Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Don't touch them!" Soap's body shifts violently away from Ghost's reaching hand. "They're dangerous." One of Soap's tentacles has come to wrap firmly around Ghost's wrist, keeping him right where he is. The grip is strong, too much for Ghost to ever overpower and there are a lot more of them where that came from. A little giddily Ghost thinks he might just have bruises in the shape of Soap's suckers when he lets go.

"How dangerous?" Ghost asks instead, keeping his voice pitched soft and low.

"Fatal." Soap says, eyes huge and sad, "If it gets into your bloodstream."

"And on my skin?" Ghost murmurs, turning his hand to run his fingers along the tentacle he's still held by. Soap's eyes widen, like the question has shocked him.

"It might tingle a little. I'm told it can have a warming sensation too." Soap answers, honest but clearly wary of where this line of questioning is going.

"And is it poisonous?" Ghost asks, mind already racing at the idea of tracing the bright blue substance across his skin. "If ingested, I mean?"

"Not poisonous, no." The tentacles on Soap's face that have been clamped flat along his features, making him look far more human, are now twitching in an obvious show of Soap's nerves. There's a bright red tint starting at the tip of each of them and slowly spreading down their lengths.

"Which means?" Ghost probes.

"If ingested it can act as a potent… stimulant." Ghost takes a minute to parse that, interpret Soap's choice of words.

"It's an aphrodisiac?" The blush swallows Soap's entire body in a bright rush of colour, baby pink around the edges of his face and extremities, fading into deep crimson at his core.

"If you want to be reductive about it." Soap says, his tone huffy, but Ghost is pretty sure he has been more accurate in his description than Soap is willing to admit. The tentacle on Ghost's wrist has loosened it's grip and to Ghost's relief there are indeed small circles all across the skin from the suckers.

"I do." Ghost says easily, just to make Soap scowl. It's with careful and deliberate movements that Ghost reaches out again, lands his hand on Soap's shoulder and ever so slowly traces around to his shoulder blade. They're knee deep in seawater and Ghost is having to lean to one side to watch his progress, but he doesn't feel unsteady at all. Two of Soap's tentacles have wrapped securely around his ankles and up his calves, ending just above his knee. He thinks it would take more than just a small wave to knock him over right now.

Soap doesn't stop him again, but his pulse is thundering in his throat. Some of the small colourful freckle-like spots across his shoulders are pulsing in time with it and Ghost thinks if he watched for too long he could find himself hypnotised.

The frills that cover the spines are loose, a strange texture that's somewhere between seaweed and human skin. They feel almost delicate, paper thin, but there's an elasticity that Ghost can't help but test with a little tug. Soap doesn't react strongly though, and Ghost moves on to something that might get him what he wants.

The spines themselves are beautiful; translucent while maintaining the brightest, electric blue. It's only as Ghost traces his finger along it that he realises the blue is the venom itself, the viscous liquid standing in stark contrast to his own pale skin. His finger begins to tingle immediately, though it's nothing he can't handle. It's a pleasant low grade thrumming through his nerve endings that immediately sends his mind down a rabbit's warren of other places he could use it that would feel even better.

Soap is watching him; Ghost isn't sure he's moved even to blink since Ghost first moved his hand.

"They're stunning." Ghost says, and grins internally at the delighted flutter that Soap's tentacles give in response to the praise. The spines all flare a little, flicking out from where they had earlier been pinned flat to Soap's body. The ones on his head give the adorable impression of a lethal mohawk that has Ghost's heart feeling embarrassingly fond. "How sharp are they?"

"Not very." Soap mumbles, shifting a little under Ghost's scrutiny. "They operate by heavy pressure more than anything. Not likely to cut or prick yourself on 'em."

Ghost takes a calculated risk.

He runs a hand blithely across Soap's head, smoothing the spines back the way one might to a lover's hair. He earns himself a streak of bright blue venom across his palm and a startled look from Soap.

"Jesus, Ghost, are you fucking insane?" Soap snaps, but it's fear and not displeasure that's colouring his voice.

"They're not sharp." Ghost says. "And I wanted to touch them. I want to touch you."

Soap gapes at him.

The red which had started to fade has come back full force, a mesmerising shimmer as the colour changes in ripples across Soap's body, pulsing out from his core. Ghost puts his money where his mouth is and reaches up, captures Soap's chin in his hand and traces a thumb across the scar there, so familiar even here. Vaguely he wonders how Soap's scars translate onto his less human parts but he supposes that's a question for later. Right now he's busy convincing Soap that there truly is nowhere he would rather be than wrapped up in each and every one of his tentacles.

Ghost washes the handful of venom off into the water and smiles when it makes Soap noticeably relax.

"Can I touch your face?" He asks instead of anything else, watching the way the smaller tentacles there begin to wiggle in a way that he chooses to believe is anticipatory. Soap doesn't respond verbally, instead he gives one short, sharp nod and that's all Ghost needs before he's reaching up. He'd already had Soap's chin in hand but he slides his fingers around until he's cupping Soap's jaw.

The tentacles immediately reach for him, twining around and through his fingers and dragging him in. When Ghost gives a little tug away they let him go but vibrate a little, as though annoyed he'd dare try to escape.

"Cute." Ghost says to himself, and chooses to ignore the choked off sound that Soap makes in response to that. Instead, he focuses on his exploration; he wants to map every inch of this new version of Soap. He wants to learn every mark and shape of him, see every possible colour and texture that Soap can turn.

He hooks his thumb just lightly onto Soap's bottom lip, tugs down and hums happily to himself when Soap lets him, dropping his mouth open willingly. Soap's teeth are very different, razor sharp and more centered. When Ghost applies a little more pressure Soap opens wider, his bottom and top lip both split in the middle, his teeth rotating with the movement until his lips make a perfect circle, four fangs facing diagonally inwards and smaller teeth running the whole way around. It makes him look less human than ever, yet looking at the rows of dangerous fangs, the serpentine tongue, all Ghost can think about is shoving his tongue in there.

There really might be something wrong with him, he reckons, but luckily he is entirely disinclined to fix it.

Soap must read whatever Ghost's face is doing wrong, though, because he pulls back and pinches his mouth closed, a pair of his mouth tentacles coming back to cover it.

"Disgusting, I know, I'm-"

"Stop." Ghost uses his Lieutenant voice, the one that he knows Soap will obey instinctively. Soap stops. Ghost's fingers gently brush the tentacles out of the way, his thumb returning to trace along the seam of Soap's mouth again, sweeping across the vertical lines that are almost invisible when closed. Soap's skin has darkened into a murky blue, so deep it's almost black at his joints. Under Ghost's fingers though, only under those, he's shining a bright sunny gold.

It's hard for Ghost to find the words he needs. Hard for him to know how to tread when the path before him seems so littered with possible pitfalls and missteps.

God loves a trier.

That's what Ghost's mum used to say, anyway, and though he doesn't believe in God for a moment, he does believe his mum.

"You're so cruel to yourself, Johnny." Ghost slides a hand to the back of Soap's head, fingers slipping in between his spines, pulls him in to press their foreheads together. "I don't doubt that someone has made you feel this way, that this hasn't come from nowhere. I just." Ghost stops, assesses.

"Soap, I think you're beautiful, no matter what form you're in." Soap's tentacles all jerk like they've been hit, but the two wrapped around his legs squeeze tighter, wrap more firmly. Another two come to join those, squeezing just the right side of uncomfortably.

"I don't think-"

"It's not up for debate, Johnny." Ghost says, voice stern again. "I'll ask that you not speak for me or put words in my mouth." Soap's eyes have gone very, very wide. His skin is back to its blush colours but there is an indigo shifting into lilac across his chest and down his stomach that Ghost is suspecting might indicate something like arousal.

"Okay."

"Okay." Ghost nods. "I think you're perfect." He says, because words like that bear repeating. "And I have wanted you since the day we met, so much. Do you have any idea how tired the others are?" Ghost is delighted to find that when he is bashful enough, Soap's blush becomes the colour and movement of flickering flame, hues of red and yellow and orange darting across his body.

"I ken you're attracted to me but-"

"Attracted to you? Soap this is far more than that. Whatever you thought was going to happen when I saw this form, whatever you were afraid of, I'm here to tell you that I am more aroused than I have ever been and you haven't even touched me."

Soap rears back out of Ghost's hands like he's been slapped and Ghost has just a moment to panic that he has read all of this, their whole relationship, horribly, terribly, wrong. When he looks at Soap though, he realises that his hands are clamped down over his own face, seemingly battling with his tentacles. His blush is back in full force along with a few bursts of stark white that Ghost thinks might just be panic.

"Soap." Ghost says, and reaches for him again, ever so gently pries Soap's hands away until he can see the tentacles straining for him. "Would you, uh. Is this your body's way of saying you want to kiss me?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's weird but I can't really control oof-" Ghost cuts him off by slamming their mouths together. He hadn't really thought through how, exactly, they were going to do that, what with Soap's different anatomy. As it turns out he's more than happy to learn on the job. Soap's mouth is warm and for now at least he isn't opening more than his top and bottom lip. His tongue is thinner than a humans and a little forked, the skin tougher too, which makes sense considering the size of his teeth.

It's the tendrils though, that make it the most different. They wrap around Ghost's cheeks and jaw, one curls up around each ear to hold him close, rubbing small circles into the tender skin behind. It's consuming, overwhelming in the best possible way and Ghost can't get enough of it.

Still, a man has to breathe, and he reasons that if he breathes now he can ensure a foreseeable future full of more kisses just like this.

The tendrils aren't keen to let go, which makes Ghost laugh. He brings his own hands up to gently dig his thumbs in at the base of them, the muscles writhe happily under his fingers and relinquish their hold on his face in order to play with his hands.

"You don't find me disgusting." Soap murmurs, and he doesn't say it like a question. He says it like it's a revelation, like it had never once occurred to him that anybody could do that.

"Not even a little." Ghost agrees. "Will you let me prove it? Since we're stuck here…"

Soap's skin all but twinkles, pops of gold and crimson bursting across swathes of lilac. Then, without warning, Soap's tentacles hoist Ghost up and carry him powerfully through the water until they're back at a rocky outcrop, the stone smooth and warm from the sun as Soap sets him down on it. His own body is hauled mostly out of the water, several of his tentacles draped off and into the sea. Ghost must look as baffled as he feels because Soap blushes, though much less this time, and shrugs.

"If you want to touch me you need to not have hypothermia." He says it with a little shrug that has Ghost laughing; it's the most 'Soap' gesture he's seen since his sergeant sprouted tentacles and it puts him back on even footing.

"Demanding, you are." He bats lightly at the tentacle that is coyly playing along the hem of his t-shirt and Soap draws it back to his own hand, shaking lightly as if admonishing it.

"Aye, I know. It's a lot, asking you not to drop dead."

"And now he's taking the piss." Ghost mutters, but the smile that's splitting his face gives away that he's not feeling anything like affronted about the situation.

"You'd not like me half so well if I was nice to you." Soap retorts. Ghost is listening, honest, but Soap's entire body has lit up in a bright, golden sunshine yellow. Burnt orange is dusting across his nipples, suckers and the tips of his fingers, even sprinkled across the tops of his cheeks. This is Soap, unequivocally happy. He's gorgeous, the brightest thing Ghost has ever seen.

He's absolutely desperate to see what other colours he can discover before the evening is over.

"I suppose we'll never find out, since you're incapable of it." Ghost snarks but he's had enough of this back and forth, his lizard brain is making itself well known and he's sitting up onto his knees and pushing Soap down before he can think it through.

"I'm well nice." Soap snaps, a little breathlessly.

"To every one else, sure." Ghost nods, finally getting Soap flat on his back and swinging his leg over him. "Now, shut it." He leans down to take Soap's mouth in a filthy kiss before Soap can say anything further, though he isn't exactly complaining. Damp tentacles rise out of the water and wrap snugly around both of Ghost's legs, another comes to wrap around Ghost's arse, cradling him against Soap's body. Ghost doesn't think it's intentional but the suckers along it's length are pulsing where they grip him and even through his thick trousers it is doing very interesting things to his cunt.

Ghost is better prepared for their kiss this time, knows how it will feel when Soap's tendrils wrap around his ears and stroke along the soft skin under his eyes. This time though he has something to prove, wants Soap to see that he can't scare him away, not with a part of himself. He traces his tongue lightly down the seam that crosses through both of Soap's lips. It almost matches his own scar, the one that traces from cheekbone to chin, given to him long before he ever signed up for the service.

Soap's second lips part on his third pass, tentative, as though even now he is hesitant that Ghost might run screaming for the hills. Ghost grunts his pleasure and focuses his attention on finding out just how Soap can use them, what new ways they can kiss.

Ghost's hands are exploring too, tracing down Soap's sides and feeling the shifting texture of his skin. On Soap's neck he stops, traces his fingers featherlight along the fluttering edges of Soap's gills. He follows that with pressing his thumbs firmly into the skin just beneath and his experiment is rewarded when Soap bucks up hard under him.

"Soap?" Ghost grunts, jerking his own hips back against the tentacle that has tightened it's hold against his arse.

"Hmm?"

"Tell me what you like, what feels good like this." Ghost's hands have slipped lower onto Soap's chest, groping and squeezing at the swell of his pecs, feeling across his stomach and relishing how the muscles twitch under his hands.

"I- ah-" Soap cuts off as Simon's fingers trace even lower, sliding low across the front of his torso to the place where his tentacles begin.

"Use your words." Ghost whispers against Soap's mouth.

"I don't know." Soap whines, tendrils pulling back to again cover his eyes. Ghost doesn't try to pull them away this time, instead he settles for pressing gentle kisses to them where they're clamped down, until they're torn between covering Soap and reaching for Ghost once again.

The implications of that statement are clear. Ghost doesn't even know why it's a surprise; nothing about Soap's reveal so far has implied this form is something Soap is comfortable showing to anyone. Still, it does surprise him that Soap has never had this with someone, that he has never bitten the bullet and let literally anyone touch this form and give him pleasure.

Guiltily, the idea of it has Ghost aching and empty, more eager to touch Soap than ever before. The idea that he could have Soap in a way that no one else ever has, that he could be the one to touch Soap and make him feel in new, pleasurable ways.

"But you'll let me find out." Ghost says and he doesn't even bother to pretend that it's a question. Still, Soap answers him.

"Yes."

"You want me?" Ghost asks, because he has to hear it at least once.

"For so long." Soap arches up into Ghost's hand, still pressed flat against the smooth expanse at the base of his torso. His tentacles writhe around Ghost, he doesn't know how they don't knot together, so much twisting movement.

"How long?" Ghost gives in to the urging of the tentacle cradling him and rocks down until he's sliding his clothed cunt along the smooth base of a tentacle, it presses up to meet him as the tip of the one behind him curls up and toys with the waistband of his trousers. Another trails up beneath his shirt, suckers pulsing curiously at each new piece of skin they reach.

"Day we met." Soap grunts out, voice strained as he continues to roll up into Ghost's palm, despite there being no obvious source for his pleasure that Ghost can see.

"The assault course?" Ghost is surprised, Soap had seemingly taken a long time to warm up to him. He's spent all this time labouring under the assumption that he's been successfully wooing Soap. Maybe that was never the problem to begin with.

"No." Soap shakes his head. "No, it was, oh fuck-" Soap cuts off at the moment Simon finally wraps his hand around the top of the tentacle playing with his chest and presses an open mouthed kiss to its tip. Soap groans, long and low, and Ghost takes that as his cue to do it again, to dart his tongue out and twirl it languidly around the sensitive area. Soap, in retaliation, shifts the rest of the tentacle to spread across Simon's chest. Ghost almost comes there and then when the suckers begin to move, working over his nipples until jolts of pleasure are shooting in a direct line to his cock.

"When." Ghost grits out, unwilling to be so easily distracted.

"You did a knife skills session, during my initial training." Soap whines when Simon slides his mouth over the tip of the tentacle in his grip, lowers himself onto it until it's slipping down his throat. "Christ, you - ah - you moved so well I was convinced you were a hybrid. Never seen a human move like that and I wanted-" Soap breaks off with a whine when Ghost swallows around him, laves his tongue across the suckers.

"What did you want, love?" Ghost pulls off so he can coo the words but Soap retaliates by bringing up another tentacle to tug at the button of Ghost's fly until it pops off and skitters away into the sea.

"Wanted - hngh - wanted my mouth on you." Soap's skin is shifting; his belly is now a bright white while the rest of him has lit up with a dazzling pattern of iridescent green covered in black zebra stripes. It's hard to look away, the colours so mesmerising.

"What's stopping you?" Ghost quirks his eyebrow and makes sure Soap reads this for the challenge it is.

Soap doesn't bother answering verbally, instead he wriggles a tentacle into either side of Ghost's waistband and pulls. The trousers rip like wet tissue under his strength, Ghost might actually be a little awed if he wasn't so fucking turned on. His pants had gone with them and all that's left between him and Soap's skin is scraps of fabric trapped under his weight.

It doesn't matter for long because Soap's tentacles are moving again, winding around his limbs and torso and bodily moving him, turning and lifting and Ghost is honestly glad he's had training in the art of dealing with being bound because he thinks he might have panicked about just how irrevocable this hold is otherwise. Then just like that, he's being released, his arms at least. He drops forward to brace his weight against Soap's chest and as he does so he feels the alien sensation of Soap's tendrils crawling up along his thighs, tiny suckers feeling like a hundred feather light kisses against his skin. He doesn't even know when his t-shirt went missing.

"Fuck…" Soap breathes it from between his legs, he's holding Ghost's thighs still, trapping them open. Not that Ghost could close them even if he wanted to; Soap's enormous head and shoulders are firmly lodged between them.

Ghost can feel his own slick beginning to trickle down his thigh, he's been unbearably wet since the second he'd clapped eyes on Soap like this.

"You just going to stare at it, Sergeant, or are you going to taste it?" Ghost tries to push himself back and close the gap between Soap's mouth and his cunt but Soap's tentacles hold fast. "Now, Soap, that's an order."

He's half joking, when he says it, half falling back on the easy control he's so used to having. Soap doesn't seem to think he is. He doesn't even respond verbally, just slams Ghost hips down onto his own face so hard Ghost thinks he'd have broken his nose, if he still had a human one.

It is instantly the best head of Ghost's life, clear inexperience be damned. Soap's tendrils are a law unto themselves but luckily their wants seem to align exactly with 'give Ghost as much pleasure as is possible all at once'. Soap's jaw is working eagerly, happy grunts echoing out of his chest as his tongue pushes as far into Ghost as it can, licking further into him than Ghost has ever felt before. His cock is rubbing against Soap's chin with each movement but there's also a tendril creeping under his thigh which wraps tightly around him and pulses, suckers rippling along him. More of the tendrils are lying along his lips, sucking tiny hickies into the sensitive skin as two others slowly work their way inside to join Soap's tongue.

Ghost doesn't doubt Soap has at least some experience with vaginas, no one gets this good at eating pussy without having done it before, but the tendrils seem to just be instinctively excellent. The two inside him curl and twist until they're pressing and pulsing against his sweet spot relentlessly. The final ones are trailing up and along his taint to play with his other hole.

Ghost had lost the power of speech almost immediately but he seems to have now lost the ability to make any sound at all, reduced to a silently mewling mess as his hips jerk, wildly attempting to chase the mindless pleasure he's feeling.

Still, he can't bear not to give anything in return and he reaches out to claim one of Soap's tentacles in his hand, hauls it up to his mouth and slides it between his lips again. He loves the feel of it as it pulses and writhes against his tongue, loves the way Soap instantly moans with pleasure at the feel of it too. With his mouth occupied, Ghost reaches out to claim another tentacle in each of his hands, clever digits playing with the tips of each of them, rubbing and rolling them between his fingers as Soap begins to tremble beneath him.

He isn't going to last long, not like this. Not with the way Soap is taking him apart so efficiently. Not that he's quite willing to give so much away, he's still arching back, rolling his hips, guiding just where Soap puts his mouth and at what angle. Soap, unsurprisingly, lets him. Allows himself to be led and even seems grateful for it. From a distance it might be difficult to tell that Soap has a submissive streak about a mile wide, under all that bravado.

Up close though? As his superior officer? Well. Ghost would be lying if he said he'd never been tempted to test the boundaries of just how far he could push Soap.

"Fuck, Johnny, right there." Ghost grinds down hard and slow as Soap manages to align his tendrils and tongue at just the right time. He's going to come, and it won't take him long, he can feel it building in his gut and he knows it's just a matter of time.

He slumps forward to brace himself against Soap's stomach, dropping the tentacles in his hands, the one in his mouth drawing back until it's merely applying heavy pressure to his tongue, stroking languidly along the slick muscle. It's the slump that allows him to see it though; something at the base of Soap's torso has shifted, a slit that wasn't visible before has opened and another tentacle is beginning to slink out.

Except, it's not a tentacle, Ghost realises. It's Soap's cock.

At this point Ghost had come to accept that perhaps in this form Soap didn't have one, though he'd have been more than happy to make do with just the tentacles. It turns out the one he does have is better than anything Ghost could have hoped for.

It's long and tapered, clearly almost as dexterous as the rest of Soap's tentacles based on the way it's writhing now. Ghost thinks, with a fair amount of manoeuvring he could probably take it all, if the tapered end curls around. The base is so deliciously thick and there is what appears to be almost a knot near Soap's torso that Ghost knows would feel so perfect as it slipped inside. He reaches for it without thinking, wrapping his hand around the middle and shivering with need when the tip of it twists around his wrist and begins to rub itself off against him.

He twists his hand and begins to stroke, he can barely close his fingers about it, can't by the time he gets anywhere near the base. As he gives an experimental squeeze to the knot, which earns him a very loud grunt from Soap, he feels something bump against the heel of his hand. When he looks he notices two small protuberances emerging from the very base of Soap's cock, below his navel. They move and wiggle independently and Ghost is for a moment lost in the image of them hugging his clit as Soap bottoms out inside him.

It's that image, along with the almost vicious suck Soap gives to his clit, that finally sends Ghost over the edge. He feels so full already with Soap's tendrils pulsing inside him, squirming as Ghost's muscles clench down on them. Soap makes a happy trilling noise as he feels Ghost begin to ripple around him, thighs shaking, and his whole body instantly transforms into a dazzling array of purples and pinks that seem to fizz like champagne.

The fizzing seems to be in part thanks to the texture changing across his surface, something like goosebumps rising and falling over and over. Ghost almost comes again when he feels the same effect take place under his hand across the surface of Soap's cock, imagines that happening inside him.

Soap seems to have gone lax and happy in the wake of Ghost's orgasm, which means his unbreakable grip on Ghost's thighs and hips has loosened. His hands are happily squeezing and rubbing at Ghost's arse but his tentacles have flopped lazily back into the sea for now as Soap's back arches up into Ghost's hands on his cock.

Ghost is only too happy to be the first one to feel Soap's cock like this, to be the first one to give him this kind of pleasure. He shuffles forward until he's straddling Soap's chest instead of his face, leaves a trail of slick behind him he thinks he'll probably be embarrassed by later. Soap's cock is definitely a two-handed weapon, even using both of them there is plenty left over. He edges further again, releasing the tentacle he'd all but forgotten was in his mouth, until he can press a kiss to the tip of Soap's dick.

The reaction is immediate, Soap's entire body convulses, his tentacles flail wildly, and Ghost grins to himself.

"Fuck, Simon. Are you sure-" He cuts off as Ghost does it again, and again. Opens his mouth to suck lightly at the slit and press in with the tip of his tongue. Soap is already babbling, keening praise about how good Ghost feels and how good Ghost makes him feel. His hips jackknife up and Ghost pushes down on them hard, turns to glare over his shoulder until Soap is whining.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be good." Soap flattens himself against the rock, tentacles bracing against every nearby nook or cranny.

"Hmm." Ghost watches the display with keen interest, "Good boy." As expected, Soap shudders in response, breaths panting out of him, but he doesn't move. Satisfied that he has the obedience he'd been after, Ghost returns to exploring, running his tongue along the smooth length of Soap and returning to suckling the head as Soap holds himself rigidly still beneath him, soft whines and pants escaping his lips.

Ghost is fascinated by the way Soap's cock emerges from his body. He trails his fingers down to trace around the soft edges of the slit, applies a little more pressure when he feels the moisture gathered there. Soap makes a sound that sounds almost like a hiccough and when Ghost does it again, with even more pressure, one of his tentacles shoots out straight like it's been shocked.

There isn't much give, Ghost can't press in except for in one small place at the top of Soap's cock, just behind those two little fronds which cling to Ghost's fingertip as he traces past them. Something about the movement sparks something in Ghost's brain. Something about the soft, burning give of the place behind, barely wide enough for a finger and certainly not that deep, but deep enough.

Ghost climbs off Soap and shuffles, ignoring Soap's whine and reaching hands.

"I want to try something." Ghost tells him as he swings his leg over the base of Soap's tentacles. "Tell me if you don't like it."

Soap doesn't answer, just looks at Ghost with glassy pleasure, a stupid, stunned smile on his mouth.

"Johnny!" Ghost clicks in his face and watches as Soap seems to startle back to himself. His tendrils snap out at Ghost's hand, one of them catching the back of it in a stinging snap that makes Ghost chuckle with surprise.

"Don't fucking click at me." Soap bitches, scowling in outrage. His cock doesn't seem to have got the memo that they're annoyed and is instead curling to creep in between Ghost's legs.

"Answer me when I speak to you, then." Ghost snarks back. Soap's body goes a dull shade of red and he folds his arms even as several tentacles move to run soothingly across Ghost's body in obvious apology. Ghost sighs fondly, softening. "Please, tell me if you don't like something."

"I will." Soap nods. "Not sure you could do much of anything to me I wouldn't like." He adds, blushing harder as he says it but pushing out the words anyway. Ghost, as a thank you for his honesty, leans forward and up to press a firm kiss to Soap's lips that makes his body ripple with the strange goosebumps once again.

Soap's cock is now lying firmly between Ghost's legs, smooth and silky with whatever natural lubricant he produces himself. It doesn't give much friction when Ghost rolls his hips experimentally, but it's hot and hard and friction of that kind hadn't exactly been why he moved down here anyway.

One of Soap's tentacles has been clamped possessively across Ghost's chest since their kiss but it's getting in the way now. He pats it with a gentle hand and nods towards Soap.

"D'you mind?" Soap releases him, but his skin had been wet and as the tentacle peels away it makes the unmistakable, unsexy and undeniably funny sound of over a hundred suction cups pulling off a wet surface in sequence. When Ghost looks down, Soap is grinning mischievously up at him, seemingly stuck somewhere between laughing and eyeing up the obvious bruises a couple of the larger suckers have left.

Ghost decides to rise above it, instead he presses firmly on Soap's stomach, a silent instruction to stay put. Soap is watching him curiously, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he watches Ghost slide forward in preparation.

"Tell me-"

"If I don't like it." Soap finishes with a smile, his skin returning to that same fascinating zebra pattern as before. "I know, I will."

With that, Ghost tilts his hips and pushes a finger either side of his cock to make sure it sticks out as much as possible. His bottom growth is significant and privately Ghost is very proud of it, loves the way it stands out proudly from his cunt. Lowering himself down until he's seated on Soap's cock he slips his cock between the two fronds and pushes until his tip is pressing against the slight give of Soap's sheath.

Soap gasps, draws in a shuddering breath as he watches Ghost's movements, transfixed on the place where Ghost is sliding into him. Ghost presses hard until his pelvis is flush with Soap's and feels his own breath stutter when the two small appendages wrapped around him seem to close, tightening their grip on him and helping guide him when he draws back only to press forward once again.

The movement drags his cunt along the top of Soap's cock, which shivers before the texture changes, ridges rise up and now each time Ghost strokes in or out his pussy is stimulated at the same time. The fronds are moving too, flicking over one another in a way that has them almost feeling like they're vibrating around him. Ghost prides himself in his composure, his control, but he knows he's on the brink of losing it just moments after starting.

Soap is sobbing beneath him, tentacles writhing in a great mass around him, clinging to his limbs like he is the last thing tethering Soap to this realm.

Ghost is impressed by himself, honestly, for how long he manages to hold on. He lets his hand roam, gripping and rubbing at every part of Soap he can reach. He's nowhere near tall enough for them to kiss in this position, not when Soap has his back arched mindlessly into the sensation. Ghost reaches up, hand outstretched and feels Soap's tendril reach for him in return, the tip of the tendril just able to wrap around his finger.

Something moves between Ghost's legs then, twists just right until the tip of Soap's cock is pressing against Ghost's entrance, and Ghost is demanding, "Yes."

The cock probes inwards, just one inch, two, and that's all it takes. Ghost's hips stutter and fall out of rhythm as he groans long and low. Soap's cock has frozen in its movement as Ghost clenches around him, his own cock twitching inside Soap as the fronds tease his orgasm out until he's jerking and overstimulated and his entire body is shivering.

Gingerly, he lifts himself up and slides along Soap's torso until he can slot their mouths together. Soap is smiling, Ghost thinks, though it's fairly hard to read his expressions in this new form. Ghost intends to learn every one of them, in time. There's a sort of joyful bubbling sound that Ghost realises is the suckers in the water pulsing to cause little ripples. He thinks it might be the equivalent of satiated giggling, if Soap was still human.

Cute.

"Thank you, Ghost, that was-" Ghost kisses him again just to shut him up.

"Christ, please don't thank me for sex, Soap. Trust me when I said that was at least as much for my pleasure as it was yours. You didn't even get off."

"I'm not sure I'll survive you getting me off." Soap says, cheerfully.

Ghost traces a finger along the intricate swirling patterns across Soap's skin. Pokes and prods at the different ridges and bumps of texture he finds.

"I'm not sure I'll survive you fucking me." Ghost says honestly, and then backtracks when he sees the distressed look that immediately appears on Soap's face at the thought. "Because of how good you feel." He reassures, tracing the flat of his hands along the length of a nearby tentacle. Several of them drape across his back, soothing away the slight chill of the air.

Soap is still hard and hot and languidly swishing between them, Ghost truly cannot wait to see how much of the thing he can get inside him. The idea though, of trying to get off again right this moment, has his overstimulated body recoiling at the idea of so much sensation. Which is when the idea comes to him.

"Soap…" He says, cautiously. Soap's eyebrow immediately cocks suspiciously, as does the top tendril on the same side, which makes Ghost's heart damn near burst with adoration. He runs a soothing thumb across Soap's eyebrow and presses a kiss to the tip of the tendril, which immediately attempts to shove its way into his mouth. He pries it away by hooking a chastising finger around it and ignoring the blush that is beginning to creep back across Soap's skin.

"That's the tone you use when you're going to say something I won't like." Soap says, warily, though there is a hint of that strange smile hovering around his mouth.

"Yeah." Ghost nods, unapologetically. "I want to suck on your spines."

"What the actual fuck is wrong wi' ye?" Soap rears back immediately. "You need ye head checked, are ye actual fuckin' mental?" The mixture of new anatomy and the thicker Scottish that always comes with Soap's ire makes him almost impossible to understand, but Ghost certainly gets the gist.

"You said it's an aphrodisiac, right?" Ghost is sitting up now, straddled across Soap's stomach while Soap is propped up on his elbows, tentacles wriggling anxiously.

"Aye, I think I also mentioned it could kill ye stone dead." Soap says, followed by a muttered, "Fuckin' eejit."

"Only if you stabbed me with em." Ghost rolls his eyes before he can stop himself. "I'll just swallow a little bit and then you and I can go over and over and over again." Ghost knows he's cheating, the way he flexes as he says it, moves his hips just a little, but he really, really, wants Soap to fuck him, along with all manner of other things while they're at it.

Soap looks pained, face scrunched and brow dipped in concentration.

"I'm not letting you near my spines." Soap says finally, his tone deadly serious. Ghost deflates a little, but isn't about to argue when Soap has set a boundary.

"Alright."

"But it is supposed to be very safe if ingested." There's that torn look creeping back across Soap's face, concern and want fighting one another in his features.

His face goes flat all of a sudden, mind made up, and before Ghost can ask any sort of follow up, he's being flipped. Again. His body hoisted and manhandled so fast and so gently he's hardly aware it's happened until he's flat on his back looking up at Soap. Soap reaches behind himself, his huge form braced above Ghost on one deliciously strong arm, corded with hard muscle.

When Soap's hand draws back there is a flush of bright, luminescent blue dripping across his fingers.

"Christ…" Ghost breathes out, swallowing hard.

"You want this?" Soap asks but Ghost doesn't answer him. Instead he drops his mouth open, laying out his tongue like he's welcoming Soap in. Soap's hand comes down until the tip of his nail is resting an inch over Ghost's tongue and the venom begins to drip. The warm tingling spreads through his mouth and follows down his throat, a low hum that picks up into a symphony of sensation when it hits his belly.

Soap's hand turns until his fingertips are touching Ghost's tongue. They begin to draw down, leaving a long, buzzing trail of blue down his chin and throat and onto his chest. Ghost's body comes alive, Soap's wonderful biology lighting him up in every way.

And then, Soap finishes his teasing by wiping the very last trace of venom onto the tip of Ghost's cock, and his entire body catches fire.

When Ghost's back arches, he lets out a moan that has Soap convinced he's killed him. He knew playing with his venom like this was stupid, knew it was dangerous. He should have never let Simon convince him to do something as foolish as—

Simon's hands come to rest on John's chest for a fraction of a second before he shoves him backwards.

John goes with it, easily, but his tentacles do come up to wrap around Simon's legs and waist, worrying his skin everywhere they touch. He's looking for any sign of an adverse reaction, any sign to confirm his fear that what he'd heard from Simon just moments ago was pain and not actually pleasure.

"Quit your fretting," Simon grunts as his hips settle over the base of John's tentacles. "Felt fucking amazing."

Simon's pupils take up nearly the entirety of his sclera and a blush is crawling its way from his cheeks, down his neck, across his chest and shoulders, and extending to the top of his stomach. It's a rich and dark reddish pink and John can't bring himself to look away from the beautiful blush Simon's skin has created just for him. He brings his hands up, careful of his claws and venom, and rubs them across Simon's chest, enjoying the way he arches into the touch, settling his hips flush against the base of John's cock.

Simon lets out a groan as Soap rubs even harder over his chest, then pinches his nipples.

"Greedy fuck," Simon grumbles as he takes Soap by the wrists and leans forward, pinning them on either side of Soap's head. "Keep these to yourself," he pants. And then he smirks the way he does when he's gotten a particularly terrible idea.

Reaching down, he takes a tentacle in each hand and brings them up, wrapping them around each of Soap's wrists even though they wriggle and squirm in protest.

"Hold yourself still if you can't behave," he orders just before leaning up to lick straight into Soap's mouth.

John can't help but moan into the kiss, and Simon moans back as two of his tendrils slip into his mouth while the others caress the rest of his face and head, keeping him from pulling away. Simon alternates between sucking on John's tongue and tendrils, and it's distracting enough that he hasn't really registered what his own cock is doing. He doesn't register it at all until Simon moans just as the tip nudges up into the warmth of his cunt again.

John tries to rein himself in, to pull his cock back, to check in with Simon because he has already come twice and he has to be oversensitive by now. But he takes the base of John's cock in hand and only seats himself on it further. He sits up, causing John's tendrils to vibrate in annoyance at the distance between them, and grinds himself even further down on John's cock.

Simon moans, long and low, with his head thrown back and throat exposed. One of John's tentacles comes up, wrapping snugly around Simon's throat and just holds there, reveling in the feel of the man's pulse hammering in his veins. Simon's hand comes up, wrapping around the tentacle for a moment before he finds the tip of it and begins pinching and rolling it in his fingers all while his hips grind and roll, taking more of John's cock with each thrust.

His tendrils have clamped down over his own mouth as Soap fights to keep quiet, trying not to moan and beg as loudly as he knows he would were his mouth uncovered. Ghost leans forward, has to really reach, but manages to fist John's tendrils in his hand and pull them away from his mouth.

"Lemme hear you, Johnny," he pants as his hips roll. "Don't you dare try to be quiet."

"Yer so fuckin' bossy," John grumbles just as Simon rolls his hips forward particularly hard, causing John to cut off with a less than dignified whimper.

But then Simon's creating some space between them, pulling John's cock free with one hand, and before Soap can lean forward to check if he's hurt him, he's re-directing John's cock further back.

"Simon," John starts to warn, but the man doesn't listen, doesn't even pause as he begins seating himself on John's cock. "Ye didnae prep for that. You're going to hurt yourself," he tries as his tentacles fall away from his wrists and he sits up to take Simon by the waist.

"Doesn't hurt at all," Simon smirks, rolling his hips continuously, taking more and more of the tapered end of John's cock with each small thrust. "Think your venom dripped—fuck—doesn't feel anything but good. . . and you're so wet."

That does nothing to ease John's concern because while his cock is self-lubricating, his venom is an aphrodisiac but not a miracle drug. He tries to pull Simon up slightly, even as his own cock is trying to nudge its way deeper into the inviting tight heat of Simon's hole.

"Simon," he tries again.

"Said quit your fretting," Simon grumbles, batting a couple of Soap's tentacles away.

With a frustrated growl, John decides he's had just about enough.

He gives Ghost no warning as his hands and tentacles wrap around his body, turning him until Ghost's back is against Soap's chest. He hooks a hand under Simon's thigh, and has his other hand high on his waist to brace the man against him—keep him from lowering himself too quickly onto Soap's cock and injuring himself. Instinctively, several of his tentacles mesh together to form a cushion between Simon's skin and the rock behind them. But the one wrapped around Ghost's throat stays put, even as others come to tangle with his fingers on each hand, preventing him from outright shoving Soap's cock further in.

"I won't let you get hurt," John grumbles, leaning in to press his forehead against Simon's. "Ye walloper," he huffs affectionately.

"You give me that venom just to tease me?" Simon snaps, trying to wriggle in John's hold but failing to move at all.

Instead of answering, Soap allows his tendrils to reach for Ghost's face, lets a couple of them push past his lips and press his tongue flat to the bottom of his mouth. It gets him a strangled moan and he can feel Simon shiver against him.

"Told ye that ye wouldnae like me if I was nice," he smirks, allowing his tentacle to squeeze tighter around Simon's throat just once. "I agreed to the venom, let ye get away with that. But now ye have to behave."

Simon's argument is garbled around the tendrils in his mouth, and Soap doesn't even pretend he's understood, though Simon's tone speaks loudly enough. But even that changes quickly as Soap's cock nudges its way between Simon's cheeks. He arches his back hard trying to get more of his cock, and John lets him.

"Didnae know being greedy was a side effect of the venom," he mutters, nipping at Simon's throat playfully while his cock just nudges against Simon's rim. He watches as Ghost's eyes roll back and he lets out a long groan around the tendrils in his mouth, just beginning to drool down his own chin.

Slowly, Soap lets more of his cock press against him, relishing in the noises Simon makes as the tapered tip pushes past the ring of muscle.

"Gonna let ye have it," John grunts, pulling his tendrils free of Simon's mouth. "Just have to be patient."

"Don't wanna be patient," Simon snaps as soon as his mouth is unoccupied. He reaches around to thread his fingers between the spines on the back of Soap's neck, tries to yank him forward for a kiss—

But his fingers slip a little too low and brush right over the sensitive flesh of Soap's gill plate. His body reacts before he can stop it, his tentacle around Simon's throat tightens slightly, his hand gripping him so hard he'll surely bruise, and his cock lodges itself further in Simon.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap gasps and Simon's fingers still immediately. But he seems to realize Soap's reaction is one of pleasure and, tentatively, his fingers hook just underneath the gill plate, seeking until they find a softer texture.

John lets out a loud moan as Simon's fingers stroke skin that he doesn't think even he's touched on his own body. His touch turns explorative then, and presses against the skin like he's trying to get his fingers underneath it. Soap's vision goes white, instinctively a tentacle wraps tightly around Simon's wrist and pulls his hand back a fraction of an inch.

It takes John a second to get his bearings, but when he does he can hear Simon apologizing.

"Dinnae—dinnae apologize," Soap pants. "Nobody's ever. . . I've never touched that before."

Blinking his eyes open, he finds Simon's honey gold eyes on him and watches as they shift from concerned to deeply curious.

"What is it?" He asks, and as Soap's tentacle loosens its grip slightly, his hand returns, running against the edge of his gill plate, feather light.

"That's just the plate, the operculum," Soap explains with a shiver and gasp as Simon prods at the bony plate under the skin. Then his hand skims lower again, fingers slipping around the operculum until they brush the tender skin beneath.

"And this?" he whispers, mouth mere millimeters from John's now and he can feel the man smile as he whimpers.

"It's a. . . fuck. . . a valve," Soap struggles to explain as Simon's fingers dance lightly across him. "Keeps water from flowing the wrong way—Jesus—over my gills. Keeps debris out."

Simon's intentionally distracting him, he knows. The smart bastard has figured out if he distracts Soap, his cock will act of its own accord, and Soap realizes with a start that nearly half of it is buried in Simon's hole now.

Which has him cursing and doing his best not to thrust. He allows his tendrils to yank Simon's face forward so he can kiss him. They wrap around his face and jaw, holding him close while John licks filthily into his mouth. He smiles when Simon moans as a tendril nudges behind the man's ear, curling around the shell of it as the suckers clamp themselves onto the back of his ear. Soap focuses on sucking dark marks into Simon's throat with his tentacle that's still wrapped there; loosening and repositioning it in order to suck marks onto every inch of Simon's throat until there isn't a square centimetre of skin that isn't bruised.

With the hand wrapped around Simon, he begins rolling his nipple between his fingers, and Simon moans loudly into his mouth.

"Cheeky fuck," John murmurs against Simon's lips as his tendrils explore his face. Simon's hand hasn't stopped running forward and back across the valve under Soap's operculum, and his tentacles give an involuntary shiver of pleasure each time.

Simon opens his mouth, no doubt to fire off some retort, but he chokes it off with a moan as Soap's cock begins nudging incessantly against his walls. The moan turns into an outright shout as John's cock curls back on itself, and he finally allows himself to thrust. It gets a moan from the both of them as Simon is stuffed full, as Soap's entire cock is finally seated in the delicious heat it's been seeking.

Simon's babbling almost incoherently. All Soap manages to catch is, "Fucking full," before he devolves into more moans.

Soap hums. "Full?" He asks as one of his tentacles works its way up the crease of Simon's hip and thigh. "Ye were so demanding just a moment ago."

He grins as Ghost's back arches when his tentacle nudges at his cock, rubbing curiously over the sensitive flesh. Simon's body tenses, his fingers intertwining with a different tentacle and squeezing hard.

"And what's this?" John asks, nudging that tentacle against Simon's cunt. "You're not full at all."

He watches Simon's features for any indication this may be unwelcome, that it may be too much. But the man's eyes roll back, and his hips jerk in Soap's hold, seeking more.

"Pretty desperate thing," John murmurs, licking Simon's throat as his tentacle begins pressing inside. "You're so wet for me too," he groans, licking over Simon's lips, swallowing down the moan he gets as his tentacle easily pushes further in.

The noises Ghost makes as he's stuffed full will live in Soap's head forever, and he only gets louder as Soap's cock and tentacle rub and probe at each other through the thin flesh separating them. Soap's cock will pull out just as his tentacle thrusts in, and then the reverse so Simon is constantly being emptied and filled. The tip of the tentacle curls around as it fucks in and out, probing until it finds the spongy texture it's looking for.

Simon comes as soon as it presses against his g-spot, clenching and squirting around Soap as he lets out a long moan.

But John can't bring himself to stop. He's enraptured by the flush that covers most of Simon's body now, can't tear his eyes away from the sucker marks littered all over his pale flesh. It's a pattern he thinks is more beautiful than any his own skin has ever made, chromatophores be damned. Simon is writhing now, tears streaming out of the corners of his eyes as John continues to fuck into him.

"Ye feel so fucking good around me," he grunts into Simon's ear. "Squeezing me like that. God you're a dream, Simon."

He knows he's probably talking too much, but Simon doesn't seem to care as he turns his head and searches for John's mouth with his own. They kiss sloppily, all tongue and teeth as they moan and pant into each other's mouths. Soap's getting close; he can't actually believe he's held on this long. But as Simon's clever fingers begin drumming against his gill flap in a new pattern, he knows he won't last long.

"'M gonna come again," Simon all but whimpers into his mouth, hips jerking with every thrust from Soap. "Want you to come with me."

Soap thanks whatever god may be listening for that.

He doesn't even have time to think of a response to that before his cock twitches and he begins to come. That sends Simon over the edge too, his head falls back to rest against Soap's shoulder as he shudders and clenches around John's cock and tentacle, milking him as he comes. . . and comes. . . and keeps coming.

Simon's moans begins to shift into whimpers, then he squirms and whines, "Too much," with tears building in the corners of his eyes.

Soap pulls out but is still coming, and his cock ruts up into the juncture of Simon's thigh and hip, seeking friction wherever it can as he spills. Dark inky come spurts from him, all the way to Simon's throat, spattering over his chest and stomach, staining his skin in an impossibly beautiful pattern. Soap has just enough brain power left to hope that it stains for days.

When Simon wakes up it's to the feeling of cool water lapping across his body. His skin feels tender and too sensitive, even for the light-as-air touches that Soap is using to wash him clean. He's comfortable though and the light sting is worth enduring for the way Soap is cradling him in his strong tentacles as his hands sluice water over him.

Ghost distinctly remembers Soap passing out first, sated and spent, largely because the pillock had dropped him in the process. Ghost had been too wrung out to carry a grudge though and had wriggled his way under Soap's enormous body in order to pass out himself. Clearly he managed to do so far more comprehensively than Johnny had.

"Morning, princess." Soap is smiling, soft and smug and just the slightest bit unsure.

"Go fuck yourself." Ghost tells him curtly but clearly with just enough softness that Soap knows what he isn't saying, since his skin flutters an attractive blush pink before settling into the peaches and yellows of sunset. "I feel hungover." He grumbles, for the sake of complaining.

"Aye, well you're the one who insisted on trying a Class A restricted substance just to get your rocks off." Soap doesn't look in the least bit sorry for providing it, nor like he's going to brook any argument from Ghost that he in fact enjoyed the results.

"Didn't tell me I'd get hungover." Ghost mutters, knowing he sounds petulant and ignoring the indulgent smile it coaxes onto Soap's face.

"Need to turn you over so I can clean you." Soap tells him, tentacles already shifting to do exactly that.

"Pervert." Ghost grunts but makes himself pliant in Soap's hands. The water beneath him is clear and still when Simon relaxes into Soap's hold, lets him trace his fingers along the rows upon rows of round sucker-shaped bruises that crisscross Ghost's torso.

Ghost lets his eyes follow the shifting ripples, searches through the surface to spot the darting of fish in amongst the shallow pools below. His eyes catch on the reflection of his own bare chest.

"Soap." Ghost grunts and wriggles in Soap's hold until he's facing him again. He lets his eyes fall to his chest and stomach and then dart back up to Soap's face in horror. Soap is at least having the decency to blush crimson. "Why does my torso still look like a poor man's Jackson Pollock?"

"Um." Soap hedges, the ridges of his muscles vibrating a nervous rainbow as the rest of him vacillates between red, black and white. "My ink sack is next to my sperm sack and I can expel ink without sperm but uh. Not the other way around. So it is literally ink."

Simon closes his eyes and forces himself to do some deep breathing before he does something ridiculous like burst into tears or start laughing.

"How long does it last." Ghost grits out between clenched teeth.

"A few days to, uh. Up to a week?"

"A week?" He shouts it, he knows he does, but he can't really help it. "You're telling me I'm stuck with a Vantablack snatch for a full seven days?"

"Ten days at most." Soap says, and he's doing the soothing, reasonable tone that makes Ghost wants to drown him.

"Until you learn to control your ink sack you are not fucking me again." Soap makes a distressed sound and squawks.

"It's a biological thing, I can't control it!" Soap throws up his hands and Simon shrugs at him, leans in to press a mollifying kiss on Soap's mouth.

"Tough luck, kid." He scoots his way out of Soap's hold then, mostly so that he can get the last word, and sets about locating his clothes.

His t-shirt had somehow survived relatively unscathed, which is a relief. The same, however, cannot be said for his trousers. Those are lying in tatters, in several places across the rocks. He snatches Soap's jeans instead, since he's busy sulking still, and hauls them on as best he can. Weirdly enough they fit perfectly. And they have the same patch in the knee he'd added about a week ago and-

These are his own fucking trousers. Well, Soap isn't getting them back so he can either go home naked or go tentacles first, the decision is his.

He piles on all the gear he thinks he can manage, mostly so that he has enough pockets to hold the pile of treasures Soap had bought him. Strong arms slide around his waist from behind, hands overlapping on his stomach as Soap's chin hooks over his shoulder.

"Are you accepting my gifts?" Soap's tendrils flutter against the side of Ghost's face as Soap watches him.

"What bloody difference does it make if I am, hm?" Ghost asks. "In merperson does that mean we're married now or something?" One of Soap's tendrils swats Simon's ear hard enough to sting.

"I wouldn't fuckin' know would I, on account of not being a merperson. Dickhead."

"What are you then?" Simon asks, not in the least phased since he can feel the fond smile pressed to the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"I'm a member of cephalopoda. Sepia hominum, I'm not even technically a hybrid really. Some people call us krakens; we're more of an ancient species who branched away from the order though no one is entirely sure whether-"

"So like a mer-octopus?" Ghost asks, just to be a bit of a cunt.

"A mer-cuttlefish if you're insisting on being reductive."

"The gifts, Soap?" Ghost cuts him off before he can get any real steam worked up.

"They're just." Soap shrugs and slinks back a little, so that the cool air of the night sweeps across Ghost's body. "They're just gifts. Instinctive ones."

"Like when those penguins give each other rocks?" Ghost isn't trying to be offensive here but he winces at the way it comes out anyway.

"Actually yeah, I suppose. Courting gifts." There's a grotesque squishing sound at Ghost's back and the body that presses against Ghost's now is distinctly human. It feels a little novel for him to be shorter than Ghost.

When Ghost spins to look at him he can't help the grin that creeps across his face; Soap is almost entirely human now, except that his skin is still a happy, rippling kaleidoscope. There's a strange Rorschach-esque splotch across his face and neck that doesn't move with the rest though. With some horror, Ghost realises that he's mirroring the stains on Ghost's own body.

He doesn't know if Soap is aware he's doing it, decides not to mention it just in case.

"Consider me well and truly courted, I suppose." And Soap, naked and dazzling, beams at him.

This is, of course, when the mechanical whirr of the helicopter blades makes its presence known.

"Fuck, Simon, your mask!"Soap looks stricken and Ghost feels somewhat compelled to remind him-

"Johnny, you're stark bollock naked, you worry about that first, yeah?" Thankfully he does, sets about piecing together any sort of cover he can from the scraps that remain of Simon's and his clothes. His top half is fine but he ends up in a pair of briefs and Simon's torn trousers held together with their combined thigh holsters and belts.

He looks ridiculous, though Simon can't look much better with his shirt tied strategically around his head and his tits out.

"What the fuck happened to you two?" Is the first thing Gaz says as his feet hit the floor. He and Price have rappelled down and the helicopter has flown off to do a wide lap, presumably so they can all debrief in privacy before they have to board. Gaz is not subtle in the way he yanks out his phone to take a photo of them, even less so when he spins to make it a selfie.

"That's enough." Price barks, then, "Take one of me." He ducks in front of the pair of them, dancing out of the way again when Ghost swipes for his head.

"Spill." Gaz says again once his phone is back in his pocket, the mirth in his eyes hasn't diminished at all.

"Nearly died, thanks for asking." Ghost bites and enjoys the way Gaz's laugh dies just a little. "Platform took me with it. I'd have been fish food if it wasn't for Soap."

"And you were attacked by a giant squid before or after Soap doggy paddled fifty miles lugging your dead weight?" Price asks with the tone of a man who can smell a rat.

"The two are…connected." Is all Soap offers him, though his skin is distinctly crimson now.

"Okay and you're changing colour because?"

"Biology."

"And what's with the matchy matchy war paint?" Gaz chimes in. Soap's vanishes the second Gaz mentions it and he spins to look accusingly at Ghost, who carefully doesn't look back at him.

"Right." Price says, voice a little strangled like he's stuck between laughing and actual irritation. "You two muppets are going to have to give me something to go on since you went AWOL and I launched a very expensive retrieval mission."

"Not mine to tell, John." Ghost says. "I'll take whatever punishment is necessary."

"Fuckin' hell." Soap groans. "I'm a kraken, I rescued Ghost and bought him here, yes I swam, no I'll not show ye my form as long as the helicopter is around."

"Was that so hard?" Price grunts. "You've only been here a few hours, why the fuck have you both gone full castaway already?"

Gaz is grinning in a way that tells Ghost he's put all the pieces together already and he closes his eyes to brace for impact.

"Yeah, and Soap is there a special part of ocean rescue training that says extra pressure needs to be applied over the nipples and near the groin, or was that just something you threw in as extra?" Gaz's ears are pinned sideways in mischief.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Price groans. "Here I am launching a rescue mission and you two choose now of all times to finally get over yourselves?"

"Yeah." Ghost shrugs. "Pretty much." Soap sighs, long and hard, and then his shoulder presses hard against Ghost's arm, a long line of heat that says they're here, together. That this isn't stopping just because the bubble has burst.

"Aye." Soap shrugs. "What he said."

The pub is quiet, no big matches on tonight and the TVs are turned down to the low rumble of background noise. Ghost likes this pub, the tables are just the right amount of sticky and the pints are under a fiver. He also likes that they have real fireplaces churning out heat and sending a flickering glow across the space.

He likes the way it lights up Soap.

The way that now he knows to look for it, Soap's skin flickers just a tiny bit too, golden tan and pale white mixing and dancing in rhythm with the flames.

It's Price's round and Gaz has gone with him (it's ostensibly to help carry the drinks, but Ghost knows he's been itching to start a fight with the wolf hybrid talking too loudly at the bar). Soap is standing, stretching. His t-shirt has ridden up just enough to show a few of the electric blue dots that highlight each of the knobs of his spine. Ghost reaches out to trace a finger along them and Soap whips around to bat his hand away.

"Hands to yerself." He's a couple of pints in, accent thickened with drink and need for sleep. Ghost catches his hand instead, presses a kiss to his palm and then yanks him relentlessly down until he's sprawling back down, half into his own seat and half into Ghost's. Soap's free hand comes up to catch him on Ghost's chest, then stays to toy with the gold chain that hangs there.

It had been in the pile of treasure Soap had brought up for the shipwrecks. A lot of it had been weapons or just shiny broken bric-a-brac Soap's more squidy bits hadn't been able to leave behind in the moment, though Ghost had kept most of it just the same. The necklace had gotten lost in the depths of his tac vest pocket though, he'd only found it weeks later in the middle of a mission, it had come out tangled around an ammo clip he'd reached for.

The chain is gold, fine, and the pendant is a small gold oval, studded with emeralds. It's beautiful, likely worth a fortune. The thing that had really pleased Ghost though was something he found out later, he'd slipped it on in the moment, unwilling to lose it in the fighting. As he lay in his bedroll studying it though, he'd found it was a locket, a tiny hinge hidden along the left side.

When he opened it he found that it was lined with mother of pearl, light pink and blue and green, swirled together and broken by stripes of black. It looked like Soap's skin, the part of him only Simon ever gets to see.

He hasn't taken it off since.

"I love you in gold." Soap tells him, tipping his head back to smile softly up at Simon. Ghost already knows he's planning a trip out to some forgotten shipwreck or other, another trip to gather lost treasures for his mate. Ghost would have a nice little nest egg ready for his retirement, if he could bear to part with a single item.

As it is, for now they look nice in the cabinet he's purpose made for them.

"You know, I've still never seen eyes like yours." Ghost tells him, instead of anything that might be considered an actual reply.

"Aye, I'd imagine not, I'm an endangered species." Ghost laughs and jostles Soap. When he looks down at him again though he sees that Soap has shifted his eyes, enough that they're noticeably larger and his pupils those adorably wavy 'W's that make him look like he's perpetually smiling.

How could Ghost not kiss him for that?

Soap tells him he's trying to train him, giving him kisses every time he shows a little more of his True Form in public. Ghost thinks it hardly matters, since it's garnering him results.

"You two are disgusting." Gaz tells them as he strolls back over to the table. He'd clearly been outside and there's blood on his knuckles. The wolf is gone too and Ghost rolls his eyes fondly.

"He deserve it?"

"Said it 'isn't cats fault that they're just naturally weaker'." Gaz laughs.

"I hope you showed him your claws." Soap says, cheerfully. Gaz flicks them out to show that yes, they've also got blood on them, and it's clearly not his.

"That's my kitten." Price grins proudly as he smacks a kiss to the top of Gaz's head. Ghost gags loudly and from the look on Gaz's face Price is lucky to have escaped the claws himself. "Oh, like you two are any better."

They aren't, Ghost knows.

Price brings the last of the drinks over and holds up his glass for a cheers.

"Happy anniversary, lads." He grins as they clink their glasses together.

Tomorrow they're going out to a beach, one Soap has chosen that is accessible only by boat. There, Soap is going to show them his form for the first time. He's nervous about it, has been all week, Ghost is so proud of him for doing it his chest aches with it.

Soap challenges Gaz to a game of pool and the two of them stride off. Ghost puts his feet up and watches the fluid, sinuous way Soap moves.

"Turns out it wasn't the unresolved sexual tension." Price says. "You two are still fucking hard to watch." Ghost doesn't bother answering. He flips Price off, drops the salt shaker into his pint and goes to join his partner.