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It's not like Soap had planned on snooping like that.
He'd merely meant to drop off the stack of files on Ghost's desk before they all headed out to the pub together.
It's not his fault that Ghost left his bedside drawer open far enough for the light to catch on the smooth, shiny metal surface of the objects, drawing Soap's attention.
And well, Soap is only human after all.
He glances over his shoulder.
The door is still like he left it, slightly ajar, but not far enough that anyone could see inside the room without opening it further. From outside Soap can still hear the soft voices of Ghost and Gaz, obviously still locked in their (slightly heated) discussion about gun oil. It’s why Soap offered to dip into Ghost’s room to drop off the files in the first place.
Feeling safe for the moment, Soap steps closer and slowly pulls the drawer open further, just far enough that he can see what caught his attention.
Soap freezes. His heart jumps into his throat and he can feel his neck growing hot. Because there, nestled in three perfectly moulded divots on black velvety fabric, is a set of shiny chrome butt plugs.
It’s unmistakable that that’s what they are. Soap used to have a similar set in his early twenties, except his were black and made from matte silicone. These here are polished aluminum, but equally varying in size – going from the smallest one on the left to the biggest on the right.
Except, the set in the drawer isn’t complete. The middle plug is missing.
With shaking hands, Soap closes the drawer again, making sure to leave it just slightly pulled out like it was before. He takes a step back, sucks in a deep breath before releasing it again. With all his might he tries to will his blush to die down. Luckily it’s already pretty dark out, but for as long as they’re still inside the base, he’d rather avoid someone asking him why he’s suddenly blushing up a storm.
Soap turns around and with a stern warning to his dick, he walks back over to the door and steps out into the corridor again. Christ, he wishes he’d decided on something looser fitting than jeans.
Outside, Gaz and Ghost are still talking about gun lubrication, barely sparing Soap a glance as they head out and towards the nearby pub.
Soap is thankful for it. His mind is still trying to catch up to what he just discovered.
The plugs are obviously Ghost’s. Why else would he have them in his bedside drawer, and in an opened box no less? His thoughts are mostly getting stuck on the one missing plug in the set, though.
Of course, Ghost could have just left it somewhere else. Maybe it’s in his bathroom, or lost in the folds of his sheets somewhere. Or maybe, the voice in Soap’s head says, smirking, maybe he’s wearing it right now.
Soap lowers his head, blush back on his cheeks in full force. He’s fallen into step behind Ghost and Gaz and can’t help from glancing up at Ghost’s arse. He, too, is wearing jeans, snugly fitting ones at that, but it’s too dark outside for Soap to see anything incriminating.
Not that Soap actually thinks that Ghost would walk around in public with a butt plug visible under his clothing.
Though, Soap muses, the remaining two plugs had wide, flared bases, not a T-bar, so if Ghost was actually wearing one and was to bend over, jeans fabric stretching over his backside…
Soap swallows thickly.
They’ve almost reached the pub now, and he can’t wait to hide behind a booth. Despite his efforts, Soap’s cock has taken a keen interest in his thought processes and he’s embarrassed to admit he’s chubbed up a little.
Once they’ve reached the pub and are all settled with a pint each, Soap tries his damndest to distract himself. He engages in every conversation he can, strikes up new ones whenever a topic dies down, anything to keep his mind out of the gutter.
It doesn’t work.
Mostly because Soap is hyper-aware of every tiny shift in Ghost’s position.
He’s sitting diagonally opposite to Soap, giving him a perfect vantage point, and Soap could swear Ghost is shifting around more than usual.
Soap’s cock is undeniably half-hard now and he forcibly has to keep his hands on the tabletop, keeping himself from reaching down to adjust himself.
It also doesn’t help that Ghost keeps watching him, Soap is sure of it. At one point, he almost expects him to question him about his undoubtedly odd behaviour, but just then Price gets up to go and fetch them another round.
“I need another pair of hands.”
“Sure thing,” Ghost says, voice low, and slides out of the booth in a motion so fluid, it should be impossible for a man of his size. A man of his size, who is also maybe possibly currently wearing a butt plug up his arse. Soap lets out a small, slightly hysterical laugh at the thought and quickly has to mask it with a cough.
When Ghost and Price return to their booth a few minutes later, both carrying a few pints each, Soap decides he’s had enough. He simply needs to know.
As soon as Ghost has put the beers down, Soap pretends to accidentally fling his coaster off the table and to the ground. If he had the time (and brain power) for it, he would be impressed with the arc the coaster takes, landing almost perfectly on the floor behind Ghost and in a position that has him turning around in order to pick it up.
“Ah shite, sorry, Lt.,” Soap says sanctimoniously and watches with bated breath as Ghost bends down, arse perfectly angled for Soap to catch a glimpse, and what Soap sees almost makes him pass the fuck out. Because there on the seat of Ghost’s jeans, now clearly visible beneath the fabric if you knew what to look for, is the circular ridge of the base of the plug nestled between his cheeks.
Soap tries so hard to school his expression into something resembling normal, and he thinks he succeeds, just not quite fast enough. The look Ghost gives him, after he catches the way Soap drags his eyes up to his face again, can only be described as piercing, and maybe a little heated, but that might just be Soap’s wishful thinking.
Ghost slides back into the booth, eyes still on him and all Soap can think about is the way the plug must be pressing up into Ghost, how full he must be feeling.
Needless to say, Soap isn’t nearly as focussed on keeping up conversation as he was a few minutes ago.
Eventually, it’s time for them to leave the pub.
Soap stays sitting in the booth until he’s the last one left, trying to act as casual as possible and not draw attention to the way he’s holding his jacket in front of his crotch. The pub might be fairly crowded and no one really pays them any attention, but Soap would still rather that no one noticed just what a state he was currently in.
They file out the door, Soap following close behind Ghost, when suddenly, Ghost stops abruptly just outside the door. Soap doesn’t even have time to react before he’s walking straight into him, and since he’s still clutching his jacket in front of himself, his hands collide with Ghost’s arse, while his face gets smushed against his back.
Soap becomes faintly aware of just how nice Ghost smells this close up; a mix of aftershave, detergent, and a faint trace of sweat clinging to him; but he’s mostly distracted by the fact that the back of his hand just pressed against the base of the plug.
Alarmed, Soap jumps back a step, dropping his jacket, apology already on his lips when Ghost turns around slowly. For a second he simply looks at him, eyes dark. Soap doesn’t miss the way his eyes scan down his body, lingering on Soap’s crotch for just a moment longer, before he bends down to pick up Soap’s jacket for him.
“Thanks,” Soap breathes out, sounding a bit strangled even to his own ears.
He doesn’t know what he expected to happen next, but it was definitely not for Ghost to simply keep on walking down the street without another word.
With no other option left but to follow, Soap hurries behind him, pulling on his jacket as he goes. The street is mostly deserted save for them and the lamp posts are few and far in between, so Soap isn’t too worried about getting arrested for indecent public behaviour thanks to the rager he’s currently sporting.
Once they reach the base, Soap expects them all to part as usual, and mentally he’s already planning the frankly epic wank session he’s about to have, when Ghost suddenly and quite dramatically throws a spanner into his works.
They’re the last two remaining in the corridor, Ghost’s room being the last before Soap’s all the way down the hall. Soap is about to tell Ghost goodnight, trying to project without having to actually say it out loud that he won’t tell a soul what he discovered. Because at this point it’s obvious that he knows and that Ghost knows that Soap does.
But when Soap gets ready to leave, Ghost braces an arm against the doorframe, effectively trapping Soap against Ghost’s own door, blocking the only way out with his massive body.
“I won’t tell a soul, I swear!” Soap blurts out in a loud whisper.
Ghost just keeps looking at him, eyes unreadable above his mask.
“I wasnae trying to snoop, Lt., promise! The drawer was open. I didn’t mean to see—” But he’s interrupted when Ghost twists him around, not unkindly, but with enough force to make Soap follow, and pushes him inside his room.
This is how I’m going to die, Soap thinks, hysterically, rock-hard and at the hands of my own CO, because I discovered he likes to go to the pub with a plug up his arse.
But instead of threatening murder, Ghost simply closes his door and then walks Soap over to his bed.
“Strip,” he says unceremoniously, “just your trousers will do.”
Every thought in Soap’s head comes to a screeching halt. “What?”
“You heard me,” Ghost all but growls. “Unless you don’t actually want this, then you’re free to go.”
“Oh fuck me,” Soap groans and gets to work on his belt in record time. He doesn’t care if he looks desperate while doing so, he sure as fuck is.
“Not what I had in mind,” Ghost mumbles and starts flicking the buttons on his own jeans open.
“Lord, have mercy.” Soap feels his cock twitch violently in his pants. Never in a million years would he have thought his night would end like this.
“Sit,” Ghost says as soon as Soap is left in nothing but his shirt. He’d taken the liberty to pull off his jacket as well.
Soap does as he’s told, unashamed of the way his cock is clearly fully hard and close to leaking.
Ghost, who’d divested himself of his jeans but is still in his jacket, mask and briefs, walks over to stand in front of Soap. He, too, is visibly excited, if by the turn of events, the simple fact that he’s wearing a plug, or both, Soap can’t tell. But when Ghost grabs hold of both of Soap’s hands and lifts them up, only to place them on his own hips, before guiding them down to cup his arse and Soap’s fingertips brush against the edge of the plug, he doesn’t really care either way.
“Holy fuck, sir,” Soap breathes and watches how Ghost’s cock jumps and seems to fill out immediately as he presses gently against the plug.
Instead of answering, Ghost hooks his fingers over the waistband of his pants and tugs them down. Then he laces the fingers of one hand with Soap’s and gently begins to twist the plug out of himself.
Entranced, Soap watches as Ghost’s eyelids flutter shut as the widest part of the plug stretches him open for a moment before slipping free.
Ghost untangles his fingers from Soap’s then but lets him keep hold of the shiny plug, and Soap, not letting go of the toy, slides his hands down Ghost’s meaty thighs to pull him closer.
He goes easily, widening his stance to accommodate Soap’s legs before he lowers himself on his lap.
Soap swallows audibly.
“I don’t think it needs sayin’,” Ghost murmurs, “but I’m going to ride you now, Johnny. Any objections?”
“Fuck no!” Soap moans, hands already on Ghost’s waist to help him lift up and get settled on his cock, the plug still securely held between Soap’s middle and ring finger.
“Didn’t think so.” Ghost chuckles, and then he takes hold of Soap’s cock and sinks down in one smooth motion.
They fuck hard and fast, no finesse, no drawing it out.
Every time Soap bottoms out, he’s sure he is about to come any second, but in the end it’s Ghost who orgasms first. He’d barely even touched his own cock, had brushed Soap’s hand away as he’d tried to jerk him off in time with his thrusts, and as it turns out he didn’t need it anyway.
Soap doesn’t take long to follow him over the edge and when he spills inside of Ghost, buried deep and twitching, it feels like his soul is leaving his body.
They pant against each other’s necks, Ghost’s breathing muffled by his mask, and when Soap is about to slip out of him, Ghost stops him.
He leans to the side, still in Soap’s lap, and pulls open his bedside drawer. Soap already knows what’s coming before he even sees it.
Ghost pulls out the largest of the remaining two plugs as well as a small bottle of lube. Then he slicks up the toy and instructs Soap to pull out slowly. As soon as he’s slipped free from Ghost’s hole, Ghost replaces his cock with the plug, effectively sealing Soap’s come inside of himself for the time being.
Soap truly feels like he’s about to faint.
“Bleedin’ fuck, Lt. Ye gonna be the death of me.”
Ghost huffs, amused. Then he slides off of Soap’s lap and stands up. Soap hisses as pins and needles flood his thighs as circulation returns. He briefly rubs over his legs and then gets up as well.
Meanwhile, Ghost has started stripping off the rest of his clothing. As he turns around, Soap watches, mesmerised, how the plug in his arse glints softly in the dim light.
“Stay the night?” Ghost doesn’t look at him as he asks, and Soap recognises it for what it is. An out, a way for them to pretend this didn’t mean anything and that it was nothing more than a quick and dirty fuck. But Soap doesn’t want that, and something tells him that Ghost doesn’t either.
“Sure, Lt.”
Later, when they’re both curled together in Ghost’s bed, facing each other, with Soap’s nose buried against Ghost’s sternum, Soap can’t help but ask.
“The drawer – did ye leave it open on purpose?”
Ghost makes a soft little noise, neither yes nor no. Soap slides his hand to his arse, presses his palm flat over the plug still nestled there.
“So that’s how it is then, hm?”
“Maybe,” Ghost mumbles, smile audible in his voice. “And what if I told you there's more where that came from. And some of it vibrates.”
Soap almost chokes on his own spit.