Chapter Text
Warfare was long stretches of boredom followed by short bursts of violence. Graves had been at the business of war long enough to know how to sit with himself without going insane. There might be the possibility of danger around every corner, a potential sniper perched on every hill, but Graves didn't let that bother him. Excess stress wasn't going to get him paid faster.
Taking back the city of Zaravan was no different. The combined forces of the ULF and Shadow Company had reclaimed the military base north of the city. It had been a tough push, but it was the most defensible position, and taking it back from Konni crippled them from getting easy support from Russia. Graves liked Karim. She was a good commander, and had a head for strategy. He merely brought the firepower, and he'd drift off when he wasn't needed any longer.
Taking back Urzikstan had its challenges. One of those challenges were the rivers that cut across the land. Zaravan was a jigsaw puzzle, and they had to reclaim it piecewise. Urzikstan’s rivers were wide and deep. Each bridge was a choke point practically designed to be held in perpetuity.
Graves had a loving respect for the water. He'd grown up in Houston, his youth a reverie of humid nights spent dockside. Despite the many years and the thousands of miles of distance from his birthplace, the water still called to him in the same song. Zaravan’s defensive power was in the shape of its land carved by the water, and if he was smart he'd use it to drown his enemies. It was Karim’s war, yes, but he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't exercising some personal vengeance against Konni while he helped her.
It didn't matter how noble the cause was, though. War was still slow, and one had to find ways to cut the boredom. Graves was a light sleeper– something he couldn't kick since basic– and so had found himself with many an early morning with nothing to do. No one was doing anything at four in the morning. Good soldiers slept when they could, but there was no rest for the wicked.
Graves had found himself a little escape away from the military base. There was a small island that sat in the fork of Urzikstan's rivers; a tiny thing of reeds and sand north of the old city. Going there wasn't his brightest idea. Hell, it was probably up there with his stupidest. Graves could catalog a list: joining the Marines, trusting gas station sandwiches, and swimming to the island alone. Top three worst ideas from one Phillip Graves. He was a bullheaded sunnuvabitch who only learned from pain, though, and nothing bad had happened yet.
Early in the mornings, before the sun peeked over the sky, Graves would trek alone out from the military base towards that little island. He would strip off his clothes, folding them into a neat little pile. Water slipped over his skin as he dipped below the river’s surface. The currents carried him towards the ocean as Graves paddled his way across to the little island, to his private escape from the war he waged.
Parking his naked ass on a sandbar was not the most strategically sound decision that Graves had ever made. If the enemy spotted him from a distance, they could easily take shots at his defenseless head. He wasn't a complete moron; Graves had stashed a rifle over here shortly after he'd found this secret spot. However, if he was meant to die here? His attitude was such that he would be too dead to be embarrassed about dying with his dick out.
The husky grey-purples of dawn faded away into the lightening blues of early morning. Water babbled around him, thousands upon thousands of gallons churning towards its destination. Graves sat amongst the reeds, their stalks taller than his roosting form. The short, scrubby trees that grew on the island’s bank served to further break up his outline. There wasn't a more pure condition of existing than this; silent, with no barriers between him and the elements.
He wasn't so egotistical to think of himself as Adam. Graves wasn't the first man, gracing this island with his presence like it was his own personal Garden of Eden. If he was anyone, he was Cain. Murderous bastard who killed his brother for his own gain? Sounded pretty familiar to him. This island was his respite from his endless cursed wanderings.
A splash in the water distracted him from his whirling thoughts. Instinct took over, and Graves grabbed his rifle before spinning towards the sound. Ripples spread out from where something had landed in the water. He looked around for the source, and standing on the opposite bank where he had left his clothes was a man. Another heartbeat, and the identity of the man became clear. It wasn't a stranger, no, Graves knew that skull-faced bulk anywhere.
Ghost.
“You here to kill me, Lieutenant?” Graves called across the water.
“If I had permission to kill you, you'd be dead already.”
That was fair. Ghost was a man who lived up to his name; he wouldn't have bothered to give Graves a warning if he was going to bury some lead in his brain. He lowered the barrel of his gun.
“What are you here for then?”
“Will you just come over here? I'm not shouting this conversation across the water!”
Graves scoffed a bit, then set down the rifle. The instinct to keep arguing with Ghost was tamped down by the inclination to redress. He wasn't a shy man, but that didn't mean the situation he now found himself in was comfortable. Wading into the water, Graves kicked off towards the opposite shore with haste.
He waddled towards the bundle of his clothes, one hand awkwardly clasped over his balls in a weak attempt at modesty. “I'd say something about you catching me with my pants down, but that seems like low hanging fruit. How long have you been staking me out?”
“Long enough,” said Ghost. So sullen and growly was the mood for the morning? Fun.
“Well, never would have taken you for a Peeping Tom, but here we are,” he griped as he pulled on his clothes. “What brings you to Zaravan? I assume you're not here just to take in the sights.”
“I'm afraid that's classified to you.”
“Classified? You want to walk into my warzone and go about some classified business without my knowing what you're doing? I'm afraid that's a No Can Do, Lieutenant Ghost. I don't need the black ops of another nation interfering in my emancipation operations.”
“Your emancipation operations? Oh I'm sure Commander Karim would love to hear that from your mouth.”
“Semantics, soldier. I'm contracted to be here, therefore this is my problem. Last I checked you are not Urzikstani, and you are not on my payroll, so unless you have a good reason to be here, well, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave,” said Graves with a smirk.
He was absolutely pushing it with Ghost, but Graves had his holster strapped to his thigh again. If the man tried anything funny, Graves was confident in his quick draw. There was a burning anger in Ghost’s eyes, but not quite murderous, and the man shook his head with an irritated sigh.
“What I wouldn't give… Fine. For the need-to-know basis that you get to be on, there is a bunker I need to get into. The issue is that it's past your friendly line. Hence why I need a little support from you to get there, despite the fact that I'd rather go about this without involving a two-faced bastard like you.”
“Jesus H Christ, if you want Shadow resources I'm gonna need you to tone down the hostility about five notches there, friend. I'll give you two-faced, fine, but don't insult my father like that.” He shot Ghost a self satisfied look and set off towards the military base.
Heavy footsteps stalked after him, crunching through the gravel. “Are you telling me no?”
“No. But you're going to have to point to me on a map where your little bunker is if you want my help, and you know what? I didn't pack one for my morning swim.”
“Do you ever stop being an insufferable smart ass?”
“Only when I'm sleeping or dead.”
Ghost had shown Graves the approximate location of his mystery bunker, and a plan was hatched. Thankfully it wasn't too deep into enemy held territory, and it wasn't near one of their hot zones. Still, Graves wasn't too interested in finding himself in a firefight. The plan was to take a boat up the river under the cover of night, get in, do whatever Ghost needed to do, and then slip away before the sun came up.
Ghost, Graves, and one of his Shadows set off from the base after nightfall. They had no other company but the stars above. The lieutenant had said that the entrance he was looking for should be set into the cliffside west of the southern lake. They were headed deep into Konni held territory, and Graves really wanted to get in and out quickly. He cut the engines as they closed in on the rocky shore, quietly gliding their way into land.
They picked their way across the land, the eerie blue of Graves’ NOGs lighting his way. His ears were tuned for the slightest hint of danger. He didn't fancy dying tonight. As they got further and further away from the water, Ghost’s bunker came into view. Well, he thought, at least it's real and not the weirdest way to murder me. There it was, a brutal jut of concrete interrupting the otherwise unremarkable wall of rock.
He nodded at his Shadow, and they melted away into the night. Their job was to keep lookout and warn Graves and Ghost if anyone came poking around. He trusted them to remain perfectly hidden and undetected, which was why he'd given them a secondary objective: bury a .50 cal round in Ghost's skull if the man came out of that bunker without Graves. It wasn't that Graves was an untrusting man. He tended to trust people about as far as he could throw them, and well, Ghost had at least a hundred pounds on him.
Graves watched Ghost’s back as the man fiddled with the door controls. He scanned the blackness for any signs of movement, a drone in the air, the unprotected glow of a cigarette; anything that could signal danger.
“Hey, Ghost, is this another skin melty one?” He whispered.
“What?”
“You know. More of that skin melty gas, like we dug up in Al Mazrah. Or is this one just missiles?”
“The fuck does it matter? Quiet, I'm bloody working.”
“Well, I would just like to know if what I'm walking into tonight is ‘regular creepy Soviet bunker shit,’ or ‘skin melty Soviet bunker shit.’ I feel like it's fair to wanna know.”
“What I want to know,” grunted Ghost as something sparked on the door controls. “Is if the inability to shut up infects all Americans, or if it's a symptom of being you? Fuck, there we go.”
A groaning sound, like the earth itself giving up a breath, split the air as the locking mechanisms gave way. Ghost moved towards the opening door, Graves creeping backwards to follow him. Down the creepy cement hallway of doom he went. He was never a fan of deep underground spaces like this. That was a lot of earth above his head, and a lot of trust he had to put in the stability of old infrastructure to not collapse and bury him.
He followed Ghost deeper into the bunker, the man stopping at a corner turn and opening a panel. Graves didn't need to read perfect Russian to recognize it as an electrical panel.
“NOGs off. Trying to get the lights on,” said Ghost.
“Roger that.”
Graves flipped up his visor, and pulled out his flashlight. He shined the light around the space. His curiosity got the better of him, and he wandered away from Ghost. He wasn't sure what he'd thought he'd find as he walked down the stairs into a large, empty room. Huge amounts of spiderwebs, maybe some comically placed skeletons in Soviet uniforms? Nothing so movielike, unfortunately for him. The space was a tomb frozen in time, the air stale and lifeless.
Graves was kicking at an overturned file cabinet when the lights came on. The sudden flash made him jump, and he let out an impressive string of swears. He could hear Ghost laughing at him from up the stairs, the low timbre of it audible over the alarm of his pulse ringing in his ears.
“Jesus fucking… Thanks for the warning, Lieutenant!” He called.
“I already told you I was getting the power back on. It isn't my fault you forgot that fact in five minutes.”
“Fucking ass,” whispered Graves under is breath.
They walked deeper into the belly of the bunker. Ghost seemed to know where he was going, and Graves was not inclined to wander around alone. He led them into a room where an ancient computer rested on a dusty desk. Ghost pointed over at a printer.
“Go be useful and grab the prints for me, will you?” Ghost sat at the desk, jabbing at the keys while cyber green trailed across the boxy monitor.
“Jeez, alright. Don't have to order me around like a maid, man.”
Graves bundled up the paper as it printed in one continuous sheet. It was all numbers and Cyrillic, and he couldn't make heads or tails of it. “So what's all this for anyways?”
“Don't you worry a single hair on your pretty little head. It doesn't concern you, and I wouldn't tell you anyways.”
Ghost didn't even look up from the computer, and that annoyed Graves something terribly. He abandoned the printer to hop up on the desk next to the man. Ghost eyes flicked at him in irritation before returning their focus to the old monitor. Graves parked his feet on the seat of the unoccupied chair, scooting it back and forth.
“Is it Makarov related?”
“I just told you-”
“Because I mean, if it's related to that whole mess then I probably should know. Front lines and all that.”
“Yes. Absolutely. Because his secret plans are housed on a computer older than the both of us,” snarked Ghost.
“You're the one dragging me out here and acting weird about it, Lieutenant.”
“A choice I am regretting every second- will you stop moving?!” Ghost snatched his shins, and in one fluid movement he was pinning them to the desk while he kicked the chair out from under Graves' feet. “Quit it, or I'm tying you up until I'm finished.”
“Damn, Ghost. I had my suspicions with the mask and all, but I guess you really are the kinky type.”
The man loomed over him, and for a moment Graves was certain that his mouth had written a check his ass finally couldn't cash. That black-clothed bulk of a man was a skilled killer, and there was no way Graves would win hand to hand. He leaned in closer, the grinning skull of his mask a warning of death.
“You really are an attention seeking brat, aren't you? Need all eyes on you all the time.”
“What, you think you can read me that well? Give me a break,” scoffed Graves.
“You're not complex, Shadow . Not at all.”
Ghost let go of him and sat back down. Graves' head spun with indignant anger. Not complex… not complex?! What was that even supposed to mean?
“At least I am what I say I am! You're out here in eighty layers so no one knows who you are,” bit Graves.
“Go ahead, say what you really want to say.”
“I want to know why you didn't kill me this morning.”
That got Ghost’s full attention. “What?”
“You had every opportunity to kill me this morning. There's enough bad blood between us that I wouldn't even blame you that much. My corpse could be floating its way to the ocean right now, and no one would have ever known it was you. Hell, you could have gone back to your captain and he would have had no idea. I was naked, defenseless, and completely unaware. So why didn't you?”
Stone brown eyes stared directly into his soul. It was more withering a glare than any drill sergeant that Graves had ever had. “We had business.”
“Cut the bullshit, Ghost. If this was just business you would have waited for me at base. You followed me.”
“Does that bother you?”
“It bothers me that you're being a cagey piece of work for no goddamn reason!”
“Fine. I did follow you. I followed you all the way from the base to the river. You never detected me, and I was watching you the entire time.” Ghost stood, closing the gap between them. “And you're right. I was going to kill you. Not only since Farah is much more pleasant to deal with, but because I was thinking that dusting you would make me feel better about some things.”
The lifeless air of the bunker felt so suffocating that Graves couldn't get a full breath of air. “So why didn't you?”
“I saw you coming out of the water like some kind of nymph and I changed my mind. Naked and wet, with your heart in my crosshairs? You can't pay for that kind of rush, Shadow.”
There was no naming the jumble of emotions brewing in Graves’ veins. Fear, arousal, anger, disbelief; none of it described a tenth of the fullness of his feeling. Ghost was so close to him, and while the mask hid his expression, there was no hiding the heat in his eyes. He meant what he said.
“Getting off on watching me, huh?” Graves said quietly.
“And what? Hate having attention on you all of the sudden, oh wait, you just hate that you don't know you're getting attention.”
“It's not that,” he shook his head.
“Then what is it?”
Graves hadn't realized that his knees had parted until Ghost had stepped in between them. Their closeness was the only thing alive in this empty tomb.
“Watching me while I don't even know it, Christ. Hunter and the hunted. I'm only mad that I didn't know you were there, because I missed out on the same thrill.”
He stared directly into Ghost’s grease-painted eyes. It was a statement, and a challenge. Here we are. Now what? Graves looked right at Death himself, and dared him to blink first. The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Fucking slag,” he said, grabbing Graves' by the hair and holding him in place.
“What, me liking it ruin your fantasy, Lieutenant?” Graves grinning against the stinging pull on his scalp.
“No. Just proves that you're a whore for cock like you're a whore for cash.”
“Well, you're not fucking wrong there.”
Graves grabbed for Ghost's belt, and when the man didn't bat his hands away he took that as permission to carry on. While he worked on unbuttoning Ghost's pants, the other was groping him over his jeans. It wasn't a gentle touch, and that made it all the better for Graves. Ghost was getting hard under his hands. One of the most dangerous men Graves knew was getting hard for him and that burned brightly in his chest.
“Fuck, you're big,” he groaned as he pulled Ghost out of his pants.
“You don't have too much to brag about yourself,” said Ghost.
Graves was too turned on to be insulted. He knew he was packing average, but if Ghost wanted to harass him then all the more power to him. The mean guy act did it for Graves. He kept a hand wrapped around Ghost's dick while he pulled out his own.
“Not all of us are blessed with fucking monster cocks.”
Ghost bullied his way closer into Graves' space, thrusting the length of his arousal against Graves' own. He groaned at the sudden contact. Heated flesh dragged together in the best way.
“Fuck, you're just the runt of the litter, Graves. Would probably tear you if I tried to fuck you.”
“ Christ, you’d better. Make me fucking bleed.”
Ghost grunted and ground his hips hard against him. Graves had been on the receiving end of one of Ghost's paths of violence before. He wasn't a good person; the thought of that brutality reflected onto his own body aroused him. Based on his reaction, Ghost agreed.
Their gear prevented them from pressing any closer, but the thought of pausing to take anything off didn't cross their frenzied minds. Graves held their cocks together as Ghost fucked up towards him. Ammunition magazines clacked awkwardly together in their shared rut. The abandoners of this place could never have imagined its rediscovery leading to this: a rabid carnality disrupting the dust.
Graves let his head fall backwards, his blond hair fluttering out of place. “You were going to kill me. You had your gun on me and I didn't even know it,” he panted. Red flushed over his cheeks, and he swallowed. “Never gonna be able to go back there without getting hard.”
“You want to know something?”
“Fuck, tell me, tell me,” he said, squeezing their cocks tighter.
Ghost shoved him flat onto his back. “I didn't shoot you this morning, because it seemed like such a waste to kill a pretty thing like you without raping you first.”
Graves almost came right there. Did Ghost see through him to the dark and twisted parts of his being? Maybe; the lieutenant’s gaze had always been like an arrow through the heart.
“Fuck, fucking, fuck Ghost. You should have.” Graves couldn't tell who was getting more turned on, himself or Ghost. Precome leaked over his hand, a slick mess of their insane lust. “I was right there. You could have.”
“Look at you. Such a fucking slut, you're the type to cum while you're being violated, aren't you? Just thinking about it makes you leak all over me.”
“Because I'm a s-stupid fucking rape slut,” he groaned, his eyes unfocused. “And you're feeding me. Is that why you wear the mask? Can’t be identified in a lineup if I don't know what you look like.”
“I wouldn't even leave you alive,” growled Ghost.
“No chancing it huh? No fun that way. Then you only get me once.”
That seemed to grab Ghost’s interest. He thrusted so hard against Graves that the desk moved a couple inches.
“Once not enough for you?”
“No. Not at all. If you leave me alive you can rape me over and over again,” he said. Graves couldn't stop himself from talking, and every filthy hidden desire he had spilled from his lips.
Ghost cursed. Graves sensed a feral danger in the other, and that brought him so much closer to his peak. A metallic click distracted him from the moment. Before he knew it, Ghost's side arm was pressed against the side of his head. Had Ghost flicked the safety on or off? He had no idea. The increasing danger only made it better for Graves.
Ghost hips worked hard as he chased his pleasure. “Maybe I'll visit you next time you go swimming. Maybe I won't. But you'll be wondering, Graves, and we both know it. Looking at every fucking shadow wondering if it's me. Best part? If I am there, you damn well won't know it. I will wait and wait and wait until you feel safe, and that's when I'll hurt you.”
“Ghost, please. ”
“Fuck, I'll dust you right now. Why bother with the theatrics?”
“God, do it, do it.”
Ghost tucked his head next to Graves’, right against his temple. Right in the path of the bullet. Any rhythm the man had was long gone. His hips moved with wild abandon. “Fuck the mission and fuck you, let's go out with a bang.”
“Fucking do it, Ghost!”
The man pulled the trigger, and Graves came harder than he ever had in his life. His vision went white as his climax was ripped out of him. It was like every cell in his body had gone supernova. Graves' legs shook around Ghost as his fist was painted white. Nothing had given him the same rush before, not like this. He wasn't sure if he had cum because he was alive, or because the trigger had been pulled. The answer would escape him forever.
He hadn't realized that Ghost had cum as well until he returned to his body. The lieutenant was a heavy, still weight on top of him. Deep breaths shuddered in his ear. Ghost shakily put his gun back in its holster, and raised himself back up to standing.
“Christ, I…Christ.” Ghost shook his head.
Graves wiped his cum covered hand off on the desk the best he could. “You good there, chief?”
“I'm fine. Did you, no, I mean did I–”
“What? Post nut clarity punching you in the face? We're good, Ghost. I'm good, it was good. No worries.”
“Okay,” he replied, somewhat wide-eyed.
“Seriously. Let's grab your secret papers and go. I don't want my Shadow wondering if we died in here.”
“Agreed.”
Ghost was returning to the same strict posture that he normally carried. That worked for Graves; the last thing he wanted was Ghost getting weird about whatever just happened. He was fine leaving this behind him, buried in the earth. Ghost stopped him before he could exit the bunker door, though.
“We have to talk about this.”
“Do we? We got hot and freaky underground, it's not like we got engaged or something.”
“I pulled a gun on you. How are you so calm?”
“Call it the effects of a mind-blowing orgasm. I'll process this later in my bunk. Repeatedly.”
“I'm not a… I'm not–”
“Didn't say you were,” said Graves. He turned and walked out into the cold night air. “If you need to figure this out more, you know where to find me.”
After several moments, Ghost followed him. “Fucking prick,” he muttered.