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Oh God.
The mission was supposed to be simple, just in and out. Grab the intel, then leave without anyone noticing. Price sent Soap and Ghost to be sure that the operation would be successful.
Universe might hate them or something, because shit always hits the fan.
It all went easy at first. They arrived at the three story facility without any problems, quietly got inside the building, no trace of anybody near them. The place was suspiciously silent and empty, slightly raising anxiety inside Johnny.
Captain Price had a meeting before the mission with Ghost and Soap, telling them to be extremely careful to not bring any attention to them, as there would be a lot of armed people. But there was absolutely nobody, inside and out, so that meant they were either really lucky or super fucked, because the enemy found out about the mission.
“Johnny, you go left, I go right. Look for the intel, eyes out for the enemy,” Ghost bumped his fist into Soap’s shoulder, nodding his head.
“Roger that, Lt,” Soap smiled at the contact, burping ghost’s bicep in return.
The facility was quite filthy, broken glass and random garbage cracking under Soap’s feet. There was a thick layer of dust on the surface of every single piece of furniture, seemingly not used in a long time. It made Johnny wonder if they arrived at the right place at all.
Soap wandered through a corridor, every room seeming the same: broken furniture, dirty floors, chipping paint on the walls and spider webs in the corners. He reached the end of the hall, when he found a chest that looked pretty unfitting for the place. It appeared to be almost brand new, standing out of its surroundings. Soap kneeled in front of the chest to open it and rummage through the insides. He let out a quiet yelp of victory, finally finding the intel.
“Dumb bastards,” Johnny chuckled at the obvious placement of the chest, almost reporting to Ghost that the mission was completed, when the folder slipped from his hand, falling on the grimy floor, sending a massive cloud of dust and dirt right into his face.
In Soap's defense, it was an unstoppable and uncontrollable force of nature. He couldn't hold the sneeze in and it erupted through the hall, echoing down the corridor.
Before he could even react, there were unrecognizable words shouted at the floor above, footsteps bombarding at an alarming pace.
Soap gathered the folder once again, tucking it inside his vest, and he hauled ass up the hall.
“Ghost, intel secured, but cover blowned. Heading to the entrance,” he shouted to the comms, no reason to be quiet anymore.
“Fucking hell, Johny!”
He could already hear the feet stomping down the stairs behind him, gruff voices of the enemy giving out orders, when he reached the entry point where Ghost was already waiting for him, weapon raised.
“Go, go, sergeant, I’ll cover ya six!” Ghost yelled the order gesturing to the door.
The fresh oxygen outside felt so much nicer than the stale air in the facility. Soap quickly checked the surroundings, looking for cover, noticing a rusty metal container closer to them and an old car without tires to the further of them.
They barely made it behind the container before a few bullets hit the ground near them.
“Laswell, this is Bravo 0-7, intel secured but requiring the immediate exfil! We have been noticed, I repeat, we have been noticed!” Ghost shouted through the cacophony of shots getting fired at them and the enemy's voices yelling out in the foreign language.
“Watcher-1, copy that. Exfil send, standby,” Kate’s voice filled the comms, calming Johnny's nerves as much as it was possible when bullets were wheezing through the wind above his head. ”What the hell happened, boys?”
“Ask Johnny,” Ghost growled right beside him, seizing Johny up with an angry glare.
Soap couldn't even open his mouth for a witty remark when he heard the voices getting closer to their hiding point, sending zaps of anxiety up his spine. He clenched his weapon close to him, when the idea occurred to him.
“Ghost, there's a shit ton of ‘em, let’s move behind the car! They’re gonna shoot through the metal soon,” he took one look at Ghost, who was firing bullets at the enemy, ducking behind the cover. Soap huffed out a shaky breath and almost lunged forward to the car, but he felt gloved fingers comb through his hair and yank him on the ground.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing, Johnny?” Ghost blasted out, his voise like gravel to his ears, tightening his grip on Soap's mohawk. He leaned forward to look into his Sergeant's eyes, staring at him with a gaze full of rage.
Oh God.
Soap could feel warmth spreading in his stomach, blush rising to his chest and up his neck, chipping on his face. His lips were slightly parted, mouth dry with shock, letting out short shallow breaths. Johnny's eyes were wide, pupils full blown, glaring up into Lieutenant's dark displeased orbs. He felt like he was in some sort of haze, unable to look away from his superior, who still seized his hair in a steel grip.
“Exfil arrived, boys. Be careful,” Johnny could only distantly hear Laswell speak through the comms with a helicopter’s blade slaps making chopping sounds not so far away from them.
Ghost let go of his mohawk and threw a smoke grenade in enemies' direction. As the white fog filled out the air, a full understanding of the situation settled inside his utterly sick and twisted mind. He was fucked beyond comprehension, want running in his veins, as he longed after the sweet memory of Ghost's raging eyes and dull ache in his scalp.
Ghost truly lived up to his name.
He was like a looming presence in the back of your mind: you knew he was there and you could feel that he's near, but you didn't always see him. He hid in the shadows and stayed in the corners. When Ghost graces you with his presence, you can only freeze and stare, observe him carefully before he disappears again. Ghost moved silently and never stayed at the same place for too long.
He scared the shit out of the recruits. Lieutenant was a living legend to them, almost like some kind of god. They feared him as much as they worshiped him. Ghost was untouchable and everybody knew it.
Johnny knew it too. And Soap wouldn't be Soap if he didnt break rules.
When they first met, Soap could't calm his nerves, tight knot inside his guts making him uncomfortable. He heard all sorts of things about Ghost: that he was inhuman, a living kill maschine, a mass of muscles and rage, all rough edges and constant state of concentration. When Soap first looked at him, standing not so far away, speaking with someone through the comms, he felt a sense of fear that he never quite experienced before. It was a numb feeling rising from his stomach, radiating up his trachea. The white skull mask felt like a border between them, protecting Ghost and making Soap feel naked, too vulnerable.
But when Soap came up close to him and looked into his eyes, it hit him like a bullet. Those chocolate irises stared deep inside him, almost piercing through him, analyzing. There were no roughness in them, nothing razor sharp or intimidating. They were the most human thing in Ghost, bringing an intense feel of comfort to Soap. It slipped hot down his throat, untying the knot inside him. There he was, Simon 'Ghost' Riley.
Lieutenant did look tough and dangerous to touch. But the warmth radiating though his eyes just proved to Johnny, that all these stupid things people were said about Ghost were wrong. He wasn't a monster, a machine or anything like this. And maybe Johnny felt too bold when he bumped the Lieutenant's shoulder with his fist and teased as he said “Let's get ourselves a win, Lt,” but his arm was still intact after, so he considered it a win.
Johnny fell fast and hard.
It was a force of nature, his feelings erupting like a volcano. Warm chocolate eyes that left sweet aftertaste in his mouth, dumb dad jokes, rare shoulder bumps, his breathy chuckles and stupidly strong frame; he stumbled and tripped until he fell so hard, he couldn't remember his life before being in love with Ghost.
He breathed him, seeked him out, grasped every piece of information about him like a holy grail, captured his features on the paper religiously, wishing they were engraved under his eyelids, interactions with Lieutenant pumping him with energy and keeping him happy thorought the day.
Soap stopped fearing him a long while ago.
Yeah, sure, it panged a little bit of fright inside Johnny when Ghost grabbed him like that on a mission. But he tells himself that he just didn't expect it. And fuck the heat in his underbelly when he thinks about gloved hand grasping his hair.
Soap was eating his breakfast alone in the canteen when a recruit sat beside him on the bench. He vaguely remembers him from training, but he couldn't really recall his name. Brandon, Brad or Benson, he didn't know.
“Good morning, sir” Brad smiled at him, playing with his slightly overgrown hair in a nervous manner.
“Good morning, soldier. Please call me Soap,” Johnny returned a reserved smile, having more interest in finishing his breakfast rather than chatting with a recruit.
“Okay, Soap,” Benson’s grin widened. “Uhm…You know, when you were training us a week ago, you told me i had to work on my close combat, so i was wondering if-”
Before Brandon could finish his sentence, a familiar voice exploded through the room, calling out his name. Soap turned around to see Ghost approach him.
“Johnny,” he loomed above his sergeant, the atmosphere of the room changing with his presence. Soap could feel the recruit freeze beside him.
“Yes, Lt?” he looked up at Ghost from under his eyelashes.
“I need you to help me with some paperwork. Right now.”
Soap hated doing paperwork. He also loved fucking with his superior, so he acted dismissive when he said “I dont know if i can do that,” and turned to the recruit, throwing a careless "Continue, soldier," at Brad, who looked like was about to flee out of the canteen.
“As I was saying, Soap, I was wondering if you could help me train privately,” Banson looked unsure as he mumbled, glaring between Soap and Ghost.
“Johnny,” GHost hissed in annoyance.
Soap huffed out an irritated sigh(he was so proud of his acting skills) and not even turning to Ghost, said ”Don't you see that i’m busy, Lt?”
He gazed at Brendon, smirking at his terrified expression. But seconds later the pleased look on Soap’s face turned into a grimace when he felt gloved fingers tug at the top of his head, hand clasping on his mohawk so painfully, he could feel tears form in the corners of his eyes. Ghost jerked Johnny's head up to meet his eyes, and Soap instinctively tried to get out of the burning hold, his hand squeezing Ghost’s, wishing to be spared.
“You fucking look at me when I'm talking to you, Sergeant,” Ghost bent down slightly, making eye contact almost unbearable to Johnny. His eyes were furious, pupils dilated so much, that his orbs were almost fully black. Soap could feel his face and ears burn with humiliation and embarrassment. Here he was, grabbed and held still like a fucking dog in front of his subordinate and a whole room filled with people. His palms were sweating, his own heartbeat stammering in his ears, throat too tight to swallow a lump inside it, as shame ran hot with his blood. His eyes dumped even more, and all he could do is just pinch his eyebrows together and stare back in a silent plea to let go .
“Get up, Johnny,” fingers flexed in his hair, and he complied, unable to do anything else. He could feel people's stares burn his skin, Brad, or Banson, or whatever the fuck his name is, probably laughing at him, as Soap stood up, breakfast completely forgotten on the table.
Shame. Shame. Shame devoured him from head to toe when Ghost led him to his office, still not letting go of Soap’s hair.
“You obey my orders,” Ghost snapped through his teeth, pushing him into the room.
It has to end.
It really has to end.
The first time it happened, Soap could understand it. The adrenaline pumping in them, superior looking out for his subordinate and yada yada yada. But whatever the fuck happened in the canteen? There was no excuse for what Ghost did.
Johnny laid in his bed, still thinking about what occurred three days ago. Familiar sense of humiliation pinged in his guts, making him squeeze his eyes shut in discomfort.
Ghost’s actions made Johny’s blood boil. How could he… punish Johnny in front of people? What the fuck was his problem?
What made him even angrier is his own behavior. Why didn’t Soap say anything to Ghost? Why didn’t he try to fight the hold, why didn’t he ask to let go of him, why did he just accept his stupid fate?
One thing about Soap, he wasn’t a pussy. So if his superior was being a dick, Johnny was going to ask him to fuck off kindly.
His eyes searched for his alarm clock. 1:23 am. Perfect, everyone was probably asleep. If shit goes sideways, Ghost wouldnt have an opportunity to embarrass him in front of people once again. ‘But shit won’t go sideways’, Johny thought unafraid and stomped out of the bed.
He moved through the barracks with the confidence of an armed man, passing room after room, snaking down the hall to Ghost’s office.
There was dim light coming out under the door, meaning the lieutenant was awake. Good.
Anger, irritation and confusion doubled in him with every second he waited after he knocked on the door of the office.
When Ghost faced him in his full glory, wearing a simple balaklava, tight short-sleeved shirt that hugged his bare tattooed arms so good, and a pair of simple joggers, his confidence seemed to flatter, his eyes falling downwards, following patterns of black ink on Ghost’s skin. He scanned the room behind the Lieutenant, noticing documents scattered on his table, some crumpled paper laying by the trash can.
Soap gazed up at Ghost, his eyes bloodshot red, looking so tired, that Johny almost felt sorry.
Lieutenant lifted an eyebrow and Soap sucked in a deep breath, picking up his pride from the floor and said “Ghost, we need to talk-”
“It’s good that you’re here, Johnny. Come here,” he turned around, approaching his desk, not giving Soap a double take, knowing that he would follow.
Johnny hesitated standing in the entrance, but compiled, shutting the door behind him. He moved towards the Lieutenant, who was looking for something on the desk. Finally, he pulled over a couple of papers, slamming them on the table.
“Look at those, Johnny.”
Soap, startled from the sudden noise, looked everywhere but at his superior. The conversation he wanted to have with Ghost was completely forgotten, curiosity taking over him, as he leaned down to have a better look at the files on the desk. His eyes widened when he recognized his own writing from that godforsaken day, when Ghost made him do paperwork. His hand reached to take the document and scan it more carefully.
He ran his eyes over every word, with each sentence finding more and more mistakes, lost commas and slips of the pen, making the paper look almost dirty, unprofessional. He furrowed his eyebrows and bit his lip, clearly feeling guilty about fucking up the paper. He was about to look behind his shoulder to meet Ghost’s eyes and apologize, but he was slammed down on the desk, now being fully bent over the table. He let out an embarrassing noise of surprise, nerves going haywire. His hands flew on the desk, trying to stabilize himself, as he felt the familiar sense of fingers running through his hair and tugging.
Ghost fit right behind his Sergeant, his hips almost touching Soap’s ass, and Johnny felt a breath get stuck in his throat. He tried to look over his shoulder once again, but Ghost clenched his mohawk even harder and pushed his head down until Soap's eyes leveled up with the second paper on the table.
“Read the date you wrote, Sergeant,” Ghost growled behind him and his voice echoed inside Soap's skull, reaching the deepest parts of his mind. He could feel the back of his neck heat up, cold sweat pooling there, when he looked at the bottom of the paper and let out a quiet, almost whisper-like ‘October sixteenth’.
“And what were you supposed to write down?”
“October seventeenth,” Soap muttered under the shaky breath, sensing the warmth spread down his face, stopping for a moment on his chest and then going down down down to his sternum, resting in his guts.
“That’s right, Sergeant,” Ghost took a step forward, closing the gap between their bodies. His pelvis was flash against Soap’s behind, Lieutenant's chest touching his back, one hand still in Johnny's hair and the other close to Soap's palm laying flat on the desk. Control slipped through his fingers when he felt his legs betray him, as his knees buckled and fell apart wider, his spine arching against Ghost’s body.
Soap's heart was beating madly against his ribcage, pumping blood to his lower abdomen and he felt himself getting aroused. Pushed, slammed, stuck between the wooden desk and unmovable force behind him, he felt like a caged animal. He was vulnerable, laid out on the table for Ghost to take and take, naked under his gaze upon him.
The bare fingers in his hair grounded him, turning his head to meet Ghost’s eyes.
Fuck.
“Do you think, Johnny, i asked for your help that day, so i could sit here late at night and redo yout fucking work?” Soaps' eyes wandered on superior's face, watching the mask move when he spoke, eyebrows stuck together, black irises expressing so many emotions, and johnny didn't know if he could handle it.
“I'm sorry-” he blinked the shameful tears away, feeling himself getting harder against the solid surface of wood, making him borderline uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry what?” Lieutenant's eyes flew wider, his face so incredibly close to johnny’s, that he could feel the ghost of the superior’s breath against his flushed face. Soap’s mouth fell agape while he drank down the graving sound of Ghost’s voice filling his ears.
“I’m sorry, sir. I will fix every mistake I made,” he felt like a dog being scolded for chewing on its owners shoes, raw humiliation pooling in his eyes, shame aching in his chest, squeezing his lungs as hard as Ghost was pressing him against the desk.
“I don’t need your charity, Johnny.” Ghost’s hand released his mohawk, moving down to cup his neck, and Soap had to held down an embarrassing whimper and bite his tongue to no whine out "Grip me harder and don’t let go”.
Cold shivered down his spine when Lieutenant straightened out and sat back in his chair, leaving Johnny bent over the desk. The warmth of the other body slowly dissolved in the chill air, and Soap felt stuck to the table, unable to move due hardens in his pants.
“Were there something you wanted to talk to me about, Sergeant?” Ghost leaned back on the chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His breathing was fine, body languages oh so relaxed, eyes calm and resolved like he didn’t just fuck Johnny’s life up.
He slowly rose up from the desk, hands clutching the bottom of his t-shirt to tug down and hide his erection. A tear sneakily ran down his cheek and Johnny hastily moved to catch it before Ghost noticed it, shame making him throb inside his underwear.
“Negative, sir,” He shook his head, keeping it low to not accidentally meet Lieutenant's eyes, and turned on his heels, basically throwing himself out of the office.
It was like he hit his second puberty.
Every time he thought of Ghost, memories of his body pressing into him filled his mind. He thought of the hardness of Lieutenant's abdomen against his back, thighs pushing his legs further into a desk. He thought of his demanding voice, scolding him for mistakes, treating him like a pipsqueak, he thought of that baritone right beside his ear, killing his pride in a punishing manner. Ghost filled his dreams, making them messy, dirty, soiled with shame and embarrassment. He woke up hard every morning, desperately trying to go back to sleep just to catch another second of being pushed into madness.
He wanted more. He wanted more of that Ghost, that dark, angry, outraged side of him.
So Soap disobeyed him on purpose.
Johnny was a good soldier. In fact, he was a really good soldier. Not to toot his own horn, but he was amazing in the field, exquisite accuracy of his shots, bold movements in close combat and quick thinking in unpredictable situations. Johnny followed the orders, accomplishing them with an A+ mark, always getting praise for his amazing compliance for commands.
With Ghost he went out of his way to be a bad soldier. He talked back, acted cocky in front of him, his movements sloppy, aloof, gaze full of challenge, where you could almost read “Come on, do something about it” in it.
He showed off in front of Price, practically kissing his ass. Soap brought him coffee in the morning, helped him with papers(god, it was so boring), chatted with him while Captain did his duties, complimented him, praise casually falling out of Johnny’s lips, hugged him suspiciously too many times, just to turn to Ghost and act like a total brat, dismissing his every word, rolling his eyes at any orders and huffing out annoyed sighs.
God, he wanted to be put in his own place so badly, he could basically feel the taste of humiliation on his tongue.
With each day passing from The Incident, Soap was literally melting with anticipation, longing for the explosion of Ghost’s temper. He prayed for his anger, he prayed to be disciplined, he prayed for a second of Ghost's attention.
But nothing happened.
Ghost said nothing, didn't act on Soap's behavior, barely paid him any mind. Johnny seeked him out, but it was like he disappeared into thin air every time Soap reached him with a begging hand.
He felt like a dog in a heat, ready to throw himself at an older man at any given moment, barely suppressing the urge to act upon his desires.
Fuck, he was desperate.
Johnny lounged on the couch with Gaz beside him, both watching hockey game on the tv in the common room, moonlight illuminating them through the open window, crickets singing in unison outside. Soap didn't keep track of the match, completely in his head, thoughts running raged in his head, tiring him even more after a long day of bitching in front of Ghost.
He mindlessly sighed a heavy breath, when Gaz turned to him, nudged him in a ribcage with an elbow and said “You’re acting weird, mate”.
“Don’t I know it?” and Soap nudged him back and returned to his pity party.
Today Ghost was assigned to train recruits early in the morning. Soap knew that he would rather bury himself in paperwork than babysit soldiers, so he decided to join him, silently standing by his side. Ghost said nothing, just glared him up and down and nodded in acknowledgement. Recruits were acting out, too many of them undisciplined and overconfident. They talked to each other while running laps, fucked around while sparring, half listened to what Ghost was yelling out beside Johnny. Soap eyed him carefully, hoping to notice any change of emotion on his face: just a glimpse of anger, irritation, anything at this point. Lieutenant did nothing, only occasionally sighing out his exhaustion.
“Tell them off,” Johnny finally spoke up for the first time this morning, reminding Ghost of his existence.
“Are you the one that gives out orders now?” Lieutenant cocked an eyebrow, emotions unreadable on his face.
“Negative. Just saying that you need to quiet them down. You're shite at training recruits,” insult-like remark fell out of his mouth, leaving Johnny waiting for a fuck-off, degrading speech, reminding him that he was supposed to respect his superior, but instead Ghost fucking laughed and breathed out “They're acting out just like you, Johnny. You're an example for their behavior,” that only Soap could hear.
Johnny recalled the memories of the day once again, wishing he said more. Wishing he tried harder to push Ghost to the edge, just push him into the right direction to go nuts on him.
Soap yawned and rose up his feet from the couch, telling Gaz to sleep well and shuffled back to his room to have a sleepless night.
Was he going crazy?
What has gotten into him? He used to yearn for a softer side of Ghost, him showing vulnerability and bareness of his soul. He used to live for meaningful conversations late at night, Ghost sharing tiny bits of his past, those smallest parts of Lieutenant's life fed Johnny's heart to the fullest. His fingertips used to tingle when he touched Ghost, eyelashes fluttering with every lingering gaze.
Now he dreamt of suffocating grip, bare hands against his scalp, heart shuttering insults and shameful degradation. He scraped his knees chasing after the silhouette of Ghost's rage, after his fuming eyes, burning Soap's skin with a metal-like gaze. Johnny's mouth filled up with saliva every time he even caught the glimpse of that night in the office in his memories, Ghost's body so close to Soap's, that Johnny could almost feel fury travel through Lieutenant's veins, hot, wax-like drops of outrage slipping down Soap's back.
He felt so ashamed of himself, not even being able to deny that he liked how Ghost showed his superiority in front of everybody, showed his dominance with splashing grace, knowing there’s nothing that Soap could do. Protest, cry, whine, yell, scream, bitch out, punch and fight, but Lieutenant was still more powerful, full control of Soap in his hands.
Johnny opened the door of his room, feeling like he was about to pass out the second his head hits the pillow. He was about to approach his bed, when he sensed movement disturbing the peace of darkness in the corner of his eyes. He wasn’t fast to react, his body slammed into the wall, oxygen punched out of his lungs, shoulder blades aching against concrete. Soap's heart thrummed inside him, rushing adrenaline through his limbs.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, now tall figure of his Lieutenant finally visible to him.
Yes.
“Do you know how guilty I felt after lashing out at you in the canteen, hm, Johnny?” Soap felt like Lieutenant was looking down at him from the throne, with Ghost towering over him.
“Negative, sir,” he barely could suppress his grin, fucking finally Lieutenant adressing and acknowledging what happened.
“I almost apologized to you the next day, but then I saw how you helped me with papers and believe it or not, I wanted to shove that apology up your ass, “ Ghost moved impossibly closer to him, their shoes almost touching, and Johny had to look up to meet Lieutenant's eyes.
“And then all of a sudden you started to act like a dog off a leash. I’m your authority, Johnny,” Ghost jabbed his finger square in Soap’s chest. “You do what I say and don’t question my commands. Is that clear, Sergeant?”
“Yes.” Yes yes yes rushed through his mind, when he swallowed a lump in his throat, chasing after every word of Ghost’s speech.
“You don’t answer me when I refer to you, you disrespect me, don’t follow my orders. You want me to report you to the higher-ups, Johnny? You want to get kicked out of 141 for insubordination?” Ghost raised his voice, mask moving violently with every syllable. Disrespect, insubordination, disdain, impudence, call it whatever you want, but Soap calls it an animal desire for his Lieutenant’s raging love.
“Goddammit, what happened to you, Johnny? Answer me,” Ghost’s ballistic baritone felt like honey to Soap’s ears. Satisfaction coated him at the same time as blush painted his face, flush bruising his cheeks like a fever. Lieutenant reached for Soap’s t-shirt, crashing the fabric between his bare fingers, yanking Johnny closer to him, his chest madly raising with anger.
Soap’s knees buckled with want, hands flying to Ghost’s shoulders to steady himself. Embarrassment sipped through him like thunder, when he felt himself getting harder, with Ghost so dangerously close to him, barely any space between their hips.
“No,” Soap whispered, centimeters between his lips and Ghost’s mask, their noses almost touching.
“What was that?” Ghost’s hand seized his t-shirt even more, fabric alarmingly screeching in his hold. His other hand flew horrifyingly close to the back of Soap’s neck, barely touching hair on his nape.
Johnny stumbled forward with a suppressed whimper, hands clinging to the muscles of Ghost's shoulders, and whined out “No, sir”.
His crotch nuzzled into Ghost’s, pleasure spilled through him at the same time as the unsettling realization that he just humped his superior hit him.
Ghost froze against him, eyes searching for something in Soap’s delirious gaze. Shame washed him with a massive wave, ears ringing with deafening silence.
He wanted to apologize, to drop to his knees and beg, and beg, and beg, to promise that he would never do that again, that he would be the best soldier from now on, to please not kick him out.
Ghost smashed him into the wall once again, his head hitting a wall with a dull thud, leaving a feeling like Lieutenant just broke his skull and dignity at the same time.
“You fucking like it, don’t you?” Ghost whispered like a realization finally blessed him. He put his knee between Soap's thighs, parting them impossibly wider, barely rubbing his neglected arousal.
Soap moaned, unable to hold it on any longer, eyes squeezing shut. He rolled his head to the side, letting a shaky breath out, powerless to say any word.
“Answer,” Ghost barked through the silence, his hand snaking through Johnny’s messy mohawk, tugging in forcefully like a leash he keeps Soap on.
“I love it ” confession rolled out of Soap's lips, wet with spit as he thrusted forward with his pelvis, his cock throbbing in his pants against Ghost’s leg.
He was so horny it made him feel insane.
Ghost’s breath deepened, quick huffs of air against Soap’s flushed cheek. His knee moved further between Johnny’s parted legs, thigh tight against soap’s cock, sensation edging between suffocating pleasure and zapping pain. Ghost leaned down, pulling Soap’s head up with an unmerciful torment. Johnny eyelashes flattered when he felt Lieutenant graze his temple with his nose in a taunting manner, caressing his cheekbone, closing up to his ear and whispering in the electrifying tone “So, all this time you acted like a total cunt, you just wanted to get a rise out of me?”
“Yes, Lt, yes,” is all he could say in the heated moment wishing to go on rant how he didn’t just wanted to get a rise out of him, but he wanted his revenge, discipline, his aching touch, his calloused fingers in his hair, on his neck, inside of him, drawing patterns on his back and leaving bruises on his hips. He desired to wake up next to him in the morning and fall asleep at night beside him. He desired his hunger, his bloodthirst, his lust. He wanted his love, he wanted his violence, he wanted his moans, grunts, sighs, breaths and exhales.
He wanted all of him in every sick and twisted way.
Soap’s arms circled Ghost’s neck, pushing himself up his thigh, creating a sweet friction that made his eyes roll back to his skull and bottom lip tremble with want.
Ghost yanked his hair, making Johnny look into his dark orbs, overtaken with something Soap had never witnessed. Lieutenant mumbled “You’re fucking crazy, Johnny,” and his irises filled up with flames, tongues of fire making Soap wince and moan out like a bitch.
His hips never stopped, rutting against Ghost’s leg in a desperate way, his cock so hard and aching, he felt like he was going to explode, his particles about to disband and disperse.
Ghost let go of Soap’s mohawk, both of his hands snaking under Johnny's t-shirt, caressing his sides, palming his waist, stroking under his ribs, fondling skin under his fingers. His dick was heavy in his joggers, throbbing with every little whimper and moan Johnny let out. Ghost moved his mask up to the bridge of his nose, letting Soap ogle the scars slashed across his skin, parted lips gasping breaths of the same air Johnny exhales.
Simon lapped under Johnny's jaw, making him stutter his movements against Ghost's thigh, knees buckling under Soap’s own weight. His arm moved to cup Johnny's ass, fondling it and guiding in a new feverish rhythm. He gasped out "Pathetic" and bit Soap’s earlobe, as Johny shuddered in pleasure, close to finishing against Ghost’s leg.
Simon moved to Soap’s neck, that was exactly ten kisses long, leaving bites along the pecks on his artery, licking it in sorrow after each mark.
Johnny basically fell apart with every stroke of Ghost's thigh, noises too loud in the dead of night, moans ricocheting through the walls of his room. He felt his orgasm build up dangerously fast and he pulled Ghost closer, wishing to diffuse into him, body into body, blood mixing up together.
Ghost embraced him, fully caging against the wall. He nuzzled his face in the crook between Soap's shoulder and neck, one hand bracing his neck, feeling Johnny's pulse skyrocket through the skin. His other hand traveled under Soap's pants and underwear, skin on skin, palm seizing plush muscles, as Johnny whined out and trembled.
Simon finally attacked Soap’s mouth, unable to hold any longer. Their teeth clanked, lips slick against each other, tongues moving furiously in hunger. Orgasm rushed through Soap’s body, when Ghost bit his bottom lip, drawing blood in their kiss, saliva now sloppy and crimson, pooling between them.
Soap’s vision whitened out, stars dancing in his eyelids, when pleasure him in continuous waves, each one more intense than the other. His hands scraped Ghost's back as he continued to move, humping Simon.
Johnny stopped, feeling Ghost’s hardness poking his stomach. He leaned away from the embrace, eyes droopy with post-orgasm bliss, drinking in Ghost’s bare features, his eyes meeting Simon’s whiskey-like orbs in the darkness of the room.
“It was all about you, Johnny. Not me,” Lieutenant whispered in his lips and Soap fell for him again, love spilling out of him with tear strokes down his face.