ripped itself through his hair now swipes soothing strokes against the back of his neck, wiping away the cold sweat clinging to his skin.
Soap lets out a ragged breath and squeezes his eyes closed again as he pants against Ghost’s knee. He can’t bring himself to respond. His mind is still in turmoil and his body aches.
“Go on, tell me about what you did, sweetheart,” Ghost says.
“Dunno what you’re talking about Ghost,” Soap wheezes.
Wrong answer. The gloved hand removes itself from Soap’s hair and darts quickly down to grip Soap’s jaw, thick fingers squeezing so hard he feels his molars grind together. Ghost is staring down at him over the bridge of his crooked nose.
“Oh but I think you do,” Ghost grunts, a deep warning growl rumbling through his chest again. “That pretty little soulmate mark of yours is nearly gone and you’re a right mess.” Ghost breathes out as his fingers release Soap’s jaw to glide over the vulnerable expanse of his neck and Soap lets out a hiss of pain as his fading soulmate mark burns from the touch.
He whines, shaking his head as he tries to fight the memories threatening to consume him again.
“I didn’t leave a mess, it was clean and quick just like you taught me, they won’t trace her body back to me,” Soap pants against Ghost’s leg, and his alpha that’s thrashing around in him seems to settle down, only bristling slightly when Ghost strokes his hair again.
“Shame you didn’t make it last,” Ghost tuts at him, and Soap balks at the idea of drawing out his soulmate's death. He’s not even sure if he would have survived something like that when he remembers the white-hot agony ripping through his body as the life left hers. It had left him whimpering, dazed and limp on the ground next to her corpse, her blood pooling around them and soaking into his clothes. He didn’t even come to until an hour later, swearing as he scrambled to clean up after himself and stage a break-in. Still shaking and cursing every time an aftershock tore through his chest while he burned his clothes and eventually made his way back to base.
“I couldn’t Ghost, fuck—I couldn’t—nearly killed me I think, I’m sorry—”
Ghost shushes him and fists his hand in Soap’s hair again to drag him even closer between Ghost’s meaty thighs. It makes Soap’s alpha start pacing again and he growls at Ghost for manhandling him in such a way, it's disgraceful. And yet, he settles again when Ghost’s fingers relax in his soft mohawk once more. Ghost dismisses the little act of defiance, he seems almost amused at the way Soap seems to fight it. Or maybe it's just because Ghost still has his fucking boot on Soap’s knee and knows that Soap is just lashing out.
Ghost settles back against the couch once more, his fingers still in Soap’s hair tracing their way down along Soap’s jaw, and his thumb swipes against Soap’s chapped lips. Soap wrestles with the idea of taking Ghost’s thumb between his lips and wetting his glove with his tongue, but his brain is still so muddled and he doesn’t know if the alcohol is making his eyes deceive him or if Ghost’s cock really is hard in his fatigues. His mouth waters at the thought and he has to force himself to look back up at Ghost. He thinks he might be right when he sees Ghost staring back at him hungrily, his pupils blown wide and the sharp set of incisors all alphas are gifted with have pushed their way through his gums.
“Why’d you do it, Soap?” Ghost asks, but it feels like another one of his orders.
And this is why Soap tried to leave earlier. He can’t quite bring himself to say it out loud. Maybe with time, but the weight of what he’s done is still too sensitive and raw . He closes his eyes in frustration and growls at Ghost again. It feels like the bastard is toying with him, mocking him. Ghost should know why. Soap is here and kneeling at his feet while his omega soulmate is dead in her own home after all.
“You know why. Don’t make me say it.”
Ghost pauses for a moment and tilts his head to the side as his nostrils flare and a frustrated growl ripples through his throat. Soap winces, realizing he probably said the wrong thing again, but his eyes flick up in surprise when Ghost speaks again.
“Then fucking show me why,” Ghost snarls.
Soap freezes in confusion for a moment but quickly catches up to speed when he sees Ghost’s hand move to undo his own zipper, yanking on Soap’s hair again to pull him closer to his cock. Soap gawks at the size of him, thick and heavy even for an alpha of his stature. And fuck, Ghost is so hard already it looks like it hurts. The tip of his cock peeking out from under Ghost’s foreskin, bright red and twitching as precum leaks from the swollen head when Ghost wraps his meaty fist around his knot and squeezes. Soap’s mouth falls open and he licks his lips as the overwhelming scent of ash and granite floods his senses; so distinctly Ghost it makes his mind feel fuzzy again as it mingles with the scotch from earlier.
His eyes roll back and he lets out a soft groan while his alpha hisses at him, angry that he would submit to another alpha like this. He almost gives in to the feral fight his alpha is putting up but that's quickly shattered when Ghost speaks up again after Soap swipes his tongue across his pink lips.
“Got cocksucking lips like an omega, goddamn tease,” Ghost hisses and yanks at Soap’s hair again.
Soap growls at that, gnashing his teeth in offense, pulling back which causes Ghost to snarl and snatch his jaw in his hand, squeezing Soap’s cheeks together so hard he’s sure the shape of Ghost’s fingertips will bruise into his skin.
“Not a fucking omega, Simon,” Johnny hisses and worries for a brief moment that maybe he was wrong about everything. That two bullheaded alphas thinking with their knots could never make it work.
“Wouldn’t want you if you were one, sweetheart,” Ghost says back with such conviction in his voice it causes the remains of Soap’s composure to shatter like the glass still littered around his knees. Christ, did he need to hear that; it ruins him. He never should’ve doubted that they were made for each other. No one could understand him like Ghost, and no one could understand Ghost the way Soap does. Just two bloodied and broken war dogs, far too rough around the edges for the soft tenderness of an omega. Too aggressive and domineering for a simple beta. And too perfect for each other for any other alpha to compare.
Soap hisses through his teeth and ducks his head down between Ghost’s spread legs to flatten his tongue along the underside of Ghost’s twitching cock. He lets the spit roll off his tongue to wet the underside of Ghost’s twitching cock, and he damn near whimpers as he finally gets to taste his lieutenant, he’s salty and leaves the taste of ash on Soap’s tongue. He tastes just like the battlefield Soap considers his second home.
He flicks his tongue and leaves sloppy wet kisses along the length of Ghost’s cock, letting a deep purr rumble through his chest as he pulls Ghost’s foreskin back and greedily laps up the precum drooling down the swollen head of Ghost’s cock. He makes a show of swirling his tongue around the tip until Ghost is bucking his hips up with a strangled groan. Soap palms his aching cock that strains against his zipper as he wraps his lips tight around Ghost’s ruddy cockhead. Ghost snarls and rips at Soap’s mohawk once again, and Christ, is he going to have one hell of a migraine tomorrow.
“Done this before, have we, Johnny?” Ghost asks. His broad chest, now soaked through with sweat, heaves, and Soap picks up a hint of jealousy in his voice. He may be on his knees like some omega whore greedily licking at his superior’s cock, but he can’t help the shiver of satisfaction that licks up his spine just knowing that he’s got Ghost this worked up and possessive.
So Soap doesn’t dignify that with an answer, and instead wraps his lips tight around Ghost’s throbbing cock again, swallowing him down until the tip of Ghost’s cock punches the back of his throat, and fuck —he doesn’t even have half of Ghost’s cock down his throat. He blinks back the tears forming in his eyes and swallows hard, gagging when Ghost lets out a loud curse and bucks his hips up hard. Ghost pants and his fist flexes through Soap’s mohawk. He blinks up innocently at his superior and lets a low purr radiate through his throat, greedily swallowing down another glob of Ghost’s precum.
“Fucking slag ,” Ghost curses and tears Soap off of his dripping shaft. “Know your way around a prick don’t you, Johnny?” Ghost says, his voice raw and grating. He doesn’t give Soap a second to respond before he shoves Soap down on his leaking prick once again.
One of Ghost’s hands presses down heavy on the back of Soap’s head to shove him down harshly on cock, so deep Soap’s wet lips reach Ghost’s already swelling knot, while the other snakes its way around his throat squeezing tightly so he can feel Ghost’s cock bulge against his throat. Soap chokes and thrashes around briefly, before breathing deeply through his nose as he feels Ghost pound bruises against his throat. It does nothing to help as the heady scent of Ghost’s alpha envelopes him once more, seeping into Soap’s pores, and clouding his brain once again. Soap growls and moans around the throbbing prick lodged down his throat as he shifts on his aching knees so he can grind his aching cock against Ghost’s leg. He whimpers as he feels his cock twitch and wet his fatigues, drooling precum, and fuck his prick is so fucking hard.
Ghost extends his leg and Soap could cry in relief as he starts grinding and humping desperately against Ghost’s leg, his cock making a sloppy mess of their fatigues, Christ , he’s wet like an omega right now. His knot swells and throbs and aches to lodge itself into something tight and warm. Soap’s thoughts about his own prick are interrupted when Ghost brings both hands to the back of his head to brutally bob Soap up and down Ghost’s twitching shaft. Ghost is grunting and growling, a slew of curses falling from his scarred lips as he orders Soap to take him deeper. Ghost’s knot is swelling already and fuck, Soap doesn’t want this to be over yet, so he bobs his head down the length of Ghost’s thick shaft once more and when he feels Ghost’s thighs go slack he pulls himself off with a wet pop. There’s a thick string of saliva connecting itself between Ghost’s deep red tip and Soap’s now puffy lips. He licks it away slowly, savoring the taste of salt and ash on his tastebuds as he leans back, releasing Ghost’s cock and flicking his eyes up to meet his gaze.
“Killed my soulmate for you, think I deserve a reward for that Simon. Gonna let me fuck you?”
Ghost pauses for a moment, his chest still heaving. He stares at Soap for so long it makes him squirm between his legs. Finally, Ghost barks out a harsh twisted laugh that leaves Soap dumbfounded for a moment.
“Didn’t ask you to do that now did I, Johnny?” Ghost’s eyes flash and Soap is suddenly dragged to his feet. His mind, still hazy from the alcohol, can’t keep up, and before he knows it he’s face down on Ghost’s bed with a heavy weight pinning him down. But fuck, does it give his cock some relief, he’s so fucking horny he can’t help but rut against the cool sheets just a little. A harsh slap comes down on his ass and he suddenly snaps out of his haze.
“Had to fight just to get you to kneel at my feet and you think you deserve a reward?” Ghost says, the deep raspy growl of his voice makes Soap’s cock pulse more spend across the sheets.
Ghost’s breath is hot and heavy against his ear. He feels Ghost’s alpha canines nip at the back of his neck before Ghost leans back on his knees to tug Soap’s fatigues down over the swell of his ass, and Soap’s cheeks burn with the humiliation of it all, the submission. Then suddenly Ghost’s heavy weight is draped over him again, pinning him to the mattress and Soap groans low in his throat as his cock ruts down into the sheets again. Ghost licks and bites at Soap’s scent gland and his teeth graze over his mating mark on his neck while Ghost grinds his cock between Soap’s arsecheeks.
“I can still smell that little omega of yours on you,” Ghost says as his hand slithers down to tighten possessively around Soap’s hip, nails biting into his skin.
Ghost groans against Soap’s neck as he continues to grind harshly against Soap’s ass. It has Soap shaking under the weight of him, torn between the friction of the soft sheets on his aching prick and the way Ghost’s tip catches against the rim of Soap’s hole with every harsh thrust forward. He’s damn near drooling onto the mattress as he tilts his neck to the side to give Ghost more room access to his throat. Ghost purrs in satisfaction and sucks one last bruise over his scent gland, seemingly satisfied with his thorough scenting.
“Came crawling back to me like a stray mutt didn’t you, Johnny,” Ghost says. “I was a little surprised though. Thought you would’ve accepted your soulmate, honoring your duties, like the good little soldier you are.” Ghost grunts and he leans back onto his haunches to yank Soap’s hips up, and Soap lets out a low whine when he loses that teasing friction on his cock. Ghost shushes him as he spreads Soap’s arsecheeks and spits a thick glob directly onto Soap’s rim.
It makes him recoil and he moves to look over his shoulder—he’s never been touched there before. But Ghost shoves his head into the mattress again before he can answer and his head spins again.
He feels Ghost shift further back on the mattress and before he can lift his head in confusion once more he feels the huff of Ghost’s breath against the back of his thigh and suddenly his tongue swipes hot and heavy against his hole. He instinctively jerks away, but Ghost growls so loud it makes even Soap’s alpha in his chest whimper. He tenses and tries to arch away from the unfamiliar feeling but Ghost just grabs his hips in a bruising grip and yanks Soap back onto his tongue. Ghost buries his face between Soap’s arse again, flattening his tongue and just barely pushing the tip past the tight ring of muscle between sloppy kisses. Soap nearly buckles forward at Ghost’s assault on his hole, and he’s gasping and drooling against the bedsheets, cock twitching and leaking precum every time Ghost lets out a pleased grunt or groan. Ghost lands another slap to Soap’s arsecheek, never once letting up as he huffs and growls low in his throat every time sucks down hard on the rim of Soap’s hole.
Ghost shoves his tongue deep inside when Soap least expects it and his cheeks burn with shame when the sound of his own high-pitched keen reaches his ears. Ghost swirls his tongue and prods at Soap’s virgin rim again, leaving him soaked and dripping on the cheap bedsheets. His cheeks burn when he realizes he’s arching back into Ghost’s more than eager mouth, listening to the sloppy wet sounds and Ghost’s animalistic grunting as he huffs and groans each time he pushes his tongue inside of Soap. His cock is oozing a heavy stream of precum and his head is swimming.
A loud shout escapes Soap’s lips as Ghost abruptly shoves a slick finger into his arse right alongside his tongue that hasn’t let up for a second. Ghost finally pulls back from Soap’s now dripping hole with a lewd pop. Soap looks over his shoulder and his cock twitches when he sees Ghost open-mouthed panting, his broad muscular chest now soaked through with sweat heaving as he gulps in mouthfuls of air.
“Gotta relax for me, sweetheart, can’t take my knot if you’re already clenching around my finger like this, Johnny,” Ghost purrs and squeezes his hip again.
“M’not taking your fucking knot Simon,” Soap balks and whips his head around again. He thrashes in Ghost’s hold briefly, horrified and humiliated at the thought of another alpha knotting him. To submit like that, give himself to someone he should consider competition, he knows he wants Ghost, he was made perfect for him, but his alpha still snarls at the thought of bearing its soft belly to another mutt like him. Ghost just grins at him, ignoring his protests, his mouth glistening with saliva while he bares his sharp teeth at him before ducking back down between Soap’s cheeks.
Ghost’s finger bullies its way in deeper and Soap grits his teeth, about to protest again when his back suddenly arches and knot swells as Ghost crooks his finger to brush against his prostate. He doesn’t let up, continually stroking and prodding at the bundle of nerves until Soap is howling and trying to muffle his moans with Ghost’s pillow. His knot swells some more, aching for a hole to bury itself in when Ghost’s tongue slips into his arse again. It’s sweet in contrast to the way Ghost is brutally working his finger in and out of Soap’s now dripping hole.
“Gonna make sure you’re ready for my knot sweetheart, don’t worry.” Ghost huffs against his ass and Soap can't help but arch his back further as Ghost greedily groans against his dripping arsehole. He’s a whining moaning mess and maybe just a little nervous for what’s to come. But fuck does he want it. Can’t help the way his mind pictures him stuffed full with his lieutenant’s knot. Tells himself it's not degrading, even an omega would struggle to take someone like Ghost.
Soap tries to beg Ghost to slow down, tell him it's too much but his toes are curling and there's that familiar tension building in his groin. His prick is leaking like some needy omega in heat and he finds himself bucking back onto Ghost’s finger. Ghost ignores him and buries his face even further between Soap’s asscheeks. He licks and sucks as Soap clenches down on the unfamiliar feeling prodding his asshole, but Ghost’s tongue is unforgiving and persistent. It punches greedily at the tight rim of Soap’s ass as he buries another finger deep inside of him.
Soap thrashes as Ghost prods two fingers at his prostate again and his cock hangs heavy between his legs. The room spins again and he drops his head against his sweaty forearm as he pushes back against Ghost’s incessant fingering. He can’t even think straight as his knot tightens and he’s crying out Ghost’s name over and over again like a broken record. His cock twitches and throbs and he’s suddenly spurting thick ropes over cum all over Ghost’s once pristine bedsheets. He’s gasping and whining as he desperately shoves a hand between his legs to squeeze harshly at his own knot. It’s almost painful to cum without something milking his swollen knot. He yelps as Ghost tears his hand away from his aching prick. Can’t even catch his breath to curse his bastard of a lieutenant for leaving his knot aching like that because Ghost is already tearing himself away from the mess he’s left between Soap’s legs and slapping the tip of his cock down on the rim of Soap’s hole with a loud plop.
Soap yelps when he feels Ghost’s blunt cockhead try to shove its way into his hole. His neglected knot is now forgotten as his still-hard cock twitches once more as Ghost lazily grinds his prick between Soap’s cheeks, catching the tip on his now loose rim.
“Relax sweetheart, you can take it,” Ghost coos in his ear.
Easy for him to fucking say while he’s not the one about to be split open.
“Just relax for me Soap, you know you were meant to take this knot. Wouldn’t have killed your pretty little bird if it wasn’t for me.”
Soap gnashes his teeth together and tries to shove that thought aside, but it's cut short as Ghost starts to shove the thick head of his prick into him. He can’t help but tense again and his alpha is snarling at him, howling at him to through Ghost off of him, but fuck—his mind has also never been clearer.
He’s right where he’s supposed to be.
He fists his still blood-crusted fingernails into Ghost’s bedsheets and lets out a hiss as he tries to relax and perk his ass up as he feels Ghost sink into his tight heat inch by inch.
Ghost’s chest rumbles in approval and he strokes a hand up Soap’s sweaty flank and finally comes to rest on his lower back to push Soap down until he’s presenting for his lieutenant.
“Arch your back for me, yeah, just like that, show me how bad you want this,” Ghost says. And Soap bristles, because didn’t he already prove himself? Didn’t he already show Ghost that he would do anything for him? Would kill for him? Would kill his soulmate for him?
Almost as if Ghost can sense the change in Soap’s demeanor he bucks his hips harshly, thighs slapping loudly against the swell of Soap’s arse and Soap yowls into the pillow under him, now soaked with his drool and tears.
“Dirty little slag, always knew you’d take it like a dream,” Ghost huffs and grunts behind him as his hips buck forward harsh and quick.
Soap can’t even bring himself to bite back something back, his mind has gone blank and he’s humping back onto Ghost’s prick with every harsh thrust. Yelps every time Ghost’s knot pushes harshly against his rim.
“Ghost, fuck, I can’t,” Soap whines. And suddenly Soap’s vision swims with that cozy little countryside farmhouse, his soulmate begging and pleading before him, telling he can’t do this as he stalks towards her shaking form brandishing the hunting knife that Ghost had gifted him some time ago.
“Simon,” Ghost hisses, “Say my fucking name, Johnny. Say Simon when you fucking speak to me,” Ghost growls and smacks Soap’s ass so hard he knows he’ll be sporting a hand-shaped bruise tomorrow. And Christ, does the thought of being marked by Ghost’s brutal hand turn him on. It grounds Soap and pushes back the dark memories still swimming in the back of his mind. Reminds him that the guilt he still feels is not the feeling of regret. God he doesn’t regret it for a second, finally giving himself to Ghost could never compare to him fucking his own knot into that useless omega the universe gifted him.
“Fuck Simon, harder, want your knot, I can take it,” Soap babbles incoherently as he reaches down to fist at his aching cock. Ghost lifts a leg up, his boot now planted onto the bed as he pounds frantically into Soap’s hole.
“Know you can Johnny, gonna milk this fucking knot aren’t you? Come on, fucking take it. ” Ghost pants harshly between each brutal thrust.
Soap is frantically jerking his throbbing prick, sobbing into the mattress as the pleasure from Ghost’s brutal pounding makes its way up to his fucking throat, but fuck, his knot hurts.
“Ghost please… I can’t, need you,” Soap whines as he throws his hips back to meet each violent thrust. He can feel the sweat and drool from Ghost drip onto his skin and he whines in pleasure when Ghost finally drapes himself over Soap’s back and sinks his teeth into Soap’s mating gland. It hurts, fuck does it hurt, because it's not his soulmate sinking their teeth into his skin and claiming him but gods, does it feel like heaven. His eyes roll back and he comes abruptly with Ghost’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.
He nearly sobs in relief as Ghost snakes a hand around him and fists his knot tightly, squeezing and massaging the swollen gland at the base of his cock.
“I got you Johnny, always got you, sweetheart,” Ghost coos into his ear and licks a slow soothing stripe along Soap’s mating gland that’s already reacting negatively to another alpha claiming him. But he can’t help the low rumbling purr that leaves his chest as he lays there stuffed full with Ghost’s knot, as Ghost licks and kisses soothing stripes along his tender flesh.
Ghost heaves and thrusts against him harshly one last time as he cums deep inside Soap and forces his knot into him. He’s panting and sweating along the length of Soap’s back but Soap just sighs in contentment and melts into the mattress as Ghost sags, dead weight on top of him. Ghost doesn’t say anything just purrs deep in his chest as he nuzzles and scents Soap’s mating gland, rocking his hips slightly just to feel Soap pulse and clench around his knot, milking his cock like an omega in heat tempting their alpha to fuck a litter into them.
Eventually, Soap groans and makes a fuss as Ghost sags against his body, is the bastard falling asleep with his knot still jammed up his arse?
“Get off me you fucking animal,” Soap grumbles and tries to roll Ghost off of him but the man just growls low in his throat and tightens his arms around Soap’s waist.
“I’m fucking serious Simon, I can’t breathe,” Soap grumbles.
Ghost nips playfully at his neck and rolls off onto his side, his cock never slipping from Soap’s hole as he nuzzles into the side of Soap’s throat, scenting and sucking at his mating gland. Soap purrs as the heady smell of ash and granite envelopes him once more and Ghost’s chest begins to rumble.
“Yaknow…” Soap purrs, “I’ve got a nice cabin in my name now Simon…. Never been to it, but the omega said it was perfect for hunting and fishing over the summer months. Thought we could honeymoon there… sweetheart. ”
Ghost snorts against Soap’s neck before he untangles their limbs, pulling back to reach for his fatigues haphazardly discarded on the cold floor.
“You’re right fucked in the head now aren’t you,” Ghost chuckles and slinks out of bed. “Come on, Johnny, I need a fucking smoke.”
And Soap snickers as he follows his soulmate through the door.