Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soap hadn't meant to spend most of his time in a pod of seals that weren't like him.

But after his family disappeared from the face of the Antarctic because of a particularly brutal blizzard, he didn't have a choice. They accepted him fine enough, being the same species helped a lot — Weddell seals to be exact — and they ignored his above-average size once they figured out he wasn't interested in claiming any territory or taking part in the courting rituals.

The whole arrangement was unheard of. Shifters only kept company with other shifters, and a few rare ones chose to take human partners if it was feasible. Their intelligence set them apart from the wilderness, and from the food chain, much like it did for humans. Living amongst their wild equivalent was an unspoken taboo in the shifter community due to the complications that came with blending into nature, forgetting one's origins and gifts, and gradually throwing one's mind away in the ultimate act of abandonment. The delicate balance between their two sides were always prioritised, and maintaining their instincts and intelligence was an act of honouring their gift.

Thus, if one were to abandon one side completely it was seen as a fundamental betrayal who they were. The taboo of disregarding the gift of self-actualisation from their ancestors.

Soap, again, didn't have much of a choice. When his family was around, he had no intention of abandoning his roots. Weddell shifters hardly migrated, he wasn't too far off from where he was born. Which fed more into the mystery of where his family had disappeared, if they were near at all.

The nearest shifter settlement was around two hundred kilometres away, and while it would've been more suitable to find community and shelter there, it would take roughly two days of continuous swimming in his shifted form to get anywhere close to the place. The amount of time and energy he would waste while avoiding every danger that lurked in the greater oceans was a risk too great to take. There was another part of him too, the one reluctant to leave the only place his family would return to if they were alive and were looking for him. He had hope, as stubborn and fallible as it was.

All he had to do was to wait, he needed to have faith that they survived. It had been over six full moons by this point, time wasn't working in his favour, but he held on.

His new 'pod' wasn't that different from his previous one. As long as he ignored how they couldn't properly communicate with him. He hadn't spoken to anyone for almost an entire year if he counted the incoming summer, and the lack of companionship was getting to him. The loneliness was its own punishment. He shifted back sometimes too, finding less and less reason to each time he did; he was trudging through a dangerous path and there was no one around to pull him out.

His home turned into a lonesome, abandoned den, and he spent most of his time underwater with the pod, trying his best to forget about his worries. It wouldn't help while he waited, and his family wouldn't want him to sulk away in their absence. The days blurred as full moons passed, the times he shifted were greatly reduced and before he knew it, the ice started to melt.

It was the perfect season to hunt. The warmer weather meant easier access to prey, more floating ice to rest on and more opportunity to roam around. Of course, it came with its dangers, however, the reward made it worth the swim, and those around him seemed eager enough to quell any lingering, rational thought out of his mind. The water was cold in a refreshing, flowing way, and they went off to swim towards the more known fish-abundant areas.

Soap considered himself a decent hunter. He wasn't the most efficient but he was faster than most in his family. It was one of the reasons he preferred hunting in his shifted form, because as a seal he was a record-holder, easily beating all of his siblings with the amount of fish he could catch. He had learned how to hunt for food as a human too but it was nothing compared to how he performed underwater; the sea was his playground and the fish his prize.

He left most of the school of fishes for others — another advantage of being a shifter was that he needed nutrients in accordance with his human side. He could consume as much as other seals could, although, being pragmatic about hunting was something the MacTavish family prioritised.

As a result, Soap went for the biggest prey in the area. Spotting it was easy, the stealth and diving were more complicated, and once he was adequately in position, the ice glistened with light enough for the fish to cast a shadow down on him. He waited for the perfect moment, waited more than most in the pod would.

He could afford to do so, a big toothfish was more than enough for him, and the one he was eyeing was the biggest one he'd seen. Easily bigger than the size of an average human. It would make a good meal for a week straight if he played his cards right.

Soap swam slowly, accelerating his pace until he was close enough to be spotted, his whiskers alerting him of every small movement the toothfish made. Another perk he didn't get in his human form. He surged forward, slamming into the toothfish with his entire body and latching his mouth tightly around its neck.

It struggled, it thrashed but it was nothing compared to the force behind Soap's jaws. The rush of blood escaping his canines was one of victory, the promise of a week spent not worrying about food; he was relishing too much in the rush of adrenaline to notice that he was alone.

Something was wrong.

It was too quiet, too still. He was used to fish running and hiding after he hunted, not the absence of the pod he had integrated in. Most would linger around hunting their own after Soap caused the initial disruption, which amplified his unease.

When something large moved in his peripherals, panic forced his hand, haywire instincts and human curiosity forced him to twist his body towards the presence. His whiskers picked up the motion — and the lack of it — immediately, his gaze settled on the large black and white creature floating a few metres away, as if it was waiting for him to realise that it had him in his sight; it wanted him to know it was going to be the last thing he saw in his life.

Bleeding fuck. It was massive, and it was focused entirely on Soap.

The creature rushed towards him at incredible speed without giving him a moment to blink. Faster than him, faster than any seal he had ever seen, its hulking body drowned the blue of the sea around it.

Soap's body was slammed full force by its tail, the strength behind the assault made his brain rattle against his skull, disorientation blaring in a loud thundering echo. He suddenly remembered the beast's name, a useless eureka moment when he could barely keep track of anything around him. The only thing in the seas that would have a predilection for those similar to him.

A seal killer. A supposedly highly intelligent apex predator.

It was a killer whale.

Soap tried to dive down and away, anywhere but in the direct view of the orca, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to escape easily. Not like this. There was nothing but the taste of blood in his mouth, and the fish that he killed had disappeared, lost in the current of the sea after the tides turned.

A shame, he thought deliriously, mind unable to truly comprehend the horror of his situation. Could've bargained with the big bastard for it.

Not that the bargain would work — it was a killer whale. With the killing focused on him.

While Soap was silently glad he wasn't bleeding from elsewhere, it didn't take long for his fight or flight to boil over when he sensed movement again. This time, his whiskers picked up the subtle detail of an empty, gaping space in the orca's front, the attack similar in structure to the first one, except it was barrelling at him with its mouth wide open.

Before he could twist out of the way, the orca descended upon him with the force of a speeding metallic ship.

A sharp pain shot up from his tail as massive lines of jagged canines sunk into him. The sea wasn't just black and white anymore, it was red and brown, rusting shades that grew worse when he turned to yank himself away from the bite.

He made it exponentially worse.

The wound was torn open; the reality of his situation sunk firmly, a tinge of awareness sweeping in; the more he was going to struggle, the worse of a death he was going to get.

Blood seeped from the corners of the orca's maw, and for a second, he thought of the scene from a detached perspective, as if he wasn't moments away from death — his brain unable to fully comprehend his doom. He almost lamented how beautiful the red looked on the massive beast, lamented that it would be the last thing he saw before the world was snatched from his hands.

A scene as cruel as any, for death would take it away from him as it had with everything else in his life.

Soap remembered how orcas fed. At the very least, he would have a comparatively painless death, he wasn't going to be mutilated and turned into sizable bits and pieces for the orca to enjoy.

Unexpectedly though, the beast unhinged its jaw, but it was already too late, the damage was done — blood loss crept forward with its consequences.

Amongst the array of colours, he recalled the sight of a burgundy-brown iris staring directly into his. He had never seen an orca's eyes this close before. There wasn't anything there at first, a coldness comparable to the waters around them, but the sight changed a second later when the eye widened exponentially.

Regret churned within, flashing brighter than the red that surrounded him.

If Soap could laugh, he would. He was bleeding, minutes away from dying, and his brain had been desperate enough to provide the only hint of humanity he had seen in months. 

From the gaze of his killer, no less.

Oddly, his mind found it satisfying, something in that gaze had calmed him enough for him to surrender fully to the torturous call of the abyss, slipping listlessly into the lull of unconsciousness.

If he felt an urgent push guiding him towards the surface of the ocean, he would blame it on his deliriously rattled brain strumming up a soothing fantasy to ease him towards his end.

Chapter Text

Soap has always imagined death to be cold.

Colder than the ocean, cold enough to freeze his blood and bones, cold that reached in until his soul merged with the greater seas and he was reunited with his ancestors. Shifters held different beliefs in accordance to where and what they were, and a marine shifter, the vast blue was where he belonged. 

What he didn't imagine was for death to feel warm. 

He wasn't sure where the warmth was coming from, just that it was there and it was everywhere around him. There was another thing he didn't expect, a feather-light touch slowly moving him around, treating him with delicate precision while exposing his wounded flesh to that warmth.

His unease made itself known through a tight, bitten-off hiss. It was a warning directed towards the external force, wanting to fully curl into himself, and let life seep out of his skin organically without interference. But he didn't have enough strength to do much since the touch persisted, insistent in exposing the parts of him that were the cause of his state in the first place, revealing his tender vulnerability.

Soap was bare and for a moment, he basked in it. The heat, the gentle touches, the presence of a body as warm as his near was heaven. He had forgotten what it felt like to be with someone else. It was different from the cold waters he was submerged in for the better part of the year, from the vigilant rest he was forced to take instead of curling over shared body heat preserved within their dens. It reminded him of something similar to home — different in how intimate everything felt. 

There was a pause, the hand around him hovered close to the open wound and he could've sworn he felt the breath of another over it, yet like consideration that passed within a second, the sensation disappeared in another.

He must've imagined it because what he felt next was more concrete; familiarity sprinkled in the burn that was as cold as the ice he was accustomed to. The noise that slipped from his lips was louder, he was in more pain than before, but it was a necessary pain and the insistent hush that followed eased him back to rest while reminding him of that reality. 

He remembered the times he played with his siblings too roughly, caught and hurt badly and the stinging slab of transparent gel lathered up over his injuries under scolding, loving hands. The memory soothed him, if not anything else. It had been a while since anything in his daily life resembled the time he spent with his family, and he was determined to indulge in it, no matter how fleeting the sensation was.

-

Soap woke up with a heavy ache in his body.

He had slept for a good few days; he was certain of it. The tired slack of his muscles indicated that he was staunchly curled in one position for too long, some parts of him sore with the numbness brought upon by the lack of movement, however, most of it was ignored for the sheer relief — and disbelief — of managing to wake up after an orca tried to —

The fucking orca.

Right, his eyes widened exponentially, suddenly more awake than before, a rare sort of unfiltered panic settling in his chest as he forced his hazy mind into clarity. What the fuck.

The surroundings sank into him first. Thick walls of ice stretched above him, curving right around the edges to smoothly run down into a semicircular shape — he was in a den. An unfamiliar den. A stranger’s den. 

Soap jutted his elbow back, quick to push himself up to assess what, where and who he was dealing with, only to be met with silence.

He was lying over a particularly comfortable pile of fur, a strong smell distinctively over it. Someone had deliberately placed him over — what he could assume to be — the spot they usually slept. It was clear that whoever had brought him there was the owner of a well-kept, large den with furs that stretched over most of the ice, a luxury statement even within those well-connected enough to get this much from trade. There were scattered items in the far edge too, leather-bound books, nondescript metallic boxes and a knife or two that was tempting to take. 

He took in a tentative sniff, his suspicions immediately confirmed when he noted that the scent around him was uniform, a thick, salty musk that was as overwhelming as it was difficult to distinguish. He couldn't tell which type of shifter it belonged to, which ignited his interest. His instincts were enough to tell him that he was in the territory of a lone predator. Another shifter, no doubt. Humans didn’t make dens in the Antarctic and from that one encounter he had with them in his childhood, he distinctly remembered that they didn’t smell like the sea. 

It also wasn't the den of a family. 

Soap was starting to question more than a few things; the intentions of the shifter, his location, how he managed to escape death at all and most importantly, what the meaning of being tended to in the most intimate part of a den was. Surely, he wasn't being courted, they most likely found him dying somewhere and decided to help out. Like most decent shifters would if they found one of their own bleeding out in the wild.

On the off chance that he was, being saved from the jaws of an orca was an impressive feat by itself. On the list of courting prospects, fighting for him and winning held the second spot. Soap knew the killer whale was intent on having him, the pain from its jagged teeth was still prevalent on his lower half, and whoever saved him from it would have more than enough points in their favour, enough for Soap to consider their company.

He really was getting desperate.

Soap shook his head, dissolving the thoughts before it distracted him further. What he needed to do was to assess the situation and make sure it was safe — he would deal with the question of the mysterious shifter later. If there even was a need to ‘deal’ with them. 

The den was obviously safe, unfamiliar but his best bet and yet there was a part of him that wanted to know where he was exactly. It was better to be closer to his previous ‘territory’ or the shifter settlement if he was going to be stranded anywhere. When he tried to move, a sharp jolt of pain made him wince. He exhaled loudly, annoyed, gaze dropping to his body to assess the damage. 

The pelt around his waist looked untouched, extended to its usual length that covered most of the wound itself. Orcas had massive maws, and Soap’s stomach, hip and thighs was a testament to it, marred forever by its bite. When he peeked underneath to take a look, the healing ointment slathered over his skin was fresh on his reddened thighs. However, most of the ‘danger’ was gone because of it.

Shifters had an advantage over those that weren’t one. Their accelerated healing rate meant there were fewer risks out in the wild than humans or animals, narrowing down the amount of required medicine to have around. He picked up a thing or two from his ma, knowing that infection and serious tears were the major injuries of an encounter like his. Thankfully, whoever had saved him did their due diligence of making sure the wound was properly disinfected to let his body heal.

His right side suffered more with deeper indentations on it than his left. If he hadn’t been treated, the wounds would’ve looked worse and as it stood, most of it had already closed up. He traced the edges of the gnarly scar, disbelief rendering him silent in awe. It was the equivalent of surviving the worst, after all. He had one beast of a story to tell his family later on.

If they ever returned. 

Soap attempted to stand up instead of dwelling on the thought. His legs were shaky, his muscles felt bruised and exhausted, but he managed to get on his two feet, leaning against the wall of ice to steady himself. As annoying as it was to note, he knew he needed a few days of rest before he could be on his way again. An injured seal out in the vast blue was a recipe for disaster; it wouldn’t take more than a predator and unfriendly neighbours to make his day worse than it already was.

Step by step, Soap managed to find his footing and exit out of the ice structure. His eyes drank in the sight of the Antarctic, the white that stretched almost never-ending behind him, the deep blue that pooled close, dipping the horizon with its darkening hue. 

For what it was worth, the den was closer to the water than he expected. It fed into the theory that the shifter didn’t have a family, or perhaps they didn’t have anyone, not a pack, friends or partner to accompany them, choosing a dwelling fit for just them. From what he could tell, they prioritised making hunting and resting time more convenient rather than taking into account their territory and its safety. As pragmatic of a shifter as any, Soap concluded, they could give his father a run for the title.

He moved cautiously, eyes darting around the environment as he did. There weren’t many threats on the ice itself but when the sea was close, there was always a chance of something looming underneath. Even the wild ones were smart on occasions enough to warrant being careful. He didn’t want to test his awful luck against whatever was in the sea, not after his close call.

There, thankfully, wasn’t anything around to give him a pause other than he didn’t recognise where he was. He wasn’t anywhere near his previous territory or the shifter settlement, not that he could tell since any recognisable sights from either didn’t exist around him. He kept expecting something to pop up, a threat or a piece that he could recognise but there wasn’t anything except the colours that merged the more he looked. Nothing his human senses could see or tell.

He was completely alone.

The claim over this piece of territory was likely strong for there to be nothing else lingering about. It wasn’t unusual but a curious personal choice, nonetheless.

Soap stretched his legs over the snow. The pain was there if he twisted his body a certain way or moved too fast but health-wise, he was well on the path of recovery. He could swim too, if he tried, but the thought of shifting left behind an unease in his mouth that he couldn’t shake.

After months of spending most of his time as a seal, the snow felt fresh against his human body. The sun was shining unobstructed for once, there wasn’t a threat to be seen for miles on end, and the air held a promise of renewal and change. Soap allowed himself to relax. There was nothing expected of him; not by the environment, not by those around him and nothing that needed his attention. 

It didn’t take long for his perimeter check to turn into something else. He circled the stranger’s den, noted its impressive size and structure and wondered how they made it, deconstructing the technique in shapes and images like his sister taught him. The teachings were more foreign, and more human, which was one of the reasons Soap was always intrigued by it. He was drawn to what others different from himself and his family thought and knew. It was the result of a cordial but distant relationship that the community had with humans, his mother told him once. 

The humans never lingered around for much though, not enough for Soap to remember much about them, or for any to personally teach him. Something about how they weren’t fit for the climate as the shifters were. Most of the ‘sciences’ were passed down knowledge from the larger shifter settlements; their shared language also had human origins, although the exact reason behind that escaped him.

History hardly compelled him as much as humanity’s bizarre explanations for the world did, especially when he could usually test it to figure out whether they were right about it or not. 

The sun was high in the sky when he was done, confident that he could attempt a recreation after mentally mapping everything out. He had some suggestions, and a couple of corrections; the den was more suited for one shifter, maybe a pair if they really stretched it, but it was far from what Soap had in mind. If he was going to make a den, it’d be a bit larger than the one in front of him and with fewer structural faults.

It would also be enough to accommodate his and his partner’s interests, extra space for his family whenever they visit. 

He tried to not dwell on the thought much but the aching loneliness in him persisted with a vice stronger than anything he had ever felt. It was harder to ignore, time passed without them and the world seemed to move on without any say from him. 

How could he accept the future when every instance of it was supposed to be filled with them? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He never planned to be away from his family, even if he were to have a partner and settle with them as a lifelong mate. It was unlikely he’d have children, so he joked with his siblings about being the fun uncle, discussing how he would look after them if they had any in the future.

“Hopeless.” His voice was hoarse from disuse and there was no one around to hear him, which did wonders for his volatile mood. He resisted the urge to pace around and find a spot to flop down on, fighting a useless battle since his body was already dragging him down. “Hopeless ‘n fuckin’ useless.” 

Soap ended up flat on his back soon after. Enough of an effort ignoring his feelings, ignoring his instincts was out of the question. The ice provided a rough, cold cushion, while the sky served as the perfect backdrop as he stared in a listless haze. When was the last time he lounged like this? Content on doing nothing, just resting? 

A few clouds were floating about in the sky, though they were not enough to hide the sun. They were gathered together lumps of white and grey that mimicked the stray slabs of ice that floated about in the water, moving hypnotising like them too. 

He drifted with them without noticing. 

-

It was the touch of something cold on his cheek that woke him. At first, he thought it was the wind carrying something, so he turned more to his side, shuffling to get more comfortable on the ice. However, the cold persisted, heavier than before. It fell, one after the other until he was forced to open his eyes and take in the sight of a shrouded, grey sky littered with white. Panic gripped him for a moment. The winds were getting harsher by the second, swirling around the rapidly falling snow in a flurry that was lowering the visibility, and he waited for it to get worse, for the entire scene to whip into a blizzard that would take everything from him.

Snow continued to fall, innocuous in the way it pooled around him. It dusted his cheeks, heat exceeding from his skin in contrast, and buried his body further against the ice, growing in weight the more he stared. 

Soap didn’t want to move away. The first snowfall of summer and it was completely different from the treacherous weather that covered most of the winter prior, worse than any he had ever faced. It was his stubbornness that made him stay there, unwilling to move on when everything around him clearly wanted to. 

He would not, until something made him to.

Much like the unexpected trajectory of his life, nature didn’t make him wait for too long. 

Buried partially in the reassuring cold, the sudden splash of the water near him alerted him to a different presence. He lazily stretched his neck to the side, thinking it was likely the shifter that saved him who returned, only to be proven wrong the moment he caught sight of a towering black fin breaking the surface of the water. 

The wind howled louder in his ears, blood rushing wildly through his panic.

The bastard’s back.

Soap could recognise that fin anywhere. 

He tried to scramble to his feet, the weight of the snow making his efforts more difficult than they needed to be. The bastard in question was already gaining speed, headed straight towards the shore with the force of an orca that seemed like it wanted to sweep him away in waves that it was riding; a classic technique to hurl seals resting on ice back into the ocean and their open mouths. 

Fuck. He flexed his hands in hysterical fervour to remind himself that he wasn’t in his other form, that he was as safe as he could be as a human while crawling backwards with his eyes locked onto the beast, unable to truly look away. 

Soap stopped when he felt like there was enough of a distance between them. It was the only advantage he had. Distance, land, and more importantly, space. The orca stopped swimming when it was close to the shore. 

The waves were harsher around it, crashing against the ice, hope emerged for the briefest of moments when the blue consumed the black and white apparition in its current. However, there was no relief to be had, not when the water rolled back to reveal its scarred maw resting against the jagged edges of the coast — watching him. 

He couldn’t see the dark eyes from the distance but he felt them on him, waiting for him to acknowledge it, to do anything but to stare at it with wide-eyed disbelief. He could imagine them clearly, the burgundy that was tainted more red than brown in the moment he nearly bled out with its teeth latched on his flesh.

Other details of its appearance were revealed in the quiet moment when neither of them moved. It was a massive thing and he knew that orcas were supposed to be, but it was  larger  than anything he ever saw. If not for its need to stay in the water, it would’ve easily covered the distance between them with the length of its body alone. The slick skin around the beast’s body wasn’t untouched either, jagged lines of white slashed and circled the black, scars that looked almost as gnarly as the one he had on his hips.

The shape was almost similar to his own.

Soap didn’t blink. His breath was stuck in his throat, the sight in front of him was magnificent, even if he hated to admit it. The beast was impressive, capable of violence in ways that he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape, it was no wonder his body didn’t fight much when he registered its jaw around him. Which begged the question —

Why?

He nearly spoke up, considered shouting at the creature, demanding a reason for its nonsensical actions; he was destined to die with his blood in its teeth. 

Why. Why. Why. 

When Soap opened his lips, exhaling a heated breath before the questions tumbled out, the orca took a dip. It disappeared underneath the sea, just as quickly as it had arrived. Nothing happened for a few more breaths. He was left alone, bewilderment swirling in his head.

It was another splash that alerted him of the same presence. 

The orca was back, or so, it was supposed to be back. 

What he saw instead was a human hand emerging from the depths. Large, scarred and almost as pale as the ice it gripped, it didn’t take long for the water to reveal more of the beast, long, muscular arms pushing the rest of the body up, and Soap watched in abject horror as the man shook the water from his head, angular face twisting in search before his eyes zeroed in on him. 

The same rustic brown — the same look of recognition that twisted something in his chest. 

No fucking way, Soap thought with a start, openly gaping at the towering, muscled figure of the shifter, the orca shifter that had almost succeeded in killing him.

It was that orca too, if the pelt tied around his hips indicated anything.

He’d never considered the possibility of the beast being another one of them. It was expressly forbidden, more so than disrupting the delicate balance of a gift, since the implications of hurting, hunting, and other shifters posed a threat to the greater shifter community that went beyond everything their traditions stood for. It was a choice, an action so heinous, that would warrant direct judgment and interference from others. A target on their back that would make the shifter a shunned outcast, if they didn’t die in the confrontation that would demand a justification for their actions. 

“Inside,” the shifter said, striding towards him with long legs. Something was dangling over his shoulder that he hadn’t noticed before, nearly covering his entire torso, a fish that looked all too familiar. 

It was the same fish that he hunted the day the orca found him. 

Soap wasn’t sure what he was expecting out of the orca, but when he ignored his frozen body to head towards his den, the fish in tow, he knew he had to follow — if not for answers, he needed to demand his kill back. It was his by right, and his stomach felt emptier than anything else in the world.

He had a feeling he was fucked, in more ways than one.

-

When Soap inevitably made his way inside the den, the winds had already picked pace outside. It was either seek shelter inside or shift and he still felt uneasy about the shifting part. There was also the fact that the one who was the source of his problems was close. The orca’s intentions were a vague whirlpool he needed to navigate. He could guess, but that would defeat the purpose of knowing from the source directly.

His fish was being held hostage in the den too. He deserved more than a few bites, gods be damned, he deserved the entire whole fish. If he had his way he would spare none to the person who disturbed his peaceful hunt. 

Soap wasn’t sure what he expected when he walked back into the den. It was warmer than before, that was how the ice structures worked with more people and body heat to circulate, and far more pleasant if he ignored the hulking presence that was seated in the middle, cutting the fish with one of the knives from earlier. 

The shifter didn’t look at him when he entered, body bent over the fish in complete concentration. He appreciated the disinterest, for the sole reason that it gave him more than enough of an excuse to size up who he was dealing with, to figure out the situation before he jumped headfirst into it. 

It wasn’t much of a surprise — after seeing how big the shifter was — to see why the den was built the way it was. He underestimated who he was dealing with, the place was perfect for one; for a lone orca to reside in. Which was a mystery unto itself, orcas weren’t solidarity in the slightest, or at least, they shouldn’t be. They were known to be highly intelligent, social creatures, and surely, their human side would’ve made them equally crave companionship. 

The orca continued cutting the fish in clear portions, one larger than the other. 

“That’s mine,” Soap bit out, suppressing a growl building in his throat. 

The methodical motions of sharp metal against flesh stopped. He stared at the fish without responding and Soap wondered if he made a mistake, the knife looked deadlier in his hand as light steadily dwindled and it was easier to feel their closeness. His eyes adjusted, more than adapted to the darkness that usually draped under the seas. He almost wished they hadn’t.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that the shifter was a seasoned hunter. However, it went beyond that, the muscles, scars and sheer broadness of his frame indicated that he was a formidable warrior too — in either of his forms. Soap was putting a lot on the line if he ended up in a fight with him.

There was another part to it. If he wasn’t the one responsible for the mess, if he was a shifter he met through different circumstances, he would’ve allowed himself to dwell on how striking the stranger looked, with a face that struck him as both handsome and pretty. There was a story to be told in the arch of his bones to the scars on his skin and Soap’s fingers almost itched for the leather-bound pages stored in the corner of his family’s den. 

Almost.

“Found it for you.” The shifter tilted his head up, narrowing those dangerous, enticing eyes at him. They were close enough for Soap to see the finer details on his face, the pale, golden lashes that framed his gaze in the same hue that coloured his hair. “You haven’t been awake for days.”

Soap’s stomach clenched. He was out for days, he knew that the ache in his body was a testament to it. There was also an uncomfortable implication there that made his guarded approach waver. What was he supposed to think?

That it was a mistake?

He could’ve died. 

Soap was entitled to a ‘sorry, my bad’ at the very least, or even some concerned grovelling to make it clear that hurting him wasn’t the intention. Instead, he got a stare that seemed like it was trying to peer into his soul to figure out what was wrong with him. 

The answer was a lot, but that wasn’t the point.

“Who’s fault is that?” He barely held himself back from spitting the question out, vehemence churning underneath his words. There was blame there, thick as any, and a pointed glare; the why was on the tip of his tongue, waiting to strike with accusations.

“You were with them.” 

Them, the orca said with such casual indifference that it rendered him speechless. Soap didn’t miss the implications, the questions that he didn’t direct towards him out of unspoken courtesy, doing him a favour by recognising both of their mistakes without acknowledging it. 

“I was.” Let it slide, his better judgement screamed, ignoring the silent prickles of goosebumps on his skin. Then, a realisation settled thick, his eyes widening in realisation. “You couldn’t have known.”

The pod might’ve not been his family, far from anything resembling them, but they were everything that Soap had throughout the winter. It was unsettling because nothing should’ve distinguished him between them. One of them was meant to die and didn’t. Out of sheer coincidence, because he was caught between the whale’s teeth. 

It shouldn’t have made a difference.

He couldn’t have known. 

“Your blood,” the shifter said, words cutting through with an edge sharper than the blade in his hand; unwavering in how confident and precise he was. “It was different.”

Soap swallowed. 

He felt the orca’s eyes on him again. The very same indifferent gaze had lit up when his blood seeped into the blue around them, human emotions spilling through the cracks of their nightmare — it was regret because he recognised him. 

But that didn’t make sense either. How would he know his blood was different? How would he be able to differentiate that he was…

He has tasted human blood before. A chill ran through his spine and he hid it as much as he could, knowing that he was under the staunch observation of a predator far stronger than him. 

Soap didn’t want to fuck up any chances he had of recovering and moving on by throwing his assumptions at the orca. He wasn’t willing to hand over to a stranger who knew what human, shifter, blood tasted like the true vulnerability of his situation; it wasn’t uncommon for shifters to hunt the wild ones after all, maybe seal blood tasted different innately, and as a seasoned hunter, maybe he could differentiate it.

Maybe he was making excuses to not deal with the implications of what he said.

The orca turned away to face the portions he had carefully separated, grabbing the largest one out of the two. It took Soap out of his spiral, an instinctual urge tugging at his attention to the scene in front of him. He nearly barked out a possessive claim over his kill, ready to spit venom and bare teeth if the orca hadn’t moved a split second quicker than him and wordlessly extended it to him with a casual nod. 

The portion was his.

Soap did take it, not because of the odd kindness that softened the shifter’s eyes when he offered, nor the clear, silent acknowledgement that the food was his, rightfully earned. He was hungry, and he knew what he got like when that empty irritation crept in over his interactions — a level head was more than needed for the company he was entertaining.

He devoured the fish, grace thrown out into the sea as his hunger guided his mouth. The orca seemed content watching him, not touching the smaller portion he had separated, it wasn’t until he was on his last bone did he disrupted the silence.

“Your name.” 

Soap looked up to meet that burgundy gaze, swallowing the last mouthful. He wanted to scoff. It wasn’t even a question, the orca spoke in a dry, expectant rasp like the answer was already owed to him. 

He should lie, to not give him the satisfaction of a name after leaving a permanent and irreversible mark on him, something only his mate should’ve been entitled to, yet there was a small reluctance in him that stopped him from lying, one that insisted that he shouldn’t be the ‘seal-I-almost-killed’ in the orca’s memories. He deserved to be more.

He was more.

And it didn’t seem like he was in danger anymore, despite the questionable truths surrounding his company.

“Soap,” he replied after a beat. It was a name he earned. He was aware most who heard it without context wouldn’t know why or how he did, the connotation was more human but true — how he was as a hunter defined in a simple word. 

His actual name was reserved for those close to him, his family and loved ones, and not for strangers he was never going to see again.

The orca raised his eyebrows but he had a decency to keep his judgement to himself. Good. It meant he understood the distance between them.

“Ghost,” he said.  

Soap perked up in an instant, not expecting an exchange, shamelessly staring at the shifter —  Ghost — as he enjoyed his meal like he hadn’t offered up an intriguing piece of mystery to him. 

Ghost.

It suited him. The nebulous apparition from human tales seemed to resemble how Ghost hunted, practically a silent killer whenever he struck and almost as terrifying as one too. The connotation was fitting but crude, since ghosts weren’t seen as a good thing, if he remembered those stories right. Curiosity sparked at a stray thought that wondered if the name was given or chosen but Soap couldn’t figure it out from the name alone and he wasn’t too keen on seeming like he was interested.

His thoughts jumbled into a mess when Ghost got started on his portion.

He watched as those pale lips parted to reveal jagged canines, watched as they tore flesh and bones with relative ease. Soap's eyes travelled the gulp through the thick stretch of Ghost's throat. He was transfixed. The sight should’ve been disturbing. It should’ve reminded him that those teeth were on him once, wanting to do the very same to him, should’ve reminded him of how dangerous his company was; how those very teeth would’ve left nothing of him behind. 

Dying to the jaws of another wasn’t pretty but being consumed was worse. 

Yet, those thoughts never presented the same weight they normally should have. His wound ached, a phantom pain tracing around the edge of the scar that was over his lower half, like his maw was still there, latched onto him with the intent to take his life into his own. 

It was increasingly difficult to consolidate the image of that blood-drenched orca with the silent towering figure in the den, his heat circulating through the ice to keep both of them safe from the weather outside was a reassuring companion in the silence. It soothed the gaping void in his chest. There were other things he did for Soap too. The food that he fetched provided, the rare medicine that he used, the fact that he was allowed in a space meant to be private and personal —

He hasn’t apologised yet. 

Soap couldn’t forgive someone who never acknowledged his fault. 

He could acknowledge to some extent that he was putting too much expectations on a stranger he barely knew, but wasn’t it common courtesy? Wouldn’t a shifter with a shred of decency extend an apology, no matter how half-hearted or useless it was, after that big of a mistake? Shouldn’t he be appalled by his actions?

He wasn’t being unreasonable for expecting one, was he?

A frown was already tugging at his lips, never the one to school his expression around others, he allowed it to show out of sheer habit. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“If you want to leave.” Ghost’s voice broke through his thoughts, making his gaze refocus on the shifter that took most of the space in the den by virtue of his shoulders and thighs alone. “Tomorrow will work.” 

“Aye, that was the plan,” Soap replied curtly. “If ye hadn’t made a den in the middle of nowhere.”

There was a pause, but he didn't have to hold his breath for long.

“Not in the middle of nowhere,” Ghost stated without taking offence, much to Soap's relief, tilting his head in consideration. “The settlement’s near.”

“It is?” Soap’s brows shot up. He couldn’t tell settlement from snow when he explored the stretch outside, it was more than a pleasant surprise if he had a place to go, that there was a path to put everything behind him — including his shit attempt at finding a community with wild pods. 

Ghost took another grander at him before he spoke, passing a judgement that sucked the hope straight out of his heart. “For me.”

For him. 

For a definitely not-seal-shifter who moved faster than a seal-shifter.

For fucking orcas.

Soap didn’t stop the groan that escaped his lips, nor the lethargic slump of his back against the wall, closing his eyes briefly despite his better judgement. The main reason he hadn’t gone for the settlement came to bite him right in the arse, figuratively and literally. There wasn’t a choice now.

He would’ve preferred swimming in his other form without worrying about a wound on his body displaying his vulnerability.

“You might make it within a few days,” Ghost added, his words were light like he was trying to be helpful, despite the ‘might’ that echoed in Soap’s mind through all the calculations he made to estimate how long he would have to swim for to reach anywhere close to the settlement. 

“Too generous,” Soap muttered, exhaling loudly as he forced his eyes open, not surprised to find the orca looking at him with that consistent intensity. He rolled his shoulders to adjust his back properly, a lilt of challenge slipping into his voice as he casually stated, “I’ll decide tomorrow.”

The silence between them hung heavy before Ghost nodded slowly, his compliance clear enough to make Soap relax with a righteous sort of gratification. It was his mistake for making the leave Soap’s choice, and a couple of more for everything he’d done, but an apology was still pending in the grand scheme of things. 

It’d still be nice to have one. 

Soap waited for it. Their little chat was ending and it would’ve been the perfect situation for an apology — regardless of how half-hearted it could be — to slip out before the orca decided to rest. 

All he got was a languid stretch from Ghost, broad muscles rippling from the effort as he laid down on his side with his back facing towards him. He was either showing his trust to him or he was signalling that Soap wasn’t enough of a threat to matter, or both. Either way, he got an eyeful of every scar he hadn’t been able to closely inspect before. 

He was right about them the first time. 

The marks that ran through his back resembled the teeth indentations on his body, they were older than his, faded with time and somehow larger and wider on him. He opened his mouth, his curiosity returning full force, and then he remembered himself again. 

Right. He didn’t need to know. 

Soap was going to be gone before any of it mattered.

“It’ll be a long day,” Ghost murmured, his words adding a weight of finality to it as he relaxed further against the furs, a head full of pale hair flopping comfortably in his spot. Despite dismissing Soap with how he slept, there were respectful undertones in how he acted — keeping to himself in his den when he had every right to take over most of the space within.

Soap didn’t know what to think about it, so he didn’t, suppressing his thoughts as he watched the orca doze off, his fatigue fuelling the descending spiral of his emotions. He knew wasn’t going to be sleeping much until dawn broke through the weather.

It was already feeling like the longest day of his life.

Chapter Text

Soap woke up to a quiet den, alone again. 

The silence was cosy, alongside the furs that were draped up to his shoulders, making the den feel warmer than it had any right to be when he was the only one there.

He tossed around a bit, seeking a sense of comfort he couldn’t find by himself — searching for something, someone, until his reality dispersed like a fist full of snow thrown straight at his face. Momentary confusion made him blink, squint, and slowly come to himself, registering that the musk that surrounded him was not supposed to spark comfort. 

He was staring at a wall of ice, his back exposed to the rest of the den and he almost cussed out loud at how idiotic he had been to fall asleep when he was set on the opposite. 

He was convinced he couldn't. There was apprehension, defeat and a couple of other fancy words that would describe the cloud of emotions running rampant in his head yesterday, which begged the question of why he had felt safe enough to sleep. Maybe somewhere within the lines of tiredness, recovery and the little kindness he was shown, he’d gotten tired of toying between curiosity and apprehension over the scars that littered the orca’s body; unable to find an answer for any. 

Soap rolled to his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

He couldn’t get a clear sense of when he had woken up, but he was certain it wasn’t dawn. The orca — Ghost, let him sleep, likely out of courtesy or lack of care, and he couldn’t decide whether he hated the fact or if he appreciated it. He was supposed to check whether he could leave within the day, wasn’t he? Wouldn’t the orca want him gone, out of his hands sooner, to make it less troublesome for him?

To say he didn’t understand Ghost was an understatement. 

The man was a mystery as far as he could tell, and he needed to remind himself that it was because of him that he was here at all. 

The apprehension he felt for shifting, the giant wound on his lower body, and the recovery he needed to focus on were all because a killer whale decided to corner him just to make him bleed out in the greater sea. 

It was an accident, a small voice piped up and Soap wanted to agree, Ghost didn’t seem like those cannibalistic horror stories his da told him to scare and warn in the same breath. 

He had helped him, even patched him up good enough to make sure there weren't any complications with infections and other nasty tidbits. His actions weren’t hostile if Soap ignored the reason he was pulled into the mess. 

He pushed himself up to his feet, neatly placing the furs back in place. He wasn’t sure why he woke up in a pile of them, though he was grateful for the additional warmth and it was more likely he yanked them over in his sleep anyway. 

Ghost didn’t seem like the type to tuck anyone in his nest.

After he was done, he spared a glance towards his spot in the den — who knows, it could be his last day there — and turned without any regrets. 

When he stepped out of it, he was convinced that he was prepared to face whatever the day brought to him head-on. 

Foolishly. 

-

The day looked less like ‘day’ and more like moments before sunset when he glanced at the sky. 

Clouds were overcast and light barely shone through the haze, contrasting the white and blue that blanketed the rest of his surroundings. The seas looked even darker, and that apprehension returned, a small longing alongside it despite how futile it was to crave a dip in his condition and situation. He had gotten too used to the cold that engulfed him in reassuring tides. Being a human again — walking, talking, eating and sleeping as one, felt a bit unnatural, even if that thought was inane to consider. 

He was all; a seal, man and shifter, one that should be honouring the natural balance that existed between the three. His brothers would laugh at him if he ever mentioned this conflict to them, probably thinking he was cracking a joke since the absurdity spoke for itself.

Soap noticed Ghost a bit too late, lost in his thoughts as he was, but once he noticed, it was hard to look away.

He was sitting on a pile of ice and rock near the shoreline, something glistening sharp in his hands, and when Soap moved closer, both out of a need to address their troublesome situation and this fascination that was growing morbidly in his chest, he noticed it was metal. 

Ghost watched him, had been watching him, and looked satisfied that he had approached him out of his own violation; his hand flicked and the glistening object in question was revealed to be one of those knives that Soap hadn’t given two shits about before; it definitely looked like it was worth giving a shit about, with how pointed the orca’s eyes were; sharper than the metal in his hands.

“Mornin’” Ghost murmured with a silken twist in his voice, drawing Soap’s attention to the intensity in his gaze and the twitch at the corner of his lips. The day was far from morning, did Mr. Almost-Made-Him-Bleed-To-Death just poke fun at him for sleeping in?

“It’s good mornin’” Soap said, ignoring the obvious tease. “Slept well, thanks for askin’.”

Was he being petty? 

Maybe. Yes. 

More than he normally was, actually.

Something about the orca compelled him to push. He also hadn’t gotten his apology, and it wasn't a bitterness he was ready to forgive yet.

Ghost didn’t dignify him with a response, his retort left to hang in the cold air and it almost made him feel ashamed for gnashing at his words like a pup. He wasn’t, but Ghost did look older than him by a couple of years. He was probably older than Noah, and he was the oldest son in the MacTavish family, having roughly four years on Soap. 

The orca’s hands started moving instead, his other hand revealed a flat stone that was pressed slanted against the knife’s edge. 

He was sharpening it.

“I’m —” The word almost slipped his mouth too, not accustomed to pointed silence in this form; the heaviness of it alongside the glint of the knife a bit too threatening for his liking. 

“The sea’s calm.” Ghost interrupted him with a casual tilt of his head, gesturing towards the greater blues with his chin. He didn’t stop the methodical motions, the sound of steel against stone grating with every slide, reminding Soap of the danger that was present if he lingered around. “If you wanna go, right now is the best bet.”

He’s right. 

It didn’t take more than a glance to notice that there wasn’t trouble brewing within the waves, and the sea was likely emptier due to the orca’s presence, his territory marking impressive for a lone whale’s dwelling. He wanted to ask about the route to the settlement too, whether it was…

“It’s clear,” Ghost said, his eyes roving over Soap’s twisting expressions — the seal’s apprehension clearer than he wanted it to be. “No wilds, no hostiles.”

But couldn’t it have changed over the time Ghost checked? 

The orca noticed his newly formed frown too, reading him terrifyingly straight. 

“No shifters,” Ghost stated, plain and uninterested. He probably wanted to get Soap off his hands, which was fair but Soap wasn’t sure why it suddenly bothered him to be treated so matter-of-factly. Like he was nothing, no one, important. “If you have any questions…”

God, he was going to be forced to admit it, wasn’t he?

He exhaled, squaring his shoulders. “I don’t remember it.”

Ghost’s pale brows rose in question. 

“I’ve only been there once,” Soap explained, frustration creeping up in his chest, realising how his lack of knowledge and experience had permanently fucked him over and he had done nothing in the past winter to rectify it. “I don’t remember the way or how it’s supposed to look like, so I need…”

He was starting to fidget with his hands, wishing that there was something in them to hold onto and focus on. Maybe a knife in one and a weird-looking flat stone in another would've helped. 

“You need me,” Ghost answered for him.

Soap blushed, he didn’t have to say it like that, but he did — he needed someone to guide him there. He needed Ghost.

Ignoring the multitudes of issues that hindered him from travelling there on his own, ignoring the bone-shaking unease that gripped him when he lingered on the thought of being vulnerable like that in front of Ghost again. 

He was fucked. 

“Soap.”

God.

How was he supposed to get there when the thought of being around Ghost like he was nothing but prey —

“Soap.”

Fuck. 

He would’ve avoided orcas if he could. Soap was convinced he walked out of that encounter wise and cautious, keeping a healthy, safe distance from any killer whale he sighted for the rest of his life. 

“Soap?” 

Why do you say my name so sweetly? 

He didn’t ask.

Ghost was in front of him within a matter of seconds. All that hulking, scarred mass suddenly covering the entirety of his vision did more than ignite his flight or fight response, he fucking froze instead, some useless instinct compelling him still. What was he supposed to say? 

That he didn’t want him, didn’t need him, when the opposite was the case? That he was embarrassed — useless — that he hated himself for needing to be saved by someone positioned to be the reason for his doom? 

His fear was useless, his nerves burning and rebelling against him, questioning whether he could rely on anything, on himself, if it came down to it.

Ghost sighed, and he felt like an annoyance all over again, a burden; nothing but a complacent, hopeless pup lost in the sea, left to fend for himself.

“I won’t,” he said, brushing one of his hands with Soap’s and it was then he realised that Ghost had abandoned his knife and stone, his dark eyes reflecting the white of the snow around them, the contorted, stricken face of himself staring back. It snapped something in him; anchored him to solid, icy ground when those golden lashes fluttered in consideration. “I won’t open my mouth.”

The promise was so outrageous that Soap snorted in his daze, the air rushing out loudly enough to catch himself off guard. It was funny, to some part of him, because Ghost’s sharp canines were on display when he said that, peaking through the curl of his lips. 

The orca seemed to take his disbelief as a challenge, one of his eyebrows raised in a simple ‘really?’ and ‘don’t believe it, do you’ wrapped into one. 

He hadn’t noticed how expressive the orca was until now. When had he gotten so easy to read?

“Can prove it too, if you need it," Ghost offered softly.

Soap did need it, by their ancestors, he needed reassurance more than ever before. He managed a nod instead of vocalising his approval. More like a request but whatever, Ghost was starting to do his part of a gracious neighbour enough; he didn't feel like he was imposing much with a final request.

He wasn't sure what he was waiting for but Ghost surprised him anyway, moving to grab his hand, Soap’s strength going slack in the light of the unexpectedly firm pull, surprising him more when he brought it up to his lips. 

Soap's eyes widened. Heat transferred steadily from Ghost's soft, pink mouth, directly onto Soap’s palm, and the chill in the air did nothing to quell the warmth that crawled to his face, mortified anticipation running hotter than his blood.

He pulled his hand closer, insistent and warm, the pursed line of his mouth firmly sliding against the edge of his wrist before he pushed more against his fingers. 

Soap was certain he could feel his pulse quickening through his skin, that it could be easily heard too, mimicking the loud, pounding rhythm of the one in his chest; breath stolen completely from his lungs.

Then, slowly, Ghost released his grip, letting his hand rest softly against his jaw, the gesture more than obvious of what it meant to convey. 

Your choice. 

Blood-brown eyes brimmed with the humanity he had glimpsed beneath the waves. 

Soap flexed his fingers, gently brushing and exploring the edge of Ghost's scarred face after a moment of consideration. 

His curiosity far outweighed his caution, he realised. There was one at the corner of Ghost's lips that he touched, a crude scar that looked as painful as it was charming, and one over his nose, slashed right across in an almost deliberate, jagged line. There were more on the upper side of his face, out of reach and question, but it drew his gaze anyway, compelling him to memorise the fine details in soft, deliberate strokes.

He was allowed to take his time — to look and solidify this memory in his heart. 

Ghost dipped his head down, seeking, searching for something, and he found it at the edge of Soap's wrist, kissing the wild thumps of his pulse. He lingered for a few beats before nuzzling into Soap's hand in an open display of affection, like it was the most natural thing to do.

Warmth erupted from the gesture, a different kind this time, one that was threatening to smother him whole. He didn’t want to pull away; he didn’t want the moment to end. 

He wanted more. 

“Believe me now?” Ghost asked, letting go of his hold and straightening his neck to his full, shadow-casting height, breaking the point of contact. 

Soap nodded. More curtly than he intended, but he was sure his tongue wouldn’t work properly until he took a few gulps of air first. The orca didn’t say anything about it if he noticed, which he was grateful for. 

Soap turned away to look at the sea while he quietly caught his breath. His thoughts took a while to catch up too, doing absolutely nothing to quell the heat that persisted down his neck. 

“Does it hurt?” Ghost asked.

He blinked, and there it was, that warmth ghosting around the edge of his hip, right where his pelt ended and where the wound peaked. He wanted to say yes, of course, it fucking hurts, a bite that was meant to kill that nearly ripped most of him out too, if Ghost wasn’t intent on letting him bleed pathetically, he could’ve been torn from head to tail before the orca realised who he was dealing with. 

But, if he was being honest, he hadn’t felt the dull ache until Ghost flirted with the possibility of touching him there. Soap was oddly relaxed from his touch, the closeness that invaded his mind more seamlessly than cold falling over the Antarctic. He was a good distraction. However, Soap wasn’t sure if it was just the physical pain Ghost was distracting him from anymore. 

“It would’ve healed quicker if…”

The absurdity of the statement made him turn, facing the orca that was lingering close, a bit awkwardly at that too. Then, that glimpse changed, returning to the image of a shifter who claimed every space he was in. Soap blinked a few times. He must’ve imagined it. After all, it was laughable to consider; Ghost being more comfortable letting him touch than standing by himself.

“Ye did everythin’, wouldn’t have healed quicker by much with whatever yer thinkin’,” Soap answered, shaking his head. He gave him that much, although it was far from the more polite appreciation he would’ve extended if it were anyone other than the orca who saved him. 

The shifter didn’t seem entirely convinced of what he said.

“Untrue,” Ghost refuted. “A mate’s —”

That. 

That made Soap laugh, loudly, cutting off the orca mid-speech in the impudent way only John MacTavish knew how. He had better manners than this with strangers, he swore, but there were more than a few hilarious moments with his temporary companion.

“No?” Ghost tilted his head in question.

He clenched his hand over his stomach, bloody fuck, he needed to get it together before he nearly doubled over and went down on his knees, laughing his arse off. He knew what Ghost was talking about, of course; the near-permanent bond between shifters, a mate in essence; someone who could coax the supernatural side of their species more strongly and accelerate their healing for a greater chance of survival for bonded pairs. In theory, he was right.

But if Ghost was off his head if he thought…

“Do ya think —” Soap started, letting out the last wheeze as he collected himself. “— I would be out there if I had one?”

Ghost paused visibly in consideration. Soap couldn’t fault the man much, the stranger didn’t know of his preferences and he might’ve thought that he would have a mate somewhere in the vast blues that he accidentally separated because he wouldn’t be the one bearing the bond mark. 

He hadn’t decided who the bite mark would be on actually, but there was one thing he knew, clearer than day, that he wasn’t looking for a nice shifter to start a family with. He had fantasies of a companion that was as competent as they were strong, someone that he would be proud to have by his side. 

Someone who —

“Suppose not,” Ghost said finally, the tension melting out of his taut, muscular shoulders, drawing Soap’s attention again. 

— was an impressive hunter, had the build and the vigour to protect him from anything, was warm enough to make him forget the cold of the ice around them —

“Aye.” 

Soap couldn’t stop staring, but the orca hadn’t uttered a word about it so he didn’t even attempt to look away. He wasn’t sure he could.

— Someone —

“You don’t have one either.”

Ghost huffed out a breath, a fog of heat that gathered in front of his mouth, the very one that he had been cradling not so long ago, and there was a lilt of amusement in those dangerous eyes, searing a hole straight through Soap’s chest. 

— someone who could make him forget about his worries by simply being next to him.

“Wasn’t going to push, Soap,” Ghost spoke softly, as if he was trying to placate the pettiness that dripped through Soap’s tongue without much thought. At least he was attentive enough to notice that the unease wasn’t gone yet — that he needed to earn that forgiveness if he was so intent on keeping his apologies to himself. 

“I’m just sayin’,” Soap muttered, feeling too conflicted to say anything else. “Not like you have anythin’ to be afraid of if you did.”

There was a beat of silence. 

“I do.”

He blinked for a good measure, trying to decide whether what he heard came out of the orca’s mouth or not, but the moment was gone like the wind and Ghost didn’t elaborate much. He turned on his heels instead, marching towards the shore without a word. Then, as if he suddenly remembered that he was leaving Soap behind, he stopped a few steps away from stepping into the ocean, casting a glance from his shoulder. 

“Come,” Ghost ordered.

Soap’s legs started moving without another thought, it was probably not the greatest idea to resign himself to not properly think about his actions in the orca’s presence, but there was something about him that forced the reaction. His curiosity was leading him closer towards Ghost than he wanted to be, who was briskly walking into the ocean after he noticed Soap’s compliance. He didn’t follow him there, though, lingering at the very edge of the shore, a flicker of doubt settling in his ribs. 

The waves lapped at his feet as he watched Ghost submerge himself to his waist, until his massive, scarred pelt disappeared in the blues, and he stopped himself, rigid in his stance. For a brief moment, Soap wondered if he was going to shift. He was deep enough in the water to get away with it, and while he wasn’t fully in the deep end to mask the process, Soap didn't want him to disappear from his sight. 

He wanted to see the beast for himself; compare the massive, scarred visage to the man who seemed to have a silent patience to him. Enough to withstand his company, which was more than impressive in its own right. The moment passed when Ghost turned towards him, an expectant raise of his brows doing most of the talking for him. 

When Soap finally realised what he meant, he quickly shook his head, a loud ‘no’ slipping out of his mouth before he could formulate another response.

“Soap,” Ghost said, chastising him with a soft glare. 

“No,” Soap repeated, taking a step back when the orca moved a few steps forward, his heartbeat rising steadily in the process. “Not now.”

That didn’t stop Ghost. He increased his pace, dangerously quick on his feet, and before Soap could reestablish that distance between them with hurried steps of his own, Ghost was onto him, a hand curling around his waist.

“Ghost,” Soap growled through his teeth, baring enough of his fangs in a gesture of hostility that normally would’ve been enough to start a fight. 

Ghost ignored him, almost pointedly so, and hurled him into his arms with terrifying ease. Soap was unceremoniously squished between the supple planes of the orca’s chest and his bulky arms, his legs dangling off the edge and briefly, he wondered if this was how he was carried when he was unconscious too. 

Soap wasn’t going to let go without a fight though, and he curled his arms around Ghost’s neck in a vice grip, twisting his body away so he wasn’t privy to the embarrassment that was no doubt painted all over his skin in strokes of pink and red.

No matter how futile it was in the end.

-

Worse than being scruffed like a pup, Soap grumbled internally, scrunching his nose as he stared at the outline of the den in longing.

He should've slept in the entire day.

“Why was the seal so secretive?”

Soap hissed in response, tightening his arms in a feeble attempt to stop the orca instead of answering the stupid question that sounded unimportant in the face of his shortening blue demise. 

No shifter was supposed to act this flippant with contact in their human forms. Ghost was content on ignoring him, striding towards the waves despite the growing tightness around his neck, and he did so until he was submerged to his chest, the cold water splashing up to Soap’s legs. 

Ocean. Orca. 

“Let me go,” he pleaded softly, face pressed close to Ghost’s ears. He felt the orca’s hum, a rumbling, affirmative thing, roll deep out of his throat, and for a moment, he believed that he would be allowed to walk free.

Get away.

“Because he was con-sealed, Soap.”

Soap froze in the hold, frowning as his words registered slowly. 

Did he just make the shittiest joke in existence while he was trying to not panic? 

“Remember my promise,” was all Ghost said as he lowered Soap to his feet, and the water flooded in as if in welcoming, coming up to his shoulders and neck. The sea was something that comforted him, giving him the freedom of movement.

Fuckin' finally.

He made a move to step back, but his wrist was promptly caught, and he saw Ghost’s pale hand curl possessively over it, tugging it up to his face.

His eyes were narrowed, sharp and dangerous, there was something incredibly chastising about it that forced Soap to stay still. He knew that look, more than certain that his hesitation here would be a personal offence that wouldn’t go unpunished, unlike his gestures from before.

Soap’s hand was pressed to his lips again. The gesture was so oddly gentle that it felt like a proper kiss, drawing his attention to the way his lashes fanned the top of his cheeks, an indulgent mirth dripping from his expression when he realised Soap was going to comply. It almost made him forget that they were deep enough to shift. 

He remembered easily when he felt the change underneath his fingertips, the shift of muscle and skin — it didn’t take more than a few seconds for the change usually, Soap was certain that the sight was going to be frozen in his memories forever. 

The smooth, rubbery skin of an orca replaced his human one, it felt thin and stretched underneath Soap's touch, and he kept growing in size. It was different than having that imposing size bear upon him in rapid succession. Ghost adjusted as his entire body changed to resemble the beast, and before he could blink, he needed two hands to hold his mouth in place. He was touching the line where the orca’s white underbelly split into the distinctive black that covered the majority of it, the rows of jagged, carved teeth that could reveal itself at any moment, but it didn’t.  

He didn’t realise how beautiful an orca looked when it wasn’t trying to kill him. 

Soap thumbed the corner of his jaw, transfixed. He wasn’t surprised to see the scar there, running starkly down and sized properly to account for his shift; the rest of him was scarred appropriately too, he let his hands wander off the beaten path for a bit; touching the scars that were out of reach in his human form. The three on his cheek ran a sharper line, almost unnatural in formation. No teeth or nails would’ve been able to make that mark, a knife, however… 

His touch lingered, lost in contemplation as he heard the sound of a ragged exhale out of the beast, water splashing against the waves as the orca’s blowhole expressed an exasperated, human gesture. Some of it landed on his cheek, and he tilted his head enough to glance at the intelligent, burgundy eye focused on him; snark already on the tip of his tongue, caution slowly melting. 

“Said ye won’t open yer mouth.” Soap stretched his arms out enough to palm the ends of the orca’s mouth, it tugged at his muscles but he was always more flexible than most. “Big fucker, aren’t ya.”

Ghost swam into him, far too controlled in his movements despite the lack of a wiggle room between them, nudging up to his chest in the embrace. If he were a human, his chin would be pressed right against Soap’s collarbone, face looking up to him in — 

Well, he had nothing but his imagination to reference there. Only the gods knew which face Ghost would’ve made, forced into an affectionate hold with a stranger just because Soap couldn’t get over the apprehension that was still settling like urchin spikes at the back of his mind. It felt nice, somehow, comfortable even. 

Ghost was mostly unmoving and patient with him, watching him closely in a protective stance. Somewhere during their one-sided interaction, he had curled his massive body towards Soap in an arc, shielding him from the ebb and flow of the waves. Human legs weren’t designed to withstand the ocean much, and the consideration nearly choked him in realisation. 

Any denial of his reality — this reality — was just lying to himself.

He cautiously touched the smooth, cold skin one last time before dropping his hands with an exhausted sigh, leaning his head down to rest it against the orca’s snout. The prickle of fear was there, lingering around like particularly irksome thought he couldn't shake, but when he closed his eyes, he saw Ghost instead of the beast. His pretty lips pressed to his forehead, a reassuring presence in the cold that surrounded them both. 

The orca moved. It was a subtle thing, gentle enough to be considerate, he didn’t do much but shake Soap, making him sway unsteadily against his snout. 

“Aye, I’m fine,” Soap muttered lazily, patting the line of Ghost’s mouth in soft, featherlight brushes, reminding himself that he was holding up his end of the promise quite well. “Still won’t be able to go with you today, though.”

Ghost nodded his head slowly, pushing into Soap more until most of his torso was leaning against the orca’s maw. 

The orca actively seeking more of his touch was so far removed from the dangerous, looming predator image his instincts were trying to warn him about, that he laughed. He couldn’t stop the tremble of his shoulders or the wheezes that rasped before he ran out of breath.

He probably should be more cautious around a stranger but… 

“You’re ridiculous.” Soap shook his head, extending his hand to gently palm at the space beneath the orca’s eyes. Drawing his attention — for a noble cause. “Why did the killer whale regret his attack on the seal?”

He paused dramatically for a second, and another, and watched as those rustic, brown eyes narrowed at him in suspicion. Soap wasn’t sure where the scepticism came from, it was going to be a hell of a better joke than what Ghost sprouted earlier. 

He couldn’t help the shit-eating grin on his lips when he opened his mouth to deliver the punchline. 

“It wasn’t well orca-strated.”

There was a pause —

Then Ghost snorted, or at least, the air that rushed out from the orca’s back sounded like a snort. It was a success nonetheless, and Soap took a step back to do a little victory bow, cheek plastered all over his face. He didn’t miss the way Ghost bristled at the little display, nor the distance that was suddenly present when he swam away from him, flickering his tail to send a splash of water towards him. 

Soap was thoroughly prepared, using his footing as leverage before the wave swept him away into a natural floating position on his back. 

“Sore loser,” he called out, swimming away backwards as the orca’s fin dipped and another wave, harsher and stronger, sent him back faster than the first one. It worked in his favour, he was already planning on retreating to solid ground. “Get a better joke next time, I’ll be enjoyin’ my victory till then.” 

Soap was already rushing out of the water before Ghost splashed him again, the water just reaching his waist this time. He flashed his smile at the retreating whale, watched the dorsal fin disappear in a powerful dive, and then, Ghost was gone, leaving Soap lightheaded and breathless, like his heart was going to explode if he didn’t take the time to settle down.

He could admit that he was wrong about him. 

His pride could allow that.

Although, it was far from the apology he was hoping for. They still had some time for it — a few days or so to talk properly. He had a feeling they weren’t going to walk away as strangers who just happened upon each other's lives.

Chapter Text

Soap didn’t expect Ghost to take his throwaway comment as a challenge. 

The puns were outrageous, and they were plentiful. Ghost never seemed to run out of them, even when there were moments where Soap joined in to prove that he knew better jokes, it usually spiralled into a back and forth that would leave him groaning into his palms at the atrocity that left Ghost’s mouth.

He also didn’t anticipate the acceptance from his side when he chose to overstay his welcome, the orca’s complaint non-existent despite everything; providing for both of them without being requested to, keeping him company and doing that strange little practice every so often. It’d reached to the point that Soap was sure he had memorised Ghost's face in its scarred entirety. Touch feeling as easy as breathing, while the heat that always spread from the contact persisting, growing worse the more they did.

Soap couldn’t stop it — didn’t want to stop it — and his fascination simply grew as the days passed between them. They were making progress, that much was clear. Ghost didn’t need to initiate the contact first, although there were moments Soap made him work for it, listening in amusement to the grumbling intangibly muttered whenever Ghost had to scoop him in his arms to get them both in the water. 

He had also extended his hand towards Ghost’s face as a joke once, only for it to backfire on his heart when he was readily offered sincerity. It was fascinating how Ghost easily leaned close, burying his face in Soap’s palm, lips brushing against his pulse in a delicate sweep, like some intimate gesture that was reserved for him. 

He was finding himself more reluctant to name the exact day to leave for the settlement. 

Ghost took the duty of hunting for the both of them without asking for anything from him, casual in his consideration to narrow their dinner down to fish and insistent on giving Soap a portion every night. They didn’t even need to eat every night. At least, that was what he thought until he got his mouth around the meat. His body was slowly getting used to his human side more, adjusting in accordance to his shift and routine to ease him through his recovery. 

There was almost a fleeting realisation then. The way his muscles ached, his hunger and thirst persisting more than usual, desperate to rebuild the body he had neglected; like he was making up for all the days he ignored this side of himself.

If Ghost noticed, he didn’t ask, but he didn’t ask about most things in general. Soap caught those dark eyes lingering on him more than a few times during their interactions, like he was trying to piece together the puzzle that was in front of him, and yet the questions he’d expect from everyone else never followed those moments. Waiting patiently, or uninterested? Both seemed equally likely. None, too.

Soap hadn’t got better at reading him. He tried — it wasn’t much of a progress because the orca seemed incapable of clarifying things. 

Even as they were sitting comfortably in front of his den, Soap tucked near the entrance as Ghost dutifully skinned the fish in his hands, he couldn’t decide what they were doing any more.

“How do you make a seal smile?” Ghost said suddenly, making him scowl at the set-up of what was likely another one of his jokes; he hadn’t got a laugh out of Soap like he had from Ghost. The last few were truly awful, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t cringe with this one either.

“How?” Soap asked with caution in his voice.

“You seal the deal with a joke,” Ghost said without blinking. 

Soap stared blankly at him.

Maybe I should’ve bled out in the fuckin’ —

“Tough crowd,” Ghost muttered, turning his attention towards the fish as Soap watched those skilful hands separate a portion for him first. He wasn’t sure why he was prioritised when it was clearly Ghost’s kill, but he appreciated the gesture for what it was. 

If he hadn’t known better, and lingered on the tenderness of the gesture that went above and beyond being a good person, it almost felt like he was being…

Ghost tossed the meat towards him, and with only a split second to react, Soap decided to put on a little show, springing up to his feet and angling his mouth to catch the fish, letting his canines extend until they dug tightly in. The perfect catch. A mischievous grin split his mouth open as he tilted his head towards Ghost, greedily chewed in a show of gratitude, as the orca shook his head at Soap’s excessive display. 

Ghost smiled easily in these moments, those jagged, sharp reveal of teeth that lacked any sort of threat thrilling to behold. He was easier to read like this. Amused, entertained enough. A meal heartily enjoyed was a compliment in itself, like his ma was fond of saying, and he was dutiful in his manners, showing off how much he liked it with finesse.

“What do you call a seal who’s always lying?” Ghost tried again. Soap didn’t answer, opting to look at him once in encouragement, the fresh meat in his mouth delicious enough to forgive another horrible attempt as he went through a mouthful of it in seconds. “A sea-lion.”

He nearly choked on the meat, throat rasping to a cough as he tried to keep his food down from the unexpected snort that babbled out of his throat. It wasn’t even funny, just the way Ghost said it, sea-lion in that soft, gravelly voice of his fucking killed him. She lyin’ . He came back to himself after a few attempts at calming down, but he was knelt over by the end of it, breathing rapidly through his nose and blinking the tears away as everything blurred into a blank white.

Soap felt a hand on his shoulder blades, carrying the scent of blood, fish and sea, and he realised quickly that Ghost was kneeling next to him, staring at his hunched form with furrowed brows. Which gave him something to focus on, and soon enough his vision cleared to reveal the scarred visage of the orca that had grown less unfamiliar as the days passed. The hand on his back was reassuring, rubbing soothing circles that made him melt under it.

Relaxing. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“Seal of approval?” Ghost offered, unhelpfully.

Soap recoiled with a hiss, leaning away from his touch with some of his teeth bared, and Ghost had the gall to return to his portion of the meat with a roguish smirk, arrogant because he knew he won, finally. Even though he nearly killed Soap in the process. 

That was happening more than he preferred, if he was being honest.

Bloody bastard.

Ghost kept to his word without fail though, providing a reassurance of character from a stranger that Soap hadn’t known he needed until he was given it without question. He also didn’t ask too many questions, taking his word at its worth and never questioning him twice unless it contradicted their goals. Theirs. Because Soap getting to the settlement safely seemed to be something that both of them wanted.

“You’re fuckin’ horrible, Ghost,” Soap murmured in exaggerated offence, defaulting to the tone that he used around those familiar and loved, because they would know he was joking from the start. 

Instead of the rebuke he was used to, he was met with nothing. No chewing, no comfortable quiet, just an eerie stretch of moments that flowed in a way that made him feel unease — forcing his gaze back to the centre of it all. 

Ghost wasn’t looking at him, but his face was partially turned, allowing Soap a glimpse of the emotions that ran through it.

“You aren’t the first to say that.”

His eyes, however, were focused over the horizon, as if the blue and greys that met the sky to sea held a deep, terrible secret that he couldn’t share.  

Something in Soap’s chest squeezed, and for a terrible moment, Ghost looked as untouchable as the clouds floating overhead. The sky had never tempted him as much as it did then, tinged with a sort of longing that his da had once described as something deeply human. 

It was safer to adhere to their animal counterpart out in the Antarctic, to not let folly overtake what was sacred. But Soap has always been the one to tempt fate, one way or the other. The dangers of the world enticed him closer, almost as close as the orca who would have easily killed him did, and death had never worn a face as pretty and riddled with tales as Ghost’s.

Curiosity sunk in like the curved daggers of his teeth. Once bitten, forever marred. 

He opened his mouth.

It’s a joke, a horrible joke maybe, but a joke. 

You haven’t been horrible, maybe unintentionally but never with intent, never malice. You are…

The words died the moment they dusted his tongue. 

It was the sky that interrupted his half-arsed apology, a harsh torrent of wind bringing snow to them, washing their minds clean of anything other than the impending snowfall. The clouds were concentrated, shallowing what remained of the lighter blue.

Ghost turned towards him, offering his hand.

“Inside?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Soap answered, placing his hand firmly over his, and letting him pull him up. A show of trust, perhaps, or maybe some indescribable part of the orca had already won him over, but Ghost was far better than the loneliness of cold. “Inside.”

-

It was loud outside.

Tucked within the walls of ice, their warmth spread through the structure and sheltered them from the cold that whipped beyond it. He was never more grateful for the den as he was tucked inside while the wind raged outside. While their ‘human’ bodies shared characteristics with their animal counterparts to survive the climate, it was still better to edge on the side of caution. Most things were, actually. He wasn’t sure he would ever believe, or advise, the situation he was in either. 

Ghost was near him. Not next to him, respecting that distance that would make sure the intimacy of his den wasn’t serving as implications for other things, but it wasn’t that much considering that he built the thing solely for himself. It still felt like Soap was intruding, especially when he was awake, since it was a space that was undeniable Ghost’s.

He wasn’t sure if he’d have any kind words to say if a stranger was found lounging in his family’s den either, and here he was, seated comfortably on his nest, tucked underneath lavish furs that smelled of him. Whenever he tried to be respectful about not smothering his scent all over, careful in his own way, Ghost would exhale roughly out of his nose — quite reminiscent of how he acted in his other form — and mutter something about Soap being injured and needing it before wrapping him tightly in those furs. 

It wasn’t bad. He had gone as far as to acknowledge it properly, mostly to himself, that Ghost’s presence was comforting in its own right and his open acceptance did little to quell the flick of positive emotions in his chest. He liked those hands, big and scarred and reassuring, on him as he was rolled up, liked it even more when he stuck close, never letting him feel alone.

Why Ghost cared enough to act like this was beyond him. He was nobody, he had been a sorry excuse of a seal who got unfortunately caught in the man’s teeth, and yet the outrage and astonishment of the event itself was non-existent within him. 

The silence that was once pleasant turned into something stifling again. Soap wasn’t sure when he got used to it, somewhere in the winter when he was forced into the state without any hope or reason for it probably, and he had even convinced himself that it was fine, that he was going to be fine despite the quiet and loneliness that plagued him. Only to have the cracks of that reasoning revealed from the faintest touch of intimacy, violent as it had been — he couldn’t deny that it was the closest anyone had gotten to him in what felt like an eternity. 

His family took with them a part of him that he couldn’t ever retrieve, and that knowledge choked him stronger than the fish had earlier. 

“It wasn’t,” Soap spoke aloud, letting his thoughts slip out like a storm tide that couldn’t be stopped. “Wasn’t my intention to be there, to stay with them. I didn’t have a choice.”

More silence, he didn’t dare to turn towards Ghost. Afraid of what he’d see, or rather, what he couldn’t, and he felt rawer than ever, flayed open more intimately than what his canines had done to him because the words were there. His confession and his sin.

“Didn’t want to be alone after I…” Soap swallowed. The truth felt like a thick slab of snow in his throat, melting through his muscles, water gathering at the edge of his vision to obscure his sight as the full force of his emotions surfaced. “I lost them out there, all of them. I didn’t want, couldn’t fuckin’ handle it. Being out there just by...”

I’m sorry.

He felt Ghost move, shifting next to him, his warm side pressed softly against him. And he felt helpless, unable to do anything but squeeze his eyes tighter, the tears slipping from the corners as he finally acknowledged it. There was a chance he could never see any of them again. He was too afraid to look — afraid of the answer that would be waiting if he tried. 

And what if they were dead?

What if they were alive? Would the answer be any different? Would the pain of being left behind, abandoned to the cold sea, ever leave him?

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

He wasn’t sure what he was apologising for any more. Maybe to their ancestors, or some higher power that controlled everything, begging and pleading for forgiveness for the sins that led him there, without a single person to call him their own. 

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself saying, voice small and barely noticeable. He was apologising to no one in particular, to everyone that ever existed maybe, to himself — to Ghost. He didn’t try enough, he wasn’t brave or strong or clever enough, and he nearly abandoned everything they taught him to avoid the hurt. 

They should see him, and perhaps they were aware of him, from wherever they were, watching him stumble and fumble and hurt himself more trying to cope with the fact that he had nothing anymore. 

Ghost was moving again, the one constant that existed outside his thoughts and pain, and he was closer than he expected, close enough to —

Soap was pulled into his embrace within a blink, lifted and readjusted until he fell weightless and slack on Ghost’s lap. His arms were a soothing, tight band around Soap, holding him to his chest, allowing him the freedom to move as he pleased. 

“It’s not your fault.” Ghost said tenderly, part reassurance and part understanding. “You did what you had to do.”

Soap gave in to his latent instincts, too tired to care, and pressed his face into the hug, nosing along the length of the sharp bone above Ghost’s chest until he could rest his cheek right above his heart. 

His heartbeats were loud but steady, exactly what he needed to remind himself that he wasn't alone.

Ghost’s arms tightened around him. “It’s all we can do sometimes.”

Soap nodded, not trusting his throat to spiral into another bout of sorries and tears if he let another noise out. He had already embarrassed himself by breaking down pathetically, no need to add onto the list. They stayed like that, tightly interwoven with each other, sharing warmth and heartbeats as time stretched into the night. He must’ve dozed off somewhere, because he woke up to Ghost tucking him in the nest, leaving his side.

Some rare sort of panic overwhelmed Soap, and his hand shot out to grasp Ghost’s forearm, keeping him in place.

Ghost looked at him, weary and understanding, but he wasn’t trying to move away again, and that was all that mattered. 

Don’t leave me alone. 

He didn’t need to say it for the orca to relent back to his side, tucked near, with Soap’s hand still latched onto him to prevent him from leaving. Ghost didn’t protest, didn’t move to pull him back in his arms, and he was fine with that, preferring any company over none. 

“Your family,” Ghost whispered. “What happened to them?”

Soap frowned. Fuck if I know, was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down, choosing a nicer worded explanation; partially in fear that Ghost would pull away if he was too harsh and partially because he didn’t want to show that he wasn’t grateful. 

“Storm, blizzard. Nasty one last winter, d’ya remember?” 

Everyone should’ve remembered. Whenever harsh weather hit the Antarctic, the shifters knew to keep track and keep safe, it was a painful blunder on his family’s part when they didn’t predict the rapidly accelerating storm until it swept them away. The winter had been cold, colder than it had any right to be — something about climates and changes that his sister tried to explain to him once. 

They were cold and hungry and while they could’ve waited it out, resting until it passed, Soap had urged for a hunt, one last before the worst of it hit, and his family had agreed. They should’ve said no, been the more sensible one instead of listening to the hot-headed son that didn’t want to sit still on an empty stomach for too long. It was one thing, persevering and hoping for a better future, and another, becoming the voice that rallied under the one thing all of them desired. 

Remembering it hurt. He didn’t want to, he was with Noah and Eve when it happened, and he thought he was safe with his older siblings, until the cold took them away too. It must’ve taken him days to regain consciousness, some luck making him wash ashore near their den, and he couldn’t do much except scramble inside to take cover.

The storm had lasted longer than it should have. Ebbing and flowing like a tide that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a whirlpool or a tsunami. He was there alone, when everything went down, and he was going to be alone again for many months to come.

There was no trace of his family, absolutely nothing, when he went around the hunting ground and most of the territory to search for them. 

“Took ‘em away, all of them. I figured that…” Soap trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud. What good would it do him? He blinked away those would be tears, forcing himself to relax down onto the nest. “They’re gone.”

And they left him behind. 

Unintentionally, intentionally, it didn’t matter — history had them, and he was growing to hate history even more. 

Ghost didn’t say anything for a long time. Soap almost slipped back into sleep when he spoke, the tiredness in his heart settling bone-deep, but Ghost’s voice had a homing edge to it, capable of pulling attention regardless of where he was.

“Do you know Price?” he asked. 

Soap raised his eyebrows, blinking back into consciousness. “What price?”

“Price. John Price, the man in charge of the settlement’s affairs,” Ghost explained. “Good man, if there’s anyone who’d know about a family disappearing or…”

Soap pushed himself up to his elbows, suddenly awake. Wide-eyed, he processed the information and implication as the fog in his mind cleared. 

“What yer sayin’ is —”

“— he might know if there was any seal family gone missin’ or found,” Ghost finished his sentence for him. He was looking at him oddly, pursed lips and quiet eyes, assessing the way Soap was grasping onto hope again, after what seemed like ages. “Not saying that he would know, but there’s a chance that he does.”

Soap wasn’t sure he wanted to give into the hope that easily; whether he was ready to have that hope ignite within him a will that would be snuffed if the truth was anything other than what he wanted to hear. 

“You’re set on going, might do you well to check,” Ghost murmured, and Soap nodded, determined, sealing that hope in a tight crevice before it could take away the little comfort he had cultivated the last few days. 

“Tomorrow,” Soap decided. There wasn’t a point in dwelling if there was a chance of knowing what happened to his family, it’d give him closure, if not anything else. “We can go, right? Tomorrow?”

Ghost stared at him for a moment longer. Two, three, four and five heartbeats after, those pale lashes fluttered, solemn resignation sinking with the barest arc of his lips, downwards. He hummed, nonchalant, looking away to leave Soap with an odd sense of longing; affirmative. 

Soap didn’t push for verbal confirmation. The choice was in his hands from the start, to stay as he pleased and go whenever he deemed necessary, and he had stayed because he hadn’t found a reason to leave quickly, but now his conviction directed him to a place that was going to be different from the security of the orca’s den. 

The night could’ve ended like that, sleep was easy enough to reach, and it felt like Ghost wasn’t in the mood to speak anyway. 

Soap decided to disrupt the peace, unwilling to let the silence colour their interaction more than it already had.

“You’re not,” Soap started, confessing, and he saw Ghost’s jaw twitch, indicating that he was listening. “You’re not horrible. Don’t know which bastard told you that before, but they were full of fuckin’ shit. They can fuck off.”

There was a rush of air. Surprise, maybe, or a soundless laugh. 

When he didn’t say anything, Soap sunk into his furs and watched Ghost’s shoulders relax in front of him, a secret smile stretching in his mouth as he finally closed his eyes for the night.

“Thank you, Soap.” Ghost’s voice guided him slowly to the land of sweet, dreamless sleep.

So you do know how to be polite, he remembered thinking before he was gone to the world. 

-

Soap wasn’t too nervous.

That was what he told himself repeatedly, despite the numerous times they went over how they were going to travel and how long it would take, he was still flabbergasted by the suggested method of travel. He was reluctant to shift; too uncomfortable and uncertain even after the time they had spent together, but in Ghost’s own words, it wasn’t an issue since that wasn’t necessary in the first place.

The orca was something else, far different from any shifter he’d known of. Which said more about him than Ghost, maybe it was a gap of knowledge on his end that left him unprepared, he definitely could do better by socialising with more of his people. 

The settlement promised to have more of them there. If he recalled correctly, due to the diplomatic nature of, it was closer to one of the human research centres in the Antarctic. That came with its own benefits and disadvantages, with closed off shifters preferring to only visit when they needed something from the folks residing there, trade creating some need for interaction, and he had also heard of many making homes and working in the settlement itself to keep it running. 

The MacTavish family had a connection to the place, although Soap wasn’t aware of the exact details, he knew his da and older siblings went if they needed to stock up on something they couldn’t find in the natural world. That was where he got his sketchbooks and pencils too. When he was around ten years old, his family had brought him along to make him choose his own decade turning gift. He didn’t remember much of the place, just that it felt unbelievably large and crowded, and there were too many people and things to look at. 

He did remember that he was drawn to a place that had different illustrations and artwork hanging up, and his older brother had noticed, guiding him towards the place to pick out a few supplies for him. They spent the day with people there while their father went about his business, learned more than they expected and went home happy, with a whole new world open to him.

Noah taught him how to draw from there; it was all about observing, filtering and learning about the external world. Making sure his hands knew what his eyes readily processed. Over the years, his brother stopped drawing as much as him, but by then he had already been too obsessed with it to stop. He drew his family members, the wild ones, the sea and the skies and everything the world had to offer to him. 

Art, they called it, only possible because of the settlement’s existence. 

He had a few words of his own to say to John Price and whoever else in charge of running the place, most of it his thanks and hopeful inquires about finding a home there. He could work, hunt and help around when he needed, making himself useful and valuable.

Ghost took the lead, trusting Soap to follow, and he did without complaining further. If it was the only way to get to the place quickly and safely, he’d have to keep the trust they had painstakingly built over the time they had known each other.

They were waist deep in the water again, the lowest Ghost could go when the tides pulled back, and he would need to be close in order for their unconventional travel plan to work. He produced a rope out of his den in the morning, the one that Soap was holding currently, and told him very nonchalantly that he’d be riding him. 

Soap did everything in his power to hold back his disbelief, but it must’ve been clear on his face because Ghost tsk ’d and told him it wasn’t his first time being ridden. 

Like that was the problem in the first place. 

Sure, killer whales were massive, and it was likely going to be quicker if Soap was able to follow him at his pace somehow, but it sounded preposterous to him. Downright unthinkable too. If anyone had tried to hitch a ride with him as a seal, he would’ve done a job worse than Ghost did on his waist. There was a certain wildness to their other form, instincts were deeply interwoven in them, and it took more than fortitude to act opposite to it. Although, they were guided by their intelligence regardless of the change.

“Ready?” Ghost asked, aware of his apprehension. 

Soap didn’t have much of a choice, so he nodded, gaze flickering towards the rope in his hand and the orca in front of him. Ghost was thorough with his instructions, his lack of opposable thumbs in his shift meant Soap had to be the one to fasten the knot and get himself on board. The whole plan felt fucking ridiculous. 

Ghost didn’t need more than his nod. He took a few steps back and submerged, the shift taking over in a matter of seconds, replacing the towering man with the beast of a whale in front of him. Soap didn’t panic any more whenever he saw him, yet there was something about getting his hands on the orca, tying something as unnatural as a rope around him that got to him. 

Ghost was patient, waiting until Soap got a hold of himself and walked closer, empathetically blinking — if he was reading the expression right — when he inhaled and started the process. It was surprisingly easy to get the rope around him, with the water and Ghost himself aiding him in the process; he tried to follow the instructions closest to what he was taught, even though he ended up cursing constantly under his breath as the water made the material more difficult to work with. Eventually, he’d got most of it down, and the loud exhale from the beast’s blowhole sounded almost like approval. 

The next part was where uncertainty prickled his skin.

Soap’s unease was noticed easily when Ghost was explaining it, and he offered to make the mounting process easier, all he would have to do was to swim to the deeper ends of the ocean, and he would do the rest. 

I trust him. Soap reminded himself, taking a breath before pushing himself deeper, swimming in a way only a human could. He won’t hurt me this time. The shore was disappearing underneath him, until the tide swept in, took him deeper with him, and blue was all he could see. Still hasn’t fucking apologized, bastard. Ghost came up from underneath him, and in a carefully timed stroke, he forced Soap on him, tucked in front of his dorsal fin and the curl of the knot. 

Hold on tight, that’s all you have to do, Ghost had said at the end of his explanation. It wasn’t going to take long if they went at full speed, and he was going to be careful enough to linger around the surface. Soap’s hand tightened around the rope, gasping for a lungful of breath in case they decided to go for a dive, and clamped his legs around him as much as he could. 

Who in their right mind chooses to ride an orca? 

Soap, apparently.

It was unlike anything he’d felt in his life too. Orcas weren’t like seals, instead of dense fur they had this rubbery stretch of skin that was as cold as the sea, which was surprising in their own right because they were mammals too. They needed air and heat as much as any other seal did. While curiosity brewed, Ghost moved, slow at first, testing the strength of the rope and Soap’s hold, before rushing through the waters like he was a ship of his own.

He parted the waves like it was nothing. The ocean was everywhere, welcoming the both of them in a razing fury, water forced apart and ridden through in a seamless glide. Soap felt the muscles in the orca’s body move underneath, powerful and controlled, giving the surface a final sail before he took a dive. They had discussed this beforehand too, it would be easier to move underwater, but Ghost was almost too stubborn when he suggested that he stuck more to the surface for the trip. 

It took a winding conversation to eventually figure out that orcas didn’t have the same lung capacity as seals did — an argument almost brewing, with Ghost insisting that they stay surfaced and Soap wondering what the problem was since it barely tickled his limit. Soap was gleeful to gloat when he understood his apprehension that his ability to hold his breath was something he could lend to his human form, much to the orca’s muted astonishment. 

They settled on some basics; tapping twice for air, thrice for help, in case of emergencies, not that Ghost was expecting anything to go wrong during the ride itself. It never hurt to take precautions. 

He was as magnificent to behold underwater; a natural, unstoppable force that made Soap’s weight and presence almost negligible during the swim. Soap almost forgot that he wasn’t the one swimming too, although it was different from how he swam, the orca’s body moved in a streamlined, fluid motion, incredibly dynamic despite his massive size.  

Didn’t stand a chance, did I?

Intellectually, he knew that, and he had felt the result of the odds being massively in Ghost’s favour during his death spiral too, but seeing the shifter move at full speed solidified that fact faster than his previous trepidation did. 

Perhaps he should be more grateful that Ghost could distinguish human blood from the rest — ignoring the implications of why he would. Someday he would ask, if Ghost was willing to humour him, because his curiosity might kill him if he never knew. 

With hope coursing through his heart, he solidified his resolve for a future he knew nothing about, but was willing to risk everything for.

Chapter Text

Soap has never felt as exhilarated as he did riding Ghost through the ocean waves. 

The sea was theirs to conquer, and with the devastating strength propelling him forward, he felt like he was unstoppable, cascading through the great blues without a worry in sight. There were moments he almost forgot that he needed to stay as a human to continue their trip. His muscles ached for the shift, wishing to replicate the glide, strokes and twists of the orca in his other form. As a way to show his excitement, to play with Ghost even. 

His apprehension had almost completely disappeared, more than he was comfortable admitting out loud. Ghost surprised him a few times too. When they broke the surface to breath, Soap assumed he was going to take a quick one before diving and going faster than before. However, his entire body was lurched out of the water, and for a seamless moment, he was suspended in air with Ghost, feeling the sky against his skin before the sea pulled them back down. 

Soap heard a questioning chirp when they were underwater, suspiciously seal-like in quality. Ghost was making a steady way through the water, but his swimming was less ecstatic, more steady. 

He heard the chirp again, water rippling under his fingertips. 

Was Ghost… asking him if he was alright?

He couldn’t talk when they were down. The instinct to communication, to convey affirmation and eagerness, was rising in him, and instead of giving in, he smoothed a palm over the orca’s body. Gentle, controlled, stroking Ghost to tell him that he was fine. 

He was more than fine, he was having the time of his life.

But words were complicated in their current state, and the scenery was turning into something familiar, the endless sea giving away to slabs of ice and floating bergs.

Ghost let him have three more breaches, leaping out of the water in a powerful display, and he was always mindful to make sure he didn’t accidentally shake Soap off. The thrill of it consumed them both. Soap laughed at the last one, giddy beyond measure, unable to stifle his joy any longer. 

He got a low, whistling noise out of Ghost for that; it sounded oddly pleased, thoroughly amused.

They weren’t alone any more. Fishes, penguins, seals and the distant whale, there was a healthy mixture of species, making Soap realise that they were close to the shifter community. None of them startled at the sight of the ocra, but they didn’t hinder his path either. Some looked, and when he caught the eyes of a few, the intelligence in them was undeniable. 

Ghost breached the surface again, slowing down enough to keep a decent pace. Soap got an eyeful of what they were dealing with. There were people gathered everywhere. Shifters hanging out around icebergs, floating on their backs on the surface of the deeper waters, and playing with each other in both of their forms, the chatter filling the atmosphere with life Soap hadn’t experienced in a long while. 

In the distance he could make out the shape of the settlement. Rows of dens and different metallic structures stretching beyond the shore, blurry figure of shifters and of humans wearing those bright, unnatural coats that they needed out in the Antarctica. He remembered the time his family had pointed out the research centre when they visited, the red and blue of the structure endlessly fascinating to Soap back then, and awe-striking currently. 

The settlement was familiar, albeit larger than his memories did it justice.

Underwater, he heard chirps and whistles directed towards them, with Ghost responding in a surprisingly friendly way. The orca seemed more at home in the sea, and Soap was starting to realise that he liked it. His presumptions of the shifter had changed, renewed by the image of a silent but understanding figure over the days. Someone who noticed more than he let on.

Whatever the case, Ghost had kept his promise. He guided Soap to the place where he could begin his life again, as a new man and seal, and hopefully get answers for what happened to his family. 

It was more than anything anyone has done for him in a while. 

-

Ghost was gentle with him when they made their way to shore. 

One second Soap was holding onto the rope tight, wondering how they were going to dismount, and the next he felt Ghost shift, disoriented for a moment before he was expertly manoeuvred to his front, strong arms holding him close to that reliable chest once more. 

Ghost had a wicked smirk on his face when he let Soap down on his feet, carefully avoiding his pointed, narrowed eyes to soothe the loosened ropes around his body. He kept his distance, hovering close but not touching, and it didn’t occur to Soap until then that he was missing the bulky warmth that he was allowed to touch at any moment. It felt forbidden now, away from the isolated safe-haven of Ghost’s den. 

They were getting quite the stares, occasional nods towards Ghost, which he would return without fail every time. Soap noticed that it was shifters who looked like they were avid hunters that came to greet him.

Most people stayed away from them, though, creating a wide gap as they moved. 

He was starting to feel self-conscious. People he didn’t know were looking at him like he was a particularly interesting specimen, and he readjusted his pelt to cover more of his body, realising too late that some of the bite mark was visible.

Bloody fuck. They must’ve noticed —

“Alright?” Ghost asked, looking up from where Soap’s hand rested. 

He noticed.

Ghost was somehow in front of Soap, shielding him from other people’s view, and for once, he appreciated the silent way he moved. His broad, scarred bulk was crowding him in. The scent of sea around him, that cloying musk he had been smothered in for most of their time together, reminding him of safety. 

Soap nodded slowly, he was alright when he was with Ghost.

“Good man,” Ghost whispered comfortingly, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to touch Soap, arm slightly raised and suspended in air, fingers flexing, but he reached for the ropes and readjusted it to his shoulders instead. 

Soap raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what it was about.

Ghost exhaled dismissively, and simply turned to start walking towards the distant buildings, forcing Soap to jog to catch up to his pace. 

“We’re goin’ to Price first?” Soap walked at a brisk pace next to him, ignoring the eyes on them as they made their way through the rows of den and people in the outskirts of the settlement. 

Ghost affirmed with a grunt. “He’s in his office around this time, and if he isn’t…” he trailed off, pointing towards the large metallic building in the distance, “he’s going to be with the humans.”

Curiosity gripped Soap like no other, they were getting closer to the places Soap recognised now, the nostalgia edging in his head like it was within a moment’s grasp. 

“So, he’s used to dealin’ with the humans here?” Stupid question, but Ghost nodded patiently anyway, urging him on. “What’re they like?”

“Nosy.” His answer sounded pointed, almost. Soap looked at him with the biggest eyes he could muster, blinking slowly, knowing from experience — all those exasperated sighs from his older siblings and parents — that he could get away with asking for anything with it if the person he directed it at was somewhat partial to him. 

It worked. 

Ghost’s gaze softened when he turned to address Soap’s persistence. “They get nosy with us. Wants to know everything about how you work. Recommend you don’t accept an offer of observation or experiments on your first visit, the old man takes care of the rest if you’re ever in need of anything.”

“They’re scientists?” Soap said when it clicked.

“Most ‘o them.” Ghost huffed out a laugh, lips quirking up to a smile that made Soap blink a few times, stunned. He resisted the urge to stare and discern whether what he heard, and saw, was true. “Like humans, Soap?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em, much.” Soap could feel his face heating up, caught red-handed in his fascination with everything that existed in the settlement and beyond. “I’ve always wondered what they’d be like.”

“They’re like us.” 

Soap could see the place where the shifters traded — the place where he got his art supplies from, still standing exactly where he remembered. 

“Mouthier too. You’ll fit right in.”

Soap scoffed, waving his hand in the air. “Like you hate it.”

He smiled when he didn’t get an answer, watching the carefully guarded way Ghost kept his face forward, focused on everything but him, ignoring Soap's quip because denying it wasn’t an option. 

Maybe he wasn’t the only one getting fond of a new company. 

Soap found himself unintentionally drifting closer and closer towards the supplies store, guiding them through the path, not able to resist the urge to take a peak, see if the shifter that was manning the place was still there. He’d met an assortment of artists in the place, some of whom had talked about exhibitions and their works being prized in a display somewhere the humans lived. He could try it. His skills had got a lot better than before, though his work didn’t have much of an audience beyond his family. 

The possibility of making something out of himself, to get an audience beyond and participate in a wider community, had his blood thrumming. Exhilaration, and fear, distracting him to the point that he hadn’t realised that Ghost was right behind him when he was leaning towards the glass to squint the display. 

The works there were different from the ones he remembered. 

When he’d visited, it was full of portraits. Faces of shifters painted in terrifying accuracy — it inspired Soap to try his hand at replicating life around him. He didn’t stop at faces, it did get boring to keep drawing his siblings and parents, so the wildlife around them and the slabs of ice in the horizon where the sea met the sky ended up being one of his many targets. 

Though, he didn’t have the colours to capture the true beauty of his surrounding — they were going to amend that after the next visit to the settlement —, he managed to use the various shades of grey his pencils made to signify the shadow and shades. His heart felt empty looking at the beautiful, colourful pieces in display, the lack of the company he wanted to be there when visited the place again unable to shake off.

He wanted his brother there with him, his father too, and whoever else wanted to join him.

“Mathew keeps the place organised, good hunter on his days off.” Ghost seamlessly stepped to Soap’s side, staring at the ones he had lingered on. “Wanna take a look?”

Soap perked up. “We can?”

“Affirm.” Ghost sounded amused, leading him towards the entrance. “Interested, are you?”

A rhetorical question. Soap was barely holding back from bouncing on his feet. Too energetic, too obvious.  

There was a knowing glint in the orca’s eyes before they stepped in, and then, it was like a blast from the past stole every breath in his lungs away, forgetting everyone else in the process. 

Soap was immediately captivated by the array of supplies. His eyes fixated on the notebooks — he needed some new ones —, pencils, pens and colours. There were variation, of course. Paint and brushes all coming in different shapes and size; stuff that he wasn’t sure he could use, but wanted to try and experiment. He felt like a pup again. He wanted everything and yet…

“These caught your eye?” Ghost manifested by his side again, reaching over to grab one of the boxed sets, and Soap nearly jumped, the hair on his neck prickling up because he didn’t hear him move closer. For a shifter so big, Ghost moved too quietly. He supposed that name had to come from somewhere. 

“Easy,” he muttered, and Soap frown softly, but otherwise kept his words to himself. They were being watched by the few that were in the store with them. The gaze flickered between him and Ghost, and his hand unconsciously went to his hip, reaffirming that his pelt was still hiding the mark. 

It was. The curiosity couldn’t be because of that. 

“You didn’t answer.”

Soap faltered, pausing to consider him. Ghost had an odd expression on his face, almost expectant of his answer, and the attention they were getting was starting to make him aware of too many things at once. He wasn’t there to discuss his interests, he was stalling, and it felt like everyone knew. 

“Sort of. Doesn’t matter.” He turned away from the display, away from the wonderful notebooks and the box of colours that Ghost was holding that his brother promised to get him. 

He might’ve forced the orca’s hand quick when they departed, eager to know what was awaiting him beyond the veil of ignorance, but he was terrified of the answer at the same time. 

What if the worst had happened?

What if he hadn’t stood a chance in the first place?

The dread that he felt when he thought about the possibility of a confirmation of his fears settled like a pit in his stomach. He was avoiding it, a little. 

He has been avoiding a lot of things, actually. 

“Soap.” 

Ghost was there — he broke the haze clouding his mind through his presence alone. He’d grown to be someone Soap relied on, a man who kept his promise and brought him to the safest place in Antarctica.  

He didn’t know if he could ever repay him for everything he did in the span of a few days they’d known each other. 

“Aye, let’s go,” Soap said instead of expressing the gratitude that was building on the tip of his tongue. He could figure it out later, Ghost wasn’t going anywhere. “We’re wastin’ time here.” 

He was halfway out of the door when he realised that Ghost hadn’t moved, staring at the spot where he stood and the box in his hand. 

“Ghost?”

He turned towards Soap, and nodded slowly without prompt. It didn’t take long for him to put the box back and stride towards him, long, muscular legs making short work of covering the distance between. Soap didn’t even hide the fact that he was staring, wondering whether a specimen like Ghost was an exception or he’d see more shifters like him soon.

Either way, his prospects in the settlement eased some of his tension from earlier. 

He could build himself a life there, regardless of the truth that awaited him. 

-

The place they went to was also made of metal. 

A large, circular structure that was off the ground, with multiple pillars that stood like legs to uphold its bulbous top. It didn’t look too different from the human’s research centre in the distance, and Soap wondered if they had helped the settlement build it sometime after he visited. He wasn’t sure how friendly the humans were, but from what he has noticed, it was likely a lot. 

“Ghost?” 

A man called out when they stepped into the room; he was sitting on one of the desks at the corner of the room; warm brown skin, long legs, pretty face and more youthful than the shifter he was expecting to meet when Soap envisioned someone who was in charge of the settlement. The pelt around his waist was similar to Soap’s, albeit a bit different. Definitely a seal. Leopard seal, if he had to guess. 

The shifter looked at Ghost once before his dark eyes settled on Soap, widening slightly as he took both of them in. The structure was more comfortable in the inside, warmth similar to a well-lived den, and the variety of surfaces and decorations were another thing to gawk at, if Soap wasn’t painfully aware of how others were perceiving him. 

“Garrick,” Ghost replied, ignorant of the conclusions being drawn on the man’s face. He walked in, a hand on Soap’s shoulder ushering him along. “Where’s the old man?”

Different man, that made more sense.

He followed, taking in his surrounding, distracting himself from the words and gazes that followed. There weren’t many people inside, which was a relief in itself, and yet he hadn’t expected how much of a spectacle he felt like, walking besides Ghost. The man had a reputation, it seemed. 

“Price’s accompanying some of the researchers, Laswell visited recently, so ya’know how it goes.” Garrick waved his hand towards the window in the back, and Soap squinted, seeing the vaguest moving dots in the overreaching white of the snow. They were pretty far from what he could tell. “Why, do you have some business with him? I can call him over if it’s an emergency.”

Ghost nodded, and that was it. 

It didn’t take long for Soap to be the centre of attention. 

Garrick walked up to him, much to his surprise. He held his hand out and smiled a dazzling, friendly smile that had Soap reaching out to hold his hand, unable to deny how entranced he was. His first notable interaction outside of Ghost and his family. 

“Kyle Garrick. You can call me Gaz, most do,” Gaz said. “Your partner here sticks to surnames, a bit too serious, isn’t he?”

Soap heard Ghost grunt under his breath, sounding annoyed. Of course. He hadn’t even noticed the looks they were getting till then. 

“He’s not my partner,” he explained a bit too quickly. Gaz raised at eyebrow at him like he didn’t buy it, much to his dismay. “It’s Soap. Ghost’s just helping me out.”

Another curious look from Gaz, almost suspicious this time. Likely because he didn’t give his full name. He turned towards Ghost, and there was a soft hum of affirmation, nothing too offended or irritated, which made Soap relax. He had narrowly avoided making assumptions and rumours worse, as much of the trouble he had already been on the orca’s plate — even his puns were starting to stick in his head —, he didn’t want to add more to that plate.

Ghost seemed like someone who preferred to live alone, unattached, someone who didn’t like being associated with people he didn’t approve of, and Soap wasn’t going to be more of a burden than he already was. 

He’d imposed on his time more than he could count. 

“Alright, I’ll get the Captain,” Gaz muttered, shaking himself out of his momentary contemplation. “See you around, Soap.”

He stepped away from the both of them, and left out of the door they’d entered. 

“Tell him about your situation,” Ghost started, turning away as well. “Chances are, he probably knows your family if they’ve been around these parts.”

“You’re going where?” Soap blinked, baffled. 

“I have business to take care of, think you can handle it?” Ghost didn’t seem fazed, like it was a regular occurrence, and Soap squashed the growing anxiety that was trying to creep in. He didn’t want to be alone while he talked to the man, but from what he was told, it should be fine. 

He squared his shoulders, and decided to face things by himself for once. “Aye.”

“Then, it’s not a problem.” Ghost nodded curtly, it was a farewell. Something that Soap didn’t fully grasp until later on, since he was too busy dumbly watching that hulking, scarred back turn towards him and exit the building. 

Soap was alone again.

You’d think, after spending most of the year alone, he would’ve got used to it. But, he hadn’t fully. Not by a long shot. Ghost leaving him reminded him of how isolated he still felt. Though, he wasn’t a child any more. Whether it was loneliness or fear he needed to deal with, he was going to step up to it himself. 

That was the least he could do. 

The bare minimum to show to his family, wherever they were, that they hadn’t wasted their time raising him. 

He steeled himself. His life had gotten better after his encounter. Even if there was no hope in anything, he could find something in the settlement and someone in Ghost.

John Price didn’t make Soap wait long. He entered the building with Gaz and a woman he’d never seen before, someone who wore layers upon layers instead of the pelts that most of the shifter wore. A human, although his attention zeroed in more on the ‘old man’ in question. Price’s pelt was impressive, the fur softer than the ones Soap has seen so far, and he immediately clocked it for the Emperor Penguins he’d seen before. 

His gaze fell upon Soap, a look of recognition passing through his eyes. 

“Laswell, give me a moment,” Price said to the woman standing beside him, gesturing Soap to follow. “Seems like I’ll be busy for a bit.” 

The man’s office was a large, clean space full of things he’d never seen before. There were large pictures and certificates on the wall, some depicting humans, shifters and some drawing maps of the Antarctic. There were diagrams that Soap didn’t recognise either, with writing so small he would need to squint to read. 

Nonetheless, he didn’t have time to stare at them when Price was ushering him to take a seat in front of his desk. 

Soap did, intertwining his hands on his lap to stop himself from fidgeting and letting his nerves show.

“Gaz said you’re the lad Ghost escorted here, caused quite the steer,” Price muttered. He took his seat opposite to Soap, resting his elbows on the desk, leaning forward with a friendly expression. “What can I do to help?”

Here it goes.

“My family,” Soap replied. “I got separated from them last winter. We used to live east from here, further than I can tell, if I’m bein’ honest.” 

Price nodded. “I was taking a break in New Zealand back then, but we should have documentation of it somewhere. Give me a moment.”

He stood up and started riffling through drawers and cabinets. Folders, papers and everything in-between got pulled out, re-examined, and put back. Soap was pretty sure he heard the man curse his back before a satisfied sigh filled the silence. 

“This must be it.” Price walked towards him. The file read ‘Incidents - 2023’ in large, bold letters, and he held his breath as he flipped page after page before settling on one. “MacTavish?”

Soap stood up and nodded, too anxious to sit back. He held himself back from peeking into the document in his hand, mentally preparing himself for the worst. He should be prepared, he’d spent most of the year grieving in his own way. 

“They’re…” Priced looked up, raising his eyebrows. “You’re Arron’s boy.”

Soap nodded, again. He hasn’t heard his father being referred to by his first name in a while, but the familiarity in Price’s face wasn’t gone unnoticed. 

“After the blizzard, we’ve had reports of our rangers coming across most of your family. Wounded, but alive,” Price said. “From what’s written here, there was a declaration of a missing shifter ‘n search parties were deployed to find them. Nothing came up from the looks of it, and your family had to be taken to Chile to get medical treatment.”

“Chile?” Soap frowned, dumbfounded. He’d never heard of Chile before, it sounded like a weird, human food, but considering that he wasn’t entirely well-versed in geography, it wasn’t too surprising. His family weren’t the travelling and migrating type, although he had heard of the ‘New Zealand’ once, when his father brought up the topic of where his friends tended to spend their winters. 

“There’s a shifter settlement there, much more equipped to deal with the injuries your father and sisters sustained than here. The humans were doing a last round up before the worst of winter set in.” Price sighed. “Seems like they haven’t returned yet, son.”

Soap’s stomach churned. 

“Are they…” he couldn’t even get himself to finish the sentence. 

“They should be fine,” Price assured, providing a steady, grounding confidence that allowed Soap to centre his focus. It helped, he could see why people would trust the man to take care of things. He had an air about him that made it easy to reliable on him. “I can send a message to Chile, get an update for you. It’s summer, so your family should be able to return if they want to.”

“Yes, please,” Soap said quickly, pausing for a second to add, “Thank you, sir.”

Price cracked a smile, easing the hesitation that he was starting to feel with a simple wave of his hand. “No need to get formal with me, lad. I’ve known your father for a while when he lived around here, haven’t caught up much after he moved with your mother, but we’re still in good terms.” 

“So, I can…” Soap trailed off, suddenly aware that he didn’t know anywhere he could stay, aside from hoping Ghost wouldn’t mind him tugging along if he asked. 

“Stay here until the message comes.” Price rearranged the papers, flipping through the last few pages. “I can get Gaz to arrange some accommodations for ya. Came with Ghost, right?”

“Aye.”

Not that he knew why it mattered.

“You’re definitely going to need a place to stay,” Price concluded, turning away from him and walking to his desk. 

It didn’t click with him, at all. So, he had to open his mouth to ask. 

“What do you mean?” He followed the man to his desk, staring wide-eyed and curious, and he received a soft sigh from Price, who looked at him kindly, like he was about to let down a well-meaning child by describing something unchangeable.

“He doesn’t stick around for long. Ghost’s one of my best hunters, and tries to not bother with company or people much,” Price said, shaking his head. “I’ve tried to tell him that it’s not good for him, doesn’t listen a bit. Does what he needs and leaves, mostly.”

He took a considering glance at Soap, taking a seat. 

“Maybe he has changed if he brought you here.”

Soap didn’t know what to feel about the information. The possibility of his family being alive, and hopefully unharmed, and talking with them soon — it was everything he could ever hope for. He needed to stay, to figure it out here. 

But, he’d never considered that Ghost could leave him, just like that. 

Of course, he should’ve , maybe. If he wasn’t so shaken by everything happening to him, he would’ve noticed how easily Ghost had burrowed into his heart, and how he expected him to be there; a silent, lurking presence that he couldn’t get rid of, only to be faced with the real possibility of losing another person.

He wanted to get out of there, find Ghost before it was too late. 

It had been, what, an hour since he left? Surely, he couldn’t have got that far, and he did say that he had business to attend to, stuff to do that would keep him in the settlement. Soap started shifting his weight from one foot to the next, starting to feel the stress catch up to him. 

Haven’t thanked him for bringing me here yet. 

He hadn’t got his apology, either, and he wasn’t going to let Ghost go easily without it. 

Price noticed his fidgeting, taking a seat and nodding at him. “I’ll have Gaz find you later.”

“Thank you, sir,” Soap said, turning on his heels the moment he was allowed to. He heard the distinct sound of ringing behind him, alongside Price silencing that ringing, but he was out of the office before he could figure out what it was. 

Gaz was there to greet him when he emerged out of the door.

“Oh, hey! Ghost dropped this off for you,” he said, waving a package wrapped in paper in his hand. “He seemed to be in a hurry.”

Soap moved quickly to take the package off his hand, not minding the fact that Gaz was sticking closer to look at what he was given. He leaned his hips against the desk that Gaz had been sitting on, carefully unwrapping the package despite his impatience. 

The cover was nothing fancy; a simple, for Soap, was written in the front, and it made him realise that it was the first time he’d seen the ocra’s handwriting. It was surprisingly neat, looping into a cursive-adjacent way that reminded him of how some of his siblings wrote. His eyes fell towards what the wrapping was hiding. 

A notebook, some pencils, brushes, erasures, sharpeners and the box of colours that Ghost had been holding earlier. All for him. Warmth gathered at the back of his throat this time, thick and comforting in its hold, and he had to take a moment to stare at the gift in awe. 

He hadn’t discussed his interests with Ghost, hadn’t even eluded that he wanted anything other than looking at them for a bit. He needed to say his thanks. Fuck, when was the last time someone other than his family got him something he wanted ?

“You like sketching?” Gaz asked, intrigued by the assortment in front of him. Soap nodded, though he wanted to do a little more than sketching if he could. He should look into helping out that store from before, actually; it wouldn’t hurt to learn more from those there if he didn’t qualify for other jobs.

Soap separated the items slowly, trying to find something beyond the art supplies. Nothing. He exhaled, irritated, remembering the way Ghost used to do the very same; he hadn’t just burrowed into his heart, he could feel him underneath his skin, quickening his heartbeats, permanently altering him in ways he finally understood.

“He didn’t say anything else?” Soap asked. 

“Nah, just gave me this ‘n left.” Gaz shrugged. “Ghost never speaks much, so you get used to it.”

“Fuck.” 

Gaz tilted his head at him, like he was taken off guard by his frustration. 

“I need to find him,” Soap explained.

“He’s…” Gaz trailed off. 

Soap looked at him, hopeful for an answer that wasn’t ‘he’s long gone by now’, and Gaz seemed to understand him, somehow. He might’ve found a potential friend in the shifter.

“The port, try there. The hunters gather there to trade items and find work, Ghost usually takes one up whenever he visits.”

Soap muttered his thanks, ready to ask for more directions for the ‘port’ when Gaz continued talking.

“You say he’s not your partner.” It was curiosity that he was facing, not that blatant, dissecting gazes he got outside. “He must mean something to you, if you’re this eager on catching up.”

“Yeah,” Soap answered, clutching the gift in his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should take it with him, considering that he needed to stay to get the news about his family. “He saved me.”

There was more to the story, but it was what Ghost had done. Both directly, by taking care of his injuries and making sure he was safe, and indirectly, by pulling him back from the path of isolated destruction. 

Gaz hummed, like it wasn’t news to him. “Despite what they say about him and his family, Ghost has been nothing but reliable around here. Price trusts him, that’s all that matters to me.”

“His family?” Soap asked. 

Something shifted in Gaz’s gaze, and he smiled sheepishly. 

“He hasn’t told you yet, has he?” Soap was going to nod, but Gaz was already moving along to explain. “It’s been a long time, touchy subject. I can see why he wouldn’t, you didn’t hear it from me but…”

Gaz considered him for a moment, searching for something in his face, before tilting his head and deciding to spill the truth.

“You’ll hear this if you stick around anyway,” Gaz muttered under his breath. “There was a commotion within an orca family years ago, when Price just got the position of captain amongst the rangers. It got pretty nasty, from what I heard, and lead to an actual, serious fight. The rangers had to step in, Ghost’s father got banished from the settlement and that’s the last anyone ever saw of him.”

Soap didn’t know what to say. He barely kept himself from letting his jaw fall wide open, trying to maintain some semblance of calm when he was flabbergasted by the reveal.

“So, the scars on his back…” 

The pieces were starting to add up, and he wasn’t sure if he liked where it was going. 

“It appeared after the banishment. Ghost disappeared while his brother and mum were recovering, and folks have quite the colourful opinions about it.” Gaz shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t care if he got back on that man. It’s not like he was much of a father or a good man to any of them.”

“Ah.”

He might’ve been unsure about how to process the information, but he was sure about one thing; what he felt was the furthest thing from disgust. Ghost didn’t deserve it — no one deserved to have a sorry excuse for a father —, and whatever wound he was holding onto was something Soap wanted to soothe. He wasn’t sure how. Ghost was ten mysteries wrapped into one, and he wanted to figure out every single one of them. 

Soap wanted to know him. Beyond his scars, beyond the rumours that floated around him, and beyond other’s opinions of him. He wanted to know Ghost in a way that none had before. 

He wanted…

“The Riley family has been better off after it,” Gaz said, misreading the concentrated furrow in his brows for a desire to know more about the conflict. “They’re living elsewhere, but they visit Ghost occasionally.”

Riley. 

Soap’s thoughts were muddled by the sudden knowledge of Ghost's name. Part of it, at least. John Riley didn’t sound bad, but he was reluctant to part with his last name so easily, maybe they could figure it out later. 

His thoughts jolted him for a second, making him realise what he wanted. 

What Ghost would’ve been receptive to, if he wasn’t a complete and utter fool. 

“Actually, you better hurry if you wanna catch up to him.” Gaz took his seat back on the desk, nodding towards the door like he understood. “I can look after his gift till you’re back.”

“Aye, thank you,” Soap whispered, quickly trying to gather the art supplies into a neat pile like how it was originally arranged. “I should go.”

A note slipped out of the sketchbook when he picked everything up, falling unceremoniously to the floor right when the door to Price’s office opened with a loud thud.

He looked up, momentarily distracted, and saw relief flash through the older man’s face.

“Good, you haven’t left yet,” Price said. “Noah Mactavish didn’t go with the rest of his family to Chile, he seems relatively unharmed and is currently on a scouting mission. He’ll be back within a few days.”

Soap felt his breath catch in his throat, and he released it in a huge exhale, a smile stretching on his lips before he could even vocalise his relief. 

If his older brother was around, he wasn’t going to have to worry too much. Noah got on well with him, and while he treasured his family equally, it was easier to deal with everything that was the incident, and the winter, and Ghost, with someone who heard him out like it was his second nature. 

“I have to get back to my work.” Price looked at Gaz. “To my office, we have to set Soap’s accommodations for the meantime.” 

“Right on, Cap,” Gaz said with a wide smile, contrasting Price’s exasperated sigh. He walked towards Soap with his hands out, taking the gift off his hands. “Get going. Tell him I’m getting his title in the hunting fest this year, yeah?”

Soap nodded in affirmative, despite not knowing what the ‘title’ or ‘fest’ could refer to. 

He was left alone after a thud and a click, signalling that the door was locked, and he almost hurried out without a second thought too, but he noticed the note from the corner of his eyes. 

Soap picked it up, flipping over to the part with the writing on it. 

In neat cursive, it said: I don’t regret how we met. That spark does not deserve to rot in the sea. — I hope you found what you were looking for. Ghost.

An odd emptiness struck him. 

There was an attempt of a drawing at the corner of the note. Two circles, black spots on the smaller circle that vaguely looked like eyes, a small spike on top of it that reminded Soap of the hairstyle he proudly wore. 

Soap folded the paper and tucked it underneath a chair in the corner of the room, forcing his legs to move as fast as it could because he was starting to recognise what that emptiness meant.

And this time, the possibility of Ghost being too far to reach seemed very real. 

-

“Fuck, Ghost.” 

Soap should’ve asked for directions from Gaz. He barely managed to get a general direction out of a random, startled shifter, before barrelling towards what he assumed to be the port. It was dark by the time he was standing at what he assumed to be the place Ghost was supposed to be in, time flying by before he could process anything. Too much was happening at once.

“Where are you?”

He was sick of it. 

There weren’t many folks around the place. The port itself housed a ship and two, and Soap got a small sense of nostalgia, like an unhelpful burst of memory that made him realise that it wasn’t his first time seeing the place. His father had brought him there once, and he remembered marvelling about the amount of ships docked back then. It was different from what his memory conjured, but most of the settlement was by that metric; larger, and more developed than before. He could only marvel at how much had changed within the decade, could change, and how much he hadn’t yet. 

He was going to fix that soon. 

Nighttime was darker usually, with the cloud and the wind covering most of the sky from view. The sky seemed to have taken pity on him today; the moon was out, and the stars shone with a brilliance he had missed most of the winter. The constellations had always accompanied him, eased his troubles on the harsher days, and they illuminated his path towards the ocean this time, leading him towards his destination. 

Ghost was a tall man, Soap would be able to recognise him from a distance. The fact that he didn’t see anyone similar only made his heart sink more.

He rushed towards a small group of shifters standing at one of the platforms, frantic as he grabbed one of them and caught his breath. The shifter in question was a short, younger man, looking at Soap with wide eyes. He didn’t seem offended, which was what he needed to start asking.

“Have you seen Ghost?” Soap loosened his hold, standing straighter as he surveyed the area. Nothing. No sign of a tall, blond shifter, nor any indication of an orca near the waters around the port. That unease was setting in deeper, it was going to make him anxious again if he actually…

He couldn’t even entertain the thought. Couldn’t think past the hurt he felt when he first saw the signs of his hunch being true. Didn’t he have enough loneliness for a lifetime?

Ghost could’ve said goodbye personally, at least. He could’ve given him the gift, see how much it meant to Soap with those big, brown eyes, instead of haunting him without a sight of them.

He could’ve realised that he was what Soap was looking for, if only he had waited for him.

Soap’s shoulders sagged in defeat. He could taste it more potently on his tongue, the emotion that was thick and undefined until he had the guts to face it; until Ghost left him, and the very real possibility of never seeing him again became true.

“He just left through there,” the man said, pointing towards the further end of the port, then with a frown, he asked, “are you alright?”

“Hopefully,” Soap said, mumbling his thanks as he went towards the direction he pointed. He was going to make sure he was alright, once he got his hands on Ghost. 

The sea came to greet him before the sight of the orca he wanted to see did. It was more deserted than before, and as he stood there, squinting at both land and sea, the anxiety rose. The desperation felt almost as bad as when he was trying to find a trace of his family, the heaviness in his throat and chest identical to that week’s awfulness. 

“Ghost?” he called out pathetically, and as expected, he saw nothing. 

The sea stood there like it had been waiting for him, though. The waves looked calmer, swaying with that glittering, dark blue that was vaster than the pit in Soap’s stomach. 

He caught a glimpse of something in the waters, just a tip of what was vaguely dorsal-fin shaped before it disappeared under the waves, and he called out his name again, shouting with his whole chest. 

“Ghost!”

It did nothing. The world stood as an uncaring, unmovable observer, and the ocean echoed that sentiment, asking him a question it had been asking ever since he was lost in the wind and cold. He took a step forward, felt his heart sink with every step, but he persisted anyway.

He was determined —

Scared of the future, of everything that could go wrong, but accepting it regardless, because there was nowhere to go aside from the path he chose. He had changed, in more ways than one, and that change manifested in this willingness to see for himself what the truth was. 

The cold was a pleasant, grounding force when he stepped in, the urgency from earlier snapped into place, and he was rushing, shifting just enough — his eyes mostly — to be able to see beyond the dark. It took too much energy and focus to half-shift, which was one of the reasons he didn’t bother much before fate forced his hand. 

The surface yielded nothing, so he took a dive, swimming to the deeper ends with eyes wide enough to take in every bit of his surrounding. There was nothing there at first, then he saw something move in his peripherals, and he quickly pivoted towards the direction. 

The distance made him a blurry blotch in the water, but there was no mistaking the black and white scarred figure that was swimming away from Soap.

Panic seized him when he realised that Ghost was leaving. It wasn’t at the pace when they arrived, wasn’t towards the vague direction of his den either, and he was suddenly reminded of the massive speed gap between them. Even if Soap shifted and tried to catch up, Ghost could leave him behind easily. 

Especially if he wanted to.

And it looked like he wanted to, why would he leave otherwise? Why wouldn’t he stay — just for a day — before he left? He could’ve said something Soap, but he chose not to.

As if Soap wasn’t worth saying goodbye to. 

Uncertainty grew like tendrils underneath his ribs, constricting his heart painfully, reminding him of his true worth, and all the burden he must’ve given to Ghost for him to be so eager to leave. 

He was aware, somewhere, that those thoughts didn’t always represent the truth; if only he could reason away the reality in front of him, watching the orca grow smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. 

Soap was persistent, if nothing else. 

Here goes nothing.

He steeled his heart for the pain he was about to confront. 

Chapter Text

The change felt unfamiliar to Soap, almost unnatural. A paradox of its own making, because he was in the opposite state of mind before Ghost. Everything had changed because of him, there were so many things they needed to discuss, and the time to do so was closing in on every beat he wasted pondering.

The urgency of his situation brought out the resentful side of him, a frustration that crept up to his neck and didn’t have any outlet. Just a target, a blurry figure in the grand, blue sea; one that was growing rapidly smaller the more he watched. 

He wouldn’t be able to swim towards him without shifting, human body too fallible in the Antarctic Ocean that they inhabited. The choice was simple, and yet, his muscles were starting to clam up. Uncertain, as if he was moments away from plunging into dangerous depths without any knowledge. 

But the price of giving into that feeling was Ghost.  

Losing him, forever even, to the depths without having any say over it was unacceptable. He was tired of life deciding on things for him — of the forces too ancient, yanking away the things that mattered the most in his life. The foothold he’d gained over his will again had inspired him in a mad, rebellious way; one that wanted to shape the warmth in his chest to his liking. He wasn’t going to let anything else decide for him.

Not after everything.

Soap broke the surface, inhaled once and dove deep. 

It started from his fingertips, the warm, tingly feeling that drew from powers of old, readjusting his cells to the places it needed to go. He never had to think about how rapid, and massive, the shift was, his previous experiences making it as natural as breathing. What he went through as he forced the change was more purposeful, somehow stronger than before, and it felt like he was shedding his skin, emerging as a version of himself that stood as unstoppable as the forces that surrounded him. 

Soap never thought too much of his shifted form. His family had cooed about how adorable, and swift, he was, but that hadn’t meant anything to him back then. He didn’t feel nearly as ‘adorable’ or ‘swift’ when he stretched his body in the water, but there was an undeniable strength underneath his skin, brimming with a need so desperate, he didn’t despair the distance between himself and Ghost any more.

He shot off like a harpoon, cold water easing the heat that burned from the energy that he was exerting. The depths were welcoming, smooth against his streamlined form, allowing him easy access as he swam with all of his strength, not caring about the noise he was making along the way. There was something about the rush, the thrill of the chase, that made him inexplicably untouchable, but Ghost was closer now, and that was all that mattered. 

The orca kept a decent pace, but he wasn’t moving at his maximum capacity like he had when he got both of them to the settlement. That knowledge was soothing, in a way. Ghost had expended most of his energy to help Soap, when there was nothing in it for him aside from making sure that he was alright because of how they met. The teeth marks on his lower half ached, and it tasted like longing, like hunger and thirst twisting into one, unable to do anything but crave the man that had left them there.

Left him alone, there.

Abandoned, that bitterness in him spoke loud and clear. It wasn’t vengeful, though, and the rage was more akin to frustration and despair than it was to betrayal. 

His frantic chasing caught Ghost’s attention, and he watched as the orca’s pace visibly slowed, his massive, scarred tail serene in its movement, twisting in the water until he was turning towards Soap. 

He felt his eyes on him, though the space between them hid them from view, clouded by the muted blue. Relief washed over him, but he didn’t stop, persistent and eager to make sure Ghost wasn’t moving out of his sight again if he had any say in the matter. He couldn’t risk it. Soap had been so stupid the entire day, he should’ve known that when his gut was telling him of the finality of everything, it wasn’t a fluke. He should’ve listened. 

Ghost read his body language well, lingering in his spot without moving. He didn’t close the distance between them, but Soap didn’t need him to make that decision any more. Weddell seals were quick when they wanted to be, and he did, letting out a soft whistle to tell him to stay put; not that the translation would reach an orca, but he was hoping it was enough of a verbal indication of his interest. 

Ghost’s tail fin moved gently, almost hesitant of causing disruption. Soap swam towards him, eyes growing wide just to take in the massive orca in front of him. The scars were there in front of him, making the massive predator a familiar, affectionate figure instead of a stranger in the deep blue.

Ghost tilted his head at Soap, curious and confused, but not unwelcoming. He kept his movement to the minimum, as if he was being careful to not scare him away. There wasn’t a reality where Soap was going to run again, but the consideration was nice to behold. He could see his eyes too, close enough to witness the russet brown glow with a fondness he hadn’t noticed before.

Soap realised that he didn’t know what to do next. His plan had been to hunt down Ghost before he left, and talk, but they could hardly communicate beyond the noises that their current forms could make, and orca wasn’t a language he was fluent in. Turning back into a human underwater, late at night, would do him more harm than good. 

Ghost was waiting for him, suddenly finding himself with the patience of the world.

He looked more idiotic as he stared up at the orca, basking in his generosity and beauty, violence and strength packed in the massive frame of a creature that he had gotten to know over the days. He was wasting both of their time, but it didn’t seem like Ghost minded. 

So, Soap went with the first thought that popped into his head as he considered his choices.

He’d call it a burst of mindless courage, unable to speak out loud everything he felt, and conveyed it through a single action. Even if it was impossible to, even if he needed a whole lifetime to. Ghost had been… 

Worth it. 

Worth a lot more than Soap had given him credit for. He didn’t overthink it. He moved closer, taking up the space that stood in front of them, and hoped with his entire heart that he was making the correct decision. 

He kissed him. 

Soap wasn’t sure what he expected, but it felt right. They couldn’t do much while they were stuck underwater, in shifted forms far different from each other, but he tried to convey what he wanted with a soft, deliberate press of his mouth over the tip of the ocra’s snout, touching the smooth line that held back those rows and rows of sharp canines that had once been on him. Ghost kept his promise; he didn’t open his mouth. 

He didn’t move at all, staring blankly at him instead. 

Soap was the one who moved away, flippers pushing him as a sudden bout of bashful panic settled in him, aware that he had done something drastic and impossible to deny. The meagre space between them snapped something in Ghost’s gaze, and he swam forward, snout squishing into his chest as he jostled him deeper in the waters. 

Soap let out a bark of surprise, stifling the fear that was trying to crawl back into his chest; an ugly, instinctual thing that didn’t deserve a space in his thoughts. 

Ghost slowed down after that, his large, curved body twisting around Soap as if to shield him, and he nudged his snout close to his face, intentional in the small movement. He was big enough that his mouth rubbed against Soap’s face and neck, but he was gentle with it. 

It was a kiss. 

Ghost didn’t stop at one. The more Soap floated there, dumbfounded by the realisation, the more he swam around him, nudging that slit of his mouth against his body. He was gentle, and sweet. When his snout touched the bitemark on Soap’s body, and it startled a shiver out of him, he let out a small pulse-like sound from his blowhole, sounding both hurried and distressed. Almost like an apology. 

Fuck. 

Soap couldn’t stop shaking for some reason, and Ghost’s face swam up to him in question, russet eyes rapidly assessing the form of the trembling seal in front of him. He’d once likened those eyes to the blood that had clouded the sea when he rapidly approached death, and it was true still, they were blood-brown and bright, but the intent in them had been changed forever, and he had no one but himself to blame for it. 

Soap leaned closer to him, lightly brushing against the scars underneath Ghost’s eyes before he kissed them as softly as he could. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

He used his flippers to signal for help, hoping that he remembered the system they devised earlier in the day. 

Ghost did, mimicking the whistle that Soap had done earlier.

Message received.  

-

Ghost led him away from the settlement, his vigilant, confident presence next to Soap removing any doubts he might’ve had from the ordeal. Besides, he had decided to trust the orca in more ways than one, and the location they were in wasn’t one he was familiar with anyway.

The swim towards their destination was unusual, in a way. While Ghost guarded him, he was extremely vocal and playful, chirping and whistling around Soap until he gave a response back, and he occasionally twisted his body to crowd him in before gently bumping his snout against him. That gesture was more obvious, and Soap would give one back if he anticipated the ‘kiss’, loosening the unease that held him back from responding in kind. He wasn’t sure what the orca was doing, but it must’ve been instinctual; something that he was indulging once he got permission from him. 

There was a different instinct building in him that demanded attention. Hesitant as he was to listen to it, Ghost’s whimsical displays were too excitable to not reciprocate. It wasn’t how seals usually courted, and honestly, the orca had more or less done the chasing and biting part of it, but he tried. He started with vocalisations, eager and varied, swimming accordingly to stare at Ghost regardless of his posture. Then, Soap started showing off his own flexibility in the waters, swimming in circles, flips, and upside down while moving around him.

They shared a moment when he was on his back, with Ghost looming over him in a quiet fascination, watching him with amusement vaguely flickering through his gaze before he opened his mouth to let out a large bubble of air directly on the orca’s face. When the bubble hit the target, and bursted magnificently, he winked. 

The clicks that pittered off Ghost sounded annoyed, though a tad impressed too. Soap needed to break the surface to breathe after that little stunt, and he was dutifully followed, except Ghost wasn’t going for a quick inhale. No, the bastard had to show off and breach the water completely, making him watch in awe as he leaped into the air, upside down too, and splashed back into the ocean. The waves that he made were substantial, pushing Soap in the process; a not-so-casual display just for him.

He couldn’t help but acknowledge what was being shown, letting out a series of pleased chirps to convey it. They were doing pretty well for a pair of misfits, he’d have to say. 

Their little journey came to an end before he knew it. Probably his fault, Soap was enjoying himself to the point he didn’t register the space or time they had spent underwater, travelling while engaged in a play he didn’t fully register the importance of. 

They arrived at a shore that was isolated from the other bits of land Soap had seen. Life was barely present underneath the water near it, and Ghost nudged him closer, subtly pushing him to take the step to get out of the waters first. It was another test, far gentler than before, and Soap took it in stride. 

The shift didn’t feel unnatural again, like the time he had spent in the depths forging something terribly sweet with Ghost had coaxed his instincts to relax instead of standing in frightful attention. Parts of him recovered, mended like flesh over wound in a more sympathetic embrace. He felt confident, reassured that his voice wouldn’t be dismissed and concerns would be addressed, and with the issue clouding his mind, he didn’t notice that the orca was near until he heard his footsteps stop a few steps behind him. 

Soap turned on his heels, a mental catalogue of what he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, and yet he was completely unprepared for what he was dealing with, drinking in the sight that had greeted him the moment he laid his eyes on Ghost. 

The sky wasn’t dark like he had assumed. It rarely was on a clear night, where stars littered the space in the horizon enough to feed the denizens below the light and guidance they needed. The moon was out too, had been for a while, but it wasn’t the silvery touch of the gentle light that captivated him as much as the colours that had appeared suddenly above them, raising and falling as if in a rhythm defined by pink, green and yellow; a beautiful refraction that lit up the man who stood in front of him. 

Touched by the glow of everything, Ghost looked beyond breathtaking. 

His pale, scarred features stood out in the night, kissed by both the moon and the sea, and his face was coloured, rosy pink underneath his cheeks with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, an expression that was both calm and joyous. Ghost smiled, more intentionally when he noticed Soap gaping at him, and his eyes shone like they were the last remaining gems of the land; dark enough to reflect his surroundings, the hues of the aurora glistening brightly in them, captivating him for all of eternity. 

He started to forget why they were there in the first place.

“Soap.”

The way Ghost said his name was tender too, like he was addressing someone equally beloved and important. 

Someone who deserved his attention and more. 

The world, maybe, or his heart; an equally comparable gift. 

Soap was getting lost in him, bewitched by the mere existence of a stranger he had grown to inexplicably love. 

His throat clammed up, tight with emotions that threatened to spill over, but he tried his best to keep his composure. He didn’t want to sully the moment, or make the orca worry over something irrelevant. 

“John,” Soap whispered, taking a step forward. Ghost blinked at him slowly, realisation settling in just as he was close enough to touch. “My name. It’s John.”

Ghost raised his hand towards him, and this time, it was Soap’s turn to lean into it. He pushed his cheek into the cold, wet palm before moving his head to press his lips against his wrist, catching the hurried, warm pulse within the kiss. 

Ghost’s skin trembled ever-so-slightly underneath his touch, and he persisted, tenderly kissing every bit of exposed skin he was offered, until he reached his knuckles, and he looked up into those dark, unfathomable eyes as he placed the final one. 

 “Johnny,” Ghost murmured, taking what was once Soap — John — and crafting a name that sounded familiar, and somehow right, again. He repeated the word in his head, waiting for something in him to object, and found nothing but Ghost’s low voice freezing it in place; encased around the tender edges of his soul. 

“Why did you leave without saying anything?” Soap asked. He tried his best to not sound like he was accusing him of anything, yet the hurt he felt slipped into the muted, disheartened tone of his voice. Anxious to know, and too blunt to not let it show — his heart was pleading through his own gaze, and he couldn’t help but chase after the silent resignation that was mirrored in Ghost’s.

“I can see when I’m not wanted, Johnny.”

That was — He didn’t —

He hadn’t meant to…

“For a good reason, of course,” Ghost continued, oblivious to the icicle that had lodged straight through Soap’s throat. “I don’t blame you.”

He didn’t clarify beyond that, content on watching Soap open his mouth, and close it, unable to form the right words to say what he wanted to. Patient again. Not running away and leaving him behind this time. 

“You…” 

What could he even say to that? ‘I don’t blame you’ wasn’t simple to decipher, and of course, how they met had been objectively beyond ideal, but it was the reason they had gotten the chance to know each other. Soap didn’t want to live in a world where he was still out there, alone in the cold, frigid winter, where he hadn’t talked to anyone for a year and lost everything in the process. Even himself, and nearly his humanity too. 

“You big fuckin’ bastard,” Soap hissed through his teeth. It didn’t help that every other word out of his mouth was starting to twist with the growl building up in the back of his throat, “why’d ye even assume, let alone fuckin’ think that it was — why would ye even?!”

An intangible streams of fuck, bloody, bastard and stupid rolled out of his mouth in a frustrated tangle that didn’t even make sense to him, but it felt good to get everything out. 

Ghost was suddenly still on his spot, the hand on Soap’s face freezing as his eyes grew wider the more he cussed. Worse than a sailor probably, and his mam wouldn’t have liked how he was going through the list of every nasty word he had learned through his life, but the situation demanded it. 

The anger that swelled in him was squeezed out like it was the only day it could escape, and throughout the ordeal, Ghost just took it. He watched the rise and fall of Soap’s chest, blinking over every rude insult and waiting, until the tears in his eyes had blurred his vision and the words out of his mouth sounded more like a plea. 

“Why would you…” He felt a thumb carefully rub a teardrop away from his cheek, and couldn’t do anything but deflate, energy securely knocked out of him as he mumbled his confession, uncaring of whether Ghost heard him or not, “just wanted a fuckin’ apology, is that too much to ask?”

He took in deep breaths, partially in an effort to calm himself down, and partially because he didn’t want to be cruel to Ghost any more. Soap had needed to say it, though, and he wasn’t going to be the one fucking apologising when it wasn’t his mistake. Not entirely. It still surprised him that the orca did nothing but stand there, holding him to a degree while he cussed him out. He didn’t know why. 

The answer didn’t come to him until Ghost held his face with both of his hands, and tipped his chin up to look at him properly. His eyes were lidded, considerate again, and as Soap’s brows furrowed in confusion, those golden lashes fluttered, closing in. 

Ghost pressed his lips against Soap's cheek before he dipped, slow and deliberate, until he was kissing him on his lips. Soap groaned, hands suddenly flying to grip Ghost’s arms, and felt a faint lick over his lower lip, sharp teeth softly grazing the insides of his mouth as the kiss deepened.

Ghost was so close, so sweet against him, a strong, sturdy figure that tenderly devoured him, and the smell of him was everywhere, his taste striking Soap’s mind with such a haze that it was impossible to get out of it. Worse than any pleasure he’d known in his life; he knew he wasn’t ever going to get enough of it. 

He parted his lips, knowing that he wanted more; that taste, scent, and Ghost.

Ghost complied, enthusiastic in the way he slipped his tongue inside, and continued tasting Soap’s soul like it was nothing more than the most delicious of kills. The feel of his massive canines and that skillful tongue made him moan into his mouth, the sound eagerly muffled by Ghost’s lips. Another delicacy in his meal. This time, he didn’t mind being one at all. 

They kissed for what felt like an eternity, and it still wasn’t enough. Ghost pulled away, detaching from his lips with a small nip and a soothing lick, and pressed his face into Soap’s neck, hands dropping to hold his waist. Warm, tight and secure. Everything he wanted out of life, if he was being honest. 

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” Ghost said, rubbing the bare skin above his hips soothingly. “Shouldn’t have been how we met, shouldn’t have…”

“Bit me? Left me alone in a place where I didn’t know anyone?” Soap felt him tense against him, and a part of him hated how petty he sounded, but he needed it. He couldn’t move on with what they had otherwise. “For not botherin’ to say goodbye? You said you didn’t regret it, meeting me, in that note you wrote instead of a proper fuckin' apology.”

The hands on his waist tightened. 

“I still don’t regret it.”

Soap was about to open his mouth to retort and ask him what that meant when he was silenced by how quickly Ghost lifted him up, suspended in the air for a second before he was pushed against his chest. Soap’s legs closed around his waist in response, unwilling to dangle there, dumbfounded again. 

“Don’t regret meeting you, or taking care of you, Johnny,” Ghost said, casual in how he rested his forehead over Soap’s, looking up at him through his lashes. “It was easy to hunt for you, and I liked how much you enjoyed each kill. Enjoyed talking to you too, which was a first.”

His face was starting to burn, the straightforward, honest confessions out of those pretty lips and dark, glistening eyes made his heart flip in his chest like a dying fish who knew he couldn’t do anything to escape his captor. 

“I didn’t think you wanted me around,” Ghost explained quietly, as if he wasn’t used to it. 

“You could’ve asked,” Soap muttered, wiping his tears away with his wrist. “I would’ve told you what I wanted, big bastard.”

“Yeah,” Ghost agreed without delay, leaning close enough for their lips to almost touch, a whisper of a kiss. “I should’ve.”

Out of everything he expected from the confrontation, Soap didn’t anticipate how tired he felt, like the anger from everything was sucked out of him and what he was left with was a gentle void that asked for kindness in return. 

“I’m sorry,” Ghost repeated, pressed against his lips this time. “Can you forgive me?”

Can, instead of will.

He was still going to back away if that was what Soap wanted. Leave him alone if he truly hated it, everything they’d done and the apology itself. 

But, it should’ve been obvious what he wanted by now.

“Aye,” Soap said. “As long as you don’t do it again.”

“You have my word.”

He meant to mutter an affirmation, but a yawn tore out of his mouth, and he slumped to Ghost’s neck, encircling his arms around his shoulders as the orca shook with silent laughter. 

“Planning to sleep on me, Johnny?” His voice was warm, and it felt nice to be buried in that bulk, indulging in the safety he felt in those arms. 

“Better find us a place to rest before I do, Ghost.”

There was silence, and he started moving to god knows where, but Soap wasn’t the one who brought them there. 

“It’s Simon.”

Soap blinked, slowly opening his eyes to register what he was hearing.

Simon Riley. 

It was Simon Riley. 

He huffed out a breath in annoyance, masking the adoration that grew rapidly in the back of his throat from that small display of trust. “Pretty bastard with a pretty name. Couldn’t settle for just one, could ya?”

“You love it,” Ghost replied.

He did. 

Everything about him, really. 

-

Ghost did find them a place to rest. 

Far quicker than Soap had anticipated. 

“Whose den is this?” he asked, lifting his head to inspect the enclosed space. 

It wasn’t like any den he had ever seen. The ice structure was large, far bigger than his family’s and Ghost’s den, and it was in complete disrepair; the top of the den was cracked in more places than one, and there was a huge hole in the side that let the sky in easily, right underneath the crude pile of snow that he was being carried to. He had some concerns, but overall, it wasn’t too bad for a day’s rest. He would have to use his pelt as bedding; a small price to pay for the rest he needed. 

“My family’s,” Ghost replied nonchalantly, ignoring the snap of Soap’s gaze towards the back of his neck, and trudging along more resolutely than before. “They left a while ago.”

“I can see that, just —” he wiggled in his hold until Ghost relented with a grunt, finally allowing him back on his feet. Soap looked around the place, and tried to imagine him, a tinier version of him, running around with his family. “— here, really?”

“It was the last one, we used to move around more than a few dens,” Ghost said. There was a slight lilt in his voice, almost guarded. Like he didn’t want to talk too much about it. “Works for the night, doesn’t it?”

Soap had other things that were begging for his attention, so he decided to let him have his peace of mind for now. They could talk about it later, when his skin wasn’t trembling with anticipation; his instincts catching up to what they had truly done, both underwater and outside of it. 

“Perfect for sleepin’.” Soap smirked, taking his pelt off his waist, and saw the frown that was starting to form on Ghost’s lips drop completely as a blank, focused expression replaced it, zeroing in on the healed marks that curled on his hips and thigh. “But I can be persuaded.”

He wasn’t sure about what he was doing, just that it felt good to shed his coat and lay it down as a make-shift nest. They didn’t have the expensive furs here like in Ghost’s den, but his warming blood as he laid himself on top of the nest, and the darkening gaze of the orca looming in front of him was enough to tell him that they didn’t need a ‘proper’ place to make it official. The courting ritual, the kisses and their talk were leading to this. 

“Johnny,” Ghost exhaled, sounding more breathless than he had before.

Soap touched his scar, as gentle as he could, and internally preened at the attention he was receiving. “You know, Simon, you’re actually supposed to ask first before puttin’ a bite on someone.”

Not the bite he ended up with, but they could play along. 

He tilted his chin as he fluttered his lashes at Ghost, and knew that his stunt had worked when he closed the distance and knelt near his thighs, an almost unbearable heat seeping from his body, embracing Soap without touching first. He did touch him, though. Gentle again, his large, scarred hands grasped the place Soap had traced with quiet reverence, following the marked edges and the muscles on his body. 

“Likin’ what you see?” Soap asked, leaning on his back as he stretched languidly to enjoy the view of the handsome shifter handling him with ease. He’d never gotten the impression of inexperience with Ghost, and how he was being touched told him more than enough. “You’ve already seen everything.”

Ghost tipped his head towards him, and his ravenous gaze drank him in with such intensity, he couldn’t help but feel cut open by his stare alone; the blush from earlier returning with vengeance. 

There were times when he thought the orca was pretty magnificent in his own right, and handsome at a proper glance beyond the scars — and because of it —, pretty too, but in this isolated moment, where his focus was completely narrowed towards Soap, it felt like he was in the presence of a force far beyond comparison. 

A concoction of desire, love and beauty mixing together to create a man that was impossible for him to resist.

It didn’t feel like he was real. 

“Not like this,” Ghost said, not aware of the fascination churning in Soap. 

He was right, of course. This was a first for him too. He didn’t know what to expect — other than fulfilling the urge that was pushing through his ribs. Seeing it through till the end. 

Soap offered his palm, and Ghost moved as if on instinct, closing his eyes and letting him brush his fingers over the pretty face that had been haunting him ever since he got to know him. His hair had dried up from their swim, curling over the edges and falling over his forehead, almost long enough to reach his eyes. Soap swept it away, lingering to solidify the memory of his hair against skin and the peaceful, passive face that melted more and more into his touch. 

“I can’t believe you were planning to leave me,” Soap muttered, softening amusement making his words kinder than his accusations from earlier. Ghost stirred, parted lips trailing kisses over his fingers until he reached his palm, and his eyes fluttered open to stare into his soul. 

“Even the gods can’t take you away from me now, Johnny,” he stated, firm and resolute in his promise. The intensity behind his gaze was far from passive, turning into a slurry of molten heat that Soap had only known through his studies so far. 

“Bold thing to say when you haven't claimed me yet.” 

Ghost lurched forward, crawling over his supine form with surprising speed, until he was properly on top of him, bracing himself on hands and knees as he caged Soap underneath him. His bulk felt tight around him, but not uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually. 

Soap’s joke didn’t seem to land well, but that was alright, he got him right where he wanted him. “Ya’know, I did mean it.” He stroked Ghost’s cheek, letting his fingers brush against the corner of his lips, and down to hold his jaw. “Prettiest orca I’ve ever seen.”

He pushed himself on his elbows to place a soft kiss on his lips. What was meant to be brief, and gentle, turned into something passionate and full of longing within a matter of seconds. Ghost chased after him, mouth open and tongue eager, latching onto Soap’s lips the moment he pushed him down against the pelt, like he was intent on stealing every breath from his lungs. It was a good thing he had plenty in him. 

The taste of blood seemed to never leave the orca’s tongue, and the stray thought of how they first met, with his blood in Ghost’s teeth and his flesh in his mouth, ignited a feral part of his brain, interrupting that memory in a different, more desperate light. He felt wanted, more than ever, like the very fact of his existence was something he couldn’t live without, and that made him buck his hips; searching, seeking, for what he didn’t know, but he understood that he wanted it more than ever before. 

Ghost groaned against his mouth, letting Soap eagerly muffle it with his tongue, angling his head to dive deeper, chasing after the taste of him with a sort of enthusiasm he has never felt until then. He wasn’t sure how good he was at it, just that Ghost didn’t seem to slow down; he returned Soap’s desire with his own, a fiery sort of indulgence that melted his core the more they continued. 

He was making noises, keens, groans and grunts that were immediately consumed the moment it left his throat, and the world narrowed impossibly, until the only thing he could think of was what was happening between them. The more they kissed, passion spilling messily over each other, the more it started blurring too. He couldn’t figure out where he ended and where the orca started, too intertwined between themselves to bother making a difference. 

Awareness came to him when Ghost moved away, chest heaving and lips swollen red. He could feel him closer than ever, body practically draped over Soap’s — the exception being his hips. Ghost felt massive in both size and weight, and while he was careful, it wasn’t hard for his instincts to sing over how he fit every single category that Soap had for a potential mate. Perfect up close, and from far too. Not that he was going to let him slip away again.

Ghost was purposeful, watching his reaction as he lowered himself completely over him, hips pinned against his own. That was when he felt him. His pelt was still between them, a thick layer that barely stopped him from noticing. Soap couldn’t help the sudden gasp out of his lips as he considered the obscene bulge that was slowly rutting into him. 

“Ghost,” he said without thinking, causing Ghost to stop. He dipped down, rubbing his cheek against Soap’s in a soothing, placating gesture. 

“Alright?” Ghost asked, voice soft enough to make him feel choked up. Soap cleared his throat with a light cough, and nodded, face heating up again. 

“Aye, just…” Soap focused on his breathing, the one thing he could control that wasn’t running wild with embarrassment. “I’ve never done this before.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe he would admonish him for not telling him sooner, though his inexperience with everything was barely hidden. It didn’t feel right to proceed without letting him know. Much to his relief, though, Ghost nodded at him, kissing the edges of his jaw to relax him further. 

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the start. In a way, he appreciated the affirmation as his anxiety eased further into himself. Expertly locked away when Ghost kissed him again, blending into that haze that threatened to consume him whole. 

This time, however, he was more than a willing participant.

“Johnny,” Ghost exhaled, dragging his face down his neck. There was an urgency in him, sudden and desperate. His lips never left his skin, delicate kisses caressing every exposed skin as he dragged a heated trail of affection over every part of Soap that was offered, each kiss etching deeper and deeper into his body. He bared his teeth at his nape, and nothing but desire spiked from the feel of his canines catching the skin there. 

He didn’t feel a trace of doubt, knowing that Ghost would keep his word. He promised, after all, and while things might’ve been unfair in the depths, he was baring his neck as much as Soap was. 

He trembled softly with a moan when Ghost nipped, biting down enough to leave small marks, but not enough to leave the mark. A mating bite was purposeful, intent and consent involved to seal the deal; he wasn’t sure how the ‘magic’ behind it worked, whether there were strings of fate involved or the ancestor’s blessings joining two souls into one, either way he was choosing him. 

He was there because he couldn’t imagine it any other way. 

Soap carded fingers through Ghost’s hair, writhing as the bites dragged further down his body, moving from his neck to his shoulders, to his chest, and then stopping at the arch of his hips. Hot, heavy breaths warmed his skin there. Anticipation ate at him until he felt a sharp, potent bite, canines lingering enough for him to hiss through his teeth and jerk his hips, only to be held down by Ghost’s firm palm. 

A wet, eager tongue lapped up the blood that seeped, enough to temporarily close it. The wound wasn’t fully healed, but that could be fixed later. When they were done with the ritual itself. 

“Simon,” Soap begged, his voice pitching high enough to sound like a whine. “Please.”

Ghost grunted, leaving a lasting kiss before he pulled away, raising to his knees to look down at Soap like he was on the verge of getting everything he wanted out of life. He had never felt as cherished as he did underneath the gaze of the man he almost lost his life to. It was irrelevant now, that spike of adrenaline tasting like elation. 

“Look at you,” Ghost murmured, dragging his palm over the edges of Soap’s body. The hunger in his eyes had diminished to something softer, tainted with adoration more than need. “You want this, don’t you?” 

“I want you,” Soap confessed, feeling a barrage of emotions settle in the middle of his throat. “Make me yours?”

Something snapped in Ghost. He lowered himself, propping Soap’s legs up to his hips as he discarded his pelt into the nest, making the shared space smell distinctively of them. Momentarily distracted by the thick, enticing scent, Soap didn’t blink back into awareness until he felt something heavy, and hot, pushed against him. 

The weight of Ghost’s cock against his own was enough to make him gasp, tethering into the realm of blind anticipation, and he hurriedly looked down, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him. 

Ghost pushed more against him as he stared, leaking over Soap’s stomach; his cock nearly covered all of his own from length alone, and the sheer girth made him squirm underneath him, unable to stifle his growing need as a deep groan rumbled through the orca’s body. He was going to burn, or be split open, and he wasn’t as enthusiastic of the prospect before he met him. 

Maybe it should concern him, but his skin was buzzing with a need that felt too primal to bother. There were many things he wanted out of life, most of which he wasn’t allowed to have, and he wasn’t going to let Ghost be one of them. 

His precome alone was plentiful, making a true mess out of Soap as he fisted his length, casually stroking more out of his cock. Some of it fell on his stomach, but most were purposefully smeared on Soap’s cock. Ghost languidly rubbed the slit against his arousal; marking him, and making everything slicker in the process. He felt hot and wet in ways he couldn’t imagine, spurts of his own precome inconsequential in comparison. 

“Johnny.”

Ghost was fixated on him, staring at the place where they were joined with increasing interest, and he started fucking his fist, stopping only when he was satisfied with the amount of come over Soap’s body. He released his cock soon after, letting it fall heavily against him as he gently rolled his hips. Rutting into him, but in a delicate, teasing way, making Soap feel more desperate as he threw his head back, and grinding to feel more of that delicious pressure, the fullness he craved that was far from reach. 

“Fuck,” he cussed, forcing his hips up to feel more, only for Ghost to cruelly lift himself away. He was about to protest, but he felt his rubbery pelt being pushed against his lower back, casually holding his arse higher up. The noise that slipped out of his mouth next sounded more like a plea, “Simon.”

Ghost gripped his hips, tight enough to bruise if he kept holding, and even that was barely enough to calm the needy beast clawing in his chest. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself like this.” 

Maybe he didn’t care any more. 

Maybe Ghost could hurt him however much he wanted, as long as his attention was on him, love and devotion alternating through teeth and tongue, unable to part away from his skin until he had his fill. He was massive. Everything about him was. The way he loomed, covering his vision completely until he was the only thing that stood out, made Soap want to be crushed in that warmth without a care in the world. He was going mad, he could admit. But, dying in Ghost's hands didn’t seem unappealing any more. 

Losing my head for you. 

“Slow down,” Ghost murmured, reading the expression right off Soap’s eager, lidded eyes, while his own were darker than the sky that danced with colours above them, not masking the yearning within. “Gotta make it good for you too, love.”

Fuck. He didn’t —

Soap’s face scorched, his mind wrapping around the word that had easily slipped out of his mouth like it was his salvation. His heart pounded in rhythm with Ghost's deepening smirk, realising that he had gone past the point of no return. Smitten, enamoured, and every other fancy word he could think of did not cover the extent of how much he wanted him.

How hadn’t he noticed before? 

Why hadn’t he figured it out sooner? 

Every thought that fed into his growing frustration with himself diminished when Ghost fisted both of their lengths together, gentle in the way he stroked both of them off — intently smearing more of his come over his fingers and cock, as if they weren’t already soiled. 

Soap groaned, the stimulation enough to make him twitch and leak, but hardly satisfying the itch that was crawling under his skin the more Ghost didn’t take as much as he should. He didn’t have to wait for long, though, since a different sensation took over whatever he thought he craved. 

Ghost pulled his hand away, and Soap felt him roughly paw at his cheeks, holding his weight up to slip his fingers between the crack of his arse, slick-soaked fingers prodding at his skin until he grazed his hole. 

He bit his lips, smothering the gasp that was threatening to escape as his finger kept circling his rim, curious but restrained. 

He’s gonna… 

It wasn’t an ‘oh’ moment, Soap wasn’t completely clueless about how things worked; he’d thought about it and expected what was coming, even had discussions about it when he figured out that he liked men a few years ago. One of his cousins that visited was the same as him too. It was still daunting, though, he certainly hadn’t expected to find a mate within an orca of all shifters. 

Ghost was attractive in more ways than one. Soap couldn’t keep his eyes off him, and while most would likely clock his build for imposing, his scars as a testament of danger — those only added up to make him more attractive than he already was. The contrast of everything to his gentle demeanour — especially how he handled Soap — struck him as an oath, a promise of patience and understanding that had the undercurrents of love tightly interwoven in his being. 

Soap was the one who was chosen to get close enough to see it, vulnerability inherent despite the strength he boasted. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Ghost continued showing him that respect; reverent in how he pulled him closer than he already was, bending his body uncomfortably to kiss the healing scars he left behind. 

Ghost’s finger slipped into him, the glide easier due to the slickness of his come, and didn’t stop until the boney edge of his knuckle was flush against his hole. The stretch burned, his muscles clamming up against the intrusion as a foreign feeling overtook him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to push himself closer to Ghost’s hand or crawl away, the choice taken from him when Ghost tried to pull his finger out, only for Soap to tighten instinctively. 

“Easy, Johnny,” Ghost grunted, a red flush clear on his face as he rose from Soap’s hips, blinking at him with a controlled expression that hid his desire to an extent. He couldn’t fully hide it, of course, grip too bruising and eyes too dark to conceal much. “You’re not gonna be able to take me like this.”

Considering the sheer size of his cock, it was more of a warning than anything.

“Should’ve thought twice before growin’ that big.” Soap huffed, closing his eyes to focus as he slowly relaxed his muscles. He ignored the urge to snark back, rewarded by the lazy twist of Ghost’s hand, a strange, tight sensation accompanying the burn this time when he pulled back and thrusted inside without warning. 

Soap groaned, clenching down in turn as he set a slow, rhythmic pace with his finger, leisurely fucking him on it. He felt Ghost watching him, keen on flexing his hand to coax more sharp noises out of him, and the embarrassment went hand in hand with the lust that was growing as seconds passed between them. He couldn’t bring himself to look — knowing that his intensity would consume him whole while he was trying to figure out what he felt. 

Soap knew he wanted it, and felt his body chasing after the sensation that was him. Everything he was willing to give was under consideration; he wanted Ghost too. Through sheer, stubborn will he’d make it work. 

“If I’d known such a pretty little thing would ask to be mine…” Ghost added another finger in, and Soap felt his hole suck him in with a wet squelch, forcing a choked out gasp out of his lips as his hips shuddered at the intrusion. He almost felt stuffed. Almost. “Not that you hate it.”

Then, he continued, getting rougher as he flexed his fingers, curled and stretched him out. It seemed like his words from earlier were going to be true. Soap was biting off more than he could chew, but that stubbornness persisted like his heart, so intent on having all of him to himself. 

“Never,” Soap whispered, hooking his legs around Ghost’s hips to anchor himself until he could bounce on his hand to an extent. He moaned at the next glide, the frantic motion making his voice louder and obscene as desperation started fraying them both. “Bet I can take you perfectly,” he managed to say, despite every thrust of his fingers threatening to steal his breath. 

“Don’t tempt me when you’re like this, Johnny,” Ghost said in a low, gravelly voice, nothing short of a dark promise as he forced another finger in, three in total. Soap found himself being dangled at the edge of his sanity, held together by sensations that overwhelmed him. Fuck, when was the last time he had anything in him? 

“Still too tight.”

Maybe he was, but that he wanted it

His fingers hardly compared to Ghost’s; thick, calloused fingers that mercilessly rubbed against the sensitive nub of his hole, and they were appropriately sized to the rest of him. The burn was fading, and his body was starting to react more instinctively, clenching when he was buried to the hilt, trying his best to relax when he pulled out. 

“Not gonna be able to fit me like this.”

Somehow, that sparked something white and hot in him. If he was this full with just his fingers —

Bloody fuck. 

Arousal coursed through the both of them, heavy spurts of precome drooling from the tip of Ghost’s cock, rolling down on Soap’s stomach to add more to the mess, while he was chasing after the growing heat in his guts, trying to suck more of his fingers in and coax the roughness out of him. 

“Fuck, Johnny,” Ghost said, stopping his fingering to stretch him from the deepest part he could reach, much to Soap’s loud whine of protest, his hips grinding down on his palm to seek more of that frantic, pleasurable friction. His cock throbbed, almost painfully so, and the haze that smothered his senses wasn’t making him think at all. Soap needed something. More. 

Ghost did the opposite of giving him more, pulling his fingers out all at once, leaving him emptier than before. The noise out of Soap’s mouth was more of a cry — a wounded animal’s cry — and he furiously blinked back into focus, snapping his neck up to see why the fuck he was taking so much time. 

Ghost seemed to have anticipated his response, wet, slick-dripped hands grasping his thighs the moment he looked, and yanking him towards him, nearly bending Soap in half as he forced most of his lower half flush against his hips. His face was a wreck, golden lashes shuddering as he stared at him without blinking once, a dangerous glint in his dark brown eyes grew as he exhaled, and then inhaled. 

Searching for his composure, Soap realised.

“Think you can take it?” Ghost released his hold when he noticed that Soap wasn’t moving, bracing himself over him on his elbows this time, his bulk closer than before. His chest hovered over his, almost touching, but not draped over him yet. He’d probably crush him, if he did. 

Not that Soap would’ve minded.

He tentatively extended an out-stretched hand up, tracing the scar that climbed up from Ghost’s heart to his neck with his fingertips, and stopping only when he was cupping his jaw. He held his face in both of his hands, considering every little detail he missed before. Ghost looked terribly tempting in every iteration Soap had seen him. This one, close and intimate in ways he didn’t think possible, was growing to be his favourite. They’d have more time to unveil the different faces of affection from each other later on.

His future didn’t look as bleak as before. 

“What did the…” Soap started, silently sucking in his cheeks to not give away the smirk that was twitching at the corner of his lips, the ridiculous joke making him want to squirm away. It was going to be awful, but who was going to stop him? “...seal say to the orca when he finally caught up to him?”

Ghost blinked at him and parted his lips, as if he wanted to answer, but nothing came out, and he stared at him in question instead. 

“I love you,” Soap replied, not giving him another chance to speak as he dove up, catching the surprised breath that had escaped out of Ghost’s mouth, his eyes creasing at the visible shock that shimmered into tender acceptance. Ghost moved gently, letting Soap melt into him, mouth open and willing to taste the palpable affection that was coursing through his veins. 

Urgency claimed them, and the tongue that twisted into his mouth, licking and sucking everything it reached, felt like loving acceptance. 

Ghost was everywhere again, on top of him, tasting him, underneath him, around him; he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t him, like his world had narrowed into a concept that was defined solely by one Simon Riley, and everything else ceased to matter. They were intertwined in most conceivable ways, except one. Ghost worked to fix that when they broke contact to desperately gulp in air, exhausting most out of their lungs. 

He felt him move, adjusting his hips and forcing his knees to his chest until his cock was dragged to his cheeks, a large fist guiding the leaking length where it needed to go, resting against the swollen pucker of his rim. Soap exhaled raggedly at the feel of his velvety tip, shivering as Ghost rubbed the slit against his hole in an unhurried, relaxed pace, making him wetter than he already was. 

“Simon,” Soap whined, his voice lower and hoarser as anticipation clawed through him. Ghost didn’t stop teasing him, rubbing his cock over the fluttering twitches of his rim as more globs of come leaked out of him. “Sim—”

Ghost kissed him, muffling the needy murmur of his name with his tongue as he parted his cheeks with one hand, the other pushing the head of his cock into his entrance. He sank down, the weight of his length bearing down on him as he slowly intruded his body, spreading him wider and hotter than he ever thought possible. The crown alone was sparing him on its thickness, and his insides clenched, pathetic moans strumming out of him. Ghost groaned against his lips, feeling the tight squeeze of his hole burn both of them with pleasure and pain alike. 

His insides churned, hot and molten, steadily impaled as Ghost continued regardless of his breathless whines, squirming against the sheer amount of fullness he was being subjected to. Ghost’s fat cock was pushing into Soap like he was trying to leave an indent in the shape of it, his trembling walls spasming against the intrusion as his vision faltered. The wetness felt obscene inside of him, sucking in the imposing cock until he could feel it in his stomach; his guts stuffed with the weight of him.

Fuck. Soap could barely think, his words stolen from his mouth as more of his length was shoved inside, and he heard Ghost grunt, his head suddenly dropping to the nape of his neck as the pressure continued. Knowing that he was big and feeling it in the deepest part of him was very different, he realised. It felt like it was never ending, the seconds stretching until finally, Ghost stopped. 

His balls were flushed to Soap’s hole, cock stuffed to the hilt inside of him. 

It was too much. 

“Still…” Ghost growled, his chest rising and falling heavily against him. “Still too fucking tight.”

Soap felt his cock throb, his insides clamming down at the subtle motion despite his attempt to relax. Ghost moaned against his neck, his hot breath travelling across his chest as he tried to not move, letting him adjust to the sheer size of him. 

Soap blinked away the tears that were starting to gather in his eyes, unable to focus on anything but the pressure that felt too much — 

“Johnny,” Ghost whispered, soothingly rubbing his palm over the arch of his hips, but in their mindless attempts to cope with the tightness they felt, he didn’t even realise that he was touching the mark directly. Soap jolted, a sharp, loud moan tearing out of his lips as he squirmed against the sudden burst of pleasure that felt like it was digging into the darkest corner of his soul.

Ghost tensed against him with a louder groan, his hand twitching as he forced them away, grabbing Soap’s thighs to anchor him close again, tightening his hold to keep him there. Fucking the inch that had slipped out back inside with little fanfare. 

It was too much, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to tell him to stop, because for once in his life, the overwhelming pressure made him satisfied beyond measure. He was so full, and the heat that coursed through him tasted like Ghost — someone he knew he wanted wholeheartedly. 

“Sorry.” Soap didn’t know what he was apologising for, but he felt like he should. “Yer makin’ me feel too much.”

He tried to move again, and felt Ghost push himself up to look at him, eyes flickering to his lips before he caught his gaze. He loosened his hold then, reading the silent desperation in his expression, and Soap grinned as he leisurely grinded against his hips. 

The more Ghost stayed in him, the more he was starting to feel like he could get used to the pressure in his guts. As laughable as it might’ve sounded, since he was going to ruin him either way. He’d never wanted his own destruction like this before, feeling the interested twitch of his cock deep in him; knowing that it wouldn’t take much of his strength to reduce him to a mindless, drooling mess. 

Soap moaned at the next roll of his hips, feeling Ghost move to match his rhythm, grinding his balls against his sensitive little hole.

“Good?” Ghost asked gruffly, his voice measured and deep, while his eyes gleamed knowingly, watching Soap get needy the more he moved. Acting like he was content with what he saw, when his entire body was tense, cock stiffening despite how hard he already was. 

“Aye,” Soap managed, tightening his core muscles as he tried to relax against the pleasure that grew with every little tilt of his hips, the soft, unconscious ‘ah’s spilling endlessly out of his mouth. “Feels like you’re gonna tear me apart.” 

“You can take it,” Ghost said, pulling back a few inches to thrust it smoothly in. Soap gasped, feeling his breath be forced out of his lungs from the small motion alone, and he wasn’t even being forceful with it. The pleasure that burst out of being stuffed again was different this time. He craved more. “Doing so well already.”

“Ghost.” Soap grappled for a hold, flailing for a moment in the air as Ghost pulled his cock out, slow and smug in how he made him feel every delicious, agonising inch against his spasming walls, until only his cockhead was inside of him. 

He quickly settled his hands on Ghost’s back, nails digging into the solid planes of his muscle while his right tangled against the mess of hair at the back of his neck. The emptiness in him was a surprising contrast against the fullness from earlier, and his hole was already fluttering, clenching the tip of his cock like a lifeline.

Wanting Ghost for himself was twisting into a different need, and he didn’t miss the low, appreciative rumble out of his mouth as he leaned down and whispered his words to Soap there, against the parted moue of his lips, “Is this what you want, love?”

Ghost thrusted in without warning, most of his cock forced back with a loud slap of his hips against Soap’s cheeks, grinding again, harshly, when he was balls deep. He stole every inch of sanity within Soap with that single movement alone. He didn’t see anything, feel anything, that wasn’t Ghost. His vision swam, the deepest part of him wrecked with ease. 

It felt amazing.

“You’re taking me well,” Ghost groaned, continuing his thrusts like before. He made Soap a witness of everything; the burn, the wetness and how he claimed as frantically as he took. “Like you were made for this.” 

His hips slapped as he got more erratic with his pace, making Soap’s jaw jitter with each shove, the restrained tension in the rest of him constricting him almost as tightly as his teeth had a long time ago. He was spurred on by the noises that got fucked out of Soap’s mouth, chest rumbling with a low growl that seemed both approving and aggressive. 

“Made to be fucked like this by me.”

Soap cried out, insides melting as the filthy words whispered near his ears pricked his skin with something hot and undeniable. His cock throbbed against his stomach, a lazy trail of precome oozing out of the slit, and the pressure in his guts intensified. Bloody fuck, the one time Ghost talked more than he’d expected and it was when he was fucking him to oblivion. 

“Precious little mate.” Ghost angled his hips more purposefully, lingering inside him each thrust as he brutally rubbed against the sensitive nub inside with each stroke. The confirmation did more than enough. When he realised that Soap was crying out louder, he persisted in the same spot, muttering softly — making him more sensitive to the steady way he impaled him on his cock. 

“You like this, don’t you?” There was something reverent in his gaze, relishing the way Soap submitted underneath him. Taking him in with a steadily increasing enthusiasm, he drank in everything; from the loud, filthy moans to his desperate attempt to roll into the body jostling thrusts. Soap would’ve probably been up against the broken den’s walls if Ghost wasn’t keeping him there, pinned down by his cock and arms with ease.

“I like you,” Soap moaned, his voice shuttering at the end as Ghost didn’t bother to slow down to let him answer. He could barely fucking talk, let alone register everyting that was happening to him. 

Ghost licked the arch of his neck, letting his teeth graze the stretch of his skin there, and Soap shivered, unable to do anything but take it as he nipped and kissed until he reached his lips. It was less urgent there, his kiss melting like freshly fallen snow, a loving, indulgent lack of depth that contrasted the way he pounded him into the make-shift nest. 

He felt his cock reach deeper into him the more he responded, shaping his insides to his liking, a primal, instinctive claim that reduced any doubt from his brain that he wasn’t being chosen. Stars danced behind his eyelids, propelled by the extraordinary, vigorous experience he was sharing with Ghost, and the kiss got sloppier as they continued, heat exchanging from the clever twists of their tongues. 

Soap hadn’t known another, been known, as intensely and intimately before. It was like a new world had opened its gates to him, one that was full of pleasure, love and a kind of security that came with feeling like he belonged. Ghost had gone from a threat, a stranger, to someone he was going to do everything in his power to not lose, and it was revelation itself; love that he never expected, saving him from the crevice of a dark, cold world. 

He opened his eyes slowly, pulling his lips away to mimic what Ghost had done to him in reverse. He dragged his lips from the sharp, jutting edge of his jaw, to the thick, powerful line of muscle down his throat, kissing along the low rumble that thrummed underneath his tongue. 

Driven to the precipice of pleasure, his reasoning was pushed aside to adhere to the fervent desire of his heart that demanded to seal the deal. To make what he knew was his, completely and undeniable his. The world needed to know. The sky, sea and stars stood to witness as John Mactavish took the final step towards his happiness.

He parted his lips, teeth morphing into sharper, deadlier rows of canines, and bit down hard enough to latch onto the flesh of Ghost’s neck and taste his blood in his teeth.

A distant thought floated at the back of his mind, even if it was ridiculous to consider in hindsight. 

It does taste different. 

The tang of metal and salt in his mouth was a reflection of Ghost, distinctive in a way Soap knew he wouldn’t be able to ever describe even if he was forced to. A taste of his soul that belonged to just him.

The ‘bond’ wasn’t a magical burst of everything. No, it was far more natural, deeper understanding that he had found and claimed the only other shifter that could truly understand the full extent of his soul. The magic was in the normalcy of it, an inclination that reached into his bones and twisted him to adjust to his new reality immediately. 

He wasn’t alone any more. 

Ghost jolted against him, his surprised reaction accompanying a small, breathless whine as he tensed, controlling his bodily reaction to not hurt Soap, his whole frame shuddering in response to the tightness of his jaw. He didn’t need to, of course, but that didn’t stop Soap from affectionately licking the wound as he pulled away, seeing the confirmation for himself as the flesh healed in front of him. 

He found himself staring at the spot before he writhed when Ghost picked up speed, clutching onto his biceps for dear life as any steadiness in him was fucked out of him. He couldn’t catch his breath fully, moans slipping in punched out gasps as he was forced, through overbearing persistence, to feel the extent of their shared desires. The world merged into one. He wasn’t by himself any more, and it was filling his heart in more ways than one. 

The artsy lulls of the experience had done nothing to describe the pressure that swirled stronger than any tidal wave Soap had ever seen, consumed by the shape of Ghost, he was made to bear witness his magnificent, beautiful mate surrendering into the pleasure only his body could provide. The sight alone took him by the throat, a deeper need making his insides clench, feeling his rumbling growl nestle its way underneath his chest. 

Ghost slammed to the hilt, fucking him in slow, swallow thrusts as his hand sneaked to Soap’s hip, lightly brushing against his mark for a second. 

The pleasure he felt was blood white. It bloomed in scattered fragments behind his eyes before Ghost’s fingers dug in, a determined, possessive hold rendering him still as his cock flexed a few times inside of him. The next tight grind of his hips was what tipped them over. 

“Johnny,” Ghost groaned, shoulders hunching over as his cock spilled inside of him, coming in bursts of liquid heat that was threatening to fill him to the brim. Soap was overwhelmed, physically, emotionally and mentally, unable to define the concoction that made his blood burn hot, toe-curling pressure making him arch his back and cry out in ecstasy. 

He came violently, squirming against the iron-clad hold of Ghost’s hand — the force on his mark not helping in the slightest. He was a mess, cock drooling over his stomach with sticky white spend as he felt Ghost pulse inside of him, stuffing him more and more the longer he held him there. It felt unbearable, and it was everything he wanted out of the moment.  

When he came down from the peak he had reached, Ghost let him move, nuzzling the side of Soap’s face as he rhythmically tightened his core muscles, squeezing his cock of every drop of come until nothing was left. A pleased noise escaped from the back of Ghost’s throat, and he leaned close to softly kiss him through his orgasm. 

It didn’t take long for him to settle. Or maybe, it just felt like it didn’t take long. Soap was having the time of his life, as far as he was concerned. 

Ghost caught the smile that was twitching over the corner of his lips with ease. Kissed the dimple of his cheeks next, and moved closer to the side of his face, peppering small kisses up to the dip of his jaw. He stopped next to his ears, his voice rumbling, quiet and sincere — almost too vulnerable in its admission. 

“What was the orca’s response to the angry little seal that demanded more than he gave?”

Soap blinked, confused. 

What the fuck was he on about now?

“I love you too,” Ghost confessed easily, his body gradually lowering down until he was enveloping Soap in a tight embrace that stole his breath in more ways than one.

He was finally home. 

Chapter Text

Soap woke up to absolute bliss. There was warmth around him, unyielding and bone-deep, the heavy weight of something soft and safe covering him from head to toe as the smell of ocean, musk and a metallic tinge filled his lungs. He buried himself in it, nuzzling his face into the source of the scent, finding a never-ending stretch of smooth skin instead. Awareness came to him in blips, confusing but gentle nonetheless, and he opened his eyes to the pale illumination of the sun itself. 

At least, the closest earthly equivalent to it. 

It took a while for Soap to blink, to figure out that what he was staring at was the scarred skin of Simon Riley, almost shining under the rays of the sun seeping from the cracks of the den. He was close to Ghost’s torso, likely pulled closer during sleep, his body completely tucked in underneath the massive limbs of his mate —  safe and warm. It was the best sleep of his life; worn out and satiated by the end of the night. He wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world. 

Soap tipped his chin up to look at the peaceful sleeping face of Ghost, admiring the way sunlight highlighted every little detail he loved. From the glistening shine in his sea-salted curls to the sharp edges of his cheeks and jaw. Pride and adoration brimmed from his chest, reminding him of the fact that he chose the right mate, his instincts humming with a kind of primal satisfaction he has never felt before this moment. 

I wouldn’t trade you for the world. 

He reached out, letting his fingers run through the pale strands, gently ruffling his hair like he’d been wanting to. Ghost made a soft noise, exhaling out of his nose, and he moved closer to Soap’s touch, seeking him out even in sleep. Not awake, yet. He would be if he kept it up. Soap pulled his hand back, not because he didn’t want to wake him, but because he had a better idea.

Ghost had his arm and leg on him, securing him to his chest, but in the scuffle of the night, his face was closer to his neck, partially pressed against his arm and his pec for support. The bitemark he left on the orca was staring right back at him, a blue indent of his teeth, almost glistening in an unnatural sort of hue. It didn’t look like the usual colours of a wound a body could display, but it was beautiful all the same. 

Soap had only seen two bonding marks up close in his life so far — his parents, since they had a matching traditional one on their necks. His father’s was a darker green, a colour rarer in the ocean, which made his mark stand out to Soap more, and his mother’s was a deep orange, fire itself. He felt compelled, mouth dry when he continued staring at Ghost’s neck, like something in him was recognising the mark as a piece of his soul and calling him towards it. 

He went with parted lips, pressing against the swollen edges of the mark. His kiss was similar to a murmur of a breeze, pleasant yet barely present, touching the broader shape of the bite without disrupting the peace of his target, caresses intending to remind him that it was there, and he was responsible for it. Ghost was stirring from his touch, his chest going from a deep, consistent rhythm to something quicker, more aware, and his breath audibly hitched when Soap sucked his flesh in between his teeth. 

He was treated to a low, rumbling groan from his mate, the arms around him moved, constricting him. Ghost pulled him closer, annoyed by the separation between them; they were skin to skin, not even pelts present to cover parts of themselves from each other. Soap began fluttering kisses over the mark again, making sure to linger, suck and press, insistent in his demand for attention. 

“Johnny,” Ghost said, the flat of his palm dragged up Soap’s spine. Slow, delicious and so fucking warm. Ghost didn’t stop until his hand was behind his neck, his fingers digging into the nape, and yet, he allowed Soap to continue, rubbing his fingers soothingly into his skin. “Good morning to you too, love.”

Soap made a happy noise from the back of his throat, one that sounded suspiciously like a chirp, and pulled away after another kiss. Ghost let him fall back and get comfortable on his chest, peering down at him through those ridiculously long lashes. He looked content, and Soap’s heart nearly pounded out of his chest at the realisation that he played a hand in that. He was the reason Simon Riley looked like he had the world in his arms. 

On his chest, to be more accurate. 

“It’s blue,” Soap remarked, his gaze flickering towards the mark for emphasis. “Not the purple-ish bruise looking ones. It’s more — more like the ocean when the moon’s out and the stars are clear, and the waves look a wilder shade of blue.”

Ghost considered his words for a heartbeat. Then, he reached out, cupping Soap’s jaw, the pad of his thumb pressing gently on top of his cheekbones. “Like your eyes, Johnny?”

Soap opened his mouth, and closed it. Speechless, the heat of his body did the talking for him, blooming around his neck and creeping up his face until he felt hot and bothered in a way no man had managed to make him feel. Ghost’s eyes were gleaming, amused by his display, and if he stared at them long enough, he could see his own reflection in them. An embarrassed, flattered reflection.

Because the implication alone was damning. Ghost couldn’t mean Soap was comparable to the beauty he had spent his entire life relying on, could he? But he was staring at him like he did, drawing gentle circles on top of his blush, indulgent in his show of affection. It was too much. The warmth morphed into a demanding burn, and Ghost has never looked as kissable as he currently did. 

Soap gave in to the voices. He slung his leg over Ghost’s waist, pushing himself up by his arms to properly straddle him. Soap got a nicer view when he was seated on his stomach, the way Ghost looked up at him, dark eyes glistening appreciatively. He was unnaturally still, waiting for Soap to make the move, as if he wasn’t already aware of what he wanted the most. 

Soap started slowly. The position allowed him easier access to Ghost’s torso, and he went head first towards his main target — his heart. Or rather, the small triangular space between the two protruding muscles of his chest, the one where he’d be able to feel his heartbeat loud and clear. Soap has been nurturing the need in his chest, one threatening to blister and bleed if he didn’t indulge it, and while Ghost had guided him through most of it yesterday, he wanted to take over. Show how good he can be for him; he wasn’t going to let the orca regret choosing him for a single second, if he could help it. 

Soap kissed the skin above his heart, lips parted and teeth grazing against the steady beat of life underneath him, putting his own claim beyond the bite and words with Ghost’s heavy gaze on him as witness. His own was starting to quicken, instincts registering the narrowed focus of a predator who wanted him, truly wanted him, and yet, the mark on his hip warmed up in unison, anticipation filling the gaps. It’d be natural to wait for Ghost to pounce — to take what was rightfully his. But, he didn’t and Soap was grateful he was being patient for him. 

He was pretty good at that, actually.

Soap decided it was enough of an excuse to continue, placing gentle kisses to his chest, extending his hand to gently grab one of Ghost’s pecs, itching with the desire to kiss and touch everywhere he could. He kneaded the muscle softly, palms hot and heavy, enjoying the heavier weight of his mate’s breathes; Ghost wasn’t making those sweet noises yet, but he was determined to make him sing.

He climbed up the smooth line with an open mouth, sucking in the smooth skin. The delicious shudders Ghost treated him with urged him on as he left a path of sharp, wet kisses, marking his way up to his collar bone. The mating bite was right there, a tinge of shimmering blue in the shape of his teeth — a lasting reminder of who he belonged to. 

“Simon,” Soap said with fervour in his voice, quickly growing to like how Ghost’s name sounded in his tongue. He was going to be his favourite, he knew it. Ghost hummed in response, finally moving, his arms encircling around Soap. His hands swept down Soap’s side and stopped above his hips, one hand hovering over the mark while another secured a hold on the dip of his hips. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Johnny,” Ghost murmured easily, utterly sincere. He pressed gently against the healed bite, spreading jolts of heat from the touch alone, and Soap whimpered low, wanting and craving and barely holding himself back from acting on desire alone. 

“More than that. Fuck, Ghost, I would’ve died out there without you.” Soap wasn’t sure how to explain the feeling churning in his gut, knowing the taboo he committed that Ghost had graciously not commented on except once. He nearly lost himself in the sea, abandoned his humanity for some semblance of normalcy, and completely ignored how it was eating him alive. “Didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, didn’t know where I was —” 

Ghost’s hold tightened around his mark, tense from the subject. Soap moaned as the touch soothed his nerves, reached for something deep in his core. He could taste it on his tongue, the growing musk of their shared scent, thick and reassuring. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Johnny,” Ghost said, rattling something fragile in his heart. Soap knew he meant; either from the bond or from how well he has gotten to know the orca over the days, like he was meant to know every little detail about Simon Riley from the start. “Wish I knew sooner rather than later.” 

“I don’t hold it against you.” Not after he apologised, not after he refused to blame him even after knowing how Soap’s own actions played a part in it — fault or not. “You’re kind of perfect, ya’know?”

“If you say so, love,” Ghost mused, rubbing his palms soothingly against his skin. Soap could hear the smile in his voice, recognised the gentle lilt that guaranteed if he looked up to catch a glimpse of Ghost’s face, he’d melt from the core from the sight alone. His damnation and his salvation packaged into one man, how fitting. 

Soap nuzzled into the crook of Ghost’s neck instead, a soft rumbling sound of satisfaction escaped his throat as he bathed in his mate’s scent, mouth latched on the outline of his own bite. Ghost groaned when he nipped into it, his body bucking against Soap’s. He doubled down, extended his jaw to replicate the mark, letting his teeth catch, and his tongue swirled gently to ease the pain. 

The breath Ghost exhaled was sweeter, hitched and desperate, but his muscles flexed underneath Soap, a conscious effort to not interrupt him. It was like Soap had a beast tethered to him, swaying in accordance to the invisible bond they’d both played their hands in tying; dangerous, but leashed, following the rules of the most tender emotion in the world. 

Gods, he was in love.

Soap pulled away after a parting kiss to the indent he left behind, grinning at the low ‘Johnny ’ barely voiced above him. Somehow, he knew it was what Ghost meant when he grunted instead, the grasp on his hips easing as Soap pushed himself up, sitting properly on his stomach. He got treated to a view and half; Ghost’s intense half lidded russet eyes focused completely on him while his cheeks were a dusty pink, a perfect pretty picture just for him to remember. 

“Does the offer to ride you still stand?” Soap asked with a smirk, leaning back enough on his arse to feel the problem at hand. 

“Cheeky pup,” Ghost murmured, mirth growing in his eyes. His hands slid from Soap’s hips to his thighs, fingers digging into his muscle. Steadying him, but otherwise giving him the reins. “No wonder you looked so distraught back then.”

Soap felt a blush creep up his face. “Not exactly an answer, Ghost.” 

“Your choice, Johnny.” Ghost sighed languidly, flopping his head to the side to relax better in their nest, like Soap couldn’t feel his cock thicken at the suggestion, resting at the crease of his arse in full attention. “Hard to say no when you’re like this.” 

“Growin’ a wee too sweet on me for a killer whale, Simon.” Soap couldn’t help the giggle bubbling out of his chest, fluttering twists of happiness, love and lust intertwined together, making him smile more than he thought possible. Ghost hadn’t taken his eyes off him, focused intensely on his face, eyes lowering to his lips every so often. 

“Anything for you, love,” Ghost stated, the certainty of an absolutely enamoured mate seeping through his soft words, and Soap found himself trusting him without needing more assurance. He felt secure in the foundation of their relationship. A younger version of himself wouldn’t believe he would be head over heels for an orca, let alone one he had only known for a moon cycle, but fate had a funny way of turning presumptions on its head. 

Soap always had a feeling his story would be extraordinary — he was wrong about the extent of how unusual it would be. He didn’t mourn where he ended up, on top of a handsome mate ready to do his bidding on a whim. He rolled his hips back, pushing more insistently against Ghost’s cock, letting the fat tip rub against the small of his back. 

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while,” Soap muttered, hiding how affected he was from feeling Ghost get wetter with each grind. He smothered the swell of pride as he saw pale lashes flutter whenever he pushed back, teasing his cock down and down until he was marking his hole with his precome. 

“Go on, then.” Ghost’s permission came with a rolling rise of his hips, pushing his cock more against Soap’s hole. Teasing the rim, but not quite pushing past the wet ring. Soap groaned with a need to be taken, making him momentarily forgot himself. Bastard looked smug enough at getting the reactions, falling back into his previous position when he saw Soap’s frown.

He kept his word. Mostly.

Soap steadied himself with a grumble, pushing back, forcing Ghost to be nestled between the wet crease of his arse. He was getting slicker, leaking from the front and behind, more relaxed after last night — looking forward to being filled. The thought alone got his cock stirring, almost as hard as Ghost’s by now. He rutted his hips forward, grinding more of his cock against the supple, scarred stretch of a muscular stomach, wet and marking him this time. Fuck, Ghost was perfect. He offered his body and soul to him, surrendering himself like it was nothing. 

Like it was easy to give himself over to Soap, either because of love, or trust, or both. It shouldn’t have turned him on more, but he found his blood rushing, that urge in him returning; the instinct to merge fully, until where he started and where Ghost ended was impossible to distinguish. He raised his hips, grabbing the base of Ghost’s cock to guide the tip where it needed to go. He throbbed a spurt of precome as he pressed him to his hole, sinking the cockhead in little by little as he worked his thighs down. 

The stretch was good, fraying the edges of Soap’s nerves with how big Ghost was, an intimidating endeavour if he didn’t already take him the night before, and he wasn’t even fully in yet. Anticipation burned through him as he lowered himself, breaths coming out in small huffs of exertions, a rumbling, high-pitched noise building up at the back of his mind, determined to make it amazing for his mate. 

Ghost’s stomach flexed, blood-tinged eyes rippling with specks of gold under the sunlight — tense with the tightness enveloping himself but appreciative beyond words. It was easier to read his body language, to know when he moaned out as the curve of his arse flushed against Ghost’s pelvis, the resounding groan was out of pure need. 

“Fuck me,” Soap groaned, grinding his hips until his arse was pressed against his balls. 

Ghost was a fucking weapon, in every way that mattered, and he couldn’t have been more proud. Soap took some time to stabilise himself. He indulged in the view of Ghost parting his lips, a soundless moan thrumming out of the air as Soap clenched, pulling him impossibly deep even when his insides were spasming to accommodate him. The hands on his hips turned punishing, hold tight enough to bruise if they lingered for longer. Marks upon marks on his body, claim after claim; one wasn’t enough, and the first was merely coincidence, a step into the right direction aligned by fate itself. 

The view he was getting was worth the effort. Different from the isolated intimacy during the end of their mating ritual, he was allowed to everything that made Ghost stand out, to enjoy to his heart’s content — for the rest of his life. Ghost’s chest was raising and falling more heavily, delectable pair of muscles begging for his attention again. His bite shone, already healed, despite how recent it was. Ghost slackened his hold, fingers grazing against the indent of his on Soap’s hip, gaze lowering to stare. Soap followed it, biting his lips to stifle a gasp when he saw what Ghost’s mark looked like — 

It was like someone etched sunlight into his skin. The bite was carved with a hue of an impossibly bright red, underlined by a hint of glimmering gold, like Ghost had laced the essence of the sun into his teeth before marking Soap for himself. Awe wasn’t enough to convey the elation he felt. He reached down with an open palm, hovering over Ghost’s fingers before tracing the bond. 

It felt too raw and real. 

“Meant for me, weren’t you?” 

Ghost nudged his hand underneath Soap’s, intertwining their fingers into a softer hold. His heart was going to burst out of his chest, he was sure of it. Was it going to be like this forever? Cherished, loved and treated with sweetness enough to make his gums ache? Life was never as easy as this; it was a struggle, even in a family as loving as his. But, for once, it was being kind to him, and he wasn’t going to let the source of his happiness slip past his grasp again.

“Fit too perfect not to.” Soap grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as he clenched, feeling the twitch of Ghost’s cock deep inside, nestled exactly where it belonged. Both of them moaned at the same time, unable to truly hide how affected they were.

“Feels good, Johnny,” Ghost rumbled. The lust returned, casting a delicious look over his face as more of that redness spread over his handsome features. “I don’t want this to stop.” 

“Doesn’t have to,” Soap murmured with a spark of heat on his own cheeks. He stole a glance of his mate’s face before leaning back, presenting himself up for view. “Yours for the rest of your life, remember?”

He winked for emphasis, and Ghost let out an amused scoff that sounded gentle enough to melt him in the spot. Gods. There wasn’t denial, and that was enough for him. 

Soap arched his back, bracing himself on his knees as he slowly raised his hips up, the drag of Ghost’s thick cock against his insides stealing more of his thoughts before lowered himself down to the root, a wet squelch and soft moan accompanying him as he squirmed from the fullness, completely impaled again. Ghost was big enough to stretch him to the limit, making him feel him without mercy. Soap rolled his hips with a whine, wet and needy, groaning as his insides were a bit too tight and stuffed. Ghost was throbbing, filling him more with precome and slickness. 

Already so close despite just starting. 

“Johnny,” Ghost whispered as the large hands on Soap’s hips turned into a firm hold, nearly swallowing his waist whole. He could pick and drop him with ease if he allowed it. Fuck. The mental image alone was enticing, and he nodded, not sure about his intentions. Too far gone to care. 

Ghost let him rut into him a little more. Watched him lift a few inches off his cock and push himself down with a soft moan, chest heaving with effort, pleading with his eyes — driven by nothing but pure instincts. Ghost responded to his silent plea with a grunt, and readjusting his hold on Soap’s hips. He casually flexed his muscles by picking Soap up until his cock nearly slipped out before slamming him back down. The jolt of pleasure rattled a broken moan out of him, feeling the thrust reach to the deepest parts of him with ease. Ghost gave him a second to blink the spot away from his eyes before continuing, jostling his body as he fucked him thoroughly.

From the way Ghost lingered deep of him, ignoring the loud slap of skin and Soap’s listless moans as he clenched and spasmed against the battering intrusion, he was convinced his mate was trying to reshape his insides to his liking. He was going to leave a mark so permanent, nothing else would be capable of satisfying him again aside from him. The wild, unyielding spike of possession in Ghost’s actions, the way he rutted his hips up when he pressed Soap to the root of his cock, digging deeper into him — as if he could go further, taint every inch of his flesh inside out — and staring at him with blown out eyes wanting to consume him whole. 

He was fucking him like he wanted to bite down again. His lips were parted, sharp teeth gleaming in the light. Each thrust made his body bounce, the grip on his hips turning vice-like as Ghost forced him to take it, getting rougher with every moaned out ‘Simon’ while his cock steadily twitched inside of him, repeatedly ramming against the sensitive spots inside of him. There was nothing gentle about how he used him. Gone was the loving, considerate lover from the night before, replaced by someone wilder and more desperate; it was a part of Ghost he couldn’t help but adore at the same time. His earlier tease culminated in the rough wet glide up and down Ghost’s thick cock, stretching and fucking him to his limits. 

“Yours,” Soap whined, switching his tactics to respond to the fervent assertion of claim his mate was trying to pound into him. Ghost shoved his hips down to the hilt with a growl, grabbing his cheeks to spread him further as he rolled his pelvis, forcing the cock inside of him to grind wildly, poking and prodding parts of Soap that no one had dared to touch. 

Yours, yours, yours, all yours.

Soap must’ve moaned that loud enough for every creature in proximity to hear, biting his lips when Ghost suddenly stilled, his big hands stretching as he used his thumbs to push into Soap’s stomach and search for himself through the layer of fat and muscle. He was a trembling mess when Ghost found the exact spot where he was buried, right in the middle of Soap’s stomach, and he fucking dug his fingers in, stretching the skin to show the outline of his cock. 

Soap’s own cock hardened further, so fucking wet already from being impossibly stuffed.

“Fucking hell, Johnny,” Ghost said with a ragged exhale, spurts of precome filling his insides from the sight alone. “Taking me so bloody well.” 

He readjusted Soap to grind more against his walls, and it showed. The outline moving in time with his cock, rubbing and pressing an inch above his belly button. Soap laughed soundlessly in utter disbelief, his abdomen clenching instinctively. Ghost groaned, the sound sweetly vibrating throughout his body. 

Soap didn’t want it to stop. There was just the right amount of pressure, pain and pleasure overwhelming his senses, so deeply connected with the one he loved it was almost unthinkable to want anything more than what he was offered. Ghost had other plans, though, and for once, Soap was happy to comply, rumbling when he massaged his fingers into his body, easing the burn of the stretch with more heat. He was more careful as he steadied his hold on Soap’s hip, not shying away from rubbing against the mating bite. 

It went straight to his cock; nipping stings of pleasure reminded him they weren’t done yet, and a punched-out moan was dragged out of his chest as Ghost took over again, lifted him up and started bouncing him on his cock without moving his fingers away from his stomach. He was fucking Soap more purposefully, driving into him with the intent of slamming into that sensitive spot repeatedly, making sure he felt it from his head to toe. 

Soap was boneless, his body jostling wildly from the impact, a slurred garble of moans and grunts slipping from his lips as everything in him turned boiling hot, coiling underneath his skin. It was tight, hot and deep in his guts, the exact place Ghost was ramming his fat cock into, pushing him closer to that spiral of madness he’d felt the night before. A quick glance at his own stomach gave him a clear view of what was happening, the outline moving in tandem with his thrusts. Ghost’s gaze flickered from the bulge of his cock to Soap’s chest, watching both move because of him. 

Soap was close. He could feel it in his blood, in the pinpricks curling up his spine; pressure steadily building as his own cock was repeatedly slapping against his stomach, plump, red and leaking a mess over himself. He made a mess over Ghost’s scarred muscles too, sweat and come smearing the pale skin. The sight shouldn’t have made him choke, shouldn’t have tipped him over with a loud cry after a particularly harsh thrust, his walls rippling and clenching rhythmically as he came all over himself. 

Spurts of come landed on his chest as Ghost kept fucking him through it, setting a brutal pace as the additional sensation around his cock only seemed to spur him on. 

“So fucking good for me, Johnny,” he grunted the praise out, continuing to use Soap like he was nothing. Maybe he wasn’t. Ghost maneuvered him like his weight was irrelevant, so focused on indulging in his swollen hole that he didn’t care if Soap was clamping down on him harder, making him use more force to bully the entire length in. His gaze was fixated on the obscene stretch of Soap’s hole. 

Bloody transfixed, even. 

“Fuck, Gods.” It was too much. He felt sensitive, barely allowed to come down from the peak of pleasure before Ghost was fucking him into another one. He started raising his hips in time with his hands to thrust into his heat, making Soap’s arse slap louder against him. The noises urged Ghost on, Soap’s watery eyes and pathetic little whines, as he begged for nothing in particular, only fuelling the intensity.

The pressure was building too quick. 

Tears were blurring his vision. Warm, consuming bursts of pleasure exploded with each delicious drag of thick cock inside of him, permanently changing something in him. Ecstasy itself. 

“Simon, please,” Soap whined. He was so close, so spent; jostled, used and loved like it was a primal, survival need. 

“Almost there, sweet thing,” Ghost said, voice straining, but his eyes were drinking him in like he adored him from his soul. Soap forgave him without thinking twice, not really comprehending what or why. He tried to be good for Ghost, tried to milk the orgasm out of him by being keeping him tight and snug, pulsing around him, craving the growing frequency of throbs and twitches inside of him. “Perfect for me.”

He was fucking melting. 

His mind, body and soul building and adjusting to his reality, his new mate, his lifelong partner who wanted him so much it was ruining him. 

Soap didn’t get a warning beyond a harsh twitch inside of him before Ghost thrusted deep and came with a long, shuddering sigh. He kept his cock there, thick sprouts of his release stuffing Soap’s hole in an almost never-ending wave, balls throbbing against the curve of his arse as Ghost pumped more in, like he was trying to breed him right then and there. Mate him thoroughly and make sure everyone knew Soap was his. 

It went against his design, but fuck, if the thought didn’t make him moan out loud, the tightness getting to both his head and his cock. He was so full, with come trying to leak out of him despite how stretched he was, threatening to overflow around Ghost’s thick girth, and he was still pulsing inside of Soap, using the leverage on his hips to grind him closer. He felt Ghost move and twitch while he marked his territory. 

Soap was reminded of how close he was. Wet, hot and needy from the inside out, shimmering from the point of the high, of being stretched and touch in his sensitive spots. He blinked away the tears, looking down at Ghost for something similar to permission, found a blissed-out Simon Riley staring back at him without blinking. Completely focused, like there wasn’t a moment worth missing. Soap felt his neck heat up, saw his own chest flush pink. A soft whine slipped from him as he clenched his muscles, rocking against Ghost’s pelvis, begging with his eyes wide and lips pulled between his teeth. 

He was there, right there, a few thrusts and he would…

“Fuck, Johnny,” Ghost grunted, a pleasing rumble following after his words. He smoothed his hold on his hips, relinquishing control with softer hands. “Take what you need. Ride me, love.”

Soap took a deep breath and nodded with a sigh. He arched his back forward, steadied his hands on his mate’s chest and stomach, fingers circling around the mess of his come and kneading the fat muscle of his pec as he slowly rolled his hips, biting his lips harder. He felt sensitive, but the pleasure from it was overwhelming the small sting of discomfort. 

Soap was adjusting, craving the tight drag against his walls and the force of being pounded to his limits. First-hand experience of how Ghost took and used him provided him with a healthy series of mental image, making himself groan as he slowly raised his hips up, come spilling from his swollen hole, and slammed back down. Almost as hard as Ghost did. 

It must’ve been uncomfortable for Ghost, to keep fucking him after coming, but there was nothing to indicate that he was. He hadn’t gotten soft after coming, already thickening because of Soap. There was an interested twitch from his cock, a pretty flush on his cheeks, parted pink lips that showed off those sharp canines. Focused again, this time on the place they were joined, watching with intense eyes as Soap’s hole stretched around his length, so slick and wet because of him. 

Soap continued, getting louder and desperate every bounce on his mate’s cock. He was hitting the sweet spot without doing much, bruising his walls with how big Ghost was getting, and tears were gathering in his eyes, hotter and heavier as he brought himself closer to the edge. 

Ghost was making noise too, quieter than Soap’s needy cries and almost buried underneath the sound of skin slapping, but he felt the vibrations of it as he dug his nails in his chest. He fucked himself in a way that made the rumbling louder, chest heaving with exertion as his thoughts melted entirely, focused on how heavy Ghost’s balls felt when he rolled himself back, like he was ready to shoot a fat load in the deepest parts of him again. 

Ready to make sure it took.  

Soap groaned, the sound coming deep from his chest, his hole spasming as he finally tipped over, coming violently, wet and tight and barely holding himself up. Ghost pushed himself up in a blur, capturing Soap’s lips in a sweeter moan, his arms crushing Soap as he rutted against his hole. He came a second later, and it felt like Soap was going to explode, another thick load of come filling his insides as his own orgasm squeezed Ghost’s cock, pulling each spurt deeper. 

His stomach felt impossibly full, stuffed by a massive cock and an impossible amount of come. Soap was tired and utterly satisfied, slouching in Ghost’s embrace. He didn’t want to be anywhere else. He yawned against his mate’s neck, relaxing further as he heard and felt a soft chuckle from Ghost. 

“Rest, love. I’ll take care of you.”

Soap hummed and hid a smile on Ghost’s neck, letting his tiredness take over. He was pleased by how easily his body followed through, finding a full reserve of complete trust and love for his mate — things had changed for the better for him. 

-

It was natural for a pair to disappear for a few days, or weeks, after a successful mating ritual. Whether they were part of a new pod, group or settlement, they were given space and time to strengthen their bond, and while Soap had these elaborate fantasies about how he’d spend his after biting his mate, what he ended up doing was different. More instinctual. Spending time with Ghost, learning more about him and sharing the intimacy however softly or intensely as they liked was a highlight of his days. 

They spent more time in the sea and the stray icebergs floating through the waves, ditching the den to stare at the sky that got clearer every night, body tucked together as they talked and talked. He learned of Ghost’s first hunt, his preferences for food and people and drinks, and more about the settlement itself, how the various seasonal celebrations and competitions brought families together. Soap learned a few things about Ghost’s family, softer things. His dynamic with his younger brother, how his mum was living and travelling with his brother’s family. He talked about Beth and his nephew, Joseph. 

Soap wasn’t sure why the rumours around Ghost existed at all, the way he talked about his family was gentle and fond. Though, he definitely could practise his communication skills with strangers more. He was more open to him like this. 

Soap was ready to share a piece of his past, his family, when he realised a detail he completely forgot to mention. Ghost didn’t know about his discussion with Price. And his brother …

“For fuck’s sake,” Soap groaned, realising that more than a few days had already passed. 

“Johnny?” Ghost muttered softly, almost sleepily. He was buried in Ghost’s arms and body, their pelts piled on top of each other to make it extra warm and comfortable. It was late, too late for them to do anything about Soap’s revelation, and he should’ve probably let Ghost rest, but.

“My brother’s alive — I mean, my family is fine. They’re in a different place, though, except my brother. He was supposed to return to the settlement from scouting soon.” 

He probably was already there. Wondering and panicking about where Soap went. Noah was fairly protective of everyone in their family, a trait he directly inherited from their mother, and Soap could only imagine the mess he left behind for Price and Gaz to see. 

He pressed his face against Ghost’s pelt, trying to comfort himself. “We should get there before he assumes things.” 

We, because Soap wasn’t going to be alone in this going forward. There was comfort in that knowledge, although he felt guilty about cutting their time alone short. Maybe he could make up for it later — whatever Ghost wanted, whatever Soap could give. 

Ghost made a soft noise, agreeing. He tried to move, but Soap slouched against him, keeping a weight on him to stop him, regardless of how easy it would be move him if Ghost really wanted to. Thankfully, he didn’t. His body sunk into the comfortable pile they made for themselves, and Soap made himself feel at home, rumbling from his chest at the warm and safe space he found himself in. 

“No hurry, then?” Ghost mumbled, his breath hot on Soap’s neck. He lingered there before pressing his lips to the curve of his neck, teasing the skin with a hint of his teeth. The heat that spread immediately afterwards was less of the sleepy cosiness Soap was expecting, and more of need. 

Bastard. 

“Aye, thought we’d get some sleep first,” Soap murmured, squirming in the embrace until he was allowed enough space to turn towards him. Ghost’s eyes were dark enough to swallow him, intense rather than intimidating. “Seems like you have other plans, though.”

“If you’re up for it.”

Ghost kissed his forehead. Soap was turning into liquid, he was sure; his body surrendered to the sheer amount of trust he had for his mate, ready to please and eager to see what kind of pleasure was in store for him. Too eager. He wasn’t expecting himself to be out of control, wanting to touch and be touched like this, but Ghost was perfect. Handsome, too pretty and sweet to not kiss and adore to his heart’s content.

“I’m fine with either,” Ghost said. He pressed his face against the side of Soap’s face, nuzzling into him before resting a possessive hand over the arch of his hips. The mark’s sensitive had fizzled out over the constant loving, claiming and caressing touches, but it morphed into something better, a wave of pressure pulsing through his body and making him feel like everything was going to be alright. 

He needed that reassurance more than ever. 

Soap reached over with outstretched hands, twisting his body to face Ghost, and placed a hand on his jaw and his bite. His skin was burning with need — he was ready to be claimed. His answer was given in a soft, thawing kiss, moaning sweetly against Ghost’s lips because there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

-

They started the swim back to the settlement after a full day’s rest.

It wasn’t far from where they ended up, but there was enough distance between them and the shore that a scouting team would take a while to figure which direct they went. Soap was thankful for being able to catch up to Ghost before he disappeared in the deep blue, if he had hurried out of there, who knew when he would’ve been able to see him again? 

He spared a glance to the looming figure of black and white besides him. Ghost was swimming at his pace, taking the lead, but making sure his massive body was next to Soap, like he was trying to hide him from view of other oceanic dwellers around them. There weren’t many things that could threaten them around these parts, especially when an orca was by his side, and yet, the protective stance was very endearing. 

They were swimming close to the surface, enough for the rays of the slowly emerging sun to bathe the cold water in its light. It was more beautiful like this, though winter has its own charm with how vivid the night sky got. You wouldn’t find a creature, man, animal or shifter, who didn’t appreciate seeing the hot gaseous source of heat and light in the sky, and he was feeling extra grateful for how majestic Ghost looked underneath the glow. 

His staring caught Ghost’s attention. The orca curved more towards him, russet eye blinking languidly before he let out a soft, questioning chirp. The sound wasn’t close to anything a seal made, but Soap could figure out the general intent of the vocalisation, deduce that Ghost wanted to know if he needed something, if he was alright. He was proud of how well he was starting to understand him, they didn’t have as many days and weeks like other pairs did to get to know each other, and yet, it felt like Soap had known him his entire life. 

An odd realisation to have, but it felt right, nonetheless. Ghost nudged his side with his snout, enough for Soap to snap out of his momentary appreciative daze. He gave his response back with a familiar chirp, twisting his body around playfully, even tried to ‘smile’ to put him at ease. Although, the smile was more of an open-mouthed snort in his current form. He got a whistle for his effort. 

Ghost had been too serious the last time they were in the water and Soap got sluggish, a bit too tired after a day or so of exertion. He’d forced Soap to rest his entire body on his as they swam to shore, ignoring his squeaks of protest pointedly. Ghost let him use his lap as a resting place after they reached an iceberg, made it comfortable for him — he decided it wasn’t so bad when he was stroking his hair as he dozed off, telling him a story from his past. 

Something about his first participation in the solstice. About meeting Gaz, about winning his first prize. The details escaped him, since he had been well on his way to the land of dreams, but it was a good conversation starter the next time they were alone. Soap could tell the settlement was near when the surrounding life grew more vibrant, more noisy; he could hear the vocalisations of different shifters in the distance, feel the vibration of company; it was the same as the first time he arrived there with Ghost, except the water felt more alive, excited, some chirps of an event he didn’t properly catch from the pod of seals they swam past. The place was more crowded than before, full of families and people who looked their way politely as they could. 

The relationship between him and his mate was obvious to anyone who caught a glimpse of them, their bitemark wasn’t a dead giveaway, and for once, Soap didn’t cower away from the stares. Declaring to the world that Ghost was his, and only his, was an instinctual source of pride and comfort. Something he was going to indulge in, after fumbling with his previous attempt of misread intentions. He hadn’t meant to make Ghost feel… unwanted. Even if he wanted some space away from him. 

He was going to make it up to him. 

No one deserved to feel unwanted. Ghost might’ve been a subject of rumours and drew eyes wherever he went, but it didn’t make him any less worthy of love. And Ghost was loved, by his family, by the people who knew him beyond the intimidating veneer he cultivated for himself, despite keeping his distance from people. Soap was privileged, in a way. Insanely lucky, too. If he had stumbled into a wild orca instead of Ghost…

Soap was alive, and it was everything that mattered. 

Ghost took the lead towards the shore, using his larger body to clear the path for both of them, and Soap followed without a care in the world. He was in good hands — the entire time he had spent with Ghost proved it. 

It was still fascinating to see him shift. Soap watched with wide eyes as the big black and white body of an apex killer turned into an equally hulking and enticing man, the water licking at his torso, face briefly turned towards the land and the people who were staring more openly. He gave them a second’s consideration before turning towards Soap, handsome face tilting to the side by an inch in question. Funny, how Soap was noticing these little details more than ever. Pieces of a grander painting he was slowly putting together. 

Soap couldn’t believe this was how his life was going to be. He had anticipated change, but failed to predict any of it. Never in his wildest dreams could he have guessed he’d be here. 

“Johnny,” Ghost said, beckoning him with his eyes. 

Soap swam forward, bumping his face into his mate’s extended hand. He got a gentle caress in return, there was a sense of understanding there — Ghost was willing to wait for him to decide when they will approach the world beyond the waves. 

He shifted slowly, indulging in the small moment of affection before his legs formed, and he had to stand. Ghost slid his hand from his face to his side, encouraging and appreciative as he used his body to shield Soap from view. It wasn’t necessary, he didn’t feel as unsure as he was a few days before, but he pressed himself into Ghost’s touch to steal a moment and prepare himself. 

“Let’s go,” Soap said once the shift was complete, nodding his head towards their destination. 

The attention they garnered from their initial appearance had frizzled out when they started moving. They looked like any other couple in the area, and the realisation was more reassuring than he expected. Because, of course. They were a pair, like the rest of the couples gathered around and going about their day in the settlement. Soap felt good. It felt natural to roll his shoulders back, hold his head up higher while showing off the mark on his hip, barely concealing it from view. 

He was a changed man. 

The placement of the bite wasn’t conventional by any means — Ghost’s was more accurate — but it was visible to anyone who looked twice. 

Soap pivoted towards the building where he’d met Price. There was a small crowd in front of the door, though the distance made it impossible to discern why. He was about to turn towards Ghost to ask if he knew when a loud, childish squeal interrupted his train of thought. 

“Uncle Simon!”

A blur of white barrelled past Soap, crashing into Ghost. The force was enough to stagger any ordinary man, but Ghost moved as if he’d anticipated it, hands outstretched and spinning once to secure a hold on the child who had rushed him without a care in the world. 

Or, more accurately, a calf.  

An orca calf.

Soap’s mouth nearly fell wide open as Ghost turned towards him with the bairn in his arms, holding him properly against his chest, and there was a smile gentler than any he’d ever seen on his lips. The calf was giggling up at him, hands outstretched, flailing playfully in his hold. They looked similar, too. Same shade of hair, similar smile, except the child had two dimples on his cheeks. 

The previously shouted phrase stood out with blaring yellow lights in his head. 

That’s Joseph?

“You didn’t say you’d be visiting for summerfest, love,” a voice called out, and Soap followed Ghost’s gaze to settle on a tall, blonde woman who was standing a few feet away from them. She was staring at Ghost at first, allowing Soap to truly look at her before she turned towards him and the familiarity struck him like a tidal wave. 

“Mum,” Ghost greeted. 

He moved forward with his nephew in his arms, approaching her like he was trying to shift the attention away from Soap. Ghost’s mother, and technically his mother-in-law, already glimpsed the claim on both of their bodies, which made the little diversion useless. Soap couldn’t tear his eyes away from how much she looked like Ghost. Or rather, how much Ghost looked like his mum. A similar face structure, though less scarred and softer than Ghost’s, and wavy blonde hair, with eyes the exact shade of brown and the crinkle in the corner of her smile and gaze familiar — an exact copy. 

“Uncle Simon’s here!” Joseph giggled, looking at Ghost’s mother and back at Ghost. The excitement gave him an impression he wasn’t around much, which — considering how eager Ghost was to leave him a few days ago — he could believe. 

Soap didn’t want to interrupt the moment. It was a family moment, and while he might’ve felt different if he witnessed this before he knew he hadn’t lost his own, he found himself relieved at the sight of how loved Ghost was. His mother stepped in for a hug, he’d handed Joseph back to her. The bairn was smiling like they’d gotten him his favourite gift. 

Something ached in him as he watched everything unfold, and he wondered if it was related to how proper Ghost looked handling a kid. 

He’d be a good father, the thought popped into his head before he gave himself a second to process the information.

“Simon, you didn’t tell us you were courting someone.”

Their attention turned back towards him. Three pairs of Riley eyes staring at him with vested interest while he tried his best not to blush like he was being caught thinking something unreasonable. He failed. Soap wasn’t going to ruin his chance to make a good first impression. 

“John MacTavish, ma’am,” Soap said, clearing his throat. Ghost stepped back to his side as if he sensed his nerves, and he provided a silent company to him until he said his piece. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Was he supposed to offer his hand? Maybe a hug? He should’ve asked which method was more appropriate beforehand, but they had no idea he was meeting Ghost’s family today. Usually, courting and mating took place after a decent amount of weeks and months of knowing each other — at least, that was what his parents told him. It was better to thoroughly know someone before committing, though when it was Soap’s turn to learn about how his parents met, the story was always a wee different every time. 

They were purposefully leaving something out. 

He was going to ask Noah about that later if he was around. 

“You’re one of the MacTavish boys,” Ghost’s mother stated, nodding slowly like she was remembering a key detail. He was truly underestimating how well his family was known in the settlement, it seemed. Price was expected, but his technical mother-in-law too?

“Johnny, this is my mother and nephew,” Ghost said, gesturing towards them with a nod. “Are Tommy and Beth around too, then?”

“They’re catching up with others. Joseph wanted a walk around the shore to see if his uncle was around, and here you are, love.”

“Uncle Johnny?” Joseph repeated, looking at Soap with big green eyes, and yeah, okay, there were now two people in the world who could get away with calling him Johnny. He didn’t have the heart to correct his newly acquired nephew. It was fine, meant to be. Who else than another Riley?

He didn’t get a chance to linger in his thoughts before Joseph and Ghost’s mother was on him, pulling him in for a hug. 

“Call me Maria, dear,” she said, patting Soap’s back while Joseph leaned against his face for his hug. “Or mum. I don’t mind.”

Tears gathered in his eyes, and he tried his best to not blink and let it spill down his cheeks, make it obvious that he missed having this easy tenderness of being around family. Above all, he missed his mam. 

He missed his entire family.

Soap missed his da’s steady composure, advice and word of comfort for every wee situation Soap found himself in. He missed talking with his sisters, giggling about stupid things, play fighting and showing them his drawings when he didn’t feel great about how they turned out. He missed swimming with his brothers, hunting, playing and racing, he missed talking shit with them when he couldn’t sleep and watching the stars in comfortable silence. 

Soap lingered in the hug. Maria stepped away only when he moved first, and he got the sense that she understood the embrace meant something to him. He needed it, as much as he’d needed Ghost to be there for him when he was. 

“Don’t be sad, Uncle Johnny,” Joseph said after staring at him for a few seconds. Caught by a child. “Mum says Uncle Simon can fix anything! He'll help you too.”

Joseph turned towards Ghost briefly, as if he wanted to double-check. Ghost gave a nod, looking far too serious about the statement, but Soap knew he meant it.

Gods, he was melting. Emotions overwhelmed him, but it wasn’t the bitter ones any more. Soap ruffled Joseph’s hair a little, smiling away the wetness in his lashes. “He already has, lad. No need to worry about me.”

Joseph smiled up at him. 

He was too adorable.

Ghost moved to Soap’s side, sneaking an arm around him. He curled a hand on his hips, pulling him into a side hug, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch, a small, satisfied rumble humming in the back of his throat at the comfort he was offered. Orcas turned out to be more on the affectionate side of the spectrum. It was doing wonders to the parts of him starved of love and touch, healing step by step what the world deprived him of the entire year. 

“I can call Tommy over, if you want to meet him?” Maria suggested, watching them approvingly. 

Soap hadn’t given much thought about what his mate’s family would think of him, but to have the anxiety cleared out of the way was a relief. He was hoping it’d be the same for his family when it came towards Ghost, although he might have to omit some details to a few — neither of his parents had ever considered him to mate with anyone outside the seal shifter group. 

Let alone someone he met through… unconventional means. 

“We’ve got business with Price,” Ghost said. “Maybe later in the day, if Johnny’s up for it.”

“Aye, of course,” Soap stated with an easy smile, grateful for the consideration. “Puttin’ the faces to the name.”

He was nervous, and yet, looked forward to meeting Ghost’s immediate family. If his interaction with Maria and Joseph said anything, he probably wasn’t going to have much of a problem with the rest. He wasn’t alone, that was what mattered the most. 

They needed to check in and see whether his brother returned first. He was curious about the whole summer fest ordeal, too. It did seem like people were gathering around and preparing for something, groups of family and workers moving in and around the settlement. The seasonal celebration Ghost briefly touched on. The entire place was different from a few days ago. He has never seen a festival in person — it’d be his first time attending one. 

Although, he did wonder if the reason his family travelled further in the ocean around these time to hunt and play when he was growing up was to celebrate the summer in its own way. The crowd surrounding them looked excited enough, he wondered if he could sneak away with Ghost later and have a proper date together.

There was a ripple in the crowd the more he stared, people clearing way for one figure who was rushing towards them. Then, they stopped dead in their tracks. 

His brother. 

“John?” 

His voice cut through the crowd, clear enough for the desperation in it to stagger Soap. It was his brother. Noah. He looked different, older, more scarred than he remembered, though with his dark hair, blue eyes and the exact shade of his coat, it would be impossible to mistake him for anyone else. Noah had a beard now, too. Full grown, much like their da’s.

“Noah.” 

Soap managed a word out as he stepped away from everyone before he was rushed, his older brother running towards him and crashing into him with his arms outstretched. He was immediately smothered, familiar scent and voice unravelling every hurt etched under his bones, pulling him apart and putting him back together to form back a semblance of who he used to be. His chest felt heavy, but this was where he belonged. Used to belong, before everything went to shit. 

“I was looking for you everywhere,” Noah said, and it sounded like he was close to tears. “Ye fuckin’ bastard, where were you? We all thought… We feared …”

Just like he had. 

“I’m fine, Ghost found me before the worst of it,” Soap said. He could barely speak above a whisper, but the embrace and meeting was too overdue for him to care. “I thought you, and mam and da and…”

Everyone —

It was hard to not flinch from the memory of the blizzard. His cries being drowned by the sound of the wind, nothing to see or hear aside from the harsh bite of snow and water. Soap survived, and his family had too, which was nothing short of a miracle. 

Noah released him, holding him by his arms. “Ghost?”

The puzzled look on his face lasted for a grand total of a few seconds before he noticed their company. Ghost and his mother had stepped away to allow the reunion to happen, but his mate was still close, and Noah caught a glimpse of his bite on Ghost’s neck before quickly scanning, and finding, Soap’s body for a matching one. The confusion in his eyes was replaced slowly by guarded consideration — an earful, then. He wasn’t getting out of this, was he?

“John…” Noah trailed off, raising his eyebrows in a way that signalled ‘what the actual fuck’ as clearly as he could without saying it out loud. Soap sighed and turned towards Ghost.

“Give us a second?” he asked, knowing he was going to have to abandon his mate for a wee bit regardless of his answer.

“I’ll find you,” Ghost promised. 

He didn’t doubt it. 

Soap had an urge to reach out to Ghost and give a parting kiss, unwilling to leave without the physical confirmation. His brother was there, though. Ghost’s gaze dropped to Soap’s lips for a split second before returning to his eyes and glistening with barely buried amusement. 

“Later, Johnny,” Ghost said, like he read his bloody mind. 

“We’ll take care of Simon, John,” Maria added. She had a hand on her son’s back, guiding him away. “Won’t we, Joseph?”

Joseph’s answer was a small giggle of agreement. 

Noah didn’t speak until they were moving, some distance away from the crowd for the conversation. The first thing he asked when they were alone seemed to be a question that was eating away at him.

“Johnny, really?” 

This was going to be a long one.

Where was Soap supposed to start?

Chapter Text

One look at Noah’s face and Soap knew he couldn’t lie about what happened to him. 

The rest of his family was different, maybe he’d make it sound less extreme than the tale of almost dying and healing and nearly being abandoned again. He got the full view of anger, distrust, disgust, grief and disbelief flashing through Noah’s face, and while his older brother was much better at concealing his emotions, the situation seemed to have baffled him enough to take him completely off-guard. 

It felt good to confess — to get everything that happened out of his chest. When he finished his story, ending it the moment he met his brother again, Noah looked at him for a long time. There wasn’t anger in his gaze anymore, his blue eyes were more contemplative, piercing, as if he could see straight through Soap. 

“John,” Noah said, looking older and wiser than Soap had ever seen him. “Are you happy with him?”

Soap smiled like an idiot before he could stop himself, unable to get rid of the giddiness warming his heart at the implication. “Ye think I’d give myself away to anyone?”

Noah’s expression finally eased to something softer, familiar. “I don’t know, brother. You do have a taste for danger, and standing out. Ma’s gonna talk your ear off when she hears of this.” 

“Just let me do the talkin’ when it’s time,” Soap said, ducking when Noah reached out for his head, but he was too close to fully move out of the way. His brother ruffled his hair, messing up the shape Soap had willed it to stay in despite his bark of protest. “Arsehole.”

“Some things stay the same. Especially that mohawk.” Noah gestured with his hand and started moving, manoeuvring through the crowd with Soap a step behind. “You haven’t been here during the fest, have you?” 

“We didn’t do much travelling, if you recall,” Soap said. 

“Things have changed since last year. We’re gonna have to make it up to you, get you to see the sights before...”

They were making their way towards where the majority of the crowd was, the stores and marketplace were full of people — mostly shifters, though there were some humans with their thick coats too —, and he could taste the palpable excitement in the air.

Noah was making his way through the crowd like he knew the place from the back of his hand, and he probably did. He was the best navigator in their family for a reason. 

Where the fuck are we going?

He wanted to know partially because he was worried about making Ghost run around the entire place to look for him — something he didn’t want to miss if it were to happen — and he wasn’t sure what to expect. It was like he was a pup again, cautious and curious as he followed his big brother’s lead; most of the places they used to land in were hunting grounds, but some were familiar, places he’d been with Noah before.

“Before?” Soap asked, curiously glancing at his brother, who was still clearing a path for them to go somewhere. They were inching towards the structures similar to where Price’s office was, but it was more residential, likely a place for the people to gather around, and eat. He smelled food, specifically cooked food.

“The captain told you they’re in Chile, aye? It’s mostly for recovery, most of them are gonna return soon,” Noah said, and then added under his breath, “besides Eve.”

Soap’s hearing was far too sharp to dismiss what he said.

“What do you mean ‘besides’ Eve?” Soap frowned, recalling the wee titbit of why most of his family was in Chile. Medical treatment. Price had specified his father and sisters needed help from the shifter community there. 

Dread crept deeper, trying to twist his mind into thinking of the worst possibilities. 

“She’s not dead,” Noah said, stopping in front of a large building. “She… found someone there. Shifter, sea lion. They’ve been pretty close the entire year, you’re gonna be an uncle soon.”

He already was, but this was different.

“What the fuck,” Soap murmured. 

He didn’t have any right to complain, really. More nieces and nephews meant his mam and da not focusing on him for the grandkids part, and he’d always wanted to be an uncle. It was just… He expected the first one to actually find a mate and have pups to be the oldest in their family, not Eve , who was closer to his age than Noah’s. 

To another predator, nonetheless.

“Don’t worry, you still take the prize for getting the most unexpected mate out of our family.” Noah sighed, looking at him from the corner of his eyes. “I’m gonna prepare them the best I can, but you have to do the convincing.” 

“Ghost’s a sweetheart, he’ll be fine,” Soap boasted, tactically ignoring the sceptical squint from his older brother. “Ma will adore him.”

“Better hope so, John,” Noah murmured. 

He knew so. 

Any apprehension they’d have over Soap trusting a stranger would melt the moment they see how lovingly Ghost handled him. Sometimes better than Soap managed himself — which was saying something. Not a lot, maybe, but his trust for the orca had solid foundations, ones he was ready to defend if necessary. It was almost too convenient that Noah hadn’t tried to question his intentions more.

“Wait,” Soap said. “You know Ghost?”

“Knew of him, that’s different,” Noah said, dismissive as he finally led them towards the entrance of the building. “Ghost is infamous around here, brother.”

Gaz’s words echoed in the back of his mind. It was bare-bones, but enough to give him an indication of what he was talking about. 

Soap had to sidestep and slip between a family exiting the area to keep up with his brother. Noah knowing Ghost, and not being more concerned, didn’t make sense either, but he could only question something inherently favourable for so long. He wasn’t out to make Noah see his mate as anything less than trust-worthy. 

“Good to know you’ve warmed up to him.”

Because he wasn’t changing his mind about the orca anytime soon, or ever. 

Noah pursued his lips, but he didn’t say anything, which was a victory in itself. Soap was stepping into the place, curious as his nose picked up different smells of food and drinks, when a higher-pitched voice called out of them. 

An auburn haired woman seated in a large table called out to them, looking towards their direction — mostly at Noah — and gesturing towards them to join her. Much to Soap’s surprise, his brother went easily, trying to hide a smile as he hurried. Soap followed, but closer inspection of the woman or his brother didn’t give him any clue on what they were on about. The woman wasn’t wearing the bright jackets humans often wore in the settlement, but she wasn’t with a pelt either, and the ‘jacket’ she was wearing looked to be made from fur. The kind you find in trade around the place. She was dressed like a human in every other capacity, though. 

“John, she’s Dr. Melissa Gale, a researcher staying for the year,” Noah said, dismissing any doubts that she could just be a shifter in disguise. 

There weren’t many of their kind that preferred the human way of things completely, although cooperation has historically been beneficial for both parties involved. He wouldn’t say they were inherently incompatible — shifters shared partial blood with humans — but seeing his brother make eyes at a human and the said human reciprocating was baffling, to say the least. 

“Good to see you’re alright, John. You’ve heard a lot about you from Noah, he has been looking for you everywhere,” Melissa said, a gentle warmth in her voice, and for a second, Soap could see clearly why his brother was entranced. “You can call me Melissa.”

“Aye, I’m here in one piece. That’s gotta count,” Soap replied jokingly, a smile already twitching on his lips.

The human was charming; from her smile to her friendliness, and while Soap wasn’t going to let only first impression guide his interactions, it was a pretty fucking good one.

Enhanced by how his brother took a seat next to the woman, gestured Soap to do the same, and started feasting on the food available. Soap followed without question. His mouth had started watering, and for some reason, he finally remembered he hadn’t hunted the last day or so. Too occupied with his new mate, getting to the settlement to be reunited with his brother — the usual. His new normal. Something he could definitely get used to. 

The first bite into a fish thoroughly cooked and seasoned by things not found outside of trade melted him in the chair he was sitting on. It was different from the fresh delight of raw meat and blood, but delicious nonetheless, enough to warm Soap’s tongue and introduce him to a whole other world of flavour. He hasn’t sat down and eaten human food before, heard of them, sure, but to actually get an opportunity to indulge was beyond his expectations.

Another first to add to his list of firsts. Exhilarating, if not a bit intimidating. He had so much to learn. 

Noah’s approving gaze gave him the additional motivation to truly dig in. Meat, and fish, were a staple, but there were vegetables sprinkled over the plates too, courtesy for the humans who needed it. Shifters usually preferred their animal counterpart’s diet, but the human side allowed them to be able to digest and rely on an omnivorous diet if necessary. 

Soap enjoyed the opportunity for what it was worth, not stopping from taking mouthfuls until his throat felt strangely dry. 

“So, Melissa. What’re ye here for?” Soap asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It didn’t escape his notice that both his brother and the woman were looking at him devouring the food rather than focusing on their own plates. 

Manners weren’t exactly a thing around others like him, but around a human …

“We’re keeping track of winter warming and how climate change is affecting things.” 

Soap scrunched his nose, nodding briefly in his show of understanding. He didn’t want to linger on the thought of weather and seasons changing due to human meddling too much, it was a sour topic for them, but researchers and scientists like Melissa were important to maintain equilibrium for the cooperation between humans and shifters. 

“That’s how you met my brother?”

“More or less. He was scouting near the area my team was stationed in, we’ve been acquainted since.”

Almost a year-ish, the same amount of time he was separated from his family. That clicked the puzzle pieces into place, it was simple, really, Noah found someone to rely on while going through the worst time of his life. Painfully similar to his own story.

He could tell Melissa was trying to be proper and polite, but the glint of fondness in her eyes was unmistakable. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t Soap who needed to be worried about their mother fussing about a choice in his mate — humans were a completely different realm of what were you thinking. He’d take his brother’s side, although he was curious about how they were planning to manage beyond the temporary stay situation. 

“I’ve helped her around a couple of times, nothing big,” Noah said nonchalantly, as if the blush on his cheeks wasn’t obvious. 

It was hot inside the building. Maybe it was that, and not his brother’s obvious crush on the researcher, but his throat was getting dry and his cooked food wasn’t exactly helping like raw meat usually did. He reached for one of the cups on the table, downing the drink in one swing before Noah opened his mouth to protest. 

“John — That’s fucking —”

Soap smacked his lips, wincing at the bitter taste left on his tongue. 

What the fuck did he drink?

“ — alcohol.”

Noah sighed, rubbing a hand through his face, and to his right, Melissa had the barest of grimace on her face before turning towards him. 

“You’re of age, right? It shouldn’t be that bad.”

“He took my glass,” Noah grumbled. “At least he got some food in him before he did.”

“What are you guys…” Soap said, blinking rapidly as his body got warmer, almost buzzing. Like he was slightly off-centre, displaced from his body somehow. What the fuck. “Shite.”

“That’s my cue to get you water. Sit right here and behave, Johnny boy,” Noah said. He was getting up, but Soap stopped him. His hand moved before he could think about why. Though, the reason came easily to him, and it made his grip on his brother’s arm tighter. 

“That’s not my name and you know it,” Soap growled, low enough to make it clear he wasn’t fucking around, and yet, Noah looked amused by Soap’s antics, shaking him off with a gentle hand.

“Not with me, aye,” Noah whispered. “Be nice to the doctor, now.”

He left Soap with Melissa, who was staring at him with vested interest. Funny, he also had a lot of questions for her. Too many — his tongue was working quicker than his mind. 

“You like my brother.” That wasn’t what he meant to say. Close enough, though. “I can see why he likes you, but. What about him?”

“You’re exactly like he described you.” Melissa leaned back in her seat, looking at Soap head to toe with her sharp, brown eyes. Soap tilted his head, not understanding the implication. Or much. He was getting distracted. “Impulsive. Loud, but quick to the uptake. He missed you a lot, you know, did his best to find you. You’ve got a good brother, John.”

“You like him because he’s a family guy?”

“And dedicated, level-headed, kind and considerate, but also firm when he needs to be. He’s not bad to look at, either.”

“But you’re only here for a year,” Soap murmured. “He’s not gonna want to leave.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” she said. 

Soap frowned. 

Melissa coughed loudly before he opened his mouth again, gaze sliding over his shoulder as he registered familiar footsteps. He turned and caught the sight of a hand before a glass was thrust to his face. Soap grumbled as he was force-fed water, grateful nonetheless for wiping the itchy feeling from his throat, before he leaned away and glared at his brother. 

Noah ignored him, taking his seat next to Melissa. 

Watching his brother get cosy with the human was making him miss his own mate, oddly enough. How was Ghost supposed to find him in the building anyway? There were a dozen or so around the settlement. He’d have to look through every one of them to find Soap. Although he didn’t doubt that his mate would, Ghost was persistent when he wanted to be, and he had promised. Sort of.

“I should go.” 

“We’ve just met, John,” Noah said, frowning lightly. “If you’re worried about your mate, he knows where you are. You’ll only be worrying him more if you get lost out there.”

“What.” Soap felt dumbfounded. How did he read his mind, anyway? Was it that obvious?

“You didn’t notice him following us halfway through our walk?” Noah asked. 

Ghost was stalking them?

“He disappeared after we reached the door.” 

“Huh,” Soap murmured, oddly charmed by the fact that his mate made sure where he was before disappearing. It was different from the Ghost who simply left, while still adhering to his earned name. Soap was smiling from the thought, and Noah groaned when he noticed, making a face at him. 

“Insufferable, how long have you been mated to him anyway? You’re acting like it was a recent thing.” 

“A few days, probably. Maybe a week?” Soap tilted his head. “Why?”

“You’re taking the piss.” 

“Why the fuck would I joke about that,” Soap said, growing tired of the disbelief on his brother’s face. “We cut things short to meet you first, and you’re implying that’s bad?”

“Not for you. But an orca? Aye, it’s worse, a fucking miracle he let you leave his side.” Noah shook his head at him. Soap’s gaze momentarily flickered towards Melissa, who looked a little lost and misplaced, though she offered him a bemused smile to indicate that she was fine. Used to the overbearing concern, then. “Pairs leave for weeks on end for a reason, John. The larger predators are notorious for being territorial during. That’s why you don’t interrupt a mated pair ever, it’s impolite, and you risk being in danger.”

Well, fuck.

Soap sank in his seat, chewing on his lower lip because he couldn’t say anything to refute it. Sure, Ghost had been clinger than usual, but he assumed it was because of the bond, and he hadn’t indicated anything to say that he was against his plan to meet his brother. Did he unintentionally offend his mate, without knowing any better? Was he going to hate him for making him leave?

“I should go find him before he bites someone’s head off, then?” Soap could imagine Ghost being standoffish, intimidating and keeping his distance, but initiating a fight for no reason? That defied the understanding he had of his mate. 

“It’ll probably be worse if he’s here to find you, and you’re elsewhere.” Noah sighed again, deeper this time. Soap had a feeling the decision was made. It wasn’t like there was any other solution than to wait, apparently. “You’re stuck with us, I suppose.”

“You’ve met him, right? Was it that bad?” Melissa asked, turning towards his brother.

“Not really. He looked… different when he saw us off,” Noah answered. “But I wouldn’t risk it.”

Soap had half a mind to ask for details, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if Ghost was actually mad at him. It was easy to imagine, for some reason, his instincts craving some validation for the opposite, as if he needed to be coddled and reassured immediately. He wasn’t like this — not always. So, why was he feeling out of place now? Like he was doing something inherently wrong?

“Looks like you need a drink or two to settle,” Melissa remarked. 

Noah looked at him for a long moment before nodding, handing him a glass. “Don’t over do it, but you’re old enough. It’s probably fine.”

“Thanks,” Soap mumbled around the glass, taking his time with the drink for once. It was bitter, but the kind that was fairly tolerable, enjoyable even. Unlike anything he has ever drank before. He didn’t hate it, which prompted him to keep drinking. 

“Think we better start catching you up on what happened before he gets here, yeah?”

So, they do. 

Noah starts off by explaining how the storm went from his side. Soap expected the details to be gruesome, but the panic he must’ve felt while trying to keep in track of everyone was bleeding through the somewhat brief explanation. 

The blizzard was traumatic in itself, and he knew how lost and helpless he’d felt during it, but he’d never considered the varying perspectives, how it would’ve fallen on Noah’s shoulders to get out of there, how their parents must’ve felt, losing a son and dealing with their injuries themselves; the decision to move somewhere far from home to make sure they didn’t succumb while being unable to confirm whether Soap was alive or dead. His brother glossed over personal details, and yet, he could see the pained glint in his eyes.

Noah moved on from the difficult memories to update him about what happened in Chile, his own time in the scouts for the settlement, and Melissa chimed in about how they spent the rest of the month together. Research, hunting and efforts put into finding Soap. Part of Soap wondered if it was his fault they never found him — stuck to a wild pod just for comfort in his weakest moments. He reached for another glass of the ‘alcohol’ to give himself an excuse to not speak. 

It was just his third. Surely it wasn’t going to be that bad for him, was it?

Time passed without his notice. 

They moved to an inner room once it was clear things were going to take a while. They were talking about everything at once, joking and lamenting and reminiscing. Noah made sure there was plenty of food for Soap to eat, and the atmosphere had grown lighter somehow, taking the responsibility and guilt and easing things, piece by piece. Soap has never been great at keeping track of things, but there were rare moments like this — surrounded by people who loved him — that made him forget the detriments of it.

He did not mind spending his days like this, surrounded by good company, food and conversation that put his mind at ease. It was what he missed the most since the blizzard, the comfort of his family, their company and understanding. Soap was more blessed than most, to have a childhood so abundant with fulfilling memories. His guard was down, and the human wasn’t bad at making conversation either, teaming up with him whenever Soap brought up stories about Noah and how he was like when they were younger. 

His brother was flustered, but seeing both of them bond seemed to be good enough of a motivation for him to take their combined forces. Soap felt at ease, comfortable, like Melissa wasn’t another stranger there with them. It was when the topic of their other side came, his future sister-in-law stating that she hadn’t seen Noah’s seal form as much as she’d like because his brother didn’t linger in his shifts, urged Soap to take the responsibility. He understood his brother’s hang up about shifting, he’d been there himself. 

Memories of the day; what he did after, and how he acted after Ghost found him, scarred him. It wasn’t something he blamed himself for, and yet, he’d needed time to heal from everything all the same. To Soap, it was natural to shift again, amused by the loud gasp from their human company and the complete surprise on his brother’s face. The inner room was designed in a way to host both shifters and humans, with a low table, plenty of comfortable cushions near it, enough to fit him as a seal. 

He stretched out over the cushions, flopped over to his back, showed off his flippers and stayed there. It felt too good to change back, the heat of the building coaxing him to rest.

“John, you mad bloody seal,” Noah said before Melissa hushed him and moved closer to Soap, cautiously extending her hand. Soap barked smugly, glancing at his brother with a clear ‘you’re missing out’ chirp as he leaned towards the touch.

His brother could understand him in this form. Same species, same family, different from the bare-bones communication their wilder counterparts engaged in because they usually didn’t have human intelligence to guide through more complex topics.

“You’re pissed, brother,” Noah grunted, but he was eyeing the head pats Soap was getting with a frown, so it was victory nonetheless. The conversation moved quickly, taking away the little affection he got. It was fine, though, served its purpose — Noah wasn’t going to miss out the next time. 

The conversation progressed and Soap settled to lounge around, listen and chirp in if there was anything that caught his interest. His brother translated for him. He was drifting, his blood warmed by food and drinks, tiredness setting in his muscles, like he was in the safety of his den instead. They could wake him if there was something important going on, the call of sleep was too strong to ignore. 

The ache in his hips dragged him out of his slumber. His consciousness came to him in gentle waves, pushing him out of the comfort he found himself in when he recognised the low voice calling out to him.

“Johnny.”

A warm hand caressed his face. He leaned towards the warmth, burying himself into the inviting heat. He was going to drift off like this, in the presence of someone he loved.

“Johnny.”

The voice was insistent now, closer, and Soap flopped to his side, trying to drown the noise and rest more. He deserved it; after everything he has been through, he earned some indulgence. His body betrayed him, though, the ache returned, reminding him of his mark, and the hand on his face moved to pinch the fat of his cheeks. 

Soap opened his eyes, growling incoherently, but he didn’t move away from the touch because he knew who it was. The upside down face of a very amused Ghost greeted him, cooing at him when he grumbled some more about being woken up.

“I know, love.” Ghost rubbed his head gently, placating him. “We can’t stay here for the night.”

Soap chirped in disagreement, continuing on a useless babble about being comfortable as a shadow passed over his mate’s face, confusion lingering momentarily in his gaze before he focused on him again. 

“Johnny,” Ghost urged. “We need to go home.”

Soap tried to flop on his side again. He was convinced it’d be enough for Ghost to see reason, to see the place full of food, drinks and warmth as somewhere worth staying, but he only ended up inching closer to him instead, snout rubbing on Ghost’s thighs. He’s kneeling, he realised, pressing more into the familiar scent. 

Fuck, he smelled good. 

His. Home, comfort and belonging. Everything wrapped around gentle temptation, and Soap couldn’t help leaning into him more, wiggling to get closer and failing miserable. Less than ideal seal-condition for moving, mostly.

“Johnny,” Ghost murmured, a warning this time. Soap went easily when his mate tugged his face back in view, staring down at him with a hint of sternness in his gaze. It only made Soap want to dig his heels in, see what the orca would do, and yet, there was a part of him that didn’t want to displease Ghost in any way, shape or form. 

He blinked slowly, summoning every ounce of charisma he could in his current state and trying to plead through his gaze alone. 

Take me, then, he tried to say, but it came out in a series of low chirps. Ghost tilted his head to the side, a little in consideration and a little in confusion, and the shadow from earlier returned for the briefest of seconds. His eyes softened, and Soap was captivated by how serene his mate looked, his lips twitching to a smile like he was holding a delicate secret.

“If that’s what you want.”

Ghost reached for him, fully ready to carry him as he was, and Soap has never shifted as quickly as he did before, the urge to speak compelling the change, just enough for his face and torso to morph. He was liquid, fluid, and awe-struck, pushing himself towards Ghost. His mate’s strong arms closed around him in a solid embrace, and Soap couldn’t help but giggle, trying to smother the noise in the thick, pale skin of Ghost’s chest.

“You understood,” Soap said. 

He hadn’t heard anything about it. Being with another species of a shifter had its own challenges, and Soap was resigned to settling for what they had. Body language, eventual instinctive understanding. 

“What you wanted, yes,” Ghost whispered. One of his hands dipped down Soap’s back, tracing the curve of his spine, and lingered on his waist. “How are you doing this?”

Ghost dug his fingers in the small of his back to emphasize. At first, Soap didn’t understand what he meant, but he quickly realised the weight around his lower half, the lack of two legs, or any legs for the matter, and a very solid seal-half replacing the pelt.

“Doesn't it hurt?”

Soap wiggled a bit, trying to gauge how his body felt. His muscles were relaxed to an unnatural degree, as if it was barely there, but it wasn't painful. The opposite, actually.

“Feels like nothin',” Soap answered softly, leaning away to look at himself. It was exactly like he expected. He was half-man and half-seal, the mating bite more vibrant in his current state. “Do I have to force it?”

Soap curled his body forward, seal tail flopping closer to make it more accessible for his mate, and then looked up at him with a frown. The extra effort — regardless of how little it was — displeased him. 

He would, though. Just for Ghost, even if he'd whine about it. 

“No, I suppose not.” Ghost chuckled, swiping a thumb over his lips, and Soap cheekily struck his tongue out to lick it. Ghost made a soft noise, muscles tensing as Soap relished in his victory, relaxing in his arms. “Gonna let them all know you’re mine like this, Johnny.”

“Good,” Soap growled, adjusting accordingly as Ghost pulled him closer, looping a strong arm under his lower half before standing up. It was undoubtedly a show of strength, he weighed a lot heavier in his shifted form, and Ghost was putting everyone that could’ve been his mate to shame. 

If he could puff out his chest, he would, but he curled over Ghost instead, resting his cheek directly on the crook of his neck and enjoying the gentle hum vibrating on his skin. 

He watched Ghost secure him in his arms, catching the quick glance down to make sure he was solid before he started moving. Soap gave him a wide, droopy smile, pleased by additional care and attention. He needed to do something about that. Give Ghost something. His addled mind wasn’t providing much of a suggestion aside from those too inappropriate to indulge in front of others, but he put that line of thought away for another day. 

Soap pushed himself upwards, placing a soft kiss on Ghost’s jaw. He lingered on a jagged scar, tongue poking out to trace the lines, as if an age-old wound can be healed by something as simple as affection. He wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon.

Ghost made a soft questioning noise, but he leaned forward, rubbing his cheek on Soap’s. It was enough to make him break. He whispered it softly, like it was a sweet secret, “thank you.”

Ghost hadn’t stopped walking, but he’d slowed down when Soap started wiggling around his hold to kiss him, so he settled down for him. They needed to get home.

Wherever home was.

As far as he was concerned, he was with Ghost. It was all that mattered.

“Haven’t done anything.”

“Ye came back for me,” Soap grumbled. “Carryin’ me, takin’ care of me. You’re too fuckin’ sweet to me, Simon.”

“Nothing you don’t already deserve,” Ghost said. 

“Exactly that. Wish there was a way to show mam that, the rest of ‘em that, instead of…” Soap sniffled, his words dragging out because of the buzz in his head. “Noah’s fine, though. He trusts you, I think.”

Because he trusts me.

“Good to know.” Ghost’s shoulders melted, previous tension making itself known. 

Soap frowned as the winds rushed towards them. They were outside now, walking away from the crowd, going somewhere. But, they didn’t have a home in the place they were in, did they? 

“Dunno how long I’ll be with ya,” Soap said with a yawn, sinking deeper in his mate’s arms. The tiredness was getting to him, it had been pleasant but exhausting, enough for him to want nothing more than to close his eyes when he was surrounded by the warmth of the love of his life.

“Go on, then.” 

Ghost tucked his head closer to his neck, rubbing through his hair with soft fingers, lulling him further into the state of complete relaxation.

“Sweet dreams, Johnny.”

-

Summer fest was lively, to say the least. 

If Soap thought the amount of people in the settlement had doubled, he wasn’t prepared for the sheer amount of shifters and humans roaming the place, setting up trades and areas for studies, the variety of kids running around — one of them was his newly acquired nephew — and more sight of couples everywhere. 

He saw his brother helping Melissa around the buildings too, trying to be sneaky about it while the researcher waved at Soap from the distance. It made the transition to being a pair easier for Ghost and Soap, no one looked at them thrice, and whenever they did glance at them more than once, Soap was happy to lean towards Ghost, give him a kiss on his hand, or shoulder, or cheek, to make them know he was where he belonged. 

The sun was kinder. Brighter, lingering in the skies more and more, and the turn of seasons seemed to have shed the layers of tension winter and its unforgiving darkness provided. He visited the main building again, bumping into Gaz and getting his gift from Ghost back; Soap pointedly ignored the knowing smirk Gaz gave when he glanced at their mating bites, accepting his congratulations with a bash smile while Ghost tightened his arm around his hip. 

They were there to meet Price originally. 

Waking up in one of those rooms meant for visitors was disorientating at first, but a very sleepy Ghost had explained he’d arranged their stay for a night and dragged him back to his chest to cuddle some more. They were there to book more days for the stay, only to find out that Price had arranged things beforehand, stating his approval for Ghost finally staying over for more than a day at a time. 

It was Ghost’s turn to become bashful, grumbling something about a ‘pushy old man’ before dragging Soap out of the office. He had just enough time to shoot a thanks from his shoulders to the Captain. The rest of the day was spent with Ghost showing Soap everything around the settlement, meeting with more workers and hunters around the area. He managed to get a story of Ghost out of an older hunter when he was learning the ropes; a young orca Ghost getting so invested in a hunt, they needed to send a search party after him.

The thought of a wee orca getting lost in the ocean, because he got too excited by the prospect of a hunt, and a bunch of worried, older hunters finding him perched on an iceberg looking confused nearly made Soap double over. He kept his composure for Ghost’s sake, biting his lips to hold back his smile. His mate was already red over his ears, pulling him by his hand away from his old friends before they spilled more of his secrets. 

Ghost hadn’t stopped holding his hand the entire time they roamed around the settlement. He noticed the constant need for touch a little too late, the small grunt of displeasure whenever Soap got excited and moved a few steps quicker. He ended bracketing Soap’s back during then, looming a step behind him, or slipping his arm around his waist if they were talking to someone. Eventually, he would get Soap’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers for a good measure, and Soap didn’t realise he was doing it again until he almost bolted towards the direction of his brother when he spotted him in the distance. 

Ghost tugged him back with nonchalant ease. Soap’s back met Ghost’s chest, the soft muscles of his pecs pressed against the back of his head as he curled a hand over the curve of his hips. Fuck. Soap exhaled shakily, not wanting to show how affected he was in front of others, the warm tingles on his skin buzzing with energy, with need. For a second, he was convinced Ghost was going to drag him back to the privacy of their room; what he wanted to do was forgotten within a single touch.

His mate loosened his hold with a sigh, kissing the side of his head and whispering of what they’d planned for the evening. Dinner with his family. A reminder to return to him delivered with another kiss on their joined hands. Soap was left speechless, heart beating wildly as he stared directly at the shimmering darkness in Ghost’s gaze, how summer’s light brought out the bright russet hue. Blood gold. Downright mesmerising. 

He nodded, a wee stupidly, and Ghost graced with a soft smile that did nothing to calm his flip-flopping heart. 

“I’ll be here,” Ghost said knowingly, snapping his attention back into focus. 

“Aye, I’ll, uh, be right back.” Soap turned around before his heated face was in full view. 

He rushed towards his brother, to give himself an excuse for why he was flustered, and also because he wanted to catch up before he disappeared in the crowd. His brother might’ve not seen what caused his face to light up like the sun, but he studied him closely anyway, and Soap tried to ignore the glance over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions. 

Ghost was waiting for him.

They talked about their family more, how the preparation to return was going. Noah told him he was figuring out a way for them to call him, so they could directly speak with Soap since everyone had been worried sick about him. It was as good of a news as any. 

“Off to see Melissa, then?” Soap asked teasingly. 

“I don’t think you have any say in the matter, brother.” Noah nodded his head towards the direction Soap came from. “Your mate is staring down at us as we speak.”

“Just tell her I said hi,” Soap said. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, patting his brother’s shoulder before he turned on his heels. “See ya.”

Noah said something about finding him in three days, and Soap absent-mindedly tucked the information in the back of his head.

The evening went better than Soap expected. Thomas and Beth Riley were just as accommodating and nice to him as Ghost’s mum was. They ended up in a nice ice structure in the hunter’s area, the food served in fresh and delicate cuts to their plates — mostly fish — and some of the ‘alcohol’ from the days before. Soap limited himself to a glass this time, remembering how embarrassingly he’d acted that day, regardless of how fondly Ghost recounted the night, enjoying his apparent clinginess. 

Soap found himself leaning against the wall, speaking to Joseph like he usually did to his younger siblings, and watched Ghost participate in conversation. His gift was on his lap, pencil and paper primed to indulge in, both as an excuse to keep the wee calf occupied and draw his mate while he was at it. Joseph watched him as he explained how to draw, eyes diligently on the pencil, the lines he was making. 

Soap was trying to be discreet about it. He stole glances when Ghost was focused on the discussion with his family, looking down while he ate, and pretended to be immersed in his conversation with his nephew as he narrated his process. There were a few times Ghost caught his staring, but he only smiled and winked, hoping it was enough to deter him from guessing who the subject of his sketch was. 

All that time being with his mate helped. He drew from memory as much as he did from his sneaky glances, quickly flipping the page and giving Joseph the book and the pencil to try his hand at sketching. 

He helped Joseph draw a couple of shapes, and even a fish, and promised to get him some paper and pens of his own the next time they met. It’d been a while since he got any time for himself to sit and indulge in the old hobby. The evening progressed to a more soothing night, with Soap leaning against Ghost, listening to how the Riley family’s last trip around the seas went. 

He wondered if Ghost missed it — migrations. If he wanted to go far distances again, if Soap would be okay trudging along with him if it came down to it. He wasn’t opposed to it, but he liked how the settlement treated him so far. He liked being around his family too. 

They were new into their relationship, they would figure it out eventually. 

The night ended without much fanfare. Joseph was dozing off, and the Rileys went back to their resting area. Soap was walking side by side with Ghost, making their way towards their room, when a gust of wind directed Soap’s attention to the ocean. The waves looked quiet, tempting, urging him to step back in its depths, and he stopped dead in his tracks. 

Ghost stopped with him, curiously glancing at the direction Soap was looking.

“Up for a swim?” Soap whispered. 

Ghost caught his gaze with impossibly dark eyes, a hungry glint present in them despite the softly murmured yes . 

He was going to enjoy this.

-

They went into the ocean after Soap dropped off his sketchbook in their room.

The water was pleasant, its inviting cold morphing into perfection the moment Soap shifted. He took a deep breath before he dipped under the surface. He swam a few metres ahead, twisting his body to watch as a massive, scarred orca replaced the human form of his mate, sending an inviting chirp before he started swimming with the waves. 

Ghost understanding him was something he kept at the back of his mind. He wanted to test the theory, see how far it went. The swim was going to be the perfect opportunity for that. Something about the quiet, the rush of cold and adrenaline, propelled him further than he normally would’ve gone. 

He gave it his everything, swimming like his life depended on it as Ghost steadily shadowed him, tricking his hindbrain into thinking it was real. There was a part of him that indulged in the playfulness of it, and another that was assured his mate would follow him to the deepest depths of the unknown if need be. His instincts were soothed, so terribly confident despite the imposing stature of an orca. 

Ghost bumped his snout into his body a few times, checking in, and Soap twisted his body to slip past his mate, shooting off into the waters to create some distance between them again. He’d wink on his way out, enjoying the faint glimmer of amusement in the orca’s eyes before taking the lead once more. The settlement grew farther away, the silence around him a testament to how alone they were. 

He marvelled at the oceanic blue, enjoying how natural it felt. His future was far less uncertain than before he started, alone in the corners of the sea, growing complacent with his own suffering. It was a few seconds too much. Ghost caught up to him easily, manoeuvring silently to make sure Soap didn’t see him approach from underneath him. In a burst of energy, he pushed Soap’s body upwards, breaking through the surface head first. 

Soap was greeted by another shade of blue, the brightening sky capturing his attention as he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with much-needed air. Ghost lingered underneath him for a moment longer, supporting him before letting out a soft whistle, a warning as he dipped away and resurfaced beside him. The settlement was a blip in his peripherals, far enough to give them some much needed space. Soap took in the sights more, and spotted a lone, floating iceberg in the horizon, an equally mischievous thought surfacing because of it. 

His mate had indulged him beyond what he could’ve dreamed when he used to conjure up the figure of the mysterious shifter who would someday be his. Soap still wanted to test the limits of it. Whether he’d also indulge his invite to play around the extremes too, whether the ‘Ghost’ was too proper of a shifter to not chase him without the final incentive of fresh meat in place. He bided his time, waited until the orca breached the surface for air  — showoff — and swam from underneath him without warning. 

A questioning pulsed call followed him as he sped up, knowing that he’d only have a few seconds before Ghost was on him again. It felt good to let loose, swim like his life depended on it, feeling the rush of blood and excitement swell, even if he knew how it’d end. The chase was everything to him. His instincts kicked in as his mate shadowed him. 

Ghost wasn’t doing it cautiously, though, there was a rush in his movements, a genuine burst of frustration whenever Soap swam in a way that deliberately avoided him. Gone was the gentle giant Soap had the pleasure of knowing over the weeks. He resembled the unavoidable figure from day one, and beyond the thrill of the chase, Soap was equally ecstatic to find out that it didn’t petrify him.

He wasn’t scared anymore.

He trusted Ghost wholeheartedly, in whatever form he took. 

Soap didn’t even flinch away when Ghost ‘broke’ his promise — the wide open mouth of dagger-like teeth rushing him. The pain never came, though. Soap was suspended in the water for a moment as Ghost’s maw closed around the initial bite, and felt the frustration dissipated in an instance from the orca. Things clicked in place, and his mark throbbed, the adrenaline rush turned into something else entirely. 

Soap made a small noise, a soft, placating chirp, and he saw Ghost visibly melting because of it, slowly releasing him from his hold, as if he didn’t quite believe Soap, but he wasn’t willing to deny him either. 

His first mistake. 

However, Soap gave him a kiss for listening, nuzzling closer to his eye to make sure he saw it. It was all play. Regardless of how dangerous he knew the orca was — the allure added to his enjoyment. He needed a bigger distraction than before, something that would stop Ghost for a few seconds more than before. So, he shifted. Extremely slowly, allowing the top half of his body to change first, grinning like a mad man as Ghost blew the water out of his lung in surprise. 

His precious seconds. 

Ghost needed to resurface for air.

Soap patted his mate’s snout, an excuse to put his hands on him, and mouthed ‘catch me’ before pushing himself away with as much strength as he could muster. He didn’t need to listen in to know the sudden disturbance in the water was anything more than Ghost catching on; the iceberg was within reach, even without fully shifting back, he’d have the advantage with two strong arms to propel him over the surface. 

He almost did too. 

His hands were on the ice, his body already going through the shift and changing rapidly, but a loud splash rocked the entire iceberg, and he instinctively turned around, startled. 

“Caught you,” Ghost growled on his neck, flipping him over and shoving him up the ice like it was nothing.

Soap quickly repositioned his elbows to not be flattened on his back, staring up at the looming figure of his mate. Ghost was dripping from head to toe, his dark eyes burned with fervour, lips parting to reveal those sharp canines. He wasn’t out of the water yet, half of his body submerged from the waist. Magnificent, Soap thought, exhaling a breath in disbelief. Ghost was on him immediately, mouth open and hungry like he was trying to eat him, capturing his lips with the kind of heat that threatened to melt him to his core. 

Fuck.

Soap’s head spun as he tried to return the intensity. But, it was too much, too good; the taste of Ghost on his teeth and tongue, the familiar, addicting scent, enhanced by the salty touch of the ocean, everything beckoned him to give in. To allow Ghost to take, and take, and take, everything surrendered to his hands, mouth, body and heart without a second thought. 

Sharp canines bit Soap’s lips raw, drawing blood enough to flood their mouths with the metallic tang, before Ghost roughly licked the open wound and continued kissing him as it mended because of their bond. He made Soap feel out of his depth, caught by a predator who had earned the right to devour him.

Soap was so turned on, he was sure he would’ve melted and dissolved under the sun if Ghost wasn’t there to hold him.

Ghost grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him close, forcing a moan out of Soap as he latched onto him in return, hooking his legs around his waist. Soap was grinding desperately, rutting himself against the wet, hard planes of his mate’s stomach, relishing in the deep-throat rumble vibrating sweetly between them. It was approval, acknowledgement, and a sign that Soap was doing something right. He was starting to crave that validation more than ever. 

Ghost panted against his swollen lips, clearly out of breath and equally unwilling to part away from Soap. His hand dropped from Soap’s neck to steady himself on the ice before pushing himself out of the water, crawling over the smoother surface. He dragged Soap with him, hovering on top of him with impossibly dark eyes. 

Ghost drank him in, lips parted, breathing deeply as his gaze lingered at the curve of his hips. Soap stretched languidly underneath him, grinning with his teeth, knowing the sight he must’ve made; lips kissed and bitten red, cheeks flushed, belly up and exposed without a hint of fear in his eyes; so completely gone for him. The hand braced next to Soap’s head clenched, visibly straining as Ghost dipped down, pressing his teeth on the vulnerable stretch of his neck. 

As comfortable as he was, laid out to Ghost’s mercy, the initial instinct to flinch away was still there, but his mate wasn’t going to let him squirm away. He snarled, sinking his teeth in with enough bite to keep him in place while he grinded his hips against Soap’s. Ghost bore his weight down on him, forced him to take it, and Soap complied with an eager moan, all too happy with the outcome. 

He got exactly what he wanted, who was he to complain?

His eagerness was rewarded by Ghost biting down hard, piercing skin to draw blood before he pressed his tongue over the wound. It was another mark, another indication to the world that Soap was his. When the pain was soothed by pleasure, the healing struck him with reassurance, reminding him of the man he had promised his soul to. 

It went straight to his cock.

He felt Ghost’s too. A heavy, demanding pressure that was rutting against him. He needed to shed his pelt, feel his mate skin to skin, a burning desire to return the favour. Mark Ghost with his hands, teeth and nails. Let everyone know who he belonged to. 

He was sure the growing heat between them was enough to turn solid ice into water, reducing the size of the iceberg they were on; an undoubtedly absurd feeling. Nothing to be worried about, but it was undeniable, with their moans and pants visible in the air. Steam gathering between them. Ghost licked the water off his neck, that deep rumble returning as he worked his way down, getting near the nape of his neck. Soap’s hands tightened around his back, fingers digging in as he felt the sharp pain of Ghost biting his neck. 

He groaned loudly, addicted to the sensations overflowing in his body.

The bite was bigger this time, blood flowing freely down his throat, slipping inside Ghost’s greedy mouth. He was so hard he barely noticed the wound closing as Ghost licked him clean, groaning and nosing his way down his body, determined to stake his claim until not an inch of skin was left that wasn’t lathered in his scent. The taste of sea must’ve been unpleasant — Soap wasn’t quite fond of the saltiness as much —, but Ghost kissed, licked and bit him like it didn’t matter, like he could spend the entire day tasting him on his tongue. 

He didn’t always go for the bite, lingering to tease Soap’s skin between his teeth, kissing him delicately as if the blown out darkness in his eyes weren’t indicative of his true intent. 

Soap’s skin was reddening underneath his mate’s care, marred by the small nips on his skin, showing off the acute edge of his canines. Ghost’s eyes shuddered, expression inscrutable as Soap bit his own lips to stop a high-pitch whine from spilling, revealing just how much he liked it. He should’ve felt shame, maybe, so eager to throw himself to the mercy of the predator who was the reason behind his near-death encounter, but surrendering himself to an uncertain fate was equally enticing. 

It was intoxicating. He had been changed, implicitly, reaching highs and lows he never thought he could, delivered to the prospect of a future with Ghost trailing kisses down his body like he was trying to know him down to the very minuscule parts of his existence. Reverence reserved for the most precious of beings, gods, of the world, given to Soap freely. 

He couldn’t have possibly fallen in love with his mate more than he already had, but he did. He was shedding the skin of his old self as Ghost dragged his lips down his torso, teasing and unbelievably close to making Soap burst, and the gentle way in which he took his pelt in his mouth, looking up at him through his golden lashes was almost enough.

Soap nodded, groaning and squirming, both of his hands on Ghost’s hair as he ripped his pelt from his waist. He was bare, unwrapped like a gift, and Ghost exhaled through his nose, licking his lips in anticipation. The expression on his face was familiar. Hunger, lust and desire combining to give a way to what he wanted from Soap. He could almost see him thinking, considering. 

Soap was soaked. His cock was hard, leaking, so easily turned on by the kisses and bites his mate pampered him with. 

However, nothing prepared Soap for how roughly Ghost grabbed his arse, kneading his cheeks with an appreciative groan as he lifted his lower half off the ice. 

“So fucking perfect, Johnny,” Ghost whispered, voice low and seductive enough to make him feel hot from the compliment alone. He wasn’t ever going to get used to it — how downright devastating Ghost was whenever they were alone.

“Should look at yerself,” Soap said, groaning when Ghost dropped one hand, continuing to casually hold him up as he pressed his nose near Soap’s inner thighs, eyeing his cock. “Like you’re fuckin’ ready to devour me.”

Ghost smiled with his teeth, sharp canines catching the light as he slowly raised his head to lock his eyes with Soap’s. “Planning to stop me?”

“No.” Fuck, that was too quick, high-pitched. More of a whine deep from his throat, a plea to do just that. He almost said never, too, but the sheer delight in Ghost’s gaze, approving of his response, forced him to realise how much he liked letting Ghost do whatever the fuck he wanted with him. 

Gods, what was wrong with him?

“Stay with me, Johnny,” Ghost growled, the words vibrating on his skin. It was a command, and his body snapped in attention as if it was waiting for him to demand attention from Soap; an opportunity to prove how good he could be for his mate. “We’ve barely started.”

Soap gulped as Ghost slowly licked a stripe up his inner thighs, his breath hot and near his balls, and yet, he knew Ghost wasn’t going to get his mouth on it yet. He bared his canines with intent, dragging them up and down, letting the edge catch skin and bleed. He didn’t immediately heal it, smearing it over his lips, mouth and chin first, marking himself with Soap’s blood. 

Then, Ghost sank his teeth down, biting him with a wide, salivating mouth, maintaining an unwavering eye contact. He clamped down tightly as Soap’s body twitched, the pain and twisted pleasure forcing him to writhe, clawing at the ground as he moaned obscenely. I’m going to die, he thought, but the thrill of it was there, even if he knew it wasn’t anywhere close to actually being dangerous.

But Ghost was stretching it, taking his sweet time to heal the open bites. 

He was living his fantasy through the wild glint in Ghost’s eyes.

Soap couldn’t wait to get his own mouth on him, shower the pale, scarred skin with more claiming bites. The lick that followed after was slow, relishing in the feel and taste of him as Ghost moved from wound to the innermost part of his thighs. He nuzzled Soap’s balls, breathing deeply as his handsome face pressed upwards, pressing his cheek against his cock. 

“Fuck,” Soap swore, his cock twitching as a bead of precome rolled down from the slit, caught by a clever twist of Ghost’s tongue. 

The sensation of his hot, wet tongue on his cock was fucking divine. 

He needed more, he —

“Tastes good,” Ghost murmured, nosing his cock like he was the one who couldn’t get enough. 

Soap wasn’t given a warning before Ghost sucked the tip in his mouth, his pretty lips stretched out in a vague grin as he slowly but surely sank down.

Oh, gods.

Soap cursed, his hips bucking up, pushing more of his length inside the eager, hot mouth trying to swallow his cock whole. Ghost made it look effortless, taking Soap’s cock in his throat until he was pressed against his crotch, and the victorious gleam in his eyes was accentuated by how satisfied he looked. 

Soap moaned, squirming in the hold as Ghost sucked him off, the tight heat of his throat was fucking perfect, and his mate knew it, watching his face twist in different shades of pleasure, continuing shamelessly. Fuck, he couldn’t have anticipated that out of everything his mate wanted to do — he was usually content giving and taking what Soap wanted. 

But, he couldn’t have known, unless he already memorised Soap’s tells down to the exact movements to figure out what he wanted. Which, hot. 

Soap’s cock throbbed as Ghost moved up, not stopping until just the cockhead was in his mouth, leaking profusely on his tongue. Ghost didn’t let a drop go to waste, eagerly drinking, sucking and mouthing at his cock, bringing Soap to his limit with ease. He was going to explode. It hadn’t been long enough to warrant that, but he was so close to losing himself. 

“Simon,” Soap groaned, as good of a warning as he could manage in his state, and Ghost intensified his efforts, tongue hotly pressed on the underside of his cock, thick throat moving in time with every gulp. 

Soap was gone. He could barely control himself when he came, body bucking and writhing as the hands on his thighs held firm, and Ghost treated the onslaught of come flooding his mouth with a rumbling moan. Soap was sure it was too much, that he was overstaying his welcome, overwhelming his mate, but even if he stared intently at the obscene stretch of Ghost’s lips, there was nothing to indicate that.

He saw signs of the opposite, actually.  

Soap raised his gaze, catching Ghost’s eyes. There was a fierceness in them despite how lost in the sensations Ghost looked, challenging him to deny him of what he wanted, and it shouldn’t have made Soap shudder, coming harder, but it did. 

Ghost’s deep, appreciative groans vibrated directly on his cock. Soap’s thoughts were a scrambled mess, barely grasping coherence even as his orgasm eased away, and Ghost’s satisfied lidded gaze greedily drank him in. He was sure that look was going to kill him someday.

Soap came back to himself slowly, focus captured by how hot and erotic the whole experience was. His entire body felt spent, satisfied beyond what he could’ve expected, and he was allowed to rest, the warmth of his mate hovering over him, stroking his sides. He took deep breaths before slinging an arm over his head, hiding his burning face from Ghost. 

How the fuck was he supposed to be normal after that?

Ghost exhaled, like he was trying very hard not to laugh, and pulled him down by his sides. Soap refused to remove his arm, refused to look — he needed more time to recuperate from how Ghost brought him to the brink of insanity so easily. 

“C’mere, love,” Ghost cooed, his palm sliding up his chest. “You were so good for me.”

Soap felt his face grow hotter, shivering under the careful stroke. 

He refused to budge, refused to show how unravelled and vulnerable he felt, and how seamlessly Ghost relaxed him with his soft touches and gentle words alone. He was cracking like an iceberg in summer, putty in the hands of his mate. 

Ghost took his silence as an invitation. His lips fluttered on Soap’s jaw, softly kissing his way up to his lips, lingering there, but not deepening. “That bad, Johnny?”

There was a slight hoarseness in his voice, like his throat was worn out from sucking Soap’s cock and — it should’ve made him feel something. Guilt, maybe. Concern. Anything but the awe stirring in his chest, because he left a mark on Ghost in a far more subtle way than he ever anticipated. He was going to return the favour someday. 

Fuck, did he taste as good as Ghost made him out to be? 

Would Ghost, too?

“Not,” Soap’s voice cracked. He removed his hand, half-lidded eyes flickering down, silent as Ghost rose, resting his forehead on his. His heart was pounding against his ribs. “Bad. Not at all. Fuck.”

Ghost kissed him. He captured his lips softly, sweet enough for Soap to groan and open his mouth, and the taste of him was different from anything he has ever known. It drowned his sense, suddenly eager to chase his own flavour from Ghost’s tongue, deepening the kiss, sneaking his arms around his neck to pull him in. 

Ghost groaned softly, chest rumbling as he pressed down his body on Soap. He couldn’t get enough of it. For some reason he needed more, not fully satiated, especially when he knew Ghost was losing his patience, kissing him more hungrily. His weight was heavy on Soap, as if he didn’t bother to hold back, and it felt good, grounding and dizzying, intoxicating him with equal level of passion and affection. 

He never wanted to leave.

He was fine like this, squashed underneath Ghost, kissed like he was trying to suffocate him with his lips. The world disappeared when it was just the two of them. His hopes, dreams, fears and relief merged into the existence of one man who guided him through the worst of it. He wanted nothing else, nothing more, than Simon Riley. 

Ghost must’ve known he was needy, perceptive bastard. He snuck his arms around Soap’s back, pretending to hold him before he sat up, pulling Soap along with him. Soap groaned at the easy handling, melting down on his lap. Their kisses turned more desperate, a game of tug, trying to overwhelm the other and failing because they both demanded more. 

Their mating bites hummed with energy. 

Ghost had a hand holding his, fingers digging in meanly, keeping him in place, while Soap had an entire arm covering his neck, hiding it from view. Ghost was his. Seeing him like this was reserved only for him. Soap finally had the opportunity to tear into Ghost. He bit his lips, made him bleed before eagerly healing him, sharing his own twisted display of desire. 

Ghost hardly minded. He encouraged Soap by giving him the reins, letting Soap bite and suck his lips to his heart’s content as he slipped one hand down to grab his arse, yanking him flush against his lap. It was then that Soap realised Ghost had discarded his pelt, his hard cock leaking precome over Soap’s stomach, fat and stiff from neglect. All Ghost had gotten so far was kisses, bites and grinding, nowhere near the release he needed. 

Soap slipped away from his mouth, adjusting himself until he was properly seated on Ghost’s lap. Their height difference was immediately noticeable, with Soap’s face near Ghost’s tits — a view he very much enjoyed, naturally — and it was perfect for the angle it allowed him. Their cocks were pressed together. Soap marvelled at the sheer size, thickness and how… pretty Ghost’s looked. Strange thing to think about a cock, but he was growing quite fond of it. 

“How d’ya wanna fuck me?” Soap asked casually, reaching to grab the girth in his hands, and frowned when he saw that his fingers didn’t connect. No fucking wonder. 

Ghost groaned like it was punched out of him, his cock flexing in Soap’s hand, dripping more precome from the slit. The sight was tempting him. Though, he wondered if he could take Ghost like he had, if it’d be as easy as it looked. 

Probably not, Soap thought, giving Ghost’s cock a gentle squeeze. 

“Growin’ a mouth on you,” Ghost said, breathless. His hands returned to Soap’s hips, stroking his bite mark with soft fingers. “What should I do with you?”

“That’s why I asked.” Soap grinned, swiping a finger to gather some come from the tip of Ghost’s cock. He let the question linger, looking up at his mate with an innocent flutter of his eyes before he licked the come off his finger in front of him. “I can think of plenty of ways you can get your cock inside of —”

Ghost was on him before he could blink, growling against his mouth as he dove in with his teeth and tongue bared. Soap wasn’t allowed to linger with the taste of him for much. His mate intensified it, chest heaving, arms crushing him close, and his mouth, licking and sucking like he did his cock, like he was trying to truly devour him. 

His senses were crowded and overwhelmed by Ghost. 

And there wasn’t anything in the world he’d rather be occupied with. 

“Gonna make use of that mouth of yours next time, love,” Ghost growled as he slowed the kiss, pulling apart reluctantly. 

They were panting hotly, and Soap knew whatever Ghost wanted, he was willing to give. No questions asked. He trusted him that much. 

“Promises to keep, Simon.” Soap grinned, gingerly raising his hand to touch Ghost’s cheek. Much to his surprise, though, Ghost leaned in before he could extend his arm much, rubbing his face on Soap’s palm. His lips touched the pulse point on his wrist, fluttering soft kisses around his heated skin. Fuck. “I trust you.”

Ghost stopped, blinking a few times. Then, he looked at Soap through his lashes, eyes so perceptively soft, Soap was going to tackle him and spend the night kissing his face if he didn’t stop. 

“Won’t be able to stop if we start here,” Ghost said. “Sure about this?”

He had a point. 

They were quite a distance away from the settlement, but the possibility of not being alone was there. He couldn’t hear or see anyone so far. Caution aside — he really needed Ghost. It didn’t matter if he came already, the primal need to satisfied his mate, to be fucked good and full, was there in the back of his mind, and frankly speaking, he was getting impatient. 

Maybe it was because they cut their time alone. 

Maybe he just needed Ghost, constantly, anywhere. 

“Yes,” Soap answered. “Wouldn’t want to stop anyway.”

Ghost huffed out a laugh, mesmerising him with the soft sound. He was left in a daze as Ghost shuffled forward, gathering their pelts, probably arranging a nest for them. Just their pelts. It was enough for what they’d planned. 

What he didn’t expect was for Ghost to flip him on his front, urging him on his hands and knees. The hand on his back was firm, but gentle, Soap could move away if he wanted to. He obeyed instead, relenting willingly, excited for completely different reasons. The thrill of what came next occupied his thoughts as he waited, shivering when he felt Ghost’s breath on the curve of his arse. 

A small questioning noise left him before the answer came in a sharp, painful sting right on his cheek. Ghost was biting him, holding him by his mouth and a quick hand on his hip while Soap nearly flinched away from the position, moaning low in his throat at the sudden burst of pain and something worse, an embarrassing realisation. He fucking liked it. The precome spurting from his cock, hardening from the surge of pain and pleasure, his hole twitching, suddenly feeling empty and ignored, was proof enough. 

And with the way Ghost was bloody smirking on his arse, he knew it. Ghost healed the bite slowly too, taking his sweet time to lick the mark in the shape of his teeth clean, and Soap could feel the soft soreness replacing the pain, how his entire body was a varying level of soreness. Pleasant, somehow. He truly was discovering what he wanted, was, as a person. 

Ghost pulled away, and Soap pushed back, not wanting to part just yet. He got a soft squeeze on his bitten arse, a tiny reprimand — this was on Ghost’s terms. Waiting wasn’t bad. If he wasn’t also impatient as fuck. 

Thankfully, Ghost returned to his rightful place. He flanked Soap’s legs with his thick thighs, moving his bulk until he was behind him, and finally, after what felt like ages, he pressed his cock on the crease of Soap’s arse, spreading his cheek with both hands. Ghost grunted, grinding roughly, already spilling hot and wet over Soap’s arse, making an entire mess out of him. 

Soap couldn’t help the low, needy whine out of his lips. He balled his hands into fists, rocking his hips back, arching his back and trying to get as close as he was allowed. 

“Fuck,” Ghost murmured. 

Soap was given a grand total of ten seconds to whine and beg for it, practically shaking his arse to entice him, struggling to get the tip to catch on his hole. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it without Ghost’s help, the angle wasn’t right, and he wasn’t prepared like the times they’d done this before. 

Just when he was about to slump forward and give up, Ghost grasped his neck, tightening his hold as he covered his back with his chest, rolling his hips into him. He was teasing Soap, rutting his cock over his hole, fucking dripping precome enough to slick him up; wet, stiff and eager to take, yet he wasn’t. Ghost grunted next to his ear, putting some of his weight on him, keeping him in place.

“Do you know what you look like?” Ghost growled, words twisting more animalistically. “Eager to be mounted, so fucking desperate for me.”

Gods. 

Soap squeezed his eyes shut, body shaking under the effect of his mate’s voice, and the fucking motion of his hips wasn’t helping, fucking into Soap like he was already inside, groaning obscenely like he was taking him for the first time. 

The tease was getting to him. Ghost was letting it catch, pushing the wide head of his cock against his rim, almost leaking inside him before growling in frustration, grinding up and down the crease of his arse. Soap whined loudly in protest, irritation bubbling under his skin — he almost got what he wanted, only to be denied without a second’s hesitation. 

“Want it that bad, Johnny?”

What was that question?

Soap tried to angle his head sideways, bare his teeth and throw the question back at him, but Ghost dug his fingers in his neck, kept him still as his hips snapped on Soap’s arse, the sound of skin on skin thundering between them. 

Bastard.

He’d more than a few choice words for his mate, and yet, all of his anger melted when Ghost slipped a hand underneath his hips, cupping his cock as he slowed down the pace of his thrusts. He squeezed lightly, thumb rubbing under the sensitive head, and Soap was so hard it almost hurt. Almost. His cock twitched instead, spurts of precome landing on the snow, the evidence of his arousal so palpable it was a wonder Ghost hadn’t taken him already. 

He rolled his hips down, grinding more into Ghost’s hand. He needed friction, something, anything, and yet, he was stopped again, firm hands on his neck and cock like a threat. A dangerous, delicious threat. 

Soap groaned with obvious annoyance, obeying nonetheless.

“Impatient,” Ghost murmured, voice tinged with amusement. “Could’ve used your mouth first, let me know what you want, love.”

Well, if he wanted him to beg…

“You,” Soap growled. “Anythin’ you want to give me, anything you want, I want you in your fucking entirety and you fucking me, right now. Isn’t it bloody obvious? Who else? I swear to the gods, if you don’t breed me, I’m gonna —”

Ghost groaned loud enough to completely drown him out, his head dropping between Soap’s shoulder blade, mouthing his skin before he sank his teeth in. The pain was sharp, soothed away by a light press of his lips, but the cut wasn’t deep, as if Ghost was simply indulging his urge to get a taste of him. He couldn’t blame him. 

Ghost eased his mouth away with a soft noise, roughly releasing his cock, and the solid weight on his arse eased. 

“Think you meant fuck, Johnny.” Ghost teased his hole with a wet finger, rubbing over the mess he left behind, spreading it as Soap shivered from the promise of what was to come. Then, he replaced his finger with his cock, the fat tip pressed properly this time, guided to his hole by a solid hand around the girth. He sank in slowly, letting the crown stretch him wide and already so full. “‘Suppose I don’t mind fucking you till it takes, either.”

Soap’s body gave him away before he understood, his hole clenching around the tip, needing nothing more than for Ghost to give him exactly that. He barely cared whether it was possible or not, his logical mind had dissolved in the midst of desire and pleasure, wanting, wanting and wanting, and he finally relaxed when Ghost gave into him, sinking in slow and deep. 

The stretch was mind-numbing, especially without any prior preparation. Too big, a part of him seemed to be crying, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming wave of satisfaction pulsing throughout his body, sucking Ghost deeper and deeper, eager to finally have him where he belonged.  

They groaned in unison, feeling the stretch, how tight Soap was — it was uncomfortable, and so good, erasing everything that wasn’t Ghost out of his mind. Maybe it was because of the way they were doing it, but it felt primal, different somehow, purposeful, and Soap had truly underestimated how much he could take without breaking. His hands trembled with the effort to keep himself up, not helped by Ghost pressing his chest down on him as he bullied his way inside, ignoring the quiet gasps he was forcing out of Soap. 

He felt stuffed long before Ghost’s pelvis met his arse, but he was ready to explode when he did. His arms gave out.

“Breathe,” Ghost grunted, holding Soap’s chest up with a steady hand. “I’ve got you, Johnny.”

Soap did as he was told, his exhale coming out shaky, and the inhale wasn’t better either. Ghost was so deep inside of him, the new position provided a better angle, reaching places he hadn’t touched before. Soap liked how instinctively right it felt — something in his hindbrain was satisfied by how his mate had taken him. 

Mounted him, really.

Ghost was patient with him, though, he could hear the low groans he was trying to suppress, his cock throbbing inside of Soap, spilling a little too enthusiastically. His body was tense, the hand on his chest pressed tighter than what he probably intended. Soap took another breath like he was instructed, giving Ghost’s cock a tentative squeeze, and fuck. 

He felt it in his fucking stomach. 

Ghost hitched his hips forward with a soft moan, grinding his cock deeper, his balls pressing against his hole, and Soap was glad for the hold steadying him. 

“Feels so fucking good,” Ghost groaned, continuing his tight, controlled motions. He was stretching Soap out, big enough to press on every sensitive spot inside of him, and the grinding alone made him want to collapse and surrender to the pleasure overwhelming him. “Fuck, Johnny.”

Soap cried out as Ghost nudged his inner walls with a sharp grind, the pressure exerted right in his stomach. It was a burn like nothing else he’d ever felt, and yet, he could feel his entire body coming alive, craving the full extent of Ghost’s desire. His mate cursed, halting his movements, and Soap felt his voice rumbling next to his ear, the warmth around him coming from the cautious hug he draped Soap’s body with. 

“Johnny?”

“M’okay,” Soap managed, his voice wavering. He knew Ghost was checking in, making sure he was okay, and it made tears prick in his eyes. Sweet bastard, he thought, continuing with his reassurance, “feels good, too much, but fuck, don’t stop.”

Ghost nuzzled on the crook of Soap’s neck, providing a steady, affectionate warmth to ground Soap with. “Slow, then.” 

Soap nodded — he could handle slow. 

Things would inevitably pick up anyway. He wanted it to. He wanted Ghost. Things were as simple as it could be. 

Ghost rested against him for a moment, not willing to let go of him yet. He rose up after that, dragging his hands down Soap’s sides, and stopped when he had a firm hold of his hips. Supported by his lower half, no longer holding half of his weight, Soap braced himself properly. He was going to show him he could take it. 

Ghost pulled back, groaning with every inch, slow like he promised, but it made Soap feel him for longer too, the exact extent of how much Ghost’s cock had stretched his hole. When Ghost was almost completely out, stretching him with just the tip, Soap whined in both relief and impatience, clenching around the tip, needing him back inside. 

“Needy already?” Ghost asked huskily, a hint of awe in his voice. He pushed an inch in, and Soap moaned loudly, relaxing around the intrusion. “Straight out of my dreams, Johnny.”

Soap wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wasn’t allowed to linger on the thought either, Ghost started pushing in before he could ask. He sank in smoothly and stopped halfway through, holding Soap steady as he trembled. It wasn’t even all of Ghost’s cock, and Soap was already shaking trying to contain himself, biting his lips in anticipation. 

Ghost pulled back again, and thrusted half of his cock in, setting a slow but consistent pace, angling his hips to abuse that one spot inside of him. Just half of his cock, and it was already forcing Soap to see spots in his vision, blanking out before a sharp thrust brought him back to earth. He could feel how wet he was like this; how much Ghost had already spilled enough inside of him, marking him, making the slide easier. 

Ghost pushed an inch more in the next thrust, and Soap was already whimpering. If it wasn’t for their pelts providing a soft nest for them, he’d probably scrape his knees, felt more desperate, but their combined scent relaxed him. The pressure tipped towards an ever-growing surge of pleasure, of wanting and needing more, and his moans conveyed it, going from soft to needy embarrassingly fast. 

His hands were fisting the pelts, bracing himself as Ghost groaned and increased the pace of his thrusts, shoving more and more inches of his cock in. Soap’s moans turned into hitched whines, caught between wanting to squirm away and rock his hips back, managing to do both as Ghost dug his fingers in his hips, pounding him with increased vigour. 

“Taking me so well,” Ghost growled, steadily rearranging Soap’s insides with his punishing thrusts. His hefty balls slapped against Soap’s rim, and it then that he realised he was fucking him with his entire length, his hole had given away so easily, sucking him in like he was stretched beforehand. “Wanted me to fuck you full, didn’t you? Breed this tight little hole of yours?”

He convulsed around Ghost’s cock, clenching and pulsing on it. The answer to his question was obvious, and he was whining for it, pushing back when Ghost pulled out on the downstroke. He needed to be filled, he needed to feel full. Ghost pinched the skin around his mating bite, the pain sending jolts of pleasure right to his cock, and he started fucking Soap with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground if he didn’t have a firm hold on him. 

The sound of wet skin slapping filled the air, almost drowning out Soap’s pathetic moans and cries. Fuck, fuck, he was gone, more gone than he was on the strange fucking drink that intoxicated him, and that was saying something. It felt right, and so, so good, he would’ve taken back every bad thing he’d said about life if he could think beyond the cock slamming into him. 

His thighs shook, his knees mildly ached, and a particularly harsh thrust off-set his balance so much he collapsed on his elbows, his torso melting in their nest as the rest of him was held by the sole strength of his mate’s arms. Ghost didn’t go easy on him, Soap’s collapse seemed to have inspired him to fuck him harder, thrusting, shoving and rattling his body, ensuring that he felt every inch of his cock, hitting the sensitive spot repeatedly, brutally. 

Soap’s vision was obscured by his tears, overwhelmed by the pressure and pleasure as he was forced to lay there and take it. He was almost there, coming close to his orgasm just on Ghost’s cock. Fucked like he was actually being bred. Soap was choking on his own moans, muffled by his face being pushed down on Ghost’s pelt by every stroke, blinking away the tears. 

Gods.

His worries, his awareness, his fears and concerns and all melted into a muddle of nothing, anchored by the singular presence of a man who was fucking him to the inch of his life. 

There was something about the merciless, possessive way Ghost took him, intending to see through to his promise, that pushed Soap over the edge. His hips shuddered, spine pulling taut as he came over their pelts and his chest, shooting off so far some of it landed on his chin. Ghost slowed down considerably, but he didn’t stop thrusting, keeping the force the same, relishing as Soap tightened and spasm around him. 

“Looking pretty like this, Johnny,” Ghost groaned, pulling out completely and shoving his cock back in. “Sounding, feeling — fuck. You’re perfect.”

Soap was on the path to ruin. 

Trembling, shaking and arching his back for it. The praise permeated throughout his body, making him want to be perfect, good, anything for his mate. As much as he enjoyed making Ghost work for it, the satisfaction of being caught and indulged was above everything else. His moans were listless, plentiful, punched out of him by Ghost’s thrusts before he was dragged back by the hips, speared down to the root.

“Simon,” Soap moaned, caught between wanting to beg for more and relenting to whatever Ghost wanted from him. He wanted, needed, to be good, to be praised again, maybe even rewarded for it. 

“Got you,” Ghost said. “Need more, Johnny? Wanna be stuffed full with it?”

Soap groaned, shaking from Ghost’s words. The fantasy alone wasn’t enough, he needed to feel it in him to truly be satisfied. He clenched around Ghost’s cock, trying to coax it out of him if necessary, and his efforts got rewarded by a rumbling noise of approval. 

Ghost halted his thrusts, balls deep inside of him. His bulk hovered over Soap’s back, open-mouthed kisses pressed on the curve of his back before Ghost steadied him by his chest. “Up.”

Soap scrambled to do exactly what he was told, ignoring how weak his arms felt. Ghost helped him, of course, and soon enough, his face was tucked near Soap’s neck, his hand trailing down the mess he’d made. 

His touch was deliberate. He gathered the come on his fingers, messaging them on his skin as he made his way down his chest, and Soap was panting from the gentle ministrations. He was unravelling, craving, more fragile than snow, and all of it piled up into how much he needed Ghost. His mate’s steady warmth, presence and cock were the only thing anchoring him to reality, allowing a rare flicker of patience to settle in his frame. 

Ghost pressed his palm over his lower abdomen, voice dipping deliciously low and husky, “feel that? Fits perfectly, made for me.”

He rolled his hips, grinding his cock inside of him, and Soap moaned at the sudden jolt of pleasure, the unreal sensation of feeling it press over the spot Ghost was holding. He realised how hot it was, how possessive his hand and touch felt. It was a tease as much as it was a declaration. Soap was his, and he was making sure he knew.

He wondered if fate worked like that — if there was something out there that decided who was destined to be happy and who wasn't. The older gods shifters believed in working with the natural order of things, and while most of their wild brethren adhered to the lines of how nature worked, they walked the line between the veil. There was choice, and there was chance, and Soap knew he had managed to grasp both into the perfect situation for him.

Ghost sucked on his neck with his teeth bared, the promise of another bite paired with the lazy grind of his hips fuelled his hunger. Fuck, Soap was worse than the orca. His cock was fattening despite how sensitive he felt, stretched to his limits, and he was bucking to the pressure, desire renewed by the hot gush of come in his guts. Ghost hadn’t stopped leaking, smearing his insides with his initial promise, and he hadn’t even came properly yet. 

“Please, Simon,” Soap whined. “Wanna feel it.”

He wasn’t sure if he was making sure, but Ghost shuddered bodily, pausing for a few deep breaths before slowly pulling his hips back. 

“Alright.”

His mouth was hot on his neck, and the thrust that followed strangled a cry out of his lips. He definitely felt it. Ghost made every thrust count. He filled him to the brim with each stroke, fucking him like his life depended on it, and the noises out of him were primal, feral, growling and grunting, Soap’s name twisting in the mix, only slightly obscured by the slap of skin. 

Soap could taste his desire on the back of his throat, he could feel it in the way Ghost buried himself in him, as if he regretted having to pull out at all. Soap was so undeniably wanted, loved. Desire twisted in him, finally satiated, allowed to run rampant over his senses until it was the only thing he could think about. 

He was getting close again. Ghost had changed him, morphed the pain from oversensitivity into something sweet as he fucked him with vigour, hips snapping roughly, overpowering him. He couldn’t move or breath without moaning, biting his own lips raw while Ghost kept him there, thrusting hard and fast. He chased his high, building Soap’s effortless, not even touching him directly. Soap’s cock was bouncing from the force, slapping the back of Ghost’s hand, and yet, he was fixated on taking from him. 

His cock was twitching against his inner walls, and Soap knew he was going to reach his limit soon. As formidable as Ghost’s stamina and strength was, he could never resist the prospect of ruining Soap, satisfying his mate until he was boneless in his arms. Soap wasn’t planning on letting him prolong it, either. 

He did his best to clench around him, making it nice and tight and inviting, begging him for more with incoherent praise that was lost in his breathless moans. Ghost was visibly affected, his thrust getting harsher, slamming into the deepest parts of him without a care for his pleasure. He dropped his hands, stopped supporting Soap’s chest, and gripped his arse, spreading his cheeks wide, driving his cock deeper.

Soap was nearly pushed down face first again before Ghost sank his teeth down on his shoulder, holding his torso up with his mouth alone. The pain stung, but combined with how ruthlessly Ghost was fucking him, it forced his blood down south, leaving him a lightheaded, gasping mess, scrambling to deal with the overwhelming sensations.

He was probably bleeding from the bite, but he didn’t care, not when he was trying to fuck himself back on Ghost’s brutal thrusts, indulging himself on the feral groans he was dragging out of Ghost. Soap was drowning in the need for more. It was almost painful, being fucked while his cock was neglected, and he knew Ghost could make him come like this, for the third time, if he didn’t stop. The mad bastard was the only thing keeping him from thawing from the inside out. 

Just when he thought it was too late for him to beg for some leeway, Ghost released the bite on his neck, let him collapse on his front before he supported his chest, and cupped his cock, pressing against both his length and the vague outline of his bulge.

His thrusts pushed Soap up, his cock rubbing on Ghost’s open hand, the barest of stimulation to force him through the edge. 

Soap cried out as he came, spilling roughly, tears slipping from his tightly shut eyes as his entire frame shuddered. Fucking gods. Ghost’s loud, appreciative moan rumbled near his ear, grinding his cock deep whenever he was buried to the hilt, and a haze invaded Soap’s mind, blanketing his consciousness in a spiralling pull of satisfaction. He felt like he was floating, a wee bit out of his body, but he was also there with Ghost, feeling his hitching thrusts come to a stop when he started coming. 

Ghost stayed buried in him, balls pressed to his hole, grinding languidly as a copious amount of come flooded Soap’s hole, drowning his insides in it. Soap was full, overwhelmingly so, and a small, satisfied noise fell from his mouth as Ghost kept his throbbing cock deep, fulfilling his promise. He could spend an entire day like this; tucked away from the world, stuffed full, held firmly by his beloved, shimmering in the blissful aftermath of passionate sex. 

“Johnny,” Ghost whispered. His mouth was on Soap’s shoulder, slowly lapping away at the blood, healing away the bite he left there. Gentle, despite everything. 

Soap shivered, leaning in towards his warmth. He needed Ghost. It was as natural as breathing, an instinct they’d both cultivated, and he didn’t want it any other way. 

Ghost continued his lazy kisses on his shoulder and neck as he came, his hand squeezing one of his pecs, listlessly holding him up. He kissed up Soap’s neck, lightly biting his earlobe, and grumbled when he couldn’t reach Soap’s lips. Soap tried to contort his body to face him, but it didn’t work — the angle they were in made it impossible to properly kiss. 

Ghost grunted, moving to resolve their issue. He pulled out swiftly and flipped Soap over his back, crashing down to kiss him. His lips were hungry, but the smooth purr rumbling from his throat sounded inexplicably pleased, licking into Soap’s mouth like it was all he wanted out of life. 

Ghost hadn’t finished coming, he was pulsing over Soap’s thighs. Marking him. It didn’t last for long. He thrusted inside with a smooth roll of his hips, fucking his come back in with short, tight strokes. Truly unable to part away from Soap. 

He felt the same. 

When they stopped kissing, Soap swore the sun’s position had changed significantly, blinking up at Ghost in a daze. The days were getting longer recently. He couldn’t say he missed the darkness much, it was a fresh start, something he desperately wanted. 

His future was as bright as the summer sun, what more could he ask for?

Chapter Text

Summer has never enticed Ghost with its promise of warmth and sun unlike the rest of his kin, as the season was permanently tainted by an incident from years ago, one that left brutal scars all over his body. He never stuck around to see the joy bursting forth in the settlement, with its travelling families and friendly humans conducting research, as festivals were planned for the coming weeks. 

For a long time, he could not stand being around the sheer overindulgence of life. He always stood out, too tall, too scarred to entirely blend in the crowd. He thought it was best to keep to himself, ignoring the obvious voices of concern and subtle pieces of advice thrown towards him. It wasn’t how his kind worked — he knew that. His brother and mother would probably welcome him if he were to rejoin their pod, but they liked travelling all over the world, and something about the Antarctic anchored him to its shores. 

He did not understand why until he met Soap. 

Johnny, in his robust, cheeky glory, made him understand what he was missing for most of his life. Fate brought them to that hunting ground, and fate dedicated Soap’s life as a seal destined to end up in Ghost’s jaws. The immediate regret of that day had haunted him until he made sure the little seal in his care returned to full health, his sharp glares and spiteful words a relief in the face of what Ghost had seen days before. 

They bonded in more ways than one, in more ways than Ghost could properly express in words. His relationship with Johnny flourished into a life of its own, and he genuinely struggled to imagine what it would feel like waking up alone again. Soap loved being glued to him, nuzzling close to his chest, keeping him in their nest for as long as possible — for as long as Ghost would allow. 

Summer agreed with Soap. It gave his skin a healthy, golden glow, his eyes a vibrant glimmer of oceanic blue, his excitement matching the heat of the season; it drew Ghost in so effortlessly, so naturally, you’d think his entire world revolved around Soap. He was starting to feel like it did.

Johnny was his mate. His partner. The one shifter he was willing to unquestionably settle down for. Which meant he had to consider the settlement as a proper option for the both of them. Soap liked it here. He liked the people in the settlement, he thrived in groups, he was waiting for information about his family as well, and in his free-time, he hunted, sketched and studied amongst the many who specialised in all of those. 

The settlement provided his mate with things he couldn’t fully give himself, and Johnny’s happiness was his happiness. Tommy used to talk about it when he was first courting Beth, how he needed to be more serious and consider their future — which included travelling long distances to keep his new family safe. 

Considerations Ghost had to take with his newfound bond too. He wasn’t going to fuck it up. His father had, massively, but he was not his father. He was determined to make sure Soap did not regret being with him, and if it meant adjusting or suppressing his instincts to accommodate his mate’s unique situation, if it meant dismissing the insistent pull of the worst part of himself, he was going to do it. 

And he succeeded, for the most part. It helped that Johnny wanted to be around him almost as much as Ghost did, not backing away from him in land or sea — growing cheekier by the day. Ghost found himself falling in love day by day as more of Soap shone through, his fear and unease melting away to show the face of a confident shifter, willing to chase him down and tease — bite — him right back. Ghost's family must’ve seen how special Johnny was, they warmed up quickly to him, both his mother and brother telling him how lucky he was to have Soap by his side. 

He was beyond lucky. 

The seal filled a gaping wound in his chest that he had not bothered to look at, let alone nurse. He was ready to face the consequences as well, willing to leave if that was what Johnny wanted, but it wasn’t. Price was right. The old man used to pester Ghost for years on end about his isolating tendencies, how it was bad for his species and how much harm he was doing to himself, which he did not understand until the very real possibility of returning to the life of solitude was in front of him. 

Soap would’ve never reached him if he wanted to leave. He was glad he gave in to his sentiment, he was glad, for once in his life, he was right about the decision he made. 

“What’re you thinkin’ in that pretty head of yours?” 

Soap had stopped the motions of his pencil, the absence of the monotonous scratches of lead on paper was distinct, and Ghost wondered if Soap had been staring for a while before he spoke. Nonetheless, Ghost couldn’t help the small twitches from the corner of his lips. Soap had the tendency of calling him pretty, as if his big blue eyes and memorable face wasn’t the reason most would deem him the handsome one in their pair. 

Though his mate certainly had a choice for hair, the style he willed it was peculiar, and yet it suited him. He liked how much of Johnny it was. He liked everything about the seal, which was a self-realisation he was not expecting to have. 

Ghost the romantic, sounded more like the start of a clever joke. 

“Talked with Price for a bit,” Ghost said, hiding the fact that he was ruminating about how much he loved him. “He’s willing to take me on board while we wait for your family.”

Soap nodded, then paused, a knot forming between his brows. “You’ll be working for most of the days?”

“Not all the days,” Ghost said, staring at his mate’s face as he noted how the displeased tell did not change, solidifying instead. He ran through the list of things that could’ve bothered Soap, lingering over the specifics of words, of how he seemed miffed by the concept of Ghost working for days, away from — “Johnny…”

“What.” Soap sucked his cheeks in like a petulant pup, his hand twitching over his pencil. “I can’t miss you? Only you get to be clingy and not the other way around?”

Ghost was trying very hard to not laugh at him, his lips quivering from the effort to hold back. The little spark of annoyance, it was rooted in Soap not wanting to be away from him — fuck, he was lucky, wasn’t he? In their temporary den, nestled in the furs Ghost took pride in owning, Soap looked every bit of the treasured mate of his dreams. 

“Was gonna say Price offered you the same, love,” Ghost said, his attempt to ease the challenge in Soap’s face working splendidly. “He wants you with me, if you accept.”

“Always,” Soap said easily, quickly, grinning in the bright and brilliant way that only John MacTavish could, like the thought of being with Ghost forever was enough for him to do anything. 

His heart was doing its best to flop out of his chest from joy. 

How quickly life had changed for him?

And what did it take, one person? One extraordinary, fascinating, handsome shifter to touch him with the warmth of a thousand suns?

It was easy to slot his arm around Soap, curl his hand over the soft hair on his stomach, following the deepening rise and fall of his chest for a brief moment before he pulled him to his lap. Soap never protested when Ghost pulled him close, but the additional inclusion of him sketching before Ghost curled around him meant his sketchbook was being squished on Soap's chest, revealing the drawing he had spent the better part of the morning on. 

It was Ghost. 

His side profile, to be more specific. But it wasn’t the subject of the sketch that surprised him, Soap had shown his creations to him before, giving him papers where he was portrayed as a very round, goofy looking orca, or both of them in a smaller, stylised versions, figures you’d see in a human children’s book. Ghost had kept all of them in a secure place, of course. Any gift from Soap was worth treasuring in his eyes. 

The one he was working on currently strayed from those styles Soap played around with. The sketch was detailed, unfathomably realistic, down to the scars on Ghost’s face and the grey-scale shading in his eyes. Ghost blinked slowly, fascinated by how he had managed to capture the shape of his bloody eyelashes. Soap was unnaturally quiet for the entire time he took to appeasing the piece. 

Ghost slowly looked at him, unable to hide the disbelief from his gaze. 

“That’s it?” Soap’s voice thickened, as it usually did whenever he was trying to hold himself back, blinking his pretty blue eyes up at him, searching for approval. “Yer not gonna say anythin’?”

“You’re the most talented seal I’ve had the pleasure of knowing,” Ghost said smoothly, leaning down to place a kiss on his cheek, and he relished the instant redness that spread from his words and gesture alone. “Every day, it feels like I have to thank the stars for leading me towards you.”

“Fuckin’ flirt,” Soap whispered accusingly, but he was grinning too much for a man who was admonishing him. “You can have it, I’ve got more for my personal collection.”

“More?”

“Many more.”

Ghost pulled away, only to catch a glimpse of Soap’s smirk. He wasn’t lying. But — when had he found the time to do so without Ghost noticing? Did he draw him from memory?

“Fuck, Johnny.”

“Yeah?” Soap asked smugly, already aware of what Ghost was feeling. 

“Gotta stop tryin’ to impress me,” Ghost said, cupping Soap’s face with a scarred hand. “I’m already smitten, love.”

“Maybe I’m just impressive by myself, have ye considered that?” Soap retorted back, trying his best to not sound pleased by the indirect compliment Ghost gave him. 

His face gave him away, though, the scrunch on his forehead smoothing out, the enticing grin staying for longer on his lips. He would give up everything to be around Soap’s satisfied, smug face forever. 

Ghost lifted him in his arms, eliminating the meagre amount of space between them, to capture his lips in a long, sensual kiss. 

He could not get enough of how Johnny tasted. 

Any other day, it would’ve been a cause for concern, because despite the rumours circling around him, he did not like nor enjoy shifter blood, but his mate was a unique phenomenon in more ways than one. The way he wanted to eat him was different from standard practice, he simply liked getting his mouth around Johnny to make both of them feel good. 

He was addicted, smitten, drowning in love.

There was a reason beyond keeping busy for why he’d accepted the offer from Price. Soap looked good in their nest. Ghost decided Johnny deserved nothing but the best, from furs to art supplies to food to everything he was able to provide, his entire kingdom for anything Johnny wanted in his life.

They parted from the kiss when every inch of air had left Ghost’s lungs, his own face heated from touch. The hazy glint in Soap’s eyes were more compelling than the ocean’s deep blue, a statement scandalous to any reasonable shifter in their side of the world, but not to Ghost.

“Never doubted you, Johnny.” 

Soap gave him a soft, droopy smile and Ghost instantly knew they weren’t going to get anything done that day.

-

Soap had reassured him more than once that it was going to go fine. 

He didn’t have to do it, really. Ghost knew how to brace himself for first impressions, his scarred visage was not easy to hide, nor was it simple to dismiss the rumours around him and his family. There was a reason he preferred not lingering around the settlement more than necessary. 

But, being with Soap meant embracing changes in his lifestyle, and he needed to adapt if he was hoping to keep his mate satisfied. Johnny had a large family, parents who were still concerned about him for good reason, and they had to navigate through explaining how they met and how the bonding happened. Ghost left the former to Soap, knowing beforehand that he was planning to explain it to his parents fully when they were face to face instead of talking through a screen. The situation was too complicated for long distance communication. 

He didn’t take it personally. Johnny went through more than Ghost in the winter before him, it was his story to tell. Ghost was simply there to be there for him and hope the rest of his family was amicable to him. Honestly, watching Soap pace around the room as Price set the screen ready for the call was putting him more on edge than the prospect of being hated by his family. 

Ghost wanted to drag Soap to his chest and hold him until he stopped worrying, reassuring him that no matter what was going to happen, he was there to weather the storm with him. Any physical or metaphorical storm. 

Yet, Ghost needed to keep his composure for his sake. 

Soap's brother was with him, not pacing around, but not looking worried either, so Ghost figured it wasn’t too bad. Whatever Soap ended up deciding, he was going to support. He knew the seal wasn’t inclined to give up on their relationship, knowing first-hand how stubborn he was whenever it came to Ghost. It was going to be fine. 

Bloody fuck. 

Soap’s nervous energy was rubbing off on him. 

The connection was delayed further, something about the site not working properly and the speed of the thing. Nonetheless, when they finally got the thing going, the call sign rang loudly for a few seconds before the screen switched to one with vague blurry figures of faces peering over the screen. 

“John MacTavish!”

Soap flinched at the loud shout of his full name. The voice that called out his mate’s name belonged to an older woman, tone thick in the same way of speaking that Johnny inherited. Her face came into focus right after, a full face of small wrinkles, striking sea-blue eyes and dark brown hair that was greying at the roots. 

His mum, Ghost assumed.

“We thought ye were dead! Where have you been all this time?! Did you get lost in the darker parts we told you not to go, you little rasc —”

“Ma,” Noah interrupted with a cough, drawing her attention away from Soap.

“Why are ye trying to stop me, boy. You know we’ve been worried out of our minds —” Soap’s mother turned towards them, Noah, and consequently also Ghost, who she decided to settle on. “Aye, I see. So you’re the one he chose?”

The Johnny shaped mark on his neck wasn’t obvious enough, it seemed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Ghost felt like he was being appeased from head to toe, standing in front of someone who was going to make or break his future. He gave in to the urge to straighten his spine, standing in proper attention. 

Soap’s eyes darted from the screen to Ghost. The stretch was silence uncomfortable, a tad unnerving too, he had to give his props to Soap’s mum for managing to set such a formidable atmosphere by just staring really hard at him. 

“Good tall ‘n strong lad. I suppose if the boy’s done anything right, it’d be finding you.”

“Ma,” Soap’s cheeks were reddening, a very familiar expression of holding back flickering through his face. 

“Don’t get me started on you, John! What did in the high heavens got ye thinkin’ being out there by yerself was going to do ya any good?” Soap drew all of his ma’s attention alongside his ire. “You better be saying your prayers to the ocean, it’s a miracle you’re in one piece!”

It really was, considering the fact that Ghost nearly shredded him into pieces in their first encounter. Johnny wasn’t inclined to share that detail yet, though, and he stood there for a couple of minutes more, alternating between nodding his head obediently and objecting the next second. The duality of his personality and his resilience shone through the thorough scolding he got, but underneath the spark of rebellion in his eyes, Ghost saw something closer to relief.

Soap's posture had gotten more relaxed, the corner of his eyes a bit glassy. Something in Ghost’s chest clenched at the sight, and he vowed to do whatever it took to make sure Johnny could always stay around his family, one way or the other. 

After a few more exchanges, Soap’s mother moved to the side to get the rest of the family in view, an older man — his father, presumably — took centre stage while a couple of new faces popped around the corner of the screen, flickering their gazes between Ghost and Soap.

“Don’t take her words to heart, John. She’s the one who had faith in you the most,” his father said, soothing the slightly heated and tense atmosphere with ease. “She refused to believe ye were dead. Your ma was right.”

“I know, da.” Soap moved closer to the screen. “Is everythin’ really alright over there? You, Eve, Theo, Charlie, Emma?”

It still astonished Ghost hearing how many siblings Soap had. Five was baffling when he had struggled, initially, just having one brother. The MacTavishes were in their own class when it came to family, truly. He needed to ask about Soap’s past in more detail — he wanted to figure out everything worked in their pod before his family was back in the Antarctic. 

“All of ‘em, including me and your ma. Eve is going to be visiting late winter, but we should be there before summer ends.” 

“That’s good.”

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” A voice asked, and Soap’s head tilted slightly as he raised his brow at his younger sister. Emma, if he remembered correctly. She pointed towards Ghost. “He’s just standing there awkwardly because you’re not bothering to introduce us.”

Soap made a small frustrated noise in the back of his throat before pushing himself off the table the screen sat on and extended his hand back. Ghost took the invite easily, amused by the petulant frown on his face. Soap settled back into the position he originally was in, the difference being that Ghost was taking half the screen this time. 

“Simon Riley.” He pointed at the screen where his two younger siblings sat. “That’s arsehole number one and arsehole number two.”

“Hey!” Emma cried out. 

“I didn’t even say anything!” The person Ghost assumed was Theo followed after Emma, frowning just like Soap would whenever things didn’t work exactly in his favour. 

“And that’s Charlie,” Soap said, ignoring them both to point at the youngest on the screen. 

“Hi, mister Simon!” The youngest of the bunch exclaimed, he was on his father’s side, looking at Ghost with big blue eyes. “Is it true that you’re brother’s mate? Does that make you my brother too?”

“In a way,” Ghost said with a nod.

“Two more brothers!” Charlie threw his hands up in celebration, but the force of his movement made him dramatically slide to the side, forcing Soap’s father to move and catch his pup before he crashed to the floor. 

Theo took to the centre of the screen, pulling Emma to his side as they intensely stared back at Ghost. 

“Dunno why he wants more brothers when he already has me,” Theo grumbled, and Emma snickered at his expense.

“I miss you a lot, brother John!” Charlie called out from behind them, and it seemed to have made Theo’s mood worse, a complete contrast to Soap’s knowing smirk and Emma trying very hard to not laugh for a second time.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Ghost said, bringing all of their focus back to the topic at hand. 

The video call was going better than he thought. He had no doubts if it happened in person, it would’ve been a lot louder and chaotic, but he saw why Soap loved his family, he saw how they influenced him and vice versa. It made his nearly a year’s worth of isolation show itself in a different light. 

Soap clearly thrived being around people. 

“Same here. Say, where did John find such a polite orca like you?”

“You’re being obnoxious, Emma.” Theo pushed her face away with one hand, ignoring his sister as she tried to push back with a look of pure agitation. He was more focused on Ghost. “Though, I do wanna know how he met you.”

“Bleedin’ fuck, he found and saved me. What d’ya want to know beyond that?” Soap nearly growled out the question, holding back by the barest inch. Ghost couldn’t tell if his siblings noticed or if they were used to his aggression and decided to ignore him. 

“For starters, where he found ya,” Theo said. 

“And how, very important on the how,” Emma said, murmuring something under her breath about needing to use the same tricks Soap did. 

“Also how many sketches John made of you so far,” Theo added. “It’ll give you an idea of how much he likes you, or if he is mad at you.”

“Theodore.” Soap was positively glaring at the screen now. 

“Don’t think I've forgotten that awful arse for a face study you did of me,” Theo said firmly. Ghost saw Soap’s left eye twitch, an indication of him reaching his limit, and his brother smartly moved away. “I think Ma’s calling me!”

There was no audio or visual hint that his mother had called him. Theo practically shot out of his seat and stepped away from the camera, leaving a vaguely amused Emma in his place. Ghost was informed of the twin’s erratic behaviour beforehand, but they were more endearing to him than anything close to what Soap was feeling. 

Soap’s younger siblings who were closer to his age were apparently expert at getting on his nerves. 

“You’re not sick of John yet, are you?”

“Emma, ye little piece of —”

“I’m just making sure you haven’t done anything to make him want to leave!” Emma defended herself. “I have so many questions, you have to make sure he’s here to stay. At least, until we get there.”

“Johnny’s not getting rid of me anytime soon,” Ghost interjected.

“What,” Emma murmured, turning towards Soap. “He called you Johnny —”

“And that’s it for the day! Tell Eve I miss her, we’ll keep in contact, and hopefully, before you get here, you start remembering your manners. Goodbye.”

Soap pressed a button on the side of the screen and turned off the entire thing. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, pushing off the desk. He stretched like the conversation itself had been physically taxing, rolling his shoulders back and straightening his spine before turning towards Ghost. 

“What?” Soap asked, his eyes gleaming as he stared at the soft smile on the Ghost’s face. 

“They’re a lively bunch.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“They’ll act proper when they’re here,” Noah added. He’d taken the backseat in the conversation enough for Ghost to momentarily forget he was there with them. “They just miss you, John.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Soap said softly, and he added under his breath, “I miss ‘em too.”

His older brother pretended to not hear the little addition, but he turned away from Soap to hide the pleased look on his face. It wasn’t the worst way to end their first full interaction with Johnny’s family. His concerns about Ghost didn’t hold, it turned into the opposite, with his mother and siblings hounding Soap instead. 

The evidence of it was present on the tense line of muscles on his shoulders, a distinct swirl of pent-up energy present for those with the eyes to see it. Ghost knew Johnny enough to know it wasn’t going to dissipate without a good physical outlet or his touch, and in this case, he opted for both. He pulled Soap close by his waist, palming the mating bite on his hip possessively.

“Up for a swim?” Ghost asked, his voice low and soft, enough to deliver a promise for more. 

Soap relaxed in his hold. “Thought you’d never ask.”

-

3 months later. 

Ghost didn’t apply to join for the year’s hunting fest. 

There was an opportunity to earn more luxuries by helping organise the festival, so he took the chance instead of participating, much to Garrick’s dismay. He was talking about beating Ghost for the longest time ever since he broke the leopard seal’s record once, but he was disappointed enough to refrain from joining after Ghost told him the news. Next time, he promised, and yeah, Ghost was probably going to try for next year’s, after he showered Soap in everything he could possibly give. 

Johnny helped his family settle back when they arrived. Their travel was quicker than any of them anticipated, but with three more months of summer to go, it gave them plenty of time to make a new den that wasn’t far away from the settlement. Soap designed the entire thing, which was impressive considering it was his first attempt at building a den. 

He was proud of the results, and Ghost reminded himself to let Johnny take over the designing part of their dens once they settled on a good spot. Their place at the settlement wasn’t bad, but both of them agreed their own territory where it was quieter would be a nicer option. 

The days passed by them in eventful bliss, he could not get enough of Soap, and his mate didn’t seem to mind the constant attention. There wasn’t a day Ghost didn’t see Johnny’s smile, and he intended to keep it so. 

That was to say, when he asked about how he won the past hunting fests, Ghost didn’t spare any details. The mystery of what they’d encounter wasn’t an aspect of the main obstacle course; the hunting fest was centred around the hunting part more, but the leaders of the settlement worked with scientists to create a course that would test both physical and mental capabilities of the shifters participating in it. 

It was a way to safely and voluntarily collect data, which subsequently turned into one of the most anticipated festivals of the year. The prizes were worth competing too, with first, second and third places being handsomely rewarded, alongside the participation reward everyone else would get.

Overall, it was worth trying out, even if it was just for participating in something new. 

“You’re applying,” Ghost said after he was done explaining the race to his mate. 

Johnny nodded, looking at everywhere but Ghost. He fiddled with the top of his pelt, his leg idly bouncing over the edge of the iceberg they were resting on. 

“I wanted to ask, and you can say no, of course —” 

“Johnny.”

“ — can ye help me train for it?” Johnny looked at him those big blue eyes, and Ghost knew he couldn’t say no. He wasn’t going to from the start, but Soap’s plea did him in faster than he could process his thoughts, and the words were out of his mouth before he could register how soft he sounded. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’d be training you for something.”  

With Price, Soap was put directly under Ghost. Which gave his mate the excuse to jokingly call him sir whenever he was on duty, and Ghost was barely hiding how much that particular title spurred a reaction in him. The kind he wasn’t allowed to act on in front of a crowd. Nonetheless, it had worked out in their favour, mostly.

“I knew you liked me, Simon,” Soap said, smirking in victory.

“Head full of clouds, Johnny,” Ghost murmured. He rubbed his own neck, purposefully tracing the healed indent of Soap’s teeth, drawing his mate’s eyes right where he wanted them to be. “You got no idea the lengths I’d go for you.”

The smugness of Johnny’s smirk eased to something softer, heart-melting, and Ghost knew he’d made the right choice.

What followed for the next few weeks was swimming, lots of swimming and hunting. Soap hadn’t hunted with human made tools or been through any obstacle courses. They focused on that, using different tools, training both his mind and body for quick thinking and reflexes. He was learning at an impressive rate, enough for Ghost — who preferred staying practical for the most part — to motivate him with praise, and it worked far better than he expected it to. 

Soap liked working for his reward, whether the reward was a few words or something physical. He specifically liked working hard for Ghost, and he tried to not let it distract him from their training sessions for the most part. 

Ghost was trying his best to coach him through it, and Johnny was relatively satisfied with his progress, although, on days when words failed him, he tried his best to show it through touch. 

It was strange how days passed so easily in the face of a steady stream of joy. 

Things weren’t always sunshine and calm waters, but Ghost had someone with him during those days, and it made all the difference. Johnny was a good listener. He didn’t blame Ghost for things that were out of his control, and there was a quiet understanding from Soap when he talked about his past, specifically what happened to his father.

He remembered that night. The day his father had pushed too far, forgetting the simple fact that Ghost had grown enough to be able to hold his own weight, and the subsequent fight that ensued after the verbal lashings, the taste of blood in his teeth. He’d left him to die in the ocean, sinking down to the depths because of his injuries. Injuries he sustained because he did not know when to stop, a wild death for a wild man. A taboo for a taboo, especially with how orca were expected to act in a pod. It was through the settlement leader’s knowledge of his family situation that kept Ghost from being exiled. 

His family didn’t blame him, yet Ghost knew they hated the way it ended. His mother wanted his father gone, but not dead. If only there was a luxury of choice, if only there was a world where he wasn’t forced to see how much he hurt the rest of them. The scars on his body were a reminder of what he went through for all those years. He couldn’t hide it, and for the longest time, he hated anyone even putting their sights on him for longer than necessary.

Everyone he met saw him for what he was, and even if they didn’t, they made their own assumptions about what could’ve gone down to get him so many scars where his own hands couldn’t reach. 

He almost did the same to Soap. 

Ghost’s apology for how they met had been hushed with a soft finger to his lips, something about not needing to apologise constantly after the first one.

He woke up the day after to Johnny kissing every little scar on his body, as if he could replace the pain of the memories with his lips alone, and for a moment, Ghost was convinced he would. His sweet little mouth and warm kneading hands melted him down to their nest. And, when they touched again, it was slow, loving and all the kinds of gentle Ghost did not know he was capable of before Soap. 

Johnny loved him. It prompted him to try and give himself some grace for things he was involved in but wasn’t fully his fault. Days and weeks spent trying to correct the voice in his head that wanted to embrace guilt and hide away from peering eyes. 

His sole motivation was in how Johnny had seen him stripped down to the barest essence of his soul, and he decided Ghost was worth loving anyway. 

He wanted Soap to succeed in everything he did. 

Ghost pushed him harder in his training, testing and expanding his limits. Soap was already skilled, good at thinking on his feet — and flippers — and responded to directions well, but Ghost put the goal-post higher, and at certain points, he was sure Soap wanted to punch him for it. He never did. Although, his kisses were far more aggressive than normal after those days.

Ghost knew Soap wanted to win more than anyone else in the settlement. He wasn’t sure why, but Soap seemed to have instinctively understood Ghost was only being harsh with him to help him. At the very end of their training, two days before the hunting fest, Ghost was certain he had created a monster. They’d have to give him a different hunting name at this rate; Soap had grown past the clean and quick way he killed his prey. 

His sharp mind would no doubt help him with the underwater puzzles, and his ability to maintain his shift halfway was extraordinary by itself, made terrifyingly efficient by Ghost’s influence. There was only one shifter capable of doing it effortlessly, without the pain that usually came with maintaining such a balance. The rest of the contestants didn’t know what was in store for them. 

Soap stole a kiss for good luck before he went towards the starting line. 

“Let’s get ourselves a win, yeah?” 

“Show ‘em what you learned, Johnny.”

With a small smile and a churning storm in his eyes, Soap took his place in the front lines. 

The event was going to last the whole day. It was designed to test the limits of shifters, which meant starting early in the morning and ending when the sun touched the other side of the horizon. The scientists had a way of monitoring the event, underwater video feeds to keep track of contestants and organisers in the field making sure no one was hurt. 

Multiple wild fishes were released into the area, and the shifters were expected to hunt the most and swim to the finish before the year ended to win. The organisers on the field were tasked with collecting and counting the kills while the race went on.

The excitement of the crowd got to Ghost, anticipation and anxiety following behind each thought. The first stretch was pure speed. Soap was fast, but there were species in his weight division faster than him. Nonetheless, he kept a watch on both the screen and sea, noting with satisfaction whenever he saw Johnny’s determined seal face flash through the video feed and the little disruptions in the waves that he knew it was because of him. 

Soap’s family was enjoying the festival too. They alternated between watching the race and roaming around the settlement. Theo and Emma even got Ghost food when they noticed he wasn’t budging from his spot, sharing stories about Soap when they were little. Emma went as far as to share details about what Soap liked and didn’t like, preparing him for any future celebrations or gifts he could prepare for his mate. 

They were far less of a menace to Ghost in person, openly showing their acceptance of him. When Soap had offhandedly asked why they were so curious about their relationship, Theo joked about Johnny finally having someone to look after his clumsy arse, while Emma whispered how he let Ghost call him Johnny under her breath. 

It stuck to him because he remembered Noah acting a bit curious about the nickname too. 

“Used to hate it whenever anyone called me that.” Soap gave him a straightforward answer, but Ghost could tell he was trying to downplay it, falling horrible because his pouting face gave him away. “But ye can pull anythin’ off with that voice, so count yerself lucky. Ghost only privilege.”

Soap was doing a lot better than most of the participants, but there were a few seals catching up to him. One in particular was swimming near his flippers, watching Soap navigate through the puzzles and using it to his advantage. A carbeater seal with a speed advantage. 

“That’s Graves,” Garrick added. 

He was the one overlooking the video feeds. Ghost felt an instant gut reaction to hate the guy that was using Johnny’s wits for his own gain. Soap was so hyper focused on moving forward he wasn’t catching the movement behind him, and it technically wasn’t outside the rulebook, since Graves wasn’t harming Johnny, but it annoyed Ghost regardless. 

The tomfoolery continued for quite a bit. Johnny started noticing Graves trailing him after the speed stretch was over, his seal face contorting in the same irritation Ghost felt. He was working out a strategy, though, taunting Graves to exhaust himself and lingering around specific parts of the obstacles put in place to give himself an upper hand. 

Emotions ran higher as the day progressed, and they steadily approached the end of the race. Three shifters stood out from the crowd. Johnny, Graves and a leopard seal even Gaz was unfamiliar with, the only name in the list providing a hunting name, ‘Shadow’. The Shadow was clearly mirroring Graves’ techniques, using Soap’s tactics against him, and while Ghost was sure Johnny would’ve been able to prevail in a one on one, this was going to overwhelm him. 

The key detail that set them apart was they’d simply followed what Soap did instead of trying to figure out the obstacles by themselves. The puzzles had instructions etched in the tiniest of writing that the one who succeeded in solving them could get — it was pieces of information that would help the contestants understand the final challenge. 

Johnny was still going to prevail, if nothing else went wrong. 

Of course, the moment he thought it, things did. 

The Shadow went beyond simply mimicking Graves, he was helping him. Despite having the speed advantage, he didn’t rush past the two seals and chose to linger instead, blocking Soap’s path more often than not. Physically threatening obstructions would’ve eliminated him, but he used his body to slow down Soap. He tethered around the rules for the sake of giving Graves the boost.

There was some foul play involved, but since the contestant wasn’t touching Soap, none of them could interfere. They couldn’t disqualify Shadow, either. It was fucked. Ghost could barely hold back the rigidness of his anger, his vision slowly growing red, before he remembered that he won’t be helping Soap’s case if he let it take hold. 

He needed to trust Johnny to pull through. His anger could be addressed later, preferably in a one on one chat with the Shadow and the upstart Graves, who had clearly planned for it. 

Ghost watched the screens closely, nails digging into the skin of his crossed arms; it was all he could do to stop himself from pacing around like a caged animal.

The final stretch stared down the contestants. 

It was an elaborately designed tunnel system, wide enough for a couple of shifters to pass through effortlessly, and the main quirk of the obstacle was in the varying sized hoops they needed to swim between in order to reach the finish line — where Ghost was. The particular mechanism of the loops were new to him, yet he knew Soap must’ve figured how to go through them because he sped confidently towards the first one. 

It looked like he was going to be the first to get there too, before the leopard seal acted. Shadow’s entire calculated and measured tactics to interrupt was thrown out of consider as he barrelled into Soap head first, a sickening burst of air exploding from the impact. The cunt succeeded in knocking the air out of Soap’s lungs, disrupting his path and simultaneously eliminating himself in a single go.

His body tensed with a thick coil of blood-red hatred, ready to dive, swim and tear through —

“Ghost.”

Garrick’s voice centred his anger for a split second, enough for him to notice what was happening underwater.

The organisers overseeing the race moved before Ghost could take the step to personally deal with the seal, the silent oath to never harm another in his life be damned. They apprehended the Shadow with the ferocity and reprimand Ghost approved of, although, the leopard seal wasn’t bleeding as much as he would’ve liked. 

Next time, he thought to himself.

The other feeds focused on the rest of the race. Soap had managed to pull himself out of the shock of impact, and he seemed to have enough breath in his lungs to close the distance between himself and Graves, who was shooting towards hoops like Soap did. 

Graves got through the first few ones easily, but he suddenly stopped at the fourth, the size of the rings clamping down on his body the more he struggled. 

Ghost saw a chance for Johnny to win. 

And Soap, as if he knew Ghost was watching, looked at the camera once, winked, and swam like his life depended on it. At first, it seemed that Johnny had the same problem as Graves, the metallic rings pressed down on him, keeping him in place. But, he didn’t struggle. He squirmed slowly but surely, like he would’ve whenever Ghost ordered him to be still in his arms, and it worked. 

By some questionable logic, the less Soap struggled, the quicker the hoops let go of him. Ghost’s fleeting fear of Graves following his tactics was quashed when he saw how the crabeater seal was letting his anger get to him. He hadn’t figured out why the hoops let Johnny go so easily, and his frustration dictated his actions. 

Becoming better than me, Johnny.

Soap swam past the last hurdle and the crowd erupted with loud cheers for the victor. However, the video feed didn’t follow Soap, and while the finishing line led towards where Ghost stood, it wasn’t enough. He needed to be there for Johnny when he emerged.

Ghost abandoned his team, ignoring the shout of his name from Garrick and opting to run towards the nearest shore. He caught a glimpse of Soap emerging at the furthest end of the ocean, replenishing his breath before he disappeared under the water. It was a great indication that he was probably fine, but his instincts still demanded him to see that Johnny was alright. 

Soap resurfaced a couple of metres away from him and disappeared again, faster this time. Ghost’s mating bite ached, an anxious yearning crawling from his ribs to his throat. There was only one person in the world who could quell the feeling.

He knelt at the very edge of the ice, ready to go head first in the water, but a dark shadow underneath the waves stopped him from moving. 

Johnny’s face emerged out of the depths. A very human face. His blue eyes shone like the waves he earned his victory in, his face slightly pink from exertion, his hair and cheeks wet from the water. He was proudly showing off his ability to maintain the half-shifted form to the rest of them, while his attention was completely on Ghost.

Johnny looked at him like he was given the entire world and then some more. 

“Congratulations. You’re a winner, Johnny.”

Genuine pride breached through Ghost’s voice. His chest overflowed from the absolute display of love whirling in Johnny’s eyes. 

“With you, I am.”

Soap lurched up from the waters before he could react, his arms curling around Ghost’s neck, his entire weight pulling him down as their lips collided with unbridled need.

They kissed like the only air they could breathe was in each other’s lungs. The crushing waves of desire yanked Simon to its depths, inviting him through the sensual softness of his lover’s touch. Their bodies plummeted into the ocean with a loud splash, inexplicably intertwined, returning to the familiar cold where they first met, mouths desperate for each other as they sank headfirst towards the ocean floor. 

And for the softest of seconds, two souls blurred into one.