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It was unusual to have a quiet night in Soap’s line of work. Sometimes, he welcomed it eagerly as a chance to relax and to lower his guard. Other times, he dreaded it because it left him with nothing but time to think.
Soap and his partner, Ghost, sat on the roof of an abandoned building turned watchtower with two sniper rifles and a few cans of beer between them. They had been in limbo for a few days as their commanding officers decided which direction they were headed with the “local government”, AKA militia, threatening to break their deal. Were they going to bend the knee and back out of the area? Were they going to storm into their hideout and take them out? At this point, Soap probably preferred the latter. Some action would keep his mind occupied.
But there was no action tonight. Tonight he sat on the roof in the rain, cracking the occasional joke with Ghost who sat ever watchful down the scope of his rifle. Soap didn’t know if Ghost was even capable of relaxing. Soap took a swig of his beer and leaned back, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the building as he swung his legs idly. He turned to watch Ghost, almost out of habit.
The light rain was sliding down his helmet and dripping off the rim. The moonlight caught the sheen of moisture coating him and lit up the gloss of his eyes as he stared out into the night. The rain had washed away some of the paint beneath his mask and left little streaks of pale skin and small sections of eyelashes that were blonde, not black. The nights were getting cold the past few weeks and Ghost’s breath left his mask as a swirling cloud. He wondered if he ran warm, considering how unbothered he was in the cold rain. Maybe his skin just retained heat and would be warm to the touch no matter the weather. Ghost turned to him, interrupting his staring, with a questioning look.
“How are you not waterboarding yourself in that thing,” he rushed, hoping the flush on his face wasn’t noticeable in the cover of night. Ghost watched him as he took another sip of his beer, trying not to seem flustered.
“Just a bit of rain,” he mused, shaking his head so that the water came rolling off his helmet for emphasis.
Soap made a noncommittal noise and turned his attention back to the city. Their men were chatting in the small compound below them, enjoying their night off and recovering from the long, tense weeks. Soap wished he could join them. Maybe he needed a night to get properly drunk and get away from Ghost.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the man’s company. It was that he was pretty sure he enjoyed it in a way that would bite him in the ass.
“Soap, Ghost.”
Captain Price’s voice in his ear was a blessing.
“Yes, Sir?”
Ghost rested his rifle across his lap and turned to watch Soap as he spoke for both of them.
“How quickly can you clean yourselves up for a meeting with our neighbors?”
“Twenty minutes. Just need to get dry.”
“Copy. I’ll send you two the coordinates. I need you to play nice and meet with the leader of the militia. See if they’ll let us pass without grief if we give them some intel.”
“Roger that.” Soap stood up with a stretch and settled his rifle on his back. “Thank god. Been itching to get off this roof,” Soap groaned.
“What, not enjoying my company?” Ghost asked, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt.
“You smell like wet dog,” he replied, rolling his eyes as he stepped on the remnants of his beer can, crushing it.
Ghost chuckled and followed behind him as they went to change into dry clothing.
After Soap was changed more comfortably into a thermal layer and sweatshirt underneath a dry jacket, feeling dangerously naked without his weapons strapped to him, he hopped into the passenger seat of the vehicle Ghost had acquired. He set a few items, like a small first aid kit and a pistol, into Ghost’s backpack.
It was a short drive out of the relative safety of their compound and into the streets of Mexico that were far outside their control. Their vehicle was low profile, but out here they had no back up, especially not when they were heading to meet the very people controlling these streets. The location that Price had provided led them to a large house, a mansion in comparison to the poor streets surrounding the manor. There were tall hedges surrounding the building and armed guards at both of the two entrances. White marble pillars held up balconies overlooking the courtyard and neglected ivy ran down each wall. It would have once been a very pretty building, but the military influence holding it clearly was not keeping up on the landscaping.
“You ready?” Ghost questioned as they parked in a side street.
“Born ready, Lt.,” Soap replied, already feeling the adrenaline pumping into his veins.
Ghost gave him a look before climbing out of the car and grabbing his rifle bag, swinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the building with you, but I’ll be going in quietly” He said it matter of factly, but Soap wasn’t sure if he meant it as reassurance. Either way, it was reassuring to know that Ghost would be nearby, even if Soap was walking in weaponless.
Soap shook out his shoulders and took a deep breath before flinching as Ghost came and set a hand on the nape of his neck, giving it a squeeze.
“Don’t do anything stupid. Let’s get in and get out.”
Soap couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, “Me? Do something stupid?”
Ghost removed his hands and didn’t grace him with a response.
Walking up to the building with nothing but a knife tucked into his boot was nothing short of unnerving. He was grateful that the rain had stopped, but the cool air still had him shivering as he approached. There were at least a dozen rifles pointed at him the second he stepped onto the cracked concrete steps. He held his hands up and stated that he was here to meet a Sr. Flores, which led to him being immediately patted down. By pure luck, the man patting him down didn’t seem to notice the knife in his shoe and it grated Soap some sort of relief to have a weapon left on him, even if it was only a small blade.
They immediately led him to a small room on the second story that was barren of much more than a small table and two chairs. They left him there, informing him that Sr. Flores would be informed that he was here. The smile that the man gave him before closing the door made his skin crawl.
Now that he was alone, he could allow himself a moment of discomfort. He hated solo missions. Not that he was truly alone, but not knowing how Ghost was doing was partly the cause of his discomfort. Ghost was more than capable, but lately Ghost has been occupying more of his thoughts anyway, and now he was worrying about Ghost and about himself and-
A small but undeniable sound interrupted his torrent of thought. A quick, metallic click.
Soap flattened himself against the wall behind the door and crouched, grabbing the knife tucked in his boot. A second later the door was thrown open and a man with a gun in his hand walked through. His gun was raised, but not seeing Soap immediately made him hesitate. Soap took the opportunity to lunge forward, grabbing the man’s wrist and pointing the gun towards the floor.
The man fired in a panic and the bullet tore a hole in the tiled floor with a snap. Soap’s knife entered his neck a second later. Wet, hot blood spilled over his hand as he lowered the man to the ground.
“Fuck.” These men never had any intention of making a deal with them. They were literally going to shoot him dead and leave him in this cramped room. He hated solo missions.
The shot had stirred some commotion in the adjacent hallway and he could hear a pair of footsteps storming in his direction. He braced himself for another fight as he scavenged his victim’s discard pistol. The man rounded the corner then fell with a thump as Soap’s bullet cleared his chest.
Gunshots sounded further away now and there was only one other man that they would be fighting. Soap made his way down the hallway towards the noise, watching men scrambling to action in the yard through the windows he passed. His head suddenly made contact with something hard and he was thrown forward onto his knees.
Soap turned just in time to see a man twice his size lunge at him. The man was heavy enough to knock the air out of him as he struggled to block his hands from reaching his throat.
A string of Spanish curses left the man’s mouth as Soap managed to bring a knee up to his groin. Even so, the man’s weight advantage had him forcing an elbow onto Soap’s trachea. Pain bloomed in the area and his body started to panic at the sudden lack of oxygen.
Not fucking dying like this. Not dying here.
He could feel himself draw blood from the fingernails clawing at the man’s face as he tried to push him off to no avail. Turning his head, he saw the knife that had been knocked from his hands through the black spots in his vision. In one swift motion he threw his arm out, grabbed the knife, and plunged it into the man’s shoulder.
The man yelped and pulled away and then a Soap sank the blade into his chest, then his throat. The man slumped with a groan that ended in a wet gurgle as blood entered his airway.
Meanwhile, Soap’s airway was burning and he coughed, struggling to get enough air back into his lungs. He lay on the floor, chest heaving as he tried to regain his senses. His head was still still spinning from the sudden impact, a full throb already beginning to form, but then a cry rang out that made Soap’s blood run cold. He knew that voice.
No.
Soap scrambled to his feet, gun already back in his hands as he sprinted towards the room at the end of the hall where the noise was coming from.
He could hear laughter and the heavy thud of something hitting flesh and everything else was muted. His focus dialed in as reached the door and threw it open. One dropped almost instantly as he pulled the trigger, the other two men looking towards Soap in surprise. Ghost managed to roll onto his elbows and was working on getting back on his feet and all Soap could think about was getting in between him and the bullets that were soon to follow.
He surged forward, barely registering his body telling him he needed to breathe because his chest was so tight he felt like all the air had solidified in his lungs. A wordless yell escaped his lips and a bullet flew by his head too closely for comfort. The next man dropped when Soap’s bullet cleared through his chest, blood spurting onto the concrete beneath him and looking around his comrade’s boots.
The final man raised his gun and pointed it directly towards Soap, but a bullet sprouted through the side of his head and he hit the ground. Soap noticed that Ghost had gotten to his knees and his pistol was pointed at the third combatant.
“Ghost!” He choked as he closed the final few feet to him. He dipped and hooked his arm around the man’s chest, pulling him with him as Ghost stumbled to his feet. There was a small desk against the wall and it was the closest they would get to cover at the moment, so Soap and made a beeline for it. Once he was sure they were at least partially in safety, he dropped into a crouch beside Ghost.
“Fucking hell,” Ghost groaned, letting his head fall back against the desk.
Blood was steadily soaking through a hole in Ghost’s shoulder and through his balaclava. Of the possibly broken nose and the bullet wound, the gunshot made Soap feel like he couldn’t breath. He could feel himself shaking. His body was used to stress but as his eyes rapidly scanned every inch of his lieutenant the dam that held back his feelings was cracking inside.
“Ghost, Ghost,” he fumbled, reaching for the man’s face. The balaclava was slightly askew, probably courtesy of someone’s fist, but Soap smoothed over it with his thumbs as he rubbed Simon’s cheekbones.
Ghost met his eyes blearily. “I’m alright, Sergeant,” he huffed out, eyes now darting around Soap’s face.
Soap was sure that his composure was gone and could see the panic coloring his features. “Price,” he barked into his radio, “We’re compromised, Ghost is injured. We need exfil immediately.”
“Roger, we’ve got a team nearby that can cause a distraction but it’ll be danger close. Can you extract alone?”
Price’s even voice calmed him in the slightest. He kept his eyes on Simon, who was now looking at him with what was almost confusion. He thumbed over his cheek again with what he hoped was reassurance. “We’ll do it. How long till they go loud?”
“3 minutes. Good luck, boys.”
“Copy.”
Soap dropped his hands from Ghost’s face and hooked them under his arms, pulling him to his feet.
“I’m fine,” Ghost wheezed, shaking off Soap’s hands.
Soap opened his mouth to argue but his lieutenant was already taking point and picking a weapon off of one of the fallen men. Soap made an exasperated gesture at his back, but the fact he was still moving around on his own lowered his anxiety a bit. He’d dress his wounds and stop the bleeding once they got out of here alive, he assured himself. In the meantime, he slowly patched the dam inside himself, packing away all the emotion that had spilled out and focused on finding a way out of the building.
The gunshots had sent the men in the lower floor scrambling. Shouts rang out and Soap was sure that shortly they would be running into more men than they could handle. They continued down the hall that Soap had cleared previously and Ghost nodded towards the available staircase.
“Not gonna want to be in the elevator when it hits,” Ghost whispered.
As if on cue, the entire building shook as a deep thunder rattled through it. They both stumbled a bit at the impact before ducking into the staircase and continuing towards the ground floor. Muffled voices raced by the closed door and Soap tensed, praying they wouldn’t be stupid enough to travel upstairs during a mortar attack.
As soon as they were in relative silence, Ghost slipped through the door weapon first and Soap followed. A long hallway to the kitchen was ahead of them. It opened up to a sitting area on the left and had a slightly ajar door to the right side. The hallway had been ornately decorated at one point, before it had been taken over by the renegade group. Now there was graffiti, broken portraits, the odd bullet hole.
Seconds later the ground shook again and Price’s voice popped into their ears.
“Better get clear of the building boys. Next round and it’s coming down.”
Looks like the pretty house wouldn’t last long anyway. “Copy,” Soap muttered as he picked up his pace, walking now at Ghost’s side rather than behind him. “Gotta move, sir.”
A hand on his chest stopped him and was pulled into the door on the right side of the hallway. Ghost shoved himself against Soap as he slid the door shut. He was so close that he could smell the blood on and gunpowder on him. They had hidden out in a small bathroom, one with barely enough room for a sink and toilet.
“Little risky there, Lt,” Soap whispered in Ghost’s ear thinking of how the building could come crashing down on them any second, burying them in rubble and they’d be forgotten about forever.
A pair of footsteps went racing by, shouting in Spanish. Soap only hoped that the surrounding task force didn’t decide to level the building in the next few minutes.
“Don’t worry, Johnny, they won’t hear us.”
Ghost’s gravely reply in this ear shook him from his worry and he was then acutely aware of how close he was to Simon. Did the man just flirt with him? Surely not. No, it was just banter to ease the tension. It was a hell of a choice however, because now all Soap could focus on was the other man’s ragged breathing. Either Ghost was blind or he just enjoyed watching Soap struggle to maintain composure. Surely he had to know the effect that he had on Soap. He swore he saw a hint of amusement when his head snapped up to meet Ghost’s eye’s, mouth falling open slightly then-
“We’re clear.”
And just like that Ghost was peeling off of him and slipping out the door. Soap shook himself and continued after him, trying to convince himself that his heart pounding was just from the adrenaline.
The kitchen was in varying states of disarray, with food still stuck into pans and food wrappers strewn about with no care. There was a back door that opened up to a small patio lined with a few folding chairs and the pair ducked out into the yard. The commotion inside seemed to draw all of the men out of the yard and they were able to stumble over the short shrubs and away from the building. As they got some distance from the building, they could see that their side was mostly untouched, but the far side of the building was crumbling rapidly.
They had just reached the outskirts of the compound when the last mortar hit, shaking the ground beneath them. Soap turned to see the building they had just been inside disappear inside a cloud of dust.
“Bastards,” Ghost muttered, not bothering to spare a glance at the building that had nearly killed him.
“Price, we’re out. Got anywhere for us to hide out?” Soap asked.
It was a moment before Price responded. “Got a house north of the city we’ve used before. Lay low till the morning. We’ve got a shit storm to deal with on our end. I’ll send you the coordinates.”
“Copy that.”
Ghost nodded towards a fairly empty street where a few civilians were busy running away from the chaos they were leaving behind.
“Get us a car. Let’s get out of here.”
It was about a twenty minute drive to the coordinates Price has relayed. The difference between the lavish headquarters they had destroyed to the street they crawled through now was night and day. The houses were not very well taken care of and half of them were void of any light or movement. It was clear that this area was chosen because of the poverty and relative vacancy. They pulled into the dirt yard of a tiny house with boarded up windows. There were cracks crawling up the stucco walls and various articles of trash scattered in the yard.
They hopped out of their commandeered vehicle and made their way through the unlocked door, though Soap locked it quickly behind them. His first order of business was tending to Ghost’s wounded shoulder. He didn’t know how deep it was but judging by how Ghost could barely stay awake on the drive out, he guessed it was taking a lot out of him.
After flicking on the dim lights, the interior of the house was marginally more comforting than the outside. There was a tiny barren kitchen with a few non perishables stacked on the counter, most likely courtesy of whoever hid out here before them. A lumpy couch sat angled in the corner across from what appeared to be a single bedroom. Soap made his way to the bedroom in search of something to clean up the blood with and managed to find some mostly clean rags in the small closet there. After rooting around in the kitchen cabinets he found a plastic bowl and filled it with warm water.
Ghost had plopped onto the couch as soon as they got in. Soap hurried over with his supplies, pulling up an overturned bucket as a seat.
Ghost reached up and removed his helmet, tossing it aside, and then started to work on his gear.
Soap tried to shoo his hands away, to help him remove the pounds of equipment blocking the way to the wound.
“I’ve got it,” Ghost grumbled, flinching away from his touch.
“Ghost,” Soap reprimanded, trying again for his equipment.
“I said I’ve got it.”
Soap couldn’t help the irritation growing at Ghost’s bitter tone. He reached forward again grabbing at his gun holster and not letting go even when Ghost pulled away from him.
“Sergeant! Stop-”
“Ghost,” he cut in firmly. Ghost succeeded in pulling his wrist away but it just served to infuriate him more
“No-“
“Fucking hell, Simon, let me help you!”
Ghost’s eyes snapped up to meet his at the harsh tone. There was a tense moment where Soap wasn’t sure if he’d just pushed him away for good or not before Ghost sighed and dropped his arm, relenting.
Soap reached up and started gently removing the remaining gear in his path. The gun holsters, the pouches, everything slipped off with a faint click of the clip. “God forbid someone care about you,” Soap grumbled as he removed the blood soaked vest, sliding it as gently as he could off Simon’s injured shoulder.
Ghost kept his head tilted away, refusing to meet Soap’s eyes and was completely silent for a moment. “No one is supposed to care about me.” His answer was gruff and still held a bit of irritation.
“Yeah, well, I care about you. So get used to it.” He had him down to his thermal layer at this point and the damage was much more visible. The black fabric was wet with blood that started at the bullet wound and soaked down his arm and chest. It was difficult to say if he was still bleeding but the wound needed to be bandaged regardless. “Up,” he directed more gently as he peeled the shirt up and instructed Ghost to lift his arms.
Ghost obeyed silently, though he was no longer turned away. He was now silently watching Soap as he pulled the shirt over his head, carefully avoiding removing his balaclava.
Soap leaned over and grabbed the damp rags he’d gathered and began work on wiping up the blood. Simon’s chest was beautiful, even covered in blood and more bruises than Soap would have thought originally. It had the same chiseled muscles of all soldiers, but as the blood was cleared Soap could see a plethora of healed scars marking up his body, marring the artwork of his tattoos and leaving his chest slightly textured. With the combined tattoos, bruises, and scars both healed and new, it was clear that it was a body that had been through a great deal of pain.
Soap turned his attention to the wound on Ghost’s shoulder. It was fairly deep but thankfully had missed any bone. A flesh wound. That was good. Blood still flowed from it however, now freed from the blanket of clothing that had been staunching it. “This’ll sting,” Soap twisted open the small iodine bottle pulled from his first aid pouch and poured a generous amount over the wound. Ghost didn’t even flinch, to Soap’s surprise. He was just continuing to search Soap’s face. He wasn’t sure what the man was looking for but he kept his expression carefully neutral as he stuffed gauze over the wound and began to wrap it. He didn’t have any sutures so he’d have to hold out till morning but it didn’t appear that he would bleed to death
“What?” He finally questioned, meeting Ghost’s eyes again.
“You’re an odd one, Johnny.”
Soap snorted. “How so?“
Ghost leaned forward, suddenly leaving even less personal space as Soap continued to bandage his shoulder. “Still have a heart after being out here,” Ghost mused.
Soap busied himself with making sure the bandage was tied tightly before answering, pressing down on it firmly before letting his hands slide down Simon’s arm, fingers linking around his wrist at the end. “Have to. Gotta know what you’re fighting for, Lt.” He used his other hand to brush a scar on his chest, tracing the faint line with his fingertip. “This life’s not been very kind to you, to us. Lot of hurt. But we don’t have something to fight for, what’s the point? What’s worth the pain?”
The air of the safe house was stagnant and beginning to take on the chill of the night. It was one of few cold months in Mexico and the run down safe house was far from weather proof. The air felt even colder as Soap waited for a response, dreading yet again that he’d overstepped his boundaries.
“Right,” Ghost finally replied, voice thick as he gently pulled away from Soap’s grip and reached for his jacket. “Thanks for patching me up.”
The familiar feeling of rejection and shame washed over him. He’d been reading too much into their banter, they were teammates as they had always been. It was foolish for him to let his feelings take over when there were more important things to worry about right now.
“Yeah, of course, sir.” He mumbled as he stood to give Ghost space to dress. He took the soiled rags back Into the tiny bathroom and threw them in the corner of the tiled floor. Somehow this place still had hot water and Soap was grateful for it as he let it run over his shaking hands.
Stupid.
Soap had known it was stupid to get attached to anyone in this line of work. Things go wrong, people get killed, it was the nature of the job. No one listened to that though. Every unit became a small family because those were the people keeping you alive every day. It was different when those bonds shifted away from being platonic.
Soldiers hooking up wasn’t unheard of. Men went months at a time with no break from the chaos and used each other for mutual relief. But Soap wasn’t just a needy body. Soap’s issue was that his heart had decided to actually develop feelings and the second mistake was that it was for Ghost of all people.
Ghost was quite literally that. A phantom. He didn’t hang around places long, didn’t develop relationships. Soap had been lucky enough to be paired up with him but that was as close to a long term relationship as he’d heard about with him. And here Soap was, rinsing his face in the sink and trying to steady his breathing because Ghost left him hanging on as close to a confession as he could have given. Stupid.
Soap wandered back out into the little bedroom and threw his packs in the corner. He was traveling light compared to Ghost who had been the one in the shadows while he played bait. Ghost could sleep on the couch, Soap decided. He was suddenly drained physically and emotionally. He collapsed on the creaky queen sized bed that was devoid of any sheets or pillows. He tucked an arm under his head and pulled his jacket around him as much as possible, trying to stave off the chilly air. He flicked off the lights,leaving the room pitch black, and Soap hushed his racing mind and attempted to get some sleep.
He was awoken to a quiet creak and the feeling that someone was beside him. Before he even had the chance to whirl around and lash out, there was a hand sliding across his chest and a warm body pressed against his back.
It was pitch black and the middle of the night, but suddenly Soap was wide awake. He stared into the inky blackness as his heart kicked into overdrive.
“S-Simon?”
There was a beat of silence before he replied in Soap’s ear. “It’s cold”
Sure, it was a bit cold in the house, but Soap barely registered it anymore. He could only focus on Ghost’s warm breath in his ear, the way his entire body was now tucked against him, how his fist knotted in the fabric of his jacket. Soap didn’t bother responding, too busy trying to memorize the way Simon’s body felt against him.
“I’m sorry, Johnny,” Ghost whispered at last. “I just-“
He didn’t need to continue. Soap rolled over in bed so he was facing him and hooked his legs through Ghost’s pulling him closer. He reached up to touch Simon’s face and was surprised to find a layer of stubble and soft flesh rather than cloth. His heart jump started again at the thought that Simon Riley was lying in a bed with him, holding him to his chest, and not wearing his mask. It didn’t even matter that it was completely dark and he couldn’t make out a single feature.
He trailed his hands up his face, brushing his thumb over a high cheekbone and moving to rake his hands through a crop of short hair. He dragged his nails lightly down the man’s scalp, wondering what color he’d see if there was light. Next were his eyes which were now shut as Soap probed his face. He knew Simon’s eyes well. He’d memorized the color, the intense gaze, the light blonde eyelashes that would peak through his grease paint.
His nose had raised scars and was slightly crooked, evidence of at least a few breaks. Soap hesitated before touching his lips. His fingers ghosted over a pair of chapped lips, not thin but not full. He could feel Simon’s breathing pick up and he could no longer drag out what he’d been wanting for months. Soap leaned in slowly, stopping just close enough to brush his lips with his own.
Ghost surged forward the last inch. His hands immediately tangled in the back of Soap’s Mohawk, pulling him closer in quiet desperation. His hands pulled on his hair tight enough to hurt, but his lips remained tender as they moved around his.
When was the last time Soap had been kissed like this? Hell, when was the last time Ghost had? The man was kissing him like he was afraid he’d disappear. When was the last time Ghost had physical contact without pain? He hated the idea of it. Soap wasn’t sure Ghost had ever had the opportunity to take what he wanted, to let himself go without fear of consequence. But then here Ghost was, holding back again, kissing him oh so gently.
Soap rolled over as gently as he could, minding his injured shoulder. “You’re fucking infuriating sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled as he straddled Ghost’s hips and unzipped his jacket as gracefully as he could in total darkness.
There was a soft chuckle from beneath him. “How so?”
Soap ran his hands up Simon’s chest and grinned when he felt him shiver beneath his touch. “How long have you wanted this?” He ran a thumb over a soft nipple and continued upwards until he could cup the side of his neck.
“Too long.” The reply was quick, breathy. There was a barely restrained need beneath it.
“Then why did it take you so bloody long? When’s the last time you just took what you wanted?” Soap questioned as his thumb made its way to his jawline.
There was no answer besides ragged breathing and Ghost’s hands tentatively reaching for his thighs.
Soap leaned forward on his free hand to drop his lips to Ghost’s ear. “What do you want, Simon?,” he whispered against the shell of his ear.
The hands on his thighs were gripping them almost painfully now. “You,” Simon growled.
“Then take me.”
Again, there was hesitation. The grip on Soap’s legs loosened and he could almost hear the mental war going on in Simon’s head.
“You can’t chase me away. You can’t break me, Simon,” Soap promised, pressing a kiss to his temple for punctuation.
“I beg to differ. I could hurt you if I wanted to,” Ghost teased, trying to lighten the mood, trying to deflect.
“Promise, sweetheart?”
The hands on his legs were then on either side of his face, pulling him down for another kiss. It was rougher this time, sloppier. Soap dropped to his elbow and braced himself over the man. There was no longer the hesitation in Ghost. One hand moved behind Soap’s head, not giving him any space to move from his lips while the other drifted to Soap’s ass.
Ghost liked pet names. Good to know.
Soap groaned against him and parted his lips, allowing Ghost access with his tongue. Ghost kissed him deeply as he fumbled with his jacket, trying to get it off as soon as possible. It hit the floor with a soft thud and then Ghost’s hands were under his shirt.
He broke away for a second. “Gonna be cold,” he breathed as he ran his hands up Soap’s spine.
“Don’t fucking care,” Soap huffed back, pulling his own shirt over his head.
There was a laugh underneath him. “Eager are we?”
“I’m not as patient as you,” Soap snapped, feeling for his face again in the dark then dropping below it to suck at his throat.
Ghost hummed at the contact and grabbed a handful of Soap’s mohawk. “You been thinking of this?”
“Every night,” Soap replied, punctuating his reply with a swipe of his tongue over Ghost’s collarbone. He dropped lower, kissing at his chest, working his way down. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Ghost snorted, but his body tensed in anticipation. “You can't even see me.”
“Don’t need to.”
Ghost nearly whined. Soap made another mental note. Pet names and praise? Adorable. He would have no problem pleasing him. He could smother him in endless praise, murmur sweet whispers in his ear all day long while Ghost writhed beneath him.
Soap had to push the thought away. His fantasy of Ghost was distracting him from the very real Ghost beneath his lips. He managed to get Ghost’s belt off and shimmied the remaining layers of clothing down his body. He heard Ghost’s boots hit the floor with a clunk as he kicked them off. Soap was sure he was trembling. He had a nearly naked, save for his pants bunched around his ankles, Simon Riley in front of him. He was living every wet dream he’d had since he’d met the man.
He ducked down and pressed a hot kiss to his inner thigh, then moved up, dancing around his groin but carefully avoiding touching him directly yet. He heard Simon sigh and the crunch of the cheap sheets being enclosed in his fist. Although he would have loved to see him, see his face flush with pleasure, see his muscular body tense with each kiss, see his pretty cock throb and twitch, doing everything by touch and sound was also quite the experience.
Soap moved down, brushing his balls with his lips as he pushed one of Simon’s legs open further as he continued to tease.
“Fucking Christ, Johnny ,” Ghost whined from above him.
Soap held back a smile and grazed his teeth along the inside of his thigh. “What do you want, Simon?”
There was an exasperated noise as his hips bucked slightly. “I want you to get on my dick right now or so help me,” he growled in response.
Soap only wished they weren’t in a rickety old house with no supplies right now so Ghost could properly fuck him, but he’d make do. With one hand cupping the base of his dick, he ran his tongue up the underside until he reached the tip, then took the length in his mouth.
The cry that escaped Simon’s lips was delicious. Soap swirled his tongue over the tip of his cock, pressing down into the slit before pulling off with a wet pop. He wet his lips then went down again, taking him into the back of his throat while he worked the base in his hand.
There was a strangled noise and Soap could only assume that Simon had covered his mouth with his fist. Soap was determined to hear him though, he wanted Simon to lose himself. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, picking up the pace as he bobbed up and down. The faster he went, the sloppier it got and his hand now easily slid with the saliva that was coating his cock.
Ghost’s hips started buck up in rhythm and Soap stopped moving.
Simon swore and tangled his free hand in Johnny’s hair. Soap remained still and let him fuck up into his mouth, using his mouth at his own speed while Soap moaned around him. Eventually he needed a breath and pulled off. He worked him with his hand sucked at the tip until Simon’s breathing turned to panting.
“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart? You’re doing so well,” Soap asked, his voice gravelly from the abuse.
Ghost’s reply was muffled and a second later there was warm liquid spilling down his hand. Soap worked him through his orgasm enjoying the muffled noises he was wringing from them.
Soap’s own cock was wet and painfully throbbing in his pants. He was pretty sure he could come just from listening to Ghost, knowing he was the one that made Simon Riley squirm.
Ghost’s grip on his hair had faltered but he tightened it now and used it to pull him up until he was hovering over him again, legs spread on either side of his hips. Deft hands made quick work of his zipper and then a warm palm caressed him through his underwear.
“Oh, fuck,” he whined, dropping his head against Simon’s chest, just barely remembering to avoid his injuried shoulder.
“Hm, you’re already close?” Ghost hummed, amusement creeping into his shaky voice.
“I think you underestimate how hot this is,” he muttered into his collarbone. He could feel Ghost’s warm breath as he laughed against his ear.
“Tell me, Johnny,” he whispered.
His hand slipped beneath the waistband of Soap’s underwear and gave him a few leisurely strokes.
Soap bit his lip and rolled his hips forward into Simon’s hand, whimpering.
Ghost’s teeth grazed his earlobe and he quickened his pace. After a moment of quick strokes and Ghost’s mouth sending a shiver down his spine, he came between them, spurting over Simon’s chest.
If he hadn’t been so horny for so long, and so unbearably turned on, he might have been embarrassed for how long he lasted. But in this case his legs were still trembling when he rolled off of Simon and collapsed next to him. In his bliss he barely registered the man beside him standing and the water rushing in the tiny bathroom next to them.
He returned with a warm rag and this time it was Soap’s turn to be wiped clean. Simon tenderly wiped his hands clean before disappearing again. There was the soft rustle of clothing and then the light flicked on in the bathroom. Soap flinched, covering his eyes with his hand, before frowning at his partner.
“Seriously,” Soap deadpanned. Ghost had his balaclava pulled over his face and his pants back on, though he was still shirtless. “You just had your dick down my throat and I still can’t see your face?” Soap stood, tucked himself back into his pants and blatantly stared at Ghost as he leaned his good shoulder on the doorframe.
“There are levels, Johnny. Haven’t reached that one yet.” He could hear the amusement in his voice.
“What is this scale that you’re using? Who the fuck designed it?”
“Me,” Ghost chuckled.
“Well, sir, I am not a fan.”
Ghost closed the distance to him slowly, letting Soap’s eyes rake up and down his body. His face may be covered, but his eyes were slightly lidded and immediately caught Soap’s attention. He reached for Soap’s throat and used it to bring his face closer. He ducked to the side and squeezed lightly.
“Johnny.”
Soap’s head was spinning again, body already heating up in anticipation. His hands made their way to Ghost’s waist of their own accord. “Y-yeah?”
“Stop fucking whining,”
Soap’s face was red when Ghost pulled away and he collapsed back into the bed with a huff. “Fine, but you’re sleeping In here tonight with me, yeah?”
“So needy,” Simon teased, though he made his way back to the other side of the bed and sat down, snagging his jacket and pulling it on before laying down.
“Well, I gotta make sure you don’t bleed to death on my watch.” Soap flicked the light off and flipped over, a bit too excited, but he didn’t have time to be embarrassed. He was going to take anything that Ghost would give him before it was ripped away from him.
“Is that why you’re trying to get all the blood flowing to my cock instead?” he laughed.
Soap shivered, already reliving the memory. “Exactly,” he replied, though he didn’t care much about the banter when Simon pulled him against his chest.
The room was silent after that. Soap was afraid that if he broke the silence, this small reality would shatter. Eventually, Ghost’s even breathing and warm body pulled him towards unconsciousness. So he does run warm, he noted with a soft smile before pressing his face further against his chest and drifting off.