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Ghost despises being on leave. He hates the itch in his fingers, the silence, the emptiness of a motel room meant for one. He misses the weight of a Kevlar vest on his shoulders and the comfort of a holster at his hip. He longs for the chatter of the mess hall, of the echoing insults in the gym during sparring.
It doesn’t help that the place he’s staying in is heart-wrenchingly lonely. The walls are bare, appliances untouched, everything crisp like a display case at a store. It’s sterile.
The higher-ups were kind enough to give him a bigger flat to stay in. He knew it was only because they wanted him back on his feet as quickly as possible, being one of their best assets. He wouldn’t argue with them because he also wanted to get back as soon as he could. Being on base gave him a schedule to follow, kept him busy. He always had something to do whether that be shouting down at recruits or listening in on meetings. Hell, he’d even settle for some deskwork right now.
Worst of all, he misses his team. The 141 gave him a camaraderie bordering on the familial. They kept him steady and afloat. He defended those men like they were his flesh and blood. They all knew each other inside out, and Ghost knew they knew he was hating this.
And God, he misses Johnny. The Scotsman had melded into him, became his routine and his heartbeat. Ghost wasn’t a liar, he admitted—if only to himself—he lived for the thrill Johnny brought him. Being away from him feels like a hole punched through his gut. Beds feel too cold without the furnace of their bodies together. He longs for the smell of coffee grounds in the morning, yearns to be teased about his tea.
Despite all that, command refused to have him in the field after such a close call.
They were busting an underground weapons manufacturer that Makarov was supposed to show up at. Intel was solid, briefing was quick. Everything went as planned—until it didn’t (of course it didn’t). Something alerted the facility and Task Force 141 found themselves in a firefight. One of the mercenaries hired to defend the place got into Roach’s blindspot while the sergeant was grappling with another. Ghost quickly jumped in to take the pressure off Roach.
Long story short, Ghost came out of it with bruises and a lucky bullet wound, while the other’s lifeblood ended on his knife.
Now, Ghost paces the length of the room, trying not to irritate the bandages on his ribs. He ached, but when did he not? His bruises were yellowing and tender but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before. The hollowness in his chest was the struggle. He spent hours staring at the mind-numbingly off-white walls, nothing but the hum of the AC unit in his head.
So when the phone rang, he rocketed out of his chair like a too tight spring.
Ghost knew nobody but his superiors should have this burner number, so he hesitated. It clicked when he picked it up.
“Lieutenant Riley,” he grunted into the handset.
“Ghost.” His shoulders slumped at the familiar voice of his captain.
“Got me approved out of here, eh Price?” he sighed.
“You’ve been there for less than a day, Riley,” Price scoffed. He’d been through enough of the lieutenant’s tantrums to know how he felt on the matter.
Ghost twisted the cord of the phone around his fingers. “Dunno what you expected.”
“Well, you’ll be glad to hear I’ve pulled a few strings. Soap’s taken leave and he’s being sent to yours in a couple.” Ghost inhaled sharply, unable to school his expression. “Expecting arrival at 0200.” He glanced at his watch, veins buzzing with excitement.
“Fuck, old man. I really owe you.”
“To hell with that,” Price muttered. “Just heal up. Stay safe.” The line went silent after that.
Ghost had four hours to fix the place up. It wasn’t dirty, or even messy, but it wasn’t what he wanted Johnny to arrive to. He’d already opened his barrack door to Soap time and time again, giving a piece of himself each time he did. That feeling of home was addicting and he wanted Johnny to have it here, too.
He messed with the pillows on the couch and undid the sheets on the bed. He glared at the empty cabinets like the silverware he wanted would appear if he scowled hard enough. The fridge was suddenly full again thanks to a late night delivery driver and the takeout was shoved to the back. He tipped heavily.
His scramble winded down until he had nothing left to put his nervous energy into. He paused on his way past the bathroom, thinking for the first time to clean himself up. Johnny never asked that of him, always took him as he was. Lovely, perfect Johnny.
He was there, staring at himself in the mirror, when the knock resounded through the flat. His feet nearly didn’t let the rest of him catch up as he hurried to the front door. His heart dashed at the sight behind it. Soap was always stunning in civvies, but his messy mohawk and drowsy blue eyes were even more breathtaking against the dark pooling fabric.
Ghost didn’t expect the battering ram of a hug to hit him. The air was swept from his lungs by the force of it, and it took a moment for him to reciprocate. He could only focus on the familiar firmness of his body and the way they fit together. Soap’s arms were careful of his bandages, settling into the curve of his waist instead. Ghost buried his face in the other man’s hair and closed his eyes tightly.
They stood like that for a long moment, just taking in each other’s scent and warmth and presence. It was like they’d been apart for years instead of a measly day and a half.
Ghost pulled away first, sliding his hands up Johnny’s arms. He smiled lopsidedly, unable to help himself. Johnny reached up to pat his cheek.
“Hungry?” Ghost asked softly, hesitant to break the silence.
“Had dinner on the way,” Johnny said back. “Fuckin’ terrible.”
“Good, ‘cuz I couldn’t make you anything better.” They turned and finally fully stepped into the flat. Ghost watched Johnny carefully, but found no trace of distaste in his expression. He just turned to look back at him and smiled.
“Cozy,” he said. He put his duffle bag down on the kitchen counter and started unlacing his boots. “Could do with some decoration, aye?” Ghost felt the last of his nerves leave him in a rush.
“Don’t I fuckin’ know it,” he muttered. He fell back into one of the dining room chairs, unable to look away from the other man’s form. He’d missed the solid silhouette always in the corner of his eyes, knowing his Johnny wasn’t too far away.
He certainly wasn’t hard to look at either. He was built strong and somehow still fast, with dark hair the color of his coffees and a scruffy beard from his late trip. His jawline fits perfectly in the crook of Ghost’s neck. His eyes glint before he laughs at every bad joke, blue and bright and impossibly deep.
Said man’s gruff voice breaks him from his admiration, but Ghost doesn’t shift his gaze. “Simon. Ye tired?”
“No,” he responded. He tilted back as Johnny stood up, his heart stuttering in his chest as the man leaned in close. Close enough to raise the hair on Simon’s arms like an electric current passed through him, sparked by those heavy-lidded eyes.
Johnny’s breath was warm as it fanned across Simon’s face, his lips. He could smell the bitter coffee on it. He leaned forward to taste it fully, take what he wanted— needed , but Johnny gripped his chin between his thumb and forefinger gently to stop him. Simon opened his eyes as they’d fluttered shut in anticipation and stared at the man above him. The fluorescent light of the kitchen haloed him, made him glow pale like the moon.
He would’ve begged if only Johnny asked.
He was merciful this time, and the first kiss was tender—almost chaste. Johnny’s lips were as soft and firm as always. Simon’s palms slid up Johnny’s chest, shaking imperceptibly. He did taste like coffee but Simon couldn’t get enough. Their heads tilted into the next press of lips, the air heady with tension. Johnny ran a hand over the man’s short blonde hair, his thumb smoothing along his temple.
The slip of a tongue against teeth ignited Simon like no gunpowder ever could. His hand cupped around Johnny’s neck, tangling in the dog tags and pulling him in close. He pressed the lines of their bodies together and reveled in the satisfied hum Johnny let out.
They rose to their feet unsteadily, never letting an inch of space come between them. Johnny was mumbling feverishly, his hands grasping all up and down Simon’s back before gripping just below the swell of his ass. “Had ye on my mind the whole time ye was gone… fuck, missed yer taste…”
Simon tried to lead them towards the bedroom, mostly distracted by the tongue in his mouth. He let Johnny press him into the wall once, bucking forward to relieve the throbbing between his legs. The Scot indulged him by slipping a hand down his sweatpants. Simon shuddered at the fingers brushing against his cunt, the barely-there pressure still driving him wild. It was hot and damp under his boxers but Johnny only teased at the waistband before finally pulling back.
“Bleedin’ Jesus, Si… got me riled up,” he groaned, voice husky and lips shining.
“Should do somethin’ about it, huh,” Simon whispered back, mouthing at his throat. The scratch of stubble on his cheek only made it that much more delicious.
“Aye, I should.” Johnny suddenly stepped away, gripping the bottom of his sweatshirt and tossing it over his head in one smooth movement. Simon could drool over the sight of him. He did, just a little.
“Need you.” Johnny grinned at that, blue eyes dark and blown wide.
The bedroom was easier to find now. The floor soon became littered with clothes and Simon was naked, splayed out on the bed like a painting. Johnny just stared at him as he worked his own belt off. The blonde made a show of reaching his long, muscled arms up to grab a pillow and wrapped his legs around his lover’s waist at the same time. Johnny clutched his sides in a tight grip, gaze intense. “Can’t wait to have ye again. Be inside you, mmf. ” The push and pull had the blonde’s heart racing.
Johnny kicked away his jeans and hauled Simon into a bruising kiss. He pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth while he pressed in between his spread thighs, skin to burning hot skin. His broad hands spanned across Simon’s hips just at the edge of the bandages. His eyes were glued to the bruises on his ribs and stomach. Simon could sense the lust rolling off him as he stroked across them gently and murmured his approval.
“Got yerself into trouble, love.” He leaned down and swept his mouth across one, pressing until it ached beautifully. “I like it when ye go all out.”
“All for the team,” Simon rasped out. And to indulge in a little bloodlust, but they both knew that. Johnny reached up to run the pad of his thumb across one of his nipples, pink and hardened.
Simon’s head fell back as the Scot suddenly trailed down his belly. His lips left wet kisses as he went, rough hands following closely behind. He didn’t pause when he reached the cusp of Simon’s thighs, kneading the thick muscle and biting in teasingly. Simon loved the sting. Only Johnny could make the pain so good. One palm reached up to rest on the trail of dark hair just above his mound while the other kept his legs spread wide with firm pressure.
Simon had to give in, had to look. He lifted his chin and a shiver wracked through him at the hunger in Johnny’s eyes. He felt like prey under a drooling wolf. Johnny gave him a grin before slowly running the tip of his tongue from the man’s slit to his cock, sending a jolt to his gut. He lifted his knees eagerly. The Scot didn’t make him wait.
He pressed in close, sharp nose buried into curly hair. Simon couldn’t help the jump of his hips. His breath hitched in anticipation as Johnny just mouthed around his cunt. Then he fucking spoke against it and the vibrations made his toes curl. “Could drown in ye, Simon. So fuckin’ bonnie down here, drives me wild,” he nearly snarled, true to his word.
The sight was just as sweet as the sensation when Johnny finally took him into his mouth. He moaned as warmth burst in his core like an explosive. He reached a hand down to pet over the soft mohawk as it bobbed back and forth and lapped at him. His nails scraped Johnny’s scalp as his tongue dipped lower, teasing his hole. Just quick flicks and prods to rile him up.
Slick and spit made the scene so much hotter, made the slide easier. Simon could hear Johnny licking into him. His beard burned against his thighs but he knew later he’d touch the redness with a secret smile and remember this moment when his pants fit tight. He groaned softly and Johnny responded in time, taking as much pleasure as he was giving.
“How’d I win the fuckin’ lottery with you? Must’ve been doing something right,” he groaned, his voice muffled by Simon’s skin. He was. He was. Simon’s hands fell to his sides and he clenched and unclenched them against the sheets. His breath was coming quicker now, sweat sliding down his chest.
Then Johnny moved back to his cock and stroked it with that wicked tongue, moving it in quick circles and melting Simon’s brain. His voice pitched up as he whined and trembled. The coil in his gut started to tighten surprisingly fast and his thighs began to quake with it. Ever perceptive, Johnny pulled back with a wet pop . Simon’s orgasm rushed away as quickly as it’d come despite his grip on his lover’s head. His heart was pounding in his ears.
“Taste like heaven, doll,” Johnny muttered, dipping to kiss his hips once more. He then shifted to his knees, erection heavy between his legs. Simon swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. The words ‘well-endowed’ didn’t seem right. It was fitting —thick and smooth like its owner, the head dark red and flushed.
“Gonna ruin me,” Simon said softly, his hand reaching out to stroke up it once, toying with the skin at the tip. Johnny grunted and his stomach jumped, his abs tightening at the teasing touch. His hands found their place on Simon’s hips, pulling him up to fit against him with a sudden yank . He started a slow grind across his cunt, biting his lip as he brushed over damp curly fuzz.
“Fuck yeah. Always do.” His breath hitched as his cock caught on Simon’s hole, slipping out on the slick glide. “Mm, yer so wet.”
Simon rolled his waist up to meet his lover’s thrusts. His hands planted on Johnny’s thighs, grabbing at the coarse hair there for a semblance of security before hell broke loose. All but his back was off the bed and he felt it in his still-healing ribs. Oh, but Johnny could get so deep like this. He moaned as the man used his thumb to guide his dick into him.
The tip popped in with a wonderful aching burn. Simon couldn’t stop the noises leaving his mouth, a chorus of whines and gasps shuddering through the air. Johnny didn’t give him mercy. He just pressed and pressed in until Simon felt his insides clench at the intrusion.
Johnny was panting heavily above him, sweat tracing his torso in trails Simon wanted to lick up. The Scot’s palms slid to his knees to hold him up and spread him even further. His touch was rough and desperate, his voice hoarse. “Fuck—fucking shite , yer so hot.”
The blonde rocked his hips in circles, his chin jerking as each swivel brought Johnny’s length across a spot inside him that struck him with pleasure. “C’mon, love,” he huffed, voice bordering on a beg. “Make me take it.”
“Who am I to deny ye when ye ask so prettily,” Johnny groaned. He began to pull out slowly, letting his entire length caress at Simon’s insides. He didn’t go far before he ground back in, pulling moans from both of them. He didn’t speed up either, instead staying deep and steady with his thrusts. It helped Simon adjust around his sizable cock but they’d been together so long they both knew it wouldn’t get either of them off anytime soon. He opened his mouth to say so, and Johnny decided to cut him off with a sudden snap of his hips.
Simon yelped; that was the only word for it. The sound left him like he was punched. Johnny just grinned, his teeth poking over his lip as he pressed close. He was moving fast now, his brows furrowed in concentration as he fucked Simon into the mattress. That didn’t keep his mouth shut, however, and Simon couldn’t make himself wish he did.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous sight ye are,” the man growled, panting heavily. “Should paint ye and put ye in the goddamned Louvre.” His rhythm didn’t falter. Simon was spiraling into pleasure, his jaw slack and hands shaking as they tried to hold on to something, anything. His sight was blurry from trying to watch and fighting to keep his eyes open. It was a losing battle and his eyes fluttered closed as Johnny ground his hips forward.
Simon was cresting quickly. He tried to warn Johnny but all that came out was a wanton moan. And again, his lover knew.
Johnny slipped his cock out suddenly. Simon shivered at the sensation of being open, being empty, drooling down his thighs and into the crease of his ass. He looked up with a slight questioning frown. Johnny took his own erection in hand, shining with wetness, and moved it back and forth against Simon’s red, aching dick. It was fast and wet and the pressure on his cock had Simon’s knees knocking together. The sound was obscene. His entire body shook, his hips bucking uncontrollably. He felt the heat in his stomach rising like a bullet about to explode from the muzzle.
“Yeah, baby, just like that. C’mon, cum for me,” Johnny muttered. He was flushed down to his shoulders and slick with sweat. He was angelic. Simon’s eyes screwed shut and he jerked against the sheets uncontrollably. He was as tight as a coiled spring. He was silent now, only gasping as he reached for the peak.
He finally short-circuited, his back straightening like he was shot through with lightning. He cried out, once, a short, breathy sound. His head was buzzing and his cunt pulsed as he started to ride out the feeling, just on the other edge of his orgasm, until Johnny slammed back in.
“Fuck!” Simon shouted. “I-I just— Johnny!”
“Mmph, say it.”
“John—Johnny!” He was babbling now, the aftershocks going on and on as Johnny fucked him through it. He was rougher than before, bending over Simon and groaning loudly. Simon just floated with it, twitching and whining. He gripped at Johnny’s broad, sweaty shoulders, his eyes begging for him to cum, cum in me.
Simon clenched gently around Johnny’s length, watching his body react to the pleasure he was giving him. His eyes were shut now, his teeth bared as he thrusted faster and faster. Simon tilted his hips further up and flinched as Johnny was suddenly stabbing against the spot that made him hot all over again.
“So wet and good fer me,” Johnny punctuated each word with his hips. “Fuckin’ heaven inside you…” His pace became even quicker, if that was possible. He’s huffing and moaning loudly, his muscles tight. Simon reached a hand up to clumsily squeeze over Johnny’s grip on his waist. Their fingers wove together in a tight fist.
Simon’s thighs started to ache with the force Johnny was ramming against them. He moaned weakly with each shove into the bed, pleasure sparking along his spine. He gasped as another orgasm clutched at his edges, a deep-set tremble radiating out from his chest. Johnny, the smug bastard, put his other hand on Simon’s stomach and pressed. Everything tightened inside him, pulling twin moans from both of them.
The coil in his gut snapped and his vision whited out. Simon went cross eyed as he came. He gushed around Johnny’s cock, sobbing. His expression, taught and vulnerable in his throes, sent Johnny over the edge soon after. He groaned loud and long, hips stuttering. Simon could feel the warm pulses inside him.
His ears were ringing. He collapsed into the sweat-soaked sheets, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Johnny pulled out slowly, the grind on the verge of painful with how overstimulated Simon was. Johnny stood up off the bed, his thighs twitching still. He looked as worn out as Simon felt.
“Christ, Si,” he laughed, voice hoarse. He ran a hand over his mohawk. “Yer just a dream.” Simon waved at him lazily but a smile crept across his face. He sat up, his arms trembling with the effort.
“Hurry and clean up so we can cuddle,” he rasped. He kicked the top layer off the bed as Johnny left, shaking slightly as he did so. His muscles were wrung out like a wet towel from being so tense for so long but the waves of endorphins and satisfaction overtook the ache.
He watched Johnny return from the bathroom with a towel and a wet cloth. He stared unabashedly as Johnny wiped himself down, his limbs thick and sturdy. The way his back rippled when he leaned over to dry his legs… Simon licked his lips. He stayed put, however. They’d learned before that if he got up too quickly after going all out the blood rush could make him fall.
He felt Johnny collapse into bed beside him, wrapping around his side and gently swiping the washcloth between his legs. He was soft and pliant as Johnny reached in to clean him out, only grunting at the stinging sensation as his body told him he’d had enough. The room was thick with the smell of sweat and sex.
Finally, the routine was through. Simon turned onto his side to face Johnny, lifting his hand to rest on the man’s neck. The Scot was already heavy-lidded, blue eyes glazed over with sleep. Simon wasn’t far off either. He leaned in to press gentle kisses along Johnny’s jaw, his light eyelashes fluttering on his tan skin. He made his way up to Johnny’s lips and despite being half-asleep, they were returned eagerly.
The kisses were slow and deep, more breath than anything. Simon shivered, his palm tracing down to Johnny’s chest. He stroked through the dark hair before slipping his thumb over Johnny’s nipple teasingly.
“Oi,” Johnny sighed. “Ah ken ye can’t take any more.”
“Love you,” Simon replied. He heard the stutter in Johnny’s heartbeat as he rested where his hand just was.
“Mm, ah ken.”
“Don’t be daft.” Simon flicked his chin and he could see Johnny’s grin even from beneath him. He pressed into his warm body, the weight of arms around him like a heavy blanket. He let his eyes rest, nose coming to touch just below Johnny’s throat. His breath fanned across his skin, slow and steady. A few strokes over his back from a gentle hand and he was drifting off.
Johnny muttered something too soft to hear, his accent thick and voice rumbling. Simon knew.