Work Text:
Heavy footsteps circled around the cot where Soap knelt on his hands and knees, swaying gently with the trembling of his body. There was a line of something wet trailing down the inside of his thigh, pooling in a damp spot on the sheets below. The metallic sound of a zipper being done up and a belt sliding back into place nearly made Soap moan, but he caught himself at the last moment, instead lifting his head to meet the heated gaze of the man towering above him.
Ghost’s wide, comfortable stance at the head of the cot exuded confidence. He belonged there and he knew it, just as Soap knew his place: naked and debauched, letting a man’s come wet his thighs with the evidence of his possession.
“Just can’t get enough of it, can you, Johnny?”
The words made Soap whine softly, shifting in vain to seek relief for the heavy, dripping cock that hung between his legs. Soap was retreating from the precipice of orgasm, the fog of his intense arousal slowly fading to allow him to think properly. He had been held there for an eternity, battered on Ghost’s cock, untouched and begging for the slightest stimulation that would set him off.
But Ghost wouldn’t make it that easy on him. Soap was his, and this was his way of proving it.
“You let the others fuck you. Use you,” Ghost said, reaching down to tangle his fingers in Soap’s hair to ensure he couldn’t drop his head. Soap gasped softly, at Ghost’s mercy.
“Does Gaz fuck you better than I do? Is Alejandro a better lover? Or what about Captain Price?” Ghost hissed his name, a little mean. “Do you drool over his cock like you do mine?"
Soap shook his head as best he could in Ghost’s grip. He choked on his words, desperate to disprove Ghost.
“N-no. No, Simon, fuck– it’s you, only you. Only want you.” Soap’s tongue darted out, wetting his parched lips. “Only need you.”
“See, Johnny, I know that’s not true.”
Ghost tugged on Soap’s hair as he bent down, lips next to Soap’s ear. Soap shuddered at the vibration of Ghost’s voice against his body.
“I’ve heard you beg for them. Watched you get ruined by them, and still ask for more, like you can’t get enough. You know what I think about that?”
Soap’s cock twitched. He whimpered.
“I think it doesn’t matter who fucks you, Johnny. Could be the whole team. Could be the whole damn base.” Ghost chuckled darkly. “There’s a thought. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Wisely, Soap kept his mouth shut, but Ghost caught the way his pupils blew wide in arousal anyway.
“It doesn’t matter who fucks you, because you’re mine. You understand? They use you because I allow it. And you do like being used.”
Ghost’s lips brushed against Soap’s cheek in mockery of a kiss. The touch was nothing like the stimulation Soap needed at that moment, with how desperate he was to get off, but it was enough to have him shaking in Ghost’s hold.
“Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”
Soap swallowed thickly, his mouth dry. He could hardly get the words out.
“Aye… I like it when they use me. And I like it when you watch.”
“That’s a good boy.” Ghost pressed a real kiss to Soap’s slack lips now, feeling how utterly pliant he was, completely obedient. Sweat dripped from Soap’s temple, tracing lines down his face, along with the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. Soap tasted salt on his tongue.
Tearing himself away, Ghost looked deep into Soap’s baby blues, past fluttering eyelashes and irises ringed with arousal. He was searching for something else, beyond words, beyond thought. Pure, instinctual trust, buried alongside a long-standing love that required no reassurance. It was there anyway, in the way Simon held his Johnny, the most precious thing he could cradle in two hands.
Ghost would give Soap the world if he could, the heavens and all the stars that hung above them. He couldn’t, so instead, he gave Soap everything he could ever desire.
“You know how to ask for what you want.”
Soap’s parched lips trembled as they formed the words.
“I want them to use me, Simon. I want you to use me.”
There was no longer a hand in Soap’s hair, but he didn’t need it to keep him in place. Gentle fingers traced his cheek, wiping away drool and tears and the little bit of blood that had dripped out of Soap’s lip when he had bit down, before Ghost could tell him not to hide all the sweet little noises Soap made for him.
“You trust me, Johnny?”
“Always.”
That was all the confirmation Ghost needed. When Ghost retreated out of sight, Soap finally allowed his head to hang, and listened to the sound of the heavy door clanging shut behind him.
Soap’s breaths were the only thing that could be heard in the room. A mental check of his body told Soap that he was still good, fantastic in fact, as long as he got a cock in him sometime soon. But Ghost would take care of that. Ghost always took care of Soap. Even though Ghost wasn’t physically there, Soap could feel his presence, and kept his back just as straight as if Ghost had been standing there with a keen gaze sweeping over the body presented for him.
When the door opened again, Ghost was not alone.
Shuffling footsteps alerted Soap to the presence of more than one man. By his count, there were three, filing in behind Ghost like overeager dogs vying for a treat. Soap’s only regret was that he could not see their faces when the scene was finally presented to them, every inch of Soap’s depravity bared to their eyes.
A few quiet curses were all the men dared to utter without permission. They hovered at the bottom of the cot, near Soap’s feet, while Ghost resumed his earlier position at the head. Only he had the privilege of seeing Soap’s face.
One hand settled under Soap’s chin, Ghost’s fingers curling around Soap’s jaw. As he addressed the men, his thumb stroked Soap’s cheek, a reminder of who held his attention.
“As long as you’re in this room, your compliance with my orders will be absolute,” Ghost said. It was the first and only warning he would give, but it was more for Soap than it was for the men. If they had been allowed this far, they would have already been thoroughly debriefed. “I promise you, the punishment for disobedience will be far worse than anything you have so far experienced in your miserable lives. You understand? Say ‘yes, sir’.”
A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ rose up. One voice was markedly louder than the others. It rang in Soap’s ears, and his mind raced, trying to pick out the single man among the rest.
Ghost gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. His hand tightened briefly on Soap’s jaw, and then it fell away, leaving his head to sag between his shoulder blades. The next time Soap looked up, he was staring directly into the piercing black holes set deep in Ghost’s mask.
“Which of you is ranked first in your recruit class?”
Ghost’s legs were spread wide where he sat in the chair staged just within reach of the cot. Although they were at eye level, Soap imagined himself at Ghost’s feet, splayed naked for the eyes of the crowd. A concubine at the pedestal of Ghost’s throne.
“I have achieved that rank, sir,” one of the men spoke up. His words were clipped and slightly accented in a way that rolled around in Soap’s head, teasing him with their familiarity to his ears.
The voice alone didn’t spark memory, but combined with Ghost’s presence, the gears in Soap’s brain began to turn. As the pieces slid into place, Soap’s breathing picked up, and his eyes widened in shock.
Soap knew that voice. He had met him before, and Ghost had been there, out on the training field with the rookies. That meant these men weren’t just any recruits.
They were Ghost team recruits.
And Ghost had chosen them individually for this mission, as he had hand-picked them among the best of the best for his team, to be the ones taking Soap apart under his command. Only the finest for his Johnny.
Ghost was still talking, addressing the man who had spoken before, the one with the accent that sounded a little wrong to Soap’s ears. Soap was no longer listening; he was floating, holding his position, thinking of nothing but the touch that was to come and the security of having Ghost within arm’s reach while men who represented his will took pleasure in Soap’s body.
Eventually, words trickled back to Soap, triggered by his name.
“Remember, Johnny,” Ghost said, and Soap’s eyes snapped to him. “Eyes on me. They might be touching you, but I’m the one fucking you.”
There was a pause, Ghost searching Soap’s face one last time. His eyes glinted with mischief and arousal.
“Ready, love?”
It took everything Soap had not to whimper at the name, the one Ghost reserved for his softest moments. The one Ghost only ever uttered in private. Soap nodded, and Ghost did the same, now looking over Soap’s head.
“Steady, Laurent.”
If Ghost said anything after that, it fell on unknowing ears, as Soap was lost to the hands that had settled on his hips.
One strayed immediately, while the other held Soap in place. The errant hand found its way between Soap’s cheeks, probing his hole, and the wetness that was already present there. A stream of curses fell from Laurent’s mouth, in a language Soap didn’t recognize and one he did.
“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, look at him. Already been fucked and I bet I could– ah, merde.”
One finger dipped inside Soap, curling as though to test how open he was. Soap was sensitive after being fucked by Ghost and teased to the edge of orgasm, only to be pulled back, with the order he wasn’t to come until the men had finished using him. He couldn’t help but release a quiet moan, his hips jerking back to meet the little bit of stimulation he was offered.
Laurent didn’t seem to be in any hurry to fuck him, although Soap was impatient to feel something bigger than his fingers. That sentiment was echoed by the other men in the room.
“C’mon, Laurent. You gonna fuck him or what? You’re just playing with him.”
“Patience is a virtue, Vaughn.”
A second finger plunged in alongside the first, probing deep and a little mean. Soap’s entire body jerked, his hands balling into fists on the thin blanket below him as he groaned.
“We have such a pretty thing to enjoy, a reward,” Laurent continued, now lazily fucking Soap with his fingers. “I, for one, am not going to waste it.”
The slick slide of thick digits in and out of Soap was near torture. Compared to the fullness of Ghost’s cock, which split Soap open with perfectly-angled thrusts and just enough length to make him choke, Laurent’s leisurely pace was nothing but a tease. The pads of his fingers dragged along Soap’s walls, following the path Ghost had fucked open for him, the place where Ghost’s cock had already made its mark. Soap’s teeth dug into his already-split lip, holding back his pleas, which were for Ghost’s ears alone.
But it didn’t matter if he wasn’t the one with his fingers in Soap. Ghost was the one fucking him, and he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than ruining Soap until he was a quivering, mewling mess.
“Pick up the pace, Laurent.”
The body behind Soap froze, his hand still at the sound of Ghost’s voice. Disappointment coursed through Soap’s body, and he rocked back, needing the friction of fingers that had danced so tantalizingly close to his prostate.
“Sir?”
“Don’t let him take control. You’re the one in charge. Fuck him like you mean it, Sergeant. You want to hear him moan, you better earn it.”
Laurent swore in French, and his fingers twitched, a hair’s breadth from where Soap wanted them. “Fuck, sir. Yes, sir.”
The next deep press of Laurent’s fingers struck gold. They dug in, curling harshly against the same spot until Soap’s thighs shook. A soft pattering noise drew Ghost’s attention away from Soap’s face, twisted up in ecstasy as Laurent dutifully fucked the precome out of him.
“Like a faucet, Johnny. You’re so damn wet for me. You like how that feels?”
To say that Soap ‘liked’ it was a mere understatement. White-hot pleasure licked his insides, spreading from the spot deep inside to crawl around in his skin until Soap was fighting to stay upright. Forgetting himself, Soap turned his face into his shoulder, a brief reprieve from the overwhelming stimulation and Ghost’s eyes boring into his. A deep, displeased rumble had Soap snapping back into position.
“‘S good, so good,” Soap gasped, eyelashes fluttering as he fought to keep his attention on Ghost. A signal passed over his head, and a third finger joined the two already brutalizing his prostate. Drool slipped out of the corner of Soap’s mouth as he panted open-mouth and rocked with the sensations, growing more desperate by the second.
“Simon, Christ, Simon– feels good, fuck, need more. Need you in me, Simon.”
All movement stopped. Soap’s breath rushed out of his lungs, and he followed the motion of Laurent’s fingers as they dragged out of his body.
“Mm. You’re bein’ good for me, Johnny. You know good boys get rewards.”
A warm palm brushed Soap’s cheek. He leaned into it, and it coaxed him down, onto his elbows where he could hold a more secure position. The last thing Soap noticed before he buried his face into his forearms was the way the corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkled, his face shifting into something fond just for Soap.
“We don’t got all day, Laurent. I know you aren’t too shy to get your cock out. You waitin’ for me to hold your hand?”
Ghost’s words made Soap shiver, and Soap heard him release an amused huff.
“You gonna fuck my boy like you mean it, Sergeant?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Go on, then.”
Brief pressure at Soap’s gaping hole gave way to the feeling of a thick cock breaching him. Laurent may not have been Ghost, but he had the full package; enough girth to make it an eye-watering stretch, and the length to tease Soap’s prostate on every stroke. He was dripping, and not just from lube. Tip wet with precome, Laurent nudged his way inside, letting the natural rocking of his hips settle the two of them together.
This time, Laurent didn’t need to wait for Ghost’s instructions.
Soap was aware enough to enjoy the groaning noises Laurent made as he built up his pace and speed. Repressed didn’t even begin to cover it. Laurent’s earlier cockiness bled away, replaced by the desperation that came with being unable to blow a load without company after months in a recruit training cycle. The sharp, brutal thrusts were nothing short of animalistic, and Soap enjoyed the way Laurent’s fingernails dug into the skin of his hips as he packed it in deep.
This was what he had been promised. This was what Soap had been craving, ever since Ghost had whispered those fatal words into his ear weeks prior.
Bet you’d like it if I let the boys fuck you. A little morale booster, wouldn’t you say?
A morale booster indeed, but for who: the recruits, or Soap?
Soap’s cock bounced between his legs with every thrust, every so often brushing the soft blanket beneath his knees. He ached so badly that the stimulation was sandpaper to his sensitive skin. Soap’s teeth dug into his forearm in a hopeless attempt to filter the stream of whimpers that he released every time Laurent struck him just right, abusing the bundle of nerves that sent sparks of pure bliss straight to his dick.
Soap should have known Ghost wouldn’t be content until he could witness every pathetic little noise Laurent fucked out of him.
“Don’t hide from me, Johnny. That’s a good boy. Let me hear how good you’re being for me.”
Soap let out a strangled cry as Laurent’s thrusts grew frenzied, the steady beat of his fucking lost to the single-minded need for release. Soap extricated his teeth from the divots they had made in his skin, allowing his panting whines to be heard by every man in the room. The soft moan that came from somewhere behind him told Soap that Ghost wasn’t the only one affected.
The longer Laurent fucked him, the bigger he seemed to get, until Soap was so stuffed he could barely move where he was speared on Laurent’s cock. Despite how full he was, Soap needed more, hungered for the feeling of being used until he was so overindulged he couldn’t clench up anymore.
“S-Simon,” Soap panted, drawing Ghost’s attention back on him, as if it had ever left. “Fuck, p-please, need to feel it, need it–”
A comforting hand stroked through Soap’s sweaty locks, stilling him even as Laurent’s frantic pace rose to a crescendo.
“You heard him, Sergeant. Give ‘im what he wants.”
Soap didn’t miss the way Laurent’s cock pulsed inside him at Ghost’s words, followed almost immediately by wetness that filled Soap’s guts with a familiar warmth.
A shaky, relieved sigh left Soap’s bitten lips, not for the lack of cock in him, but that he had survived the first battery. His hips ached pleasantly as Laurent pulled out, smearing fluids on Soap’s backside in his retreat. The stumble-step Laurent took as he shuffled out of the way spoke of a well-fucked man. Not that Soap had any room to pass judgment. He was sure if he was asked to stand at that moment, he would’ve fallen in a heap on the floor, his legs unable to hold him up in anything more arduous than a fuckable position.
There were two more men in the room who needed to be satisfied, and that was all Soap needed to worry about. Ghost took care of the rest.
In the haze of his cock-drunk mind, Soap heard Ghost call the man who had yet to speak ‘Gray’. Gray had soft hands, and a softer touch, uncertain in the way he handled Soap. That didn’t mean his cock was any less hard where it rested against Soap’s ass cheek.
“Do I just–”
“There’s no instruction manual, Corporal. If you aren’t up to it, I can have Vaughn take second. Pathetic thing looks like he’s about to bust a bloody nut on the floor before he even gets inside. You dirty my clean floor, Vaughn, and you’ll lick it up. Understand?”
Vaughn made a noise between a grunt and a whimper, and Gray scrambled to find his place with his cock against Soap’s hole.
Gray barely had to move his hips to slip inside. Soap could feel the way two loads dripped out around Gray’s cock, an obscene gush that made both of them moan. Soap’s ass was up, and his shoulders were down, so he knew Ghost could see the way Gray pushed out the evidence of the men before him. While Gray had been hesitant before, the warm clutch of Soap’s tight ass made him eager, and he started up almost right away.
Gray’s even thrusts were a welcome reprieve from the wild way Laurent had slammed their bodies together. Soap’s hole clenched greedily, wanting to feel every inch of Gray sinking into him, every ridge and vein and bump lighting up his insides.
The length of Gray’s cock filling him up felt magnificent, but there was one problem. Gray was curved, and in the wrong way; every thrust in which Soap’s prostate was ignored had him whining in frustration. One eye cracked open, and Soap reached for the hand resting next to his head, communicating without words what he wanted.
“Never had a sharpshooter with aim so shite before. You can do better than that, Corporal.”
There was a wet squelch as Gray shifted his hips, rolling them in a way that had Soap’s mouth falling open in a low groan. Ghost hadn’t been joking about him being a sharpshooter. Once he found the spot, Gray kept after it like he was paid to do it, hitting Soap’s prostate with deadly precision on every down thrust. Soap’s cock was positively weeping, drooling the evidence of his arousal onto the blanket, as Soap clung to the edge of what promised to be an Earth-shattering orgasm.
If Soap was ever allowed to come. It was starting to feel like an impossibility, after being fucked for so long, that the burning arousal deep in his gut would ever find relief. The muscles in Soap’s abdomen trembled wildly, clenched in a desperate attempt to stave off the promise of release that teased his sore cock. There was a wet spot beneath Soap that was so large one might have thought he had already come, if it weren’t for the tortured twitch of his still-red cock.
“Simon,” Soap slurred, pressing his forehead into the hand that cradled his own. “Need’ta come. Hurts so bad, need you, Simon, need you to touch me.”
“Am touching you, Johnny,” Ghost responded, to which Soap let out a pitiful whine.
“No, please– shit, oh Christ, Simon, fuck–!”
Gray’s cock felt impossibly hot and huge inside Soap as his pace increased, slamming into Soap with renewed enthusiasm. Unlike Laurent, he stayed on rhythm, striking Soap with eye-watering accuracy that made his cock twitch and cry from lack of stimulation. Gray wasn’t overly loud, but Soap could hear his breath catch in his chest when he hit his peak, and could feel him spasming as he dumped a third load deep inside of Soap. With Soap as full as he was, it had nowhere to go but out, and dripped down the sides of Gray’s cock with the final rocking thrusts into Soap’s body.
“Sound so pretty for me,” Ghost rumbled, low and pitched just for Soap’s ears. “That’s it, sweetheart. You like how I fuck you?”
A hiccupping sob tore its way out of Soap, and he nodded frantically, pushing back against Gray’s cock as though that could prevent him from going soft. When Gray slipped out of him, Soap was left feeling horribly empty, and frantic for something to soothe the ache that resided deep within him.
Lucky for him, the final man wasn’t keen on waiting.
There wasn’t a sound of a zipper or belt being undone, so Soap could only assume Vaughn already had his cock out. Vaughn sheathed himself inside Soap with one smooth, long roll of hips. He rutted without care, seeking release that was close on the horizon, drawing nearer for both him and Soap with every second of euphoria.
“Fuck, sir– can’t hold it, please, can I–”
“Steady, Vaughn.”
“Can’t, sir, fuck– I gotta–”
“Stop.”
Ghost’s commanding voice both made Soap’s skin prickle and caused Vaughn to halt dead in his tracks, his convulsing cock still buried halfway into Soap. He couldn’t help but rock his hips a little, craving the warmth Soap’s body provided.
“You know why you landed in third, Sergeant?”
“Sir–?”
“You have no patience.”
The chair creaked as Ghost stood, smoothing a hand down Soap’s sweaty back to soothe him. Soap lay in wait, trembling, holding back the whimpers that threatened to tumble out.
“Slow.”
Twin moans fell from Soap and Vaughn’s lips as Ghost commanded Vaughn’s leisurely pace. Soap’s mind was gone, lost to the glacial pace of Vaughn moving in and out of him, a burst of sensation that wasn’t nearly enough to put him where he wanted to be. Vaughn wasn’t in much better shape. The death grip on Soap’s hips was that of a man who was barely hanging on, teased to the brink by the wet, clutching warmth of Soap’s well-used hole.
Vaughn couldn’t stop moving, but neither would Ghost allow him to quicken his tempo, which would have seen the Sergeant spilling faster than Soap could have thought to angle his hips so he could get Vaughn where he really wanted him.
It was a different kind of torment. To be used for that single purpose, a vessel for Vaughn’s release, or perhaps a training lesson to teach him patience, had Soap feeling hotter than ever before. Blood rushed to his face, drawing attention to the throbbing between Soap’s legs that beat in time with every one of Vaughn’s teeth-gritting thrusts.
The sigh Ghost let out wasn’t directed at Soap, but Soap wished his next words were.
“Well, Sergeant. If you really can’t hold it.”
Soap had no warning for the flood of come that invaded his body once Vaughn had permission to let go. The man’s whimpers were pitiful, as was the ‘thank you’ that stumbled out of him as he released. Vaughn jerked inside him, once, twice, before he fully deflated. He didn’t pull out so much as he was ripped out, scruffed by Ghost, who had rounded the cot to take his rightful place. As soon as he felt the touch of Ghost’s hands on his hips, Soap began to babble.
“S-Simon, please, Simon, need you–”
“Shh. ‘M here, Johnny. Right here.”
Soap’s heavy bodyweight was relieved from his sore knees as he was turned over, onto his back, where he could stretch out and reach for the body bending over him. Ghost received Soap into his arms, as his cock slipped into Soap’s body, and immediately sought to reward Soap for all that he had endured.
“That’s it. Bein’ so good for me, sweetheart. Should’ve seen yourself- how pretty you looked, stuffed full of cock and come– the way you moan when I’m fucking you, Johnny, there’s nothing like it. You’ve been so good. Gonna keep being good for me? Gonna come on my cock, gonna come with me fucking you?”
Except Soap couldn’t. He had held it for so long, had been good for so long, that his body rebelled at the idea of seeing the end. Soap cried out, muffling the sobs that wracked his body in Ghost’s shoulder. He couldn’t. It was too much, too many eyes on him, too much sensation inside him, and it hurt so much–
“‘S alright, love. Let me.”
Ghost’s hand around Soap’s cock was a vice. Soap’s entire body seized, every muscle tensed, as sticky release poured through Ghost’s fingers. Awareness was lost to Soap, narrowed down to only Ghost’s hand wrapped around him, and Ghost’s cock splitting him open where it nudged up against that spot that made Soap see heaven and the whole host of celestial angels. Even once Soap’s tip had let out the last feeble spurts of spend, he felt like he was still coming, body jerking and heaving in Ghost’s arms.
At some point, Soap was aware that Ghost came in him again, adding to the frankly ridiculous torrent that already resided in him. Soap felt completely fucked out, used in the best way, and satisfied for having been the reason every man in that room had empty balls.
“Lemme see ‘em, Johnny.”
A hand cupped Soap’s cheek. He managed to open his eyes just enough to see Ghost swimming in his double vision, a picture of smug gratification.
“Think that was enough for you?”
If Soap could have made his mouth form words, he would have told Ghost to bring his whole squad next time, and maybe then Soap would no longer have cause to crave more.
As it was, Soap was content with giving one last little moan for Ghost, to which Ghost let out a soft, genuine laugh in return.