Archive of Our Own ^beta

Anonymous Top

I’m about 10 minutes out. You all set up?

Vers and Kinky ;)

Yeah, I’ll be ready

Can’t wait to play with you big boy ;)

Anonymous Top

See you soon.

Ghost shuts his screen off and shoves his phone in his pocket, leaning back into his car seat and peering out the window, watching the city lights fly by as the taxi speeds towards the center of town. He’d arranged for pick up a little outside of base and told the driver to let him off a few blocks away from his destination, preferring to walk the rest of the way. Wanting to avoid any connection between his point of origin and the hotel room he’s currently heading to.

It's not his first time meeting someone like this, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. His profession leaves remarkably little room for a personal life as is. Usually it doesn’t bother him, not like he has any family or friends left outside the force to miss him, but sometimes, just sometimes, he’ll get that itch. That want, need, for physical touch and for connecting with another person, no matter how brief. It’s one of the few human joys he still allows himself. Nameless, faceless sex is barely enough to give him his fix, the bare minimum necessary to satiate him, but it’s also the only thing he can manage, all things considered.

So that’s where he’s headed. To have anonymous sex with a man equally as nameless and faceless as Ghost himself. He lost the ability to be truly gentle a lifetime ago, long before the sequence of events that would lock Simon Riley in a vault in the deepest trenches of his mind and let Ghost take the reins. He’s a being steeped in violence, even sex can’t escape that, so he finds partners willing and able to take him as he is: brutal, unhinged and barely restrained.

The sex he’ll have tonight won’t be loving, won’t carry any meaning beyond satisfying the physical, but he craves the raw passion nonetheless. A sweet little treat between missions: to hear the air be filled with pants and moans instead of gunshots, to be covered in sweat, spit and cum instead of blood.

The hotel he chose for their meetup is one he has used before, a few times actually, after he learned just how seriously they take their claims of anonymity and discretion. It’s fucking expensive as hell though. Probably the sort of establishment meant for cheating politicians and millionaires to bring their barely legal mistresses. Not for irreparably paranoid military men with enough trust issues to fuel MI6 for years to come all on his own, but he doesn’t care. He can afford it. Has to spend his ridiculously high salary on something, he supposes. Plus, at least his date for tonight had seemed pleased with the locale.

He met the other man on a dating site a few weeks ago, intrigued by his profile, and went through his usual process of feeling him out before agreeing to meet up. Their preferences seemingly align perfectly, and the other man hasn’t asked any questions. None that Ghost isn’t comfortable answering anyway, both preferring to keep the conversation as void of any personal details as possible. All Ghost knows about him is that he’s a football fan, hates tea, and that he’s Scottish, as well as an extensive list of what the other man likes and dislikes in bed. It’s not much, but it’s all he needs. He feels confident enough that the stranger doesn’t have any sort of secret agenda or sinister plans. Trusting his own finely tuned alarm bells to go off if something’s wrong and currently hearing none, which is a motivator in itself.

And then, of course, there are the pictures.

He hasn’t seen the other’s face, much like he hasn’t shown his own, but he’s seen almost everything else. The other’s profile picture is what initially caught his eye. It’s quite simple. Just a mirror selfie, his back to the camera, arched ever so slightly to showcase his perky ass in a pair of tiny black boxer briefs, the defined muscles of his, well, everything flexing enticingly. That picture made Ghost’s mouth go dry immediately because the shape of him, the lightly freckled tan skin, and the soft smattering of dark hairs on his arms immediately reminded him of…
Soap.

Ghost is no idiot. He’s well aware of his less than appropriate crush on his sergeant, and he’s absolutely intending to take that information with him to the grave. Meeting Soap and getting to know him had forced Ghost to slowly, carefully relearn how to let someone in, because the younger man is nothing if not persistent. Everything about him lures Ghost in, from his infectious smile to his reliability in the field. His friendly demeanor and his surprising brutality in hand-to-hand combat. The fact that he’s the only one who seems to appreciate Ghost’s stupid jokes, even when he pretends not to. Soap has reawakened feelings in Ghost’s body, in his heart, that he thought withered away to nothing eons ago.

Perhaps the word ‘crush’ is a bit of an understatement, sorely unable to capture the true depth of Ghost’s feelings for his subordinate, but it makes little difference. He’ll never act on those feelings anyway. He’d never risk their team’s balance by being that selfish, and he’d never, ever want to make Soap uncomfortable, or risk losing the connection they do have. But, he’s still human.

So, he clicked on that anonymous profile, the one that reminded him of someone he can never have, sent a message, and felt his heart just about leap into his throat when he got a flirty reply mere minutes later.

Everything unfolded from there.

More pictures were exchanged, Ghost strategically angling himself in the ones he sent to hide his identifiable tattoos, and feeling absolutely breathless at the ones he received back. Miles and miles of tanned, freckled skin, lightly scarred but much less than Ghost himself, hinting at a life of physical labor that matches the muscular physique. One picture, also in a mirror but from the front this time, clutching his own obviously hard cock through the fabric of those black boxer briefs. Another, with his underpants tugged down to show off the full slope of his ass and the end of a glass plug nestled between his cheeks.

And then he learned that the other man is Scottish too. The alarm bells should have started ringing then, at the similarities between this beautiful internet stranger and his own cheeky sergeant. They surely would have, if he wasn’t so completely convinced that Soap MacTavish is most definitely straight. He noticed the similarities between them, denied to himself that it’s the cause of his interest, and arranged a meeting. Spurred on by his own growing desire and the other man’s enthusiastic response to the pictures Ghost sent in return, the appraising comments about Ghost’s own body settling hot and heavy, low in his stomach.

Yeah, Ghost is only human after all.

“This alright for a drop off, sir?” The taxi driver asks, pulling Ghost’s focus back into the present. He looks around for a second, recognizing his surroundings immediately and deciding it will do.
“It’s fine, yeah. Thanks.” He reaches between the front seats to pay the man, and quickly steps out of the car. City life bustles around him, lively and lifeless all at once. The noise and movement of the civilian masses is momentarily overwhelming, making him feel exposed and vulnerable here out in the open, but the feeling slowly dissipates as he methodically takes in his surroundings.
He thankfully doesn’t draw too much attention with his attire, having switched out his usual balaclava for a black surgical face mask and the hood of his charcoal gray rain jacket drawn up. A few eyes linger on him as he makes his way down the slightly damp streets, but no more than usual when he occasionally has to leave base to run errands. With his height and sheer bulk, he can’t completely avoid the attention of other people, but it’s late enough into the Friday night that most people have better things to do than stare at a tall, black-clad stranger minding his own business. At least that’s what he tells himself.

As he nears the hotel, he quickly goes through his conversation with his date in his mind, trying to recall all the important details as he prepares himself for what’s to come. The other is supposed to show up before him, give the front desk their reservation number and take one of the two key cards to go to their room and get ready for him.
He is supposed to lay down on the bed, naked and blindfolded, waiting from Ghost to arrive.

A shiver goes down Ghost’s spine at the mental image, imagining all that soft skin and those hard muscles on display for him to get his hands on. The blindfold had been the other’s idea actually, which had come has a welcome surprise, since there was no way he’d allow the other to see his face anyway. He’d asked why, asked if the other was truly comfortable with leaving himself at a stranger’s mercy like that. The reply he’d gotten was not what he expected.

Vers and Kinky ;)

I’ll just have to trust you ;)

By the way

With the whole anonymity thing

Do you mind if I imagine being with someone specific?

Anonymous Top

Not really

Whatever you’re into

Vers and Kinky ;)

What if I say his name?

Anonymous Top

Don’t care

As long as it’s not something fucking stupid like Timothy or Reginald

Vers and Kinky ;)

Haha

I promise it’s not

The hotel sign lights up the heavy evening air in front of him and it looks just as garish as the last time he was here a few months ago. He glances around himself briefly before stepping into the softly lit lobby. The air inside smells faintly of roses and some sort of jazz is softly playing over the speakers, probably a futile attempt to class the place up a bit. He snorts quietly to himself before making his way over to the front desk.

“Good evening, sir. How might I be of assistance?” A woman behind the desk asks him. She’s attractive, in a bland way. Not that Ghost is really in the know, never having looked at a woman twice in his entire life. Her eyes are sparkling with professional attentiveness though, not even blinking at his naturally intimidating demeanor or slightly strange attire. He assumes she has probably seen some weird shit at this job and privately wonders if the pay is worth it.

“I have a reservation.” He says, quickly glancing out of the corner of his eye when he hears someone enter from the side door leading from the hotel bar. A couple stumbles through, clearly less than sober as they make their way over to the elevator on unsteady feet, giggling the entire way and groping each other shamelessly as they go. He almost can’t resist rolling his eyes.
“Lovely. Could I have your reservation number, please?” The lady at the counter asks, dutifully typing it into the computer as he recites it. “Alright, everything seems to be in order. Your companion already checked in a while ago. You are in room number 326, and here’s your key card. Can I help you with anything else?”

“No, that’s alright. Thanks.” He says, accepting the card with a curt nod before turning on his heel to make his way over to the staircase, taking it two steps at a time as he makes his way up.
He feels oddly giddy, sweet anticipation surging through his veins in a way he hasn’t felt in a while, already looking froward to that bone deep satisfaction he knows will follow the fun he’s about to have. Unlocking the door to the third floor, he quickly steps through and makes his way down the corridor towards his room. He smiles slightly to himself as he reaches the door, feeling downright hungry with desire at every memory of the gorgeous pictures this man has sent him, and takes a deep breath before he opens it.

It’s mostly dark in the room, except for a single lamp lit on a bedside table, making him cast an imposing shadow as he’s backlit by the comparatively harsh light of the hallway. His date is already laid out on the bed, naked and blindfolded just like they planned, and Ghost feels a familiar heat slowly unfurl in his stomach. The thud of the door closing and the snap of the lock feels like the end of a sentence and the start of a new paragraph all at once.

He lets out a breath, and grins.

“Took you long enough. Almost thought you were gonna leave me hangin’.” A deep voice chuckles.

A familiar deep voice, words thick with that recognizable lilt. It’s a voice he’d know anywhere, given that he spends most of his days with it murmuring nonsense in his ears, either over comms or in person.

The warmth spreading through Ghost’s veins turns to ice as he freezes in place.

No fucking way. It can’t be.

He shuffles closer, hesitantly approaching the bed in an effort to confirm with his eyes what his ears are refusing to acknowledge.

There, spread out on the mattress, as sweet as a sacrificial lamb on a heathen altar, is the unmistakably familiar shape, the wide cheeky grin, and the stupid fucking haircut of Sergeant Soap MacTavish.

Ghost swallows heavily, wide eyes greedily roaming across the expanse of uncovered skin even with his internal monologue screaming bloody murder as his entire worldview is all but turned upside down. His sergeant being apparently gay is the least of his worries as he realizes that all those messages, all those flirty innuendos and lewd pictures were from Soap. It’s Soap here in the hotel room with him, lounging on silk sheets as naked as the day he was born, all prepped and ready, waiting for Ghost to get there and…

Fuck, he needs to leave.

Needs to turn around and delete that damned dating app and maybe chuck his phone down the nearest sewer and never think of this night again.

“Quite type, aye? That’s alright. I can make enough noise for two.” Soap grins, lifting his arms over his head as he aches his back, groaning into the stretch before once again coming to rest on the bed, arms limp by his sides, waiting. Ghost’s mouth feels like the fucking Sahara.

He can’t just leave. That’s a coward’s way. Plus, Soap would probably feel horribly rejected, and he can’t do that to him. Won’t. No, he’ll have to talk to him. Tell him what’s up and clear the air and pray to any fucking god that their partnership will be able to withstand the awkwardness that’s sure to follow.

Ghost walks to the end of the bed, slowly and quietly, but heightened as Soap’s hearing must be with the blindfold on, he’s sure to hear the steps anyway. Definitely does, judging by the slight shiver that runs down his form in what must be anticipation. He comes to a halt, reaching a hand out to brush against the bone of Soap’s ankle, intending to shake him gently as he shatters the illusion when he speaks.

That, however, is not what happens.

Soap shudders at the contact, smile growing wide and pleased as punch at the feeling of Ghost’s calloused fingers on his skin. Momentarily mesmerized by that reaction, Ghost lightly trails his fingers up the inside of Soap’s leg, tracing the odd scar in his path with barely contained reverence. His hands are slightly cold from having just been outside, so the warmth of the other’s skin feels almost scalding in comparison.

He stops at the knee, eyes having previously followed his own movements but now flicking up to take in Soap’s slowly hardening erection, seemingly turned on by the mystery, the vulnerability of trusting a stranger like this. His gaze slides higher, finding taut abs and shapely pecs with a fine dusting of that same dark hair that contours his arms, before landing on his face. His plush lips, stretched in a grin, that little scar on his chin, his expressive eyebrows, barely peeking out from under the black fabric covering his eyes and the tops of his cheekbones.

“You said you were tease but come on. Now you're just bein’ cruel.” Soap murmurs, leaning into the hand Ghost still has on his knee.

Ghost can’t help it. He slides that hand higher, coming to rest on the inside of Soap’s thigh as he carefully tugs it outwards, spreading his legs gently, curious to see if Soap really followed all of his instructions.

“Fuck.” Ghost can’t help but let the whispered curse slip out when he sees that yes, right there between Soap’s ass cheeks he sees the end of that glass plug peaking out. The younger’s grin is wicked and wild, and the effect is god damn devastating. Ghost can feel his own cock strain against the inside of his jeans, hard as a fucking rock from not even five minutes of looking at Soap’s naked form. The battle surges in his mind, between wanting to be a good soldier, a good friend, and wanting so, so, so badly to do exactly what he and Soap planned for him to do before Ghost knew he was talking to his Sergeant. Without Soap knowing he was talking to his superior.

“I got ready for you, jus’ like you told me.” Soap says, hands coming up to run across his own chest, teasing, testing. “I didnae even cum, even though I really wanted to. Kept thinkin’ how much better it would feel if it were your fingers inside me.”

Ghost has to suppress a moan at his words, sees the smug satisfaction settle in Soap’s face, and throws caution to the fucking wind. He’ll never get a chance like this again in his life, and he feels just too damn weak to resist. He’s a parched man stumbling through the desert and Soap is the only oasis he’ll never need.

“Fuck!” Soap gasps, jerking involuntarily at the resounding slap Ghost delivers to the sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh. On his checklist Soap had marked a ‘yes’ for pain and striking, and Ghost has been daydreaming about littering his perfect fucking skin with little marks of his own ever since.

He hits him again, approximately same spot, and feels Soap’s wanton moan zing through his veins like an electric shock.

“There it is.” Soap chuckles, cock hard, and already panting, hands idly tugging at his own nipples as he basks in the residual sting from the firm slaps. Ghost frowns, walking further up the bed to yank Soap’s hands away from his chest, firmly planting them above his head on the mattress in a silent command to ‘behave’.

“Yessir.” Soap purrs, understanding the intention, and Ghost nearly trips over his own feet on his way over to the small lounge table where Soap has prepared a selection of the toys he’s fine with using. God, how many times hasn’t he heard those exact words directed towards himself, only in a drastically different context. He’s never let himself linger at how nice the phrase sounds in that Scottish lilt. Noticed, of course, but never lingered. Might have graced his mind alone at night once or twice though.

He lets out a quiet little hum as he peruses Soap’s collection, eyeing a few different vibrators and cock rings, a paddle (fuck.), and various other implements before his eyes find their prize. A pair of flex cuffs, most definitely nicked from their stash back at base, and something about that makes him hot under the collar immediately. He shucks off his own jacket, leaving him in a short-sleeved t-shirt, noticing Soap perk up at the sound of the zipper. He kicks off his shoes, leaving the rest of his clothes on for now, before returning to the bed with the cuffs in hand.

Soap lets out a slightly stuttering breath when Ghost slides the cuffs over his wrists and squeezes gently as if to ask if it’s ‘okay’. He receives a little hum in reply as Soap wiggles his hands, testing the tightness and apparently finding it to his liking. Ghost nods to himself, despite knowing that Soap can’t see him, and carefully climbs into the bed to kneel between still spread thighs. The other seems to have quieted down a bit, waiting to find out what his unseen partner has in store for him.

Ghost takes the opportunity to let his hands glide over that smooth skin again, both of them this time, starting just below each knee. He slides his hands up his muscular thighs, past his narrow hips and across his slender waist, all the way up across his pecs and to his wide shoulders. Bending forward slightly so he can linger there for a second. Swiping across his collarbones and the base of his arms before recentering his hands on his chest and harshly dragging his nails across his pecs and abdomen on their way down.

“Ah, fuck.” Soap moans, arms twitching like he wants to move them but dutifully keeping them where they are as Ghost continues to explore his body, alternating between soft touches of his fingertips and rough scratches of his nails. Soap’s breath catches when Ghost’s fingers roughly cup a pec, the other hand coming up to his own face to yank his mask down, leaning down and sucking harshly on a dusky nipple because he’s dying for a taste of his skin. “God, yeah.” Soap groans, pressing into the other’s touch like it’s a vital for his survival.

Ghost continues sucking marks down Soap’s torso, biting harshly on occasion just to hear the other whine and feel him squirm. And maybe also to create bruises that will last, in a desperate attempt to stake his claim, to show that Soap is his, if only for tonight.

The lower he gets he more careful he is with his placement, purposefully avoiding Soap’s straining cock, and what a nice, big cock it is, wanting him desperate and begging before he gives him what he actually wants. With a particularly harsh suck at the starting point of Soap’s thigh, so, so close to the base of his dick, Ghost feels hands suddenly grip his hair. He sits up abruptly, grabbing those hands to roughly push them back in their previous position, and delivering a hard slap to Soap’s cheek.

“Stay.” He snarls, purposefully making his voice deeper and guttural to keep Soap from recognizing it. He smacks him again on the same cheek, careful not to jostle his blindfold.

“Yes sir, sorry sir.” Soap whimpers, absentmindedly nuzzling into the palm that still lingers on his aching cheek. Ghost draws a deep breath, letting his hand slip down to rest as a heavy weight against Soap’s throat, feeling his Addams apple bob under his palm as the younger swallows harshly. He squeezes, brief but firm, just to see Soap’s jaw go slack at the feeling. Unable to resist the pull of those sweet lips he leans down to spit into his open, inviting mouth, chuckling slightly in wonder at the loud unabashed moan it draws from the man underneath him.

Leaning back, Ghost admires the panting, flushed man stretched out on the sheets. He eyes the table of toys in his peripheral, but finds that most of them have lost their initial appeal. If this truly is his one chance to have his sergeant, his Soap, he wants to unravel him with his bare hands. Call it vanity, or ego, but if nothing else, he wants Soap to feel the ghost of a mysterious stranger’s hands forever linger. Wants Soap to never forget this night, wants him to search for Ghost’s touch in every sorry, lucky bastard he lets have him in the future. Wants to sear his brand into his corporeal form and write his name on his fucking soul.

“Oh!” Soap yelps, as Ghost abruptly tugs out the plug resting between his cheeks. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of Soap’s hole, stretched and wet and clenching around nothing, digs his fingers into the meat of Soap’s ass to spread him and get a proper look. The favorable reaction from earlier in still fresh in his mind, so using the grip he has on the younger man’s ass he tilts his hips slightly upwards and leans down to spit directly at his entrance.

“Yes…” Soap moans, drawn out and shuddering, like it comes from deep within his guts. Ghost hums in reply, teasing his thumbs at the edges of that inviting opening, before placing his hips back on the mattress. Soap makes a confused noise, interrupted by his own gasp as Ghost unceremoniously shoves two fingers past his stretched rim.

“Ah- I already prepped so you dinnae hafta- fuck!” One deliberate press of Ghost fingers against his prostate has Soap shutting up immediately, words failing in favor of breathy little gasps and low moans as those fingers work in and out of him with the precision of an expert marksman.

“God, your fingers are so long.” Soap groans, chest heaving and cock drooling at the mouthwatering sensation of Ghost fingering him like it’s his favorite fucking activity in the world. Which it might just be, now that he has experienced it. Ghost is all but transfixed at the sight of his digits disappearing into the pliant body of his comrade, his friend, which is not a term he uses lightly. He imagines, briefly, how those soft, velvety walls will feel like around his cock, and desperately has to grip around his own base to stave off a sudden and intense wave of pleasure at the mere thought.

To distract himself, he leans down, still keeping the momentum of his fingers going, and licks a fat stripe up the length of Soap’s cock from base to tip. It makes the other man wail in pleasure, Ghost unable to stop himself from letting out a breathy moan at the salty taste that hits his tongue when he flicks it across the slit.

“Fuck, you're so good, so good.” Soap babbles, thighs quivering on each side of Ghost’s wide shoulders, twitching involuntarily at every drag of skilled fingers across his sweet spot. “Y-your fingers f-feel so- ah!”

The broken praise settles heavy somewhere in Ghost’s chest, warming him up and encouraging him to wrap his lips around the head of Soap’s cock, sucking gently and letting the flavor of him wash over his taste buds. To the sound of Soap’s cut off noises of pleasure, he carefully works his way down his length, stopping about halfway to hollow his cheeks in a deliberate suck. He slides back, keeping the head in his mouth to swirl his tongue around it, letting spit dribble down the dick before he takes it back in.

“Bleedin’ fuckin’ Jesus!” Soap shouts, back arching off the bed as Ghost slides his mouth all the way down, taking his cock to the base like it’s nothing. Ghost swallows around him, groaning at the delicious feeling as Soap’s length scratches his throat just right. “Ah, fuck, I cannae…” Soap whimpers, whole body twitching at the assault on both his dick and his ass. “Y-you're gonna make me- I’m gonna-”

Realizing just how close to the finish line Soap is based on the desperate cadence of his voice, Ghost immediately pulls back, releasing Soap’s cock with a slick pop and pulling his fingers out of his ass.

“No, please! Fuck!” Soap begs, hole once again clenching around nothing and wet dick still desperately drooling precum on his own stomach.

Ghost grins, can’t stop the malicious chuckle that bubbles up his chest at Soap’s obvious desperation. He moves up his body, hands planted on the mattress at either side of Soap’s shoulders to peer down at him through the lust addled haze clouding his own vision. Soap’s face is red, flush extending down his neck past his collar bones, nipples perky on his heaving chest.

A resounding smack ricochets off the walls as Ghost slaps Soap across his left peck, hitting square over the nipple. He doesn’t quite use his full strength, but enough of it that it most definitely has to hurt. Soap let’s out a wet, breathy noise, somewhere between a broken moan and a sob, arching his back again like he’s presenting himself, like he’s begging for another strike, which is exactly what he gets.

“Fuck!” Soap gasps as another slap hits his chest, cock making a complete mess on his abs as it feebly drips with his arousal. Ghost hits him again, across the face this time, twice in rapid succession, just to hear the hitch in his partner’s breath. His hand finds its way back to Soap’s throat, squeezing threateningly at the sides to limit his blood flow and reveling at how his whines become pitched and wheezy. Leaning down, he drags his lips across the shell of Soap’s ear to whisper, barely audible and breathy.

“Desperate slut.” He hisses, biting none too gently at the earlobe.

“A-aye, I am!” Soap whimpers, voice strained from the hand clutching his throat. “F-for you. Want you so bad. Been dreamin’ about that big cock o’ yours ever since I saw the picture.”

Ghost groans, easing the pressure of his hand to lean down and bite at the side of Soap’s neck instead, sucking the surely stinging skin into his mouth to leave a nice, darkening hickey.

“Please.” Soap mumbles, still keeping his arms above his head like a good boy, even though he betrays his desire to reach down and touch his mysterious lover with every twitch of his quivering muscles. “Please, sir. I’m so empty.”

Ghost feels something inside himself snap, body freezing in place as a lifetime of making lightning quick decisions works overtime to sift through all the delectable ways he can make Soap fall apart at the seams. He lets out a controlled breath through clenched teeth, long and deep and with feeling. Soap’s desperation is heavy enough that he swears he can taste it in the air.

He moves back down to the foot of the bed, not giving Soap any warning before he grips his ankles and uses the hold to flip him over on his stomach, the bed thankfully being big enough to allow it. Soap whimpers out a pleased little noise when Ghost grabs ahold of his hips next to hoist him up on his knees. His back slopes seductively to where he’s now resting on his elbows, hands obviously still bound and now clasped together in front of him as if in prayer.

Fumbling slightly, Ghost reaches into his own back pocket to fish out a condom. Carefully, he leans over Soap’s bent body, letting his own hardness brush against Soap’s ass through his jeans, smirking at the breathy whine the action elicits. He plants a hand next to Soap’s head on the mattress to take his weight, reaching his other hand to find Soap’s own. Places the still wrapped condom in them so Soap can feel it, just to let his partner know he intends to use one. Soap lets out a hum of understanding once his fingers have fiddled around enough for him to realize what he’s holding.

“Thank you.” Soap whispers, letting Ghost pluck the condom from his hands again.

Ghost makes an indeterminate sound as he leans back, sitting on his knees with them on either side of Soap’s own. He has to get into a slightly wider stance to get his hip level with Soap’s, to compensate for the significant difference in their heights. The sound of his jeans unzipping makes Soap draw in a sharp breath. There’s a slight tremble in Ghost’s hands when he pushes his jeans and underpants down just enough to get his aching cock out, letting out the barest whisper of a moan as he finally gets a hand on himself.

Stroking his cock once, twice, just to take the edge off his own desire, he rips the condom packet open with his teeth, groaning slightly at the feeling when he rolls the rubber over his length. He shuffles closer, lining his thighs up with the back of Soap’s, and gently rubs the head of his cock along the puffy, wet rim of Soap’s hole.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap shudders, pressing his hips back immediately like he’s trying to lead Ghost’s cock into himself on his own. Ghost scoffs, grabbing one side of Soap’s hip roughly with one hand and delivering a hard slap to his ass cheek with the other. “Ah, sorry! I’ll… I’ll be good.” Soap hastily mumbles. Ghost smacks him again, slightly lower this time.

“Hnng! I’ll be good, sir.” Soap corrects himself.

Ghost lets his hand skim along the reddening skin of Soap’s firm ass for a moment, approving and almost tender, before he adjusts his grip on Soap’s hips with both hands and pushes the head of his cock into the waiting body in front of him. Soap makes a noise like he’s been wounded, breath gasping and shallow as his insides scramble to adjust to Ghost’s girth slowly being eased into him until he bottoms out, flush against Soap’s backside.

“Holy- holy shite, you're huge.” Soap wheezes out, voice breaking as he struggles to form the words. “I’m gonna need…” he swallows, shoulders slumping further and face pressed between his own clasped and bound hands. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

“Okay.” Ghost rumbles, fingers tracing imaginary patterns across Soap’s sculpted back while he waits for the younger man to get used to the feeling of being so properly stuffed. In all honestly, he needs the time himself. Ghost can feel his eyes just about roll to the back of his skull at being enveloped in the tight, wet, soft heat of Soap’s body. It’s fucking intoxicating. Feels like the hit of a drug he’s been desperately craving. Like the first meal of a starving man. Like fucking home.

“You can move now. Please.” Soap whispers after a while.

Ghost braces himself, his fingers on Soap’s hips grabbing hard enough to bruise, and pulls out almost all the way before he pushes in again with a firm thrust.

“Oh, god!” Soap wails, loud enough to drown out Ghost’s answering moan. Ghost sets a quick pace immediately. Even just that first thrust told him that there is no way he can make this last very long, not when he finally, finally has the object of his every desire whining desperately on his cock. He fights the temptation of Soap’s bouncing ass for approximately a second before rearing his hand back and hitting that still red skin with the hardest strike yet. Soap all but yells in pained pleasure, the walls of his insides squeezing the living daylights out of Ghost’s cock as it still works in and out of his pliant body.

Ghost is unrelenting is his movements, keeping his thrusts steady and hard to the imaginary beat he’s set his pace to, grunting and gasping quietly under his breath as he lets himself soak in the mind-blowing pleasure of having Soap under him like he’s always wanted. Soap stays true to his word and makes enough noise for two, moaning and swearing brokenly like a fucking porn star as he takes Ghost’s fat cock like he’s made for it. The sound of their coupling is loud and shameless in the otherwise quiet room, and Ghost’s mind feels deliciously numb to anything but the raw sensations of his body and the beautiful visage of Soap surrendering himself to Ghost completely.

Ghost is so lost in debauched delight that he almost doesn’t hear it. Soap’s noises have grown steadily louder as Ghost fucks into him with reckless abandon, but it still comes out like a broken whisper, a desperate prayer to an uncaring god.

“Simon…”

When the word registers in Ghost’s brain his rhythm falters slightly but doesn’t stop. His mind reels with panic as he wonders how Soap knows, how he slipped up and what gave him away, but when he glances down at Soap’s face tilted to the side he sees the blindfold, damp with tears but still firmly in place. The younger man doesn’t give any other indication that he knows who’s currently carving a space for himself in is guts. Doesn’t change his body language in anyway as Ghost picks up his pace again to rail him harder.

Memories of their conversation fly through Ghost’s head.

‘Do you mind if I imagine being with someone specific? What if I say his name?’

Oh.

God.

Soap doesn’t know. Doesn’t know whose cock he’s currently being split open on. When he was talking about wanting to imagine a specific someone while being fucked by persons unknown, he wanted to imagine being taken by Ghost.

Ghost feels himself get impossibly harder at the realization that Soap wants him. He stills his hips momentarily, pulling out and ignoring Soap’s broken pleas of ‘no, please dinnae stop!’ as he plants a palm on Soap’s lower back to push him flat down against the bed. His dick slides back in with ease as he drapes himself across Soap’s prone body, planting his elbows on either side of Soap’s shoulders to not crush him with his entire weight. He picks up his pace again, Soap moaning helplessly at the new angle and the rough fabric of Ghost’s jeans rubbing against his raw, tender skin.

“Ah, jus’ like tha’. Please, sir.” Soap slurs, accent getting thicker as arousal fogs up his brain. Ghost bends his neck to lick at the edge of Soap’s blindfold, greedily lapping up the tears and groaning at the salty taste.

Soap wants him.

He wonders briefly how many times Soap has done this. Let strangers fuck him and pretended like it’s Ghost. Something dark and possessive bares its teeth in his mind’s eye, a hand coming up to clamp over the back of Soap’s neck like a claim.

“Say his name again, whore.” Ghost growls, voice so deep and twisted with desire that he doesn’t even recognize it himself. He feels the shiver that runs along Soap’s spine like it was his own.
“Simon!” Soap sobs, and Ghost has to sink his teeth into Soap’s shoulder to keep himself from crying out in ecstasy.

“Please.” Soap begs, his entire body shivering and twitching uncontrollably with every drag of Ghost’s cock inside him. “Please let me cum, sir. I’m so close.” The thought of feeling those walls clench around him as Soap reaches his climax has Ghost immediately dangerously close to his own. His lips brush against Soap’s ear, briefly running his tongue across it before he answers.
“Do it then.” Ghost murmurs. “Come for Simon.”

The orgasm knocks the air right out of Soap’s lungs, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as his cock, trapped between himself and the bed, shoots his spend to cool against the silk sheets. He sobs and moans brokenly as Ghost fucks him through the aftershocks, the walls of his hole clamping down around Ghost like a vice and dragging his partner across the threshold too. With a shuddering moan Ghost empties into the condom, hips jerking slightly as his thrusts gradually slow down to prolong his pleasure.

Shoulders heaving, Ghost struggles to come back down from his high. He slips his softening dick out of Soap’s ass and mechanically tugs off and ties the condom. His brain is still empty and pleasantly buzzing with dopamine when he lifts himself off of Soap’s still slightly shivering body to leave the bed and find a trashcan. As soon as he tucks himself back in his pants and pulls up the zipper, he feels the panic starting to set in.

What the fuck did he just do.

He peeks over to Soap on the bed, lying completely still now with a fucked out and happy grin plastered across his wet face, and feels his lungs squeeze like he’s breathing in tear gas. Hurriedly, he tucks his mask back over his face and puts on his shoes and jacket on autopilot.

“Well, that was jus' lovely. Thank you.” Soap says, still smiling like a fool and not having a care in the world while Ghost is all but falling apart a few meters away from him. “Like I said online, I’m no’ really one for aftercare, but if you could cut me out o’ these cuffs I’d appreciate it.”

Right. Cut the cuffs. Ghost could do that.

He walks back over to the bed on slightly unsteady feet, and retrieves the small knife he keeps tucked in his ankle holster to quickly cut the bindings on Soap’s hands. The Scot mumbles out a thanks, adjusting his position slightly to rest his head on folded arms but otherwise seems content with lying on the bed a bit longer. Ghost just looks down at him, conflicting emotions and wants warring in his chest.

It’s too much. He suddenly feels trapped, by the room and by his own emotional turmoil, and longs for his own bland quarters back at base because at least he’s safe there. Before he can think about it, he tugs his mask back down to bend over Soap one more time, placing a single, lingering kiss at the nape of his slightly damp neck and breathing in, letting the scent that’s so unmistakably Soap fill his lungs. He rears back, blinking away a sudden sting in his eyes and tugging his mask back into place.

Soap’s voice follows him to the door, still sounding tired and satisfied, before it closes shut behind him.

“G’night, big boy. Thanks for the fun.”

...

Ghost makes it back to base in a blur. He vaguely remembers handing off his keycard to the lady at the front desk of the hotel and catching a cab a few blocks away. At some point during that process he lets himself shut down, turns off his brain and his heart and lets dissociation carry his spirit away from his physical form. He lets instinct and muscle memory take the wheel, trusting his own experience and abilities to carry him back to the safety of his quarters as he tries his best not to dwell on what he’s done.

As soon as he shuts and locks the door to his room behind him, he snaps back into his body. It doesn’t happen abruptly, but instead like an unstoppable, inevitable wave that crashes over him and brings with it memory, awareness, sensations. Suddenly he feels hyperaware of how the fabric of each of his garments scratch against his skin, how the inside of his boxers still feel somewhat damp. He swears he can even feel the residual warmth of Soap’s body pressed against his own.

With a gasp, he rips off his mask and yanks off his jacket. The air in his room feels both thin and stuffy all at once and everything that obstructs his breathing even a little bit is suddenly unbearable. He shambles over to his window to crack it open, hoping the fresh air will do him some good as he rips off his t-shirt, uncaring of where it ends up as he slings it across the room. The rest of his clothes follow in quick succession, his shaking hands making the process more complicated than it should have been.

Darkness swims in his vision, and before he knows it, he finds himself in the shower of his ensuite, freezing cold water like little icicles across his skin bringing with it a moment of much needed clarity. With movements still jerky and automatic, he pours way too much body wash on the camo print loofah Gaz had gotten him once as a joke and starts scrubbing himself vigorously.

He rubs until his skin is red and stinging, wanting desperately to erase the memory of Soap, warm, willing, and real pressed against him. His teeth sink into the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste metal, eyes screwed shut at the onslaught of visual memories of tan skin under soft lighting. The loofah slips from his hand, landing with a soft splat on the floor due to the copious amount of foam still clinging to it. Barely giving himself time to rinse off, he shuts off the water and steps out.

He quickly towels off the worst of the wetness and wraps the fabric around his waist, refusing to look at himself in the foggy mirror before stepping back into his room. The light is still off in here, since he didn’t bother turning it on when he arrived, letting the spotlights on their track field just outside his window illuminate his way instead. He stumbles over to his bed, sitting heavily on edge of it, places his head in his hands and shakes.

Soap wants him.

He fucks strangers and imagines Ghost in their place.

Perhaps it should make him feel better, that the man he is so hopelessly enamored with feels the same way, at least to some extent, but Ghost feels nothing but dread, because there is no way Soap actually wants him.

What Soap likes must be the idea of Ghost. His persona. Maybe he likes the mystery, the secrecy, and the way Ghost keeps everything about himself clutched close to his chest. Maybe Soap likes the challenge, likes the feeling of prying back Ghost’s carefully crafted armor to finds bits and pieces no other human has seen for years and years. Or maybe it’s just a physical thing. Maybe what Soap likes is simply his height and his size and his deep voice, his commanding presence and intimidating charisma.

Because there is just no way Soap wants something as broken and tainted as Simon.

A sob threatens to tear its way out of Ghost’s throat, but he chokes it down with the same ferocity as when he takes out an enemy. He will not cry over something he shouldn’t even be allowed to want in the first place. Soap was never his to begin with, so why does it feel like he’s lost something?

It’s terrifying to care. Everyone Ghost ever cared for has either betrayed him or died because of him, both at his own hands, or simply because of his careless actions. The only people he has left are the 141, and their little network of allies. He never wanted to do anything that could compromise what little he has left, and yet as soon as the opportunity presented itself, he did precisely that.

It would have been better if Soap found him repulsive. Better than finding out that Soap wants him too because pursuing something like that would only end in ruin. As soon as Soap found out just how beaten and broken Simon is deep down, he would have run for the hills, and he’d be correct to do so.

His saving grace is that Soap doesn’t know, and he’ll make damn sure he never finds out. He’ll bury the memories of this night in the same tightly guarded vault where Simon lives and never let them see the light of day. He’ll learn to look at Soap and not remember how sweet he tastes, how his voice cracks with pleasure, and how good he feels pressed up against him.
The faint sound of his phone vibrating catches his attention, and he reaches down to the floor to pluck it out of the pocket of his jeans.

Vers and Kinky ;)

Thanks again for the good time! I’d love to do it again sometime, so let me know if you’re ever free ;)

Hope you got home safe!

The sting in Ghost’s eye returns with a vengeance, and he tips his head backwards to blink harshly and stare at the ceiling. He swallows thickly, taking a few deep breaths before he answers.

Anonymous Top

It was fun.

Hope you got home safe too.

It feels hopelessly inadequate, but he doesn’t want to invite further conversation either. He knows he should write back with some excuse for why he won’t contact him again, maybe claim that he only ever meets a person once or something dumb and shallow like that, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

Instead he shuts off his phone and places it on his bedside table, slips off his towel and slips under the covers. He rolls over on his back, staring blankly into nothing as he breathes manually in and out, willing himself to find some sort of rest eventually and praying for a dreamless sleep.

It takes a long while before he’s able to fall asleep, and when he does, he dreams of Soap.

…

“Mornin’ Lt.!” Soap’s chipper voice startles him as he greets him from behind when Ghost walks into the mess hall the next morning. Soap immediately hurries up to fall into step with him as they walk towards the breakfast buffet. Allowing himself a quick glance at the other out of the corner of his eye, Ghost takes in Soap’s sleep mussed and un-styled hair as it hangs into his eyes, and his comfortable attire, not too dissimilar to Ghost’s own. He’s wearing sweatpants, slippers, and an oversized sweatshirt with the hood drawn up. Ghost can’t see it from this angle, but he knows the back of the hoodie has ‘Sgt. MacTavish’ written on it in big letters.

Soap looks devastatingly cozy, and it makes Ghost ache with the urge to wrap his arms around him. Other than that though, he feels little more than a dull ache in his chest at seeing his sergeant again, which he takes as a good sign. Seems like he won’t fall apart just from being in the same room as Soap at least.

“Mornin’.” Ghost grunts, ignoring how his heartbeat picks up as Soap’s shoulder brushes against his arm.

“So, what did you get up to yesterday?” Soap asks casually as he piles food on his tray.

“Not much.” Ghost replies, thankful that his voice comes out steady, quickly grabbing some food of his own despite his rapidly diminishing appetite.

“Doesnae surprise me. You hate downtime.” Soap chuckles, pouring himself a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice to go with his pile of toast, eggs, and sausages.

“Waste of time, is all.” Ghost mumbles, getting a tea for himself more out of habit than out of a genuine craving.

“Aye, I hear you, but it’s good to have a weekend off and let loose once in a while. If you're even capable o’ such.” Soap grins and leads them over to their usual table. Thankfully, Ghost doesn’t have to reply to that, because Price is already sitting at the table and Soap strikes up a conversation with him immediately. Ghost is not known for being talkative in the mornings, or ever for that matter, so Soap gives him his space easily, instead pestering their Captain about something stupid he heard on the news yesterday.

It’s such a sweet and typically Soap thing to do that it makes Ghost’s heart squeeze tightly in his chest. He pushes up his balaclava past his nose to take a big sip of his tea to distract himself, keeping his hood pulled up so he can hide the sides of his face better from any curious eyes that might want to take a peek. A few corporals at a nearby table clearly try to do just that, but they are easily dissuaded with a cold, deadpan glare.

“No, I’m tellin’ you, the ref was a right bampot! I’m pure fuckin’ scunnered. Ye’d think they’d have some standards!” Soap says loudly, gesticulating wildly with his fork in Price’s general direction. Ghost squints, brain trying its best to translate the Scottish gibberish and tuning out again when he realizes they’re probably just talking about football.

“It was a fair call, Soap. You can’t just claim foul every time the verdict goes against your team.” Price counters, flipping to a new page of his newspaper without as much as a glance in Soap’s direction.

“Knew you’d say that.” Soap pouts, sipping his coffee demonstratively. “You're a cold-hearted man, Captain.”

“What makes him cold-hearted?” Gaz asks, sliding into the empty seat next to Price who mumbles a quick ‘morning, Kyle’.

“Defendin’ the corrupt.” Soap grumbles dramatically, tugging his hood off so he can eat with more gusto. Gaz doesn’t respond to that statement, but instead zeroes in on Soap’s exposed neck like a shark sensing blood in the water.

“What’s this then?” Gaz grins, pointing to the mark on Soap’s neck, bruised purple and with the unmistakable imprint of teeth.
“Ah, well…” Soap smirks, taking a long sip of his mug. “It’s my weekend off. I went into town.”

Ghost stops chewing on the bite he just took out of his toast, eyes finding their way over to Soap against his will. The mark stands out easily against the otherwise unblemished skin around it, a glaringly obvious indicator of what Soap got up to in town last night. Ghost swallows, chest heavy with the knowledge of exactly how that mark came to be.

“My oh my, Sergeant MacTavish.” Gaz wolf whistles loudly and laughs when Soap kicks him under the table with a laugh of his own. “So, who’s the lucky girl then? Or should I say unlucky?”
“Non’ you damn business, Garrick.” Soap grins. “A gentleman doesnae kiss and tell.”

“So, there was kissing then?” Price interjects. The three of them chuckle jovially and Ghost feels like he’s about to pass out.

He was fine. He felt fine seeing Soap, even talking to him, so why does it feel like the bottom of his stomach dropped out? The food on his plate suddenly looks nauseating, but he forces himself to finish it anyway, tuning out the conversation of his comrades. They must be sensing his foul mood, because none of them try to engage with him. He feels Price glance at him a couple of times and keeps his face forcefully neutral as he works on getting down the last few scraps of food, even if it feels like chewing glass.

“Where you goin, Lt.?” Soap asks when Ghost stands up to gather his dishes quickly.

“Goin’ for a run.” Ghost mumbles, suddenly very concentrated on mopping up the few drops of tea he spilled with his napkin.

“Alright. you wanna spar with me later?” Soap asks, and Ghost risks a quick glance at his teammate. He doesn’t look any different from yesterday, barring the mark on his neck. Nothing in his face says he has somehow figured out what Ghost did to him yesterday. All Ghost can read is that friendly attentiveness, and a bit of concern, probably due to Ghost being even quieter than usual this morning.

“Not today, Soap.” Ghost says, hoping the other won’t pry. He normally enjoys sparring with his sergeant. Not because it gives him an excuse to get his hands on him, to have him sweaty and panting underneath him on the mat, but because Soap is a damn good sparring partner. The Scot is quick to adapt, always finding new angles and strategies and never giving up easily, even if he almost always loses. Soap fights to get better and he makes Ghost better for it.

Having Soap helpless underneath him does usually add to the appeal though, but Ghost is pretty sure it would remind him a bit too much of recent events if they were to end up like that today.
“If you need someone to kick your ass, I can step in.” Gaz offers easily, and Ghost feels a little wave of appreciation for the younger man.

“Those are fightin’ words. You're on, Gaz.” Soap says, turning to his fellow sergeant with a challenging smirk.

Ghost excuses himself to return his dishes, and quickly walks back to his quarters.

It’s inadvisable to go for a run so quickly after eating a full meal, but he desperately needs to tire himself out right now before his mind eats away at itself from the inside out. He pulls on his running gear and sets off for the track that leads around the entire circumference of their base, determined to run until he is just shy of throwing up from exhaustion.

If he paid any attention to his time, he would have noticed that he absolutely smashed his personal best in the process.

…

Things return to normal over the next few weeks, and at the same time they do not. When he woke up that first morning and thought everything was fine, he was completely, sorely mistaken, because as time goes by that dull ache in his chest somehow just gets persistently worse.

He wakes up one day and finds that the way Soap sighs when he’s really annoyed sounds eerily similar to how he struggled to get his breath under control when Ghost fucked into him. A few days later he notices that Soap flushes the same way, all the way down past his collarbones, when he does strength training as he did when he was flustered and squirming on that bed. Even his cheeky grin, the one he flashes after every one of his teasing jests, is the same one that he wore on his handsome face when he enticed Ghost to put his hands on him for the first time.

Sparring becomes its own special kind of hell. Everything about it reminds Ghost about the night. Every gasp, every grunt, every groan. The flush in Soap’s cheeks and the way his chest heaves. How he looks on the floor when Ghost pins him down and twists his arms behind his back. Ghost has to fight down his own arousal with tooth and nail every time, desperately struggling to make his inner turmoil remain just that, and not let it bubble to the surface. Can’t risk letting it slip, neither his own inappropriate feelings nor the truth of that night.

It's made even worse because he knows that surely Soap must have the same struggle, even if it is for different reasons. Those positions on the sparring mat that Ghost can’t help but read as sexual, surely must register that way for Soap too, given his apparent desire for his lieutenant. Soap doesn’t know they’ve shared a night together, but obviously he must want to. Must want Ghost to tear his clothes off and have his way with him right there on the sparring mat, based on how desperately he called out his name in the throes of passion.

The first time Soap calls him Simon after that night, Ghost damn near screams as arousal, hurt, and guilt clashes within him like a high-speed collision.

But outwardly, everything is normal.

Their teamwork shows absolutely no trace of Ghost’s struggle to get a grip on his feelings and desire, much to his immense relief. They’re still the best damn two-man team the SAS has to offer, only contested by Price and Gaz. They still joke around over comms too, Laswell complaining about their banter in a way that makes it clear she finds them both annoying and endearing. Even their free time is often spent together, like they have done for months, either playing card with the rest of their team or sharing a glass of whiskey in Ghost’s room as Soap rambles on about one topic or the other. They still work out and spar together, even though Ghost regularly has to turn his shower as cold as it can go after their sessions.

One thing is different though. Or rather, a puzzle piece finally finds its intended place and Ghost realizes something that should have been clear as day all along.

Soap is flirting with him. All the time. Not only that, but Ghost realizes that he’s always done it, right from the beginning. Sure, Soap is an unapologetically friendly guy, but there is something distinctly different about how he teases and praises Ghost compared to how he talks to everyone else. He’s not sure if it’s intentional though, or if it’s just Soap’s desire seeping out through the cracks.

His desire for the version of Ghost he has constructed in his mind, of course, not Simon. Never actually him.

Either way he plays dumb. Talks to Soap the same way he’s always done, and if he catches himself flirting back every once in a while, well, then that back to normal too.

…

It’s Saturday, approximately two weeks after their meeting in that shady, overpriced hotel room, when Ghost gets another message, and his world promptly turns upside down once again.

Vers and Kinky ;)

Hey, I know it’s last minute, but would you be up for meeting tonight?

I could really use the company

Ghost spends a whole minute staring at the screen blankly before he responds, internally yelling at himself the entire time as he types out his reply.

Anonymous Top

Why? Something happen?

The reply comes almost instantly.

Vers and Kinky ;)

Just had a long day

Need a good tumble in the sheets

He has a feeling he knows what Soap is referring to. Something has clearly been on the sergeant’s mind recently. They had another sparring session earlier in the day, and he definitely noticed Soap being more unfocused than usual. Sloppier, almost like he wanted Ghost to slam him down against the mat and put him in chokeholds again and again, which is probably exactly the case.
Ghost licks his lip absentmindedly, brows furrowed as he types out a message and sends it without giving himself a second to rethink.

Anonymous Top

Simon get you worked up?

Vers and Kinky ;)

You could say that

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost wheezes, closing his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. This is stupid. He shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea, but he feels damn near feral with the intense want that immediately surges through him at the thought of meeting Soap again, of having him like that a second time.

Ghost hasn’t even jerked off since the night at the hotel. He tried it, once, but found himself unable to purge the memories of Soap from his mind and found that the roar of guilt in his ears quickly drowned out any desire to continue. Instead, he fell asleep, cock still straining in his underwear and mind plagued with the sweet song of Soap coming undone stuck on a continuous loop.
He types another message.

Anonymous Top

When?

Vers and Kinky ;)

I could be there and be ready in 2 hours?

Anonymous Top

Same place as last time?

Vers and Kinky ;)

Yeah

I’ll get us a room and send you the reference

Anonymous Top

Don’t bother, I’ll book it. Send you the number ASAP.

Vers and Kinky ;)

Sounds good big boy

As for plans, if you just do what you did last time or there abouts, that’ll be perfect

I’ll have the blindfold on when you get there

Anonymous Top

Alright.

See you in a bit.

“I’m a fuckin’ idiot.” Ghost mumbles, sinking down in his lounge chair and dragging a hand across his face with a groan. He plucks up his phone again, quickly reserving a room for the night and sending Soap the booking reference. He stares dumbly at the three blue heart emojis he gets in return, before getting out of his chair with another groan.

He decides to take a shower, even if he already took one earlier today, and makes quick work off scrubbing himself clean. After exiting he spends a good few moments in a staring contest with his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, willing himself to pick up the phone and cancel the date using any available excuse. His dog died. The elderly neighbor broke her hip on the stairs, and he has to take her to the hospital. His dick fell off. Anything.

Instead, he spends an embarrassingly long time picking out an outfit, especially since Soap won’t even see it, and stuffs a few condoms in the pocket of his joggers.

When he finally runs out of things to do, he leaves his room, locks it, and makes his way off base. The air is colder today, so his breath ever so slightly fogs up as he breathes through another surgical mask. Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel nervous, or even excited. He just feels kind of… hollow, but absolutely filled with longing at the same time. He already hates himself for what he’s about to do, yet he knows he has as much of a chance of stopping it from happening, as he has of stopping a bullet with his bare skin.

“Where to, sir?” The taxi driver asks when he slides into the backseat of her cab, a little bit away from the base entrance like last time.

“City center.” He answers, slumping into the seat and letting the rumble of the engine soothe him as much as possible as they speed down the dark roads leading to him back to Soap.

The city streets are pretty much identical to how they were the last time he was here. Still packed with of drunk people stumbling down cobblestone streets to join whatever festivity they’ve set their eyes on. Still full of life yet completely devoid of it at the same time. Still making Ghost feel uncomfortably vulnerable as he adjusts to the noise and the lights and the crowds.

It’s raining this time though, quite heavily too, making him pull the hood of his rain jacket further down over his eyes. His shoes splash with every step he takes, thankfully unable to soak through the hard, polished leather of his combat boots. They leave wet footprints as he treks across the lobby to the front desk of the hotel, greeting the clerk with as much fake English politeness as he can muster at the moment.

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?” She asks with a smile, a different woman from last time. She subtly scans the length of Ghost’s body while he repeats his reservation number, her eyebrows raising slightly as she takes in the bulk of his muscle under his somewhat baggy clothes.

“All good, sir. It seems like your, friend, already arrived.” She says, hesitating a bit at the word ‘friend’, and hands Ghost a little paper sleeve marked with the number 502 holding his key card. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” She asks, the barest hint of flirtation tinting her tone. He mentally sighs, missing her more professional colleague from last time.

“That’s all. Thank you.” Ghost mumbles, ignoring her fluttering eyelashes as he heads for the staircase and sends Soap a quick text.

Anonymous Top

You ready?

Vers and Kinky ;)

Ready and waiting ;)

Anonymous Top

I’ll be there in 2.

He walks slowly up the stairs, both to give Soap time to get properly settled, blindfold and all, and to give himself a few minutes to calm down. It’s an odd feeling, wanting nothing more than to run upstairs into that room and sear his brand into Soap’s flesh, while simultaneously wanting to flee as far away from here, from him and all he makes Ghost feel, as physically possible.
“Pathetic bastard, ain’t you?” he murmurs to himself, stretching out his shoulders before opening the door to the fifth floor, stalking down the hallway like a predator on the prowl.

The walk to the door marked 502 feels endlessly long and so short it’s practically nonexistent all at once. Stopping in front of it, he stares intensely at the golden numbers like they might contain some sort of secret wisdom, willing his pounding heart to slow down. He wants this. Hates wanting it. Craves it likes nothing else, even though he can already taste the despair he’ll feel after they’re done.

‘Soap asked for this.’ He thinks, hands balling into fists as he still stares at that damned door. ‘He needs it.’

That, he can work with. It’s not himself he’s doing this for, it’s for Soap. He’ll gladly help the other man out, even at his own expense. Once he opens this door, he tells himself, he won’t be Simon. He won’t be Ghost either. He’ll just be an anonymous stranger. One whose sexual preferences are perfectly, conveniently aligned with Soap’s own.

He’ll be exactly what Soap needs, and nothing else.

Right here, like this at least, he can be.

With one last steadying breath, he unlocks the door, and enters the room.

…

The scene in front of him looks exactly like last time, except that Soap is lying on his stomach. Ghost leaves the last shadow of doubt behind in the hallway as he locks the door. He lets his brain shut down and his body take over as he slowly approaches the bed, eyes gliding up the length of Soap’s naked form. He’s a damn vision, a wet fucking dream in the flesh, somehow even more tantalizing than last time. Skin glowing softly in the low light that glints off the shiny end of the plug once again peeking out between the round globes of his ass.

“You seemed to like this position last time.” Soap grins from where his head is resting on his folded arms, blindfold properly in place just like they planned.

Ghost hums in agreement, slowly taking off his shoes, jacket and hoodie, placing the garments on a nearby chair and tugging off his mask to put it in his pocket. He walks up to the side of the bed, stopping close to where Soap’s head rests to card his fingers through his fluffy hair; something he’s been regretting not doing the last time. The slightly overgrown, dark-brown strands just look too good between his fingers to resist.

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest lad?” Soap quips. His sly smirk is promptly wiped off his face as Ghost’s fingers tighten in his hair to give him a rough yank. “Ah, guess I spoke too soon.” Soap sighs, pleased smile tugging at his pink lips as the prickling pain of having his hair pulled trickles pleasantly down his spine.

Ghost hums again, letting the hair go in favor of sliding his hand down to cup the back of Soap’s neck, thumb digging none too gently into the spot where that love bite has now completely faded. He’ll have to rectify that. Tracing the beautiful curve of Soap’s spine down to his ass with his gaze, he lets his imagination run wild, allowing his sergeant’s breathtakingly gorgeous body to inspire him for the evening. His attention is drawn again to Soap’s collection of toys, dutifully laid out on the room’s lounge table.

With a plan already forming in his mind, he walks over to the toys, pursing his lips slightly as he deliberates, before he grabs a simple, dark blue cock ring, and a little bottle of lube. He returns to the bed, chucking the items somewhere on the mattress, and yanks Soap up by the hips like he did last time.

“Oh! You dinnae waste any time, do you? I like a man of action.” Soap purrs, easily adjusting to his new pose. Ghost climbs up behind him, mimicking their position from their other night perfectly, kneeling with Soap’s legs between his own. He runs his hands up the back of Soap’s thighs, thick with muscle and soft to the touch, over the swell of his ass and up the small of his back, nails lightly digging in to leave angry, red lines in their wake. Soap moans softly, leaning into the touch and arching his back like a cat stretching in a sunlit windowsill.

Ghost snakes a hand around to Soap’s front, squeezing his hardening cock possessively as he leans down to bite at his ass, making Soap let out the most delectable little groan. He continues kneading at Soap’s dick, reaching blindly next to himself to grab the lube and cock ring. Once he finds them, he temporarily has to abandon stroking Soap to pop the lid of the lube, applying a bit to the inside of the ring, and discarding the bottle with little care. He reaches around again to slip the ring on Soap’s cock, getting it situated snugly at the base and stroking him to full hardness, the glide of his touch aided by the residual lube on his hand.

“Ah, that’s good.” Soap sighs, head still tilted to the side, allowing Ghost to see him biting his lip to stifle a growing grin. “So, we’re usin’ toys tonight then? Lucky me.” Ghost spanks him harshly with his free hand. Just once, to send a message, and lets a grin tug at his own lips at Soap’s answering mewl.

“Sorry, sir. I’ll behave myself.” Soap hurriedly adds, gasping out a curse when Ghost spanks him once more, just because. He curses again, much louder this time, when Ghost carefully but quickly tugs out the plug nestled inside him.

Ghost sits back on his knees, hands grasping the meat of Soap’s ass to spread him open and stare hungrily at his prepped hole. He lets saliva gather in his mouth, opening up to let it drip down from his tongue onto the stretched rim, running down his perineum and over his balls obscenely.

“Ah, that’s filthy.” Soap hums appreciatively, pressing his ass more firmly against Ghost’s hands. He jolts at the feeling when a slick tongue flicks over his entrance, unprepared for the sudden contact. “Oh, fuckin’ hell, yes.”

Ghost swirls his tongue around in wet circles, teasing the tip just past the rim, and blowing hot air on the sensitive skin with every breath. The lube is mostly flavorless, but the slippery stickiness feels somewhat strange as it coats the inside of his mouth. Not that he even remotely cares, letting out a groan from somewhere deep in his chest as he buries his face between Soap’s cheeks, eating him out like it’s his death row meal. Soap keens, wobbly and more high-pitched than Ghost thought him capable of, as his lieutenant sucks on the skin around his hole. His voice sounds like pure sin and Ghost wants to be bathed in it.

Ghost pushes his tongue in as far as it can go, all but fucking him with the wiggling muscle, hand finding its way back to Soap’s cock to run a finger through the wetness gathering at the tip. He gets his fingers around him, jerking him off to the same rhythm as his tongue working in and out. Soap’s entire body trembles at the double pleasure, moans and pants spilling from his slack lips. He protests weakly as Ghost lets go of his cock, instead grabbing his ass harshly again to ease his access to Soap’s fluttering rim.

He's almost too engrossed with stuffing his face between firm cheeks to notice one of Soap’s hands sneaking its way down to palm at his weeping cock, hanging neglected after Ghost stopped stroking it. Ghost leans back immediately, grabbing Soap’s wandering hand with an iron grip.

“No.” he growls, grabbing Soap’s other hand too and gathering them both at the small of his back to hold them firmly with one of his own. He plants his free hand next to Soap’s head on the mattress so he can lean threateningly over the other’s body. “Don’t move.” He snarls, voice taking on that deep, near animalistic quality from last time, sounding foreign even to his own ears.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didnae mean to be bad. Jus’ wanted to feel good.” Soap mumbles innocently, but Ghost sees the way his lips hike up slightly at the corners.

With a quietly fond chuckle, Ghost momentarily steps off the bed so he can help move Soap’s arms back into a supporting position more easily. Once Soap is again resting his head against his folded arms, Ghost climbs back behind him and grabs his cheeks, gently this time, so his can resume the assault of his tongue on Soap’s hole. The sergeant moans sweetly at the sensation, does it again even louder when Ghost puts a hand on his dick again, stroking in earnest this time, the slide of his hand wet with Soap’s precum.

It doesn’t take long before Soap’s moans become hurried and gasping, a telltale sign he’s nearing his climax, even though the snug cock ring would make ejaculation almost impossible. Ghost doesn’t slow down even as he notices the signs, still licking and sucking at the rim with vigor and pumping his hand along Soap’s thick length like he’s truly trying to drive him over the edge. Just as Soap’s voice starts cracking ever so slightly at the edges however, he stops abruptly, pulling himself away from the other’s body completely.

“No, no, no you bastard!” Soap sobs, damn near getting whiplash from being pulled away from the cusp of euphoria when he was that close. Ghost smirks, immensely self-satisfied as he leaves the bed once again to walk further up the mattress to where Soap’s head rests.

He looks down at his sergeant’s face, flushed red and wet with tears, and knows he can’t wait a second longer to have him. Tugging his pants and underwear down, he takes out his cock and digs around in his pocket for a condom. He wastes no time tearing the packaging and rolling it down his throbbing length, before placing a knee on the bed to carefully bring his cock to Soap’s lips. The younger makes a confused sound that rapidly turns into a moan when he realizes what it is.

“Make it wet, slut.” Ghost whispers, letting out a moan of his own when Soap immediately opens his mouth as wide as he can to welcome Ghost’s dick. It makes for a pretty fucking picture: his sergeant doing his damnedest to take Ghost’s massive cock into his mouth and coating it in saliva, drooling and moaning around the girth of him like it’s his favorite treat in the world.
Once he deems it good enough, Ghost pulls back, humming contently at Soap’s weak protests at the loss of the cock in his mouth. He finds his way back behind Soap, widening his stance to bring their hips down to the same level much like last time, tracing his fingers idly over Soap’s skin as he watches anticipation grow in the younger’s body until he’s almost trembling with it. This time he doesn’t tease, just leads the head of his cock to Soaps hole and pushes in all at once in one steady motion, closing his eyes at the delicious way Soap’s walls clenches and unclenches around him as he bottoms out.

“Steamin’, bleedin’ Jesus….” Soap groans, digging his fingers into the sheets underneath him until his fingers are white-knuckled at the perfect pain of being stretched out on a big cock. He pants like he’s run a marathon, his twitching body leading him to occasionally clamp around the welcome intrusion. Ghost’s eyes flutter open, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of Soap’s hole struggling to make room for him, and runs his fingers along the wet, stretched rim like in worship.

“You're god damn cock is fuckin’ perfect.” Soap slurs, already dick-drunk and stupid with pleasure. Ghost waits a few more moments to give Soap time to adjust before he starts thrusting, slower than last time but no less hard. Lube and spit make an obscene squelching sound as his cock works its way in and out of Soap’s warmth. Skin slaps and breaths come out as gasping stutters, a wordless song of passion just for them. Ghost clutches Soap’s hips so hard he’s sure to leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints, fucking into him as deep as he can go.

Soap’s moans are punched out of his chest with each hard thrust, broken little ‘ah, ah’s occasionally interrupt by a whine or a breathy utterance of a barely legible curse. Ghost lets his partner’s voice wash over him, lets the sound of his pleasure dig its claws into his skin and burrow into his chest. At some point he realizes he’s waiting for it with bated breath. Waiting to hear Soap moan out the name of the man he wants, the man he imagines being the one to fuck him with such devotion, unaware that his deepest desires are coming true right before him without his knowledge.
“Not gonna say it?” Ghost whispers once the need to hear his name, broken and beautiful on Soap’s lips, becomes too much to ignore.

“W-what?” Soap gasps, brows furrowing in confusion under his tear-damp blindfold.

“His name.”

“Oh!” Soap groans, shuddering as the words register past the sex-addled brain fog.

“Go on, call for him.” Ghost mumbles. A small part of his brain is telling him to shut up, that he can’t risk Soap recognizing his voice and putting two and two together, but the need to hear those two syllables wins out by a landslide.

“Simon!”

As soon as the word leaves Soap’s lips Ghost starts fucking into him harder. It’s the proverbial gasoline on the fire, and Ghost is a raging inferno. He pulls out almost all the way and slams his hips forward again and again as Soap moan and begs and gasps on his cock. The younger clings to the sheets for dear life as his body is pushed back and forth on the mattress with the sheer force of Ghost’s thrusts.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes.” Soap babbles out a string of Scottish gibberish and expletives, rocking back as much as he can to match Ghost’s brutal rhythm. Ghost pants like a feral dog, single-mindedly driving himself in and out of Soap’s body like a man obsessed, absolutely lost in the intoxication of hedonistic indulgence.

“Oh god, Simon please.” Soap gasps, and the roaring flames in Ghost’s core suddenly reach an alarming height. He ceases his movements at once, not ready for the pleasure to end so soon.

“No!” Soap wails, desperately moving his hips backwards as he attempts to get Ghost moving again. Instead, Ghost lets his cock slip out, shushing Soap with gentle murmurs as he helps him flip over to his back and sits between his legs, stroking up and down Soap’s quivering thighs. His sergeant’s body twitches helplessly as he sobs at the sudden lack of stimulus, and it turns Ghost on way more than it probably should.

Ghost takes pity on him, craning his neck down to lap at the head of Soap’s cock with his tongue, tasting him and giving him some semblance of grounding pleasure as his crying gradually stills.

“Color?” Ghost whispers, much like before, placing openmouthed kisses and little bites across Soap’s abs and pecs. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and gently rolling it between his teeth as he waits for a reply.

“Green…” Soap whispers after a moment, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his own hair. “Ah or, can I…” Soap takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Can I jus’ touch you a bit? Jus’ for a while.”

Ghost places one last kiss at the swell of Soap’s left pec, over his heart, and leans back to tug his t-shirt over his head. He then crawls up, placing himself on top of Soap to sit on his hips. Soap lies completely still as he waits, one hand still tangled in his own hair and the other one slung next to his head on the mattress. Ghost grabs both of those hands and places them low on his stomach, right where the hem of his pants usually sits and on either side of his still exposed cock.

Gently holding Soap by his wrists to guide his movements, he lets the younger man slowly feel his way up his torso, fingers dipping in the grooves of his abs and along the raised ridges of scars. He lets him cup his pecs once they make it that far, Soap’s digits greedily digging into the meat of them and squishing them together, thumbs massaging skin in little circles until they find his nipples.

“Holy shite, you have your nipples pierced?” Soap gasps, voice sounding a lot more grounded and coherent than it did moments ago. Ghost doesn’t answer verbally, just lets Soap’s fingers explore his piercings as they please, letting out a low moan when he tugs on the jewelry. “God, that’s fuckin’ hot.” Soap breathes out, and Ghost chuckles faintly when he feels Soap’s neglected cock twitch against his ass over the joggers.

Now that the frantic passion from earlier has slowed back down to a gentle simmer, Ghost finds that he aches to be inside Soap once again. He carefully lowers Soap’s hands back down to rest on the bed and moves himself back between Soap’s thighs. Apparently understanding his intension, Soap spreads his legs a little wider, a sweet invitation, and waits patiently. Ghost lines his cock up with Soap’s hole, slipping in easily and resting his elbows on either side of Soap’s head to get into the right position. He feels Soap’s legs tentatively wrap around him as he begins thrusting.

“Ah, jus’ like tha’.” Soap moans as Ghost sets a steady rhythm. Their new position makes those sweet little noises all the sweeter, since Soap is now practically breathing them straight into Ghost’s ear. He groans low in is chest, feeling Soap’s legs tighten their hold on him like the sergeant is trying to force him deeper into himself. Ghost fucks him harder, spreading his thighs slightly on the mattress to get better leverage, and the sound of their skin slapping together is only drowned out by Soap’s continuous stream of moans and swears.

The feeling is somehow so much more intense like this, so much more intimate, that it makes Ghost’s heart clench painfully even as the pleasure in his stomach only keeps growing and growing. This is what he wants, to be all tangled up in Soap just like this. To have him for himself and monopolize his pleasure. He changes the angle of his thrusts a tiny bit, and Soap’s answering whimpers are so sweet that he can’t even find it in himself to protest when the younger man’s arms come up to desperately claw at Ghost’s shoulders.

“You're so good.” Soap moans, one hand tangling itself in Ghost’s hair and the other raking its nails across his back. The pleasure is so blinding that Ghost swears he almost blacks out for a second, brought back to reality by Soap’s nails digging into his skin with almost enough force to draw blood. Soap looks absolutely gone, both the blindfold and his cheeks soaking wet with tears, mouth slack around his gasping breaths and trembling whines. His face is flushed the loveliest shade of red and he’s unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

Emotion claws at Ghost’s throat with more force than even Soap’s nails, still digging painfully into his shoulder as his sergeant clings to him like he’s lost at sea and Ghost is his only life raft. It’s complete bliss and infinite agony to have Soap like this without really having him, and Ghost can do nothing more than continue the motion of his hips while he stares at the impossible beauty of Soap in the throes of passion.

It's only due to his unwavering attention that he notices. Sees the change in Soap’s face when he says it. How his brows knit and lips quiver. How for a second his yearning seems more fraught with sadness than lust. How his voice sounds like nothing less than an aching sigh.

It’s not the voice of someone chasing the carnal needs of his flesh. Not the cadence of someone having the hots for his superior officer and simply wanting a quick fuck. It’s a tone filled with deep longing. An earnest and honest call for a sincere connection with another human being. Genuine, gnawing need as opposed to a flight of fancy.

It’s the plea of a man completely, utterly, in love.

“Oh, Simon.”

Ghost doesn’t know what happens, what exactly changes in him, but that one broken utterance of his name is the very last straw, and with a simple tug of fabric the roaring emotions in his veins win out. He needs his Soap, needs the feeling to be mutual, and in one glorious, impossible instant he realizes that it is, that it has to be. One moment he’s looking at the soaked fabric covering Soap’s eyes, thrusting into him like they both need it to live, and in the next his hips have stilled and his hand is yanking the black blindfold off and throwing it across the room.

“No, no, no, no-” Soap begs, voice stopping abruptly when his eyes snap open and lands on Simon’s face. Ghost watches the realization set in; Soap’s eyes as wide as saucers when he stares up at him in absolute disbelief. “What the- Simon?” he gasps, mouth opening and closing dumbly like he wants to talk but all words have failed him.

“Hi, Soap.” Ghost whispers, and leans down to kiss him with the passion of a man driven far beyond the edge of sanity. Soap lies still for all of a second, before both his hands are tangled in Ghost’s hair and he’s kissing him back like it’s all he’s ever wanted in his life. He pries open Ghost’s lips and slips his tongue past them to find the residual flavor of lube and his own precum and moans at the taste. Soap kisses him like he wants to eat him alive and Ghost is utterly helpless to the feeling, his own arms wrapping Soap in his embrace as they kiss and bite and lick at each other’s mouth like it’s the last thing they’ll ever do.

“How- when- all along it was you?” Soap gasps once they resurface for air.

“All along.” Ghost agrees, sucking Soap’s lower lip into his mouth and biting at it simply because he wants to and he doesn’t have a single ounce of self-control left. “Can we talk after?”
“Oh god, yeah. Fuck me, Simon. Right now, ya big bastard. I need you.” Soap demands, begs, and Ghost sees no reason to deny him. He starts up right where he left off, thrusting into Soap hard, fast, and deep, except now he has an unobscured view of how Soap’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he hits him just right.

“Fuckin’ hell, Soap. You’re bloody gorgeous.” Ghost gasps, hips snapping like a jackhammer as he clings to Soap in his embrace. He revels in the feeling of his sergeant’s muscular arms looped around his neck, his strong thighs on either side of his hips, and his pretty cock bouncing between them with every thrust of Ghost inside him. All sensations somehow so much more visceral than they were before.

“Simon, I cannae fuckin’ believe- Simon!” Soap moans, pressing his lips against Ghost’s even as their frantic fucking makes a proper kiss impossible, content with the brush of their lips and the occasional swipe of a tongue. The younger man’s eyes are still leaking tears in steady little rivers, a stupid, disbelieving, and awestruck smile pulling at his lips, which Ghost only knows because he can feel it pressed against his own.

It doesn’t take long before Soap is shaking with pleasure, nearing the brink for a third time this evening and growing increasingly frantic in his urgency to finally be allowed to let go. His cock is bright red and straining against the ring, so hard and so wet it looks almost painful.

“Simon, I need ta cum. Please, I need it.” Soap groans, gasping the words into Ghost’s partially open mouth and blinking up at him through lashes clumped with tears, blue eyes adoring and begging for mercy all at once.

“Yeah, of course you can, Soap. You've been so good for me.” Ghost pants, wanting nothing more than to give Soap anything and everything he asks for in this moment, because the fucked-out expression on Soap’s face puts every single fantasy he’s ever had to shame. He slows down momentarily so he can reach between them to carefully remove the cock ring from Soap’s flushed dick, doubling down on his efforts when it’s out of the way. He changes the angle of his hips a few times before he finds the one that makes Soap yell like he’s been struck by lightning, immediately adjusting himself so he can keep hitting that spot with every snap of his hips.

“Ah fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Soap chants, already twitching slightly with the orgasm that licks at the edges if his mind, breath rapid and heartbeat going wild in his chest.

“You gonna come, Soap? You gonna come with my cock in your arse?” Ghost asks with a groan, feeling his own orgasm tease dangerously close to the surface but pushing it down with all his might so he can bring Soap with him across the edge.

“Ah, Simon! you feel so fuckin’ perfect. Please, sir - please let me cum!” Soap babbles, the walls of his insides already fluttering around Ghost’s dick, but dutifully waiting for permission like the good little soldier he is.

“Fuck. Come for me, Soap. Let me feel your body squeeze around my cock.” Ghost murmurs, moaning loudly when he feels Soap clamp down on him immediately. Soap comes with a short, sharp yell, painting their stomachs white and promptly melting into a moaning, whimpering mess as Ghost finds his own release and fucks Soap through the aftershocks. Ghost groans, head pressed into Soap’s neck as they both ride out their orgasms, stopping only when the sensitivity of his cock makes moving too overwhelming. Soap’s breath comes out as these needy, little whines, almost completely muffled against Ghost’s skin from Soap doing his very best to bury his face in Ghost’s chest.

They cling to each other, hugging the other tightly like they both can’t believe it’s happening. That it’s real and not some elaborate fever dream. Soap is the first to pull away, and it’s only slightly, only enough for him to press a kiss against Simon’s sweaty temple.

“You're really here.” Soap whispers, wonderstruck, kissing down the side of Ghost’s face until he reaches his jaw, biting slightly at the skin there and tickling his tongue on Ghost’s slight stubble. “You go’ some mighty explainin’ ta do, Lt.” He chuckles breathlessly, partially amused but mostly disbelieving.

“I know.” Ghost sighs, placing a soft kiss of his own against Soap’s neck, lingers for a moment before he moves. “Let’s clean up a bit first though.” He says, slipping his softening cock out of Soap’s ass. Soap hums in agreement and lets Ghost go when he untangles himself from their embrace to tie off the condom and tuck himself back into his pants.

“If I’m havin’ this conversation naked, so should you.” Soap says, rubbing at his tear-streaked face, eyebrow raised. Ghost glances at him out of the corner of his eye while he throws the condom in the little trashcan. Soap blinks at him expectantly. With a slight shrug he tugs the remainder of his clothes off, very aware of Soap’s burning gaze on his ass as he walks into the bathroom. He comes back a minute later, after having cleaned himself off, bringing another damp washcloth for Soap.

“Let me.” He says, when Soap tries to take the cloth. The younger obediently lies back down, letting Ghost clean the tears from his cheeks, the cum from his front, and the excess lube between his cheeks. After a quick stop back in the bathroom to return the cloth and stare at his own somewhat panicked face in the mirror, Ghost reenters the room to find Soap under the covers.
Soap wordlessly lifts the edge of the duvet, both an invitation and a silent demand, and Ghost only hesitates for a second before he climbs in with him, pulling Soap against his chest as Soap’s own arms encircle his waist.

“Thought you weren’t one for aftercare?” Ghost asks, trying to break the tension a little bit.

“I am if it’s you here with me.” Soap mumbles, nuzzling his face between Ghost’s pecs, and his stubble scratching against Ghost’s skin feels surprisingly good. Ghost hums out a noise of vague agreement, but stays quiet after that, heart beating so loud in his chest that he’s sure Soap must feel the pulse against his face. He’s unsure how to start the conversation, letting himself enjoy the warmth and residual dopamine in his system, even as his mind spins with the indecision of what to say. As always, Soap knows just when to come to his rescue.

“Well, you go first.” Soap says simply, peering up at Ghost from under his long eyelashes. He doesn’t look angry at least, which is a good sign, but there is a definite uncertainty in his blue eyes. A sort of vulnerable confusion Ghost isn't used to seeing on his confident, accomplished sergeant’s face. He sighs, long and heavy, before he speaks.

“I never thought- Didn’t expect… Fuck, I don’t know where to start.” He trails off, fingers tracing idle patterns on Soap’s back as he tries to find the right words. Soap hums in understanding.

“When did you kno’ it was me?” Soap asks, easily helping Ghost navigate his jumbled emotions like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Soap’s voice is steady but oddly… small, as he speaks. It makes something heavy and cold settle in Ghost’s stomach. A strong urge to soothe his sergeant soars through his veins with a sudden intensity. The feeling of it, the feeling of himself caring, is still new, but not entirely foreign, and not entirely unwelcome.

“When I first arrived at the hotel room last time. Didn’t know before that.” Ghost murmurs, peering into Soap’s open, honest expression, willing him to understand. “Never thought it was gonna be you there, waitin’ for me. I was, um, conflicted. Was gonna say somethin’ but then I… I figured it was my only chance.”

“Only chance for what, Simon?” Soap asks, voice almost a whisper as he keeps up that eYou contact Ghost is struggling to maintain.

“Only chance to have you. Like that.” Ghost whispers, and the cold feeling in his stomach instead turns red hot with shame. “I’m… sorry, Soap. I should have said somethin’.” The apology feels unnatural on his tongue, but it eases some of the tension in his chest to see Soap’s eyes soften at the corners.

“Why did you no’ say anythin’? Not even when I was pure screamin’ your name in ecstasy?”

“Well,” Ghost mumbles, eyes glancing down to look at the steady rise and fall of Soap’s chest when the eye contact finally becomes a bit too much. “It was hard to miss that, obviously. But I figured it was just a sexual thing. Didn’t think you actually wanted… me.”

“Simon.” Soap sighs, gently placing a hand on Ghost’s cheek to make him meet his eyes again, leaving it there to carefully caress along the lines of a scar. “Daft fuckin' numpty, o’ course I want you. All of you.”

“I’ve gathered.” Ghost says, unable to stop himself from smiling back, ever so slightly, when a gentle smile tugs at Soap’s lips.

“Are we allowed to, I dunno, be together?” Soap asks, brows furrowing slightly. The hand on Simon’s face slides up and back, scratching at the short hairs at his neck and wandering higher to tangle into the longer strands further up. “I kno' normally that would be a ‘no’ o’ course, but our taskforce isnae exactly too hung up on regulations.”

“I don’t think Price would care much, no. As long as we keep it professional on the job.” Ghost shrugs, eyes fluttering at the soothing sensations of Soap playing with his hair. “That what you want then? Be together?”

“Yeah, it is.” Soap smiles, wider now, eyes sparkling with something incurably fond. “On account o’ me bein’ in love with you, an’ all.”

“I- Oh.” Ghost splutters, blinking dumbly at the man in his arms. Soap’s grin is undeniably smug, pleased at having rendered his Lt. speechless, but Ghost still sees that edge of uncertainty in his gaze. “Me too. I'd like to be with you, if you’ll have me. I also… um, yeah, me too.” He finishes lamely, mentally scolding himself for not being able to put it into better words, but also knowing that he’ll need a lot of time before it can come to that. It’s a lot to get used to, but he wants to try. It's what Soap deserves.

Soap doesn’t seem to care about the stuttering nature of his confession, just uses his grip on Ghost’s hair to drag him into another searing kiss. One that makes Ghost’s stomach flutter and toes curl at the intensity, licking greedily into Soap’s warm, willing mouth as the air once again fills with the soft, slick sounds of their kissing.

“Your turn to explain.” Ghost mumbles, leaning back so they can talk again, but remaining close enough that he feels hot puffs of breath on his face with every word Soap says.

“Ah, well, I’ve liked you for a long while. I knew you liked me too, at least to a degree, but I also didnae think you'd want to do anythin’ about it. You're no' exactly the easiest lad to approach. I tried to keep it down so we could at least be friends, but sometimes I'd need an… outlet.” Soap explains, eyes locked on Ghost’s lips as one of his fingers traces their shape.

“How many times have you done it?” Ghost asks against the tickling feeling of Soap’s fingertips.

“Done what?” Soap replies.

“Let strangers fuck you and pretended it was me?” Ghost says, a tiny smirk fighting its way to the surface when he notices the redness return to Soap’s cheeks.

“A few.” Soap murmurs, eyes still downcast and something about that, something about the way he still can’t look him in the eye, makes Ghost’s cock twitch in renewed interest. “It’s a bit pathetic, I kno'-” Soap starts but is cut off immediately.

“No, it’s not pathetic.” Ghost interrupts, tone firm and heated and leaving no room for discussion. That, finally, makes Soap look up to meet his smoldering gaze.

“Then how do you feel about it?” Soap raises an eyebrow, taking in the hungry look in his partner’s face.

“…You should have just come to me in the first place.” Ghost says after a pause, subconsciously tightening his hold around Soap’s torso. The younger snorts like he said something funny.
“Aye, solicit my scary lieutenant for a shag. That was likely to end well.” Soap says with a slight roll of his eyes, confidence seemingly returning at last.

“It did end well.” Ghost points out, unnecessarily, with how wrapped up in each other and naked they still are.

“Well I didnae kno’ that.” Soap huffs, rolling his eyes for real this time. “Does it bother you? What I did?”

“I don’t like the thought of other people havin’ you, but…” Ghost answers honestly, pursing his lips in thought. “The thought of you being with them while imagining me is a bit…”
“…hot?” Soap helpfully supplies.

“Yeah.” Ghost nods absentmindedly, surprising himself with how much he finds he likes that particular image. The one of Soap aching for him, needing him, even in the arms of another man.
“Knew you'd be a possessive shite.” Soap smiles, now fully back to cocksure and smug in that infuriatingly attractive way of his.

“What about what I did? Does that bother you?” Ghost asks. He still feels guilty about having deceived Soap like he did, even though the other obviously wanted it too. It’s a feeling he’s likely to contend with for a while.

“Nae, led us here, did it no?” Soap purrs, placing a wet, noisy kiss on Simon’s lips simply because he can.

“Shouldn’t trust strangers on the internet, Soap.” Ghost teases, allowing Soap’s happiness and forgiveness to quell some of that lingering shame. Choosing instead to focus on the warm contentedness that comes with having his feelings so thoroughly reciprocated. That’s entirely new and it’s really god damn nice.

“Maybe I knew it was you.” Soap grinningly counters.

“Seemed pretty surprised to me. You’ve always been a shit actor, Sergeant.” Ghost smirks.

“Aye, but maybe I knew it in my heart.” Soap sniggers, bending his neck to kiss along Ghost’s collarbones as the older man groans at his sappy words. Ghost lets Soap continue as the kisses slowly turn into little sucks and bites instead, humming out his approval as Soap brands him with love bites and hickies of his own all the way up his neck. His mask usually covers that area, but he finds he doesn’t care if people see it anyway. Maybe even wants them to.

“I was pretty sure you were gonna recognize my voice, but you didn’t.” Ghost sighs after a while. Soap has pushed him onto his back and draped himself across his broad chest, still putting his mouth on any part of Ghost’s skin within his immediate reach.

“I was imaginin' your voice anyway, so it didnae seem out o’ place.” Soap says, voice slightly muffled against Ghost’s right peck.

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s hot.” Ghost gasps, partially due to the words and partially due to Soap’s tongue toying with the smooth metal of his nipple piercing. “It was damn hard keepin’ quiet. So many things I wanted to say to you. About how good you look takin’ my cock.”

“Ah, shite.” Soap groans, a shudder running down his spine as Ghost rakes his nails across his back. “You’ll hafta make that up to me. Better tell me all those filthy thoughts you have.”
“That can be arranged.” Ghost smirks, hands slipping down to cup Soap’s irresistible ass. “You’re quite the boost for my imagination.”

“Do we hafta go back to base tonight?” Soap asks. There’s an almost desperate edge to his voice and it makes Ghost want to give him the entire fucking world if he asked for it.
“No, we have the room all night.” Ghost answers, grabbing Soap by the chin to plant another kiss on those sinful lips. “We could get some nice breakfast in the mornin’.”

“Aye, and you can let me ride you when we wake up.” Soap grins, lips brushing against Ghost’s own when he talks. There’s a glint in his eye, one that usually preludes madness and mayhem and very, very large explosions, and it’s just about the most wonderful, feral thing Ghost has ever seen in his life. “Want you naked and flushed underneath me jus’ like this.”

“That a promise?” Ghost murmurs, matching the look in Soap’s eyes with ease as he imagines how it would be like to wake up to a grinning and sleep-mussed Soap bouncing on his cock.

“Definitely.” Soap growls, before he leans back in, and Ghost briefly thinks that he could spend an entire eternity kissing the breath straight out of Soap’s lungs. They stay like that for what feels like ages, arms wrapped around each other and sharing air and kisses, both a bit too spent from the emotional rollercoaster of the evening for their lust to truly rekindle, but to enamored with the feel of the other man’s body to stop completely. Thankfully, there's absolutely no rush, and they’re free to indulge in all the touch and caress they want.

For a long time, only their little sounds of pleasure can be heard in the room, before Soap’s voice finally breaks the quiet. It’s a question that’s been burning on the tip of his tongue ever since he found out just who his mysterious lover actually was, and being the cheeky, nosey bastard that he is, there is only so long he can keep it from tumbling out from his big mouth.

“By the way Simon, how fuckin' long have you had your nipples pierced??”