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Soap won’t lie; he felt a little apprehensive when Price suddenly ordered him to his office to ‘have a word in private about the matter’ half an hour ago. The matter at hand being the minor scrape Soap sustained (on his arse of all places) on a cleanup mission at a lab the day prior. Soap isn’t even sure why everyone (that being Price, Laswell, and some medical personnel) is suddenly making such a fuss about it. Except for the scrape itself, a very mild rash on his neck that they already assured him was harmless, and some increased thirst he’s completely fine. And honestly, if it actually was bad, wouldn’t they send him to the infirmary straight away?
Soap is just about to round the last corner on his way to Price’s office when Ghost suddenly falls into step beside him.
“Heading for Price’s?” he asks.
“Aye,” Soap nods. “Said he wants to talk to me about it in private. No idea why.”
Ghost hums. “I’m joining you.” And then, when Soap is just about to ask him why, Ghost pulls the edge of his plain balaclava away from his neck, revealing a faint but unmistakable rash.
“Aw shite, so it got on you as well somehow? Thought you didn’t get exposed.”
“As did I,” Ghost shrugs. “Who knows how potent that crap was.”
Soap sighs. “Guess it’s time to find out.”
They’ve reached the captain's office and Soap lifts his hand and knocks.
“Come in.”
Soap guesses it’s probably a good sign that Price regards him with the same look he gets when he has a mild headache. Disgruntled, a little annoyed, but not in the way he would look if he were about to tell him he only had a few more days left to live. Soap releases a soft breath.
“Hey Cap.”
“Sit,” Price instructs him curtly. Only then does he seem to realise that Ghost is in the room with them. “Why are you here?”
Again, Ghost shrugs and rolls up the edge of his balaclava. “Got the same symptoms as Johnny. Thought you might not want to explain everything twice.”
A deep frown appears on Price’s face, his brows knitting together. “Impossible.”
Soap can tell by the shift of Ghost’s facial muscles that he’s raising an eyebrow in surprise.
“You weren’t even in the room when Soap got exposed,” Price continues. “You didn’t enter it after him either. There were no traces of the stuff anywhere else. We checked. And it only takes effect if you’re directly exposed to the substance or come in contact with an infected site within a few hours of contamination. So, unless you somehow made direct contact, and I mean skin to skin, with Soap’s bare arse in the last” — Price takes a look at his wristwatch — “eight hours, I highly doubt it.”
Soap can practically feel the colour rising in his cheeks. He glances up at Ghost and even with the mask on Soap can tell that they’re both thinking back to the exact same moment.
“Ouch. Careful.”
“Sorry,” Ghost mumbles and smooths a gentle thumb over the scrape. “Why’d you take the plaster off?”
“It stopped bleeding. It’s hardly more than a scratch.” Soap reaches past Ghost to turn on the water, showering them both in a gentle spray. Christ, even though they’re in Ghost’s lieutenant quarters the showers are way too tiny for two men of their size.
“Then don’t be so dramatic about it,” Ghost chuckles before tracing his thumb over the spot again. “Why’d you have to sit in glass anyway?”
Soap punches him softly in the chest. “I fucking slipped, okay? Wasn’t on purpose.” He loops his arms around Ghost, slides his own hands to his arse. “But I know something you can do to make me feel better…”
“That so, Johnny?” Ghost asks, already leaning down to trail his lips across Soap’s neck.
Soap hums, sliding a fingertip teasingly between Ghost’s cheeks. “Yeah. Want a hint?”
“Sure…”
The way Price’s facial expression shifts rapidly as he adds two and two together would be hilarious if Soap wasn’t still mildly concerned he might be actively dying right now.
“Please tell me you’re fucking joking,” the captain groans, looking hopefully at Ghost.
Next to him, Ghost shifts a little uneasily and Soap knows exactly what face he’s pulling right now. “Just fucking, I’m afraid.”
“Lord, have mercy.” Price buries his face in his hands for a moment. “Right, so we’ll have to have words about this. But later, we’re running out of time right now.”
“Don’t like the sound of that, sir,” Soap says nervously. In a reassuring gesture, Ghost presses his thigh up against Soap’s. It’s almost sweet.
“What’s happening to us?” Ghost’s voice is still perfectly even.
With a deep sigh, Price leans back in his chair. He rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose. “The substance you got exposed to is highly experimental. It’s meant to incapacitate but not to kill or even harm, so you’re not in any real danger.”
Soap relaxes immediately and even Ghost appears to lose some of the tension held in his shoulders.
“Couldn’t have made that one clear from the start, could you? Sir.” Soap adds the honorific more as an afterthought.
“Don’t get feisty with me, Soap,” Price warns. “You’re making my life hard enough as it is.”
Soap grimaces. “Sorry, sir.”
Price huffs gently. “Don’t mention it.”
“So, what’s this substance gonna do to us then?” Ghost asks. “You said it’s meant to incapacitate. I’m not noticing much of that yet.”
The captain nods. “It typically acts within twelve hours and the effects then usually last for about a day, though results have varied in testing. As I said, it’s still experimental.”
“No offense, sir, but I feel like you’re beating around the bush here…”
Soap hums in agreement.
Price grimaces. “I suppose there’s really no easy way of saying this. God, how I wish I didn’t need to have this conversation with you right now.” He leans forward, bracing his arms on his desk. “The way the agent acts is by increasing libido to a quite alarming degree. There’s practically no warning beforehand, apart from the rash, which is what clued us in, and some increased thirst and appetite. Once it starts there’s no way of stopping or delaying it.”
Soap gapes at the captain. “That’s it? It’ll make us horny for a day?”
Price is still pulling a face. “You don’t understand. I read the writeup of some of the tests they ran. It’s going to be” — he seems to search for the right word — ”intense. To say the least.”
“How intense are we talking?” Ghost asks, sounding a bit apprehensive.
Price’s eyes flicker to him. “You-won’t-be-able-to-leave-the-room levels of intense. Which is why we’re running out of time. The full effects have apparently never set in before the ten-hour mark but we’re getting close to that, so…” Price gets up from his chair and rounds the desk, leaning against it. He crosses his arms. “Listen. I don’t care how you deal with what’s going to happen to you two, but you need to be in a secure location and preferably out of my — hell, probably best it’s out of everyone’s earshot. If you want to spend the day together,” he eyes the way Soap and Ghost are practically sitting in each other’s lap at this point, “so be it. Honestly, it might be for the best. But you need to be prepared. Get a bunch of water bottles, isotonic drinks, and protein bars, you’ll need it. Oh, and let me know where you’ll be. If I don’t hear from either of you after a day and a half, I’ll come check.”
Soap’s mind is still spinning. “Wait, when you’re saying it’ll be so bad we can’t leave the room you mean…?”
“That you’ll be so randy you won’t be able to function properly. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Price’s brows are knitted together in irritation now. “Sorry, John. It’s been a long day.” He sighs.
“Right,” Soap says, then he turns to Ghost. “So, your room or mine?” He grins. Honestly, this could be worse. It’s not like he doesn’t get the hots for Ghost all the time anyway. So it’ll be a bit more intense – what of it?
“Mine,” Ghost says without hesitation.
“Aye, Lt.”
Price lets out a sound not unlike a frustrated whimper. “This is too much for one day. Get out of here now. And please don’t” — he waves an uncertain hand at them — ”just, take care of each other, alright?”
“Will do, Cap. Don’t worry.” Soap grins at Price. The man looks utterly exhausted, Soap almost feels bad.
“One more thing,” Price says as they’re just about to leave the office. “Since the whole thing is still experimental, there’ve been notes about seemingly random side effects. All within the general realm of heightened sex drive, but don’t be alarmed if there’s anything unusual going on with you. It should wear off along with the effects of the agent.”
“Like what?” Ghost asks.
Price shrugs helplessly. “I skipped over the details to protect my sanity, but the list was rather long. I’ll mail it to you along with the general information about the substance.”
Ghost nods.
“Now please, I need a fucking drink.”
“You notice anything yet?” Ghost asks quietly as they’re heading for the mess to stock up on water and food.
Soap quickly tries to take stock of his body. “Honestly, not sure. I think I feel a little hot, but that might just be my imagination now. You?”
Ghost meets his eyes. “Maybe…”
Soap raises an eyebrow at him. “Maybe?”
“I feel… a bit off?”
Soap’s second eyebrow joins the first. “Well, let's better hurry then.”
They make quick work of getting stocked up with some sustenance and then head for Ghost’s room. If anyone on the way eyes them and their arms full of water bottles curiously, neither of them notices, too wrapped up thinking about what’s apparently to come.
They settle in Ghost’s room and Soap would say it feels a little awkward if he wasn’t almost certain now that both his body temperature and his heart rate are somewhat elevated.
“What did you mean when you said you feel off?” Soap asks to distract himself, unable to mask the slight worry in his tone completely. They may just be fucking, but he still cares about Ghost. A lot. More than he should, maybe, but now is not the time to worry about that.
Ghost looks up from where he’s perched on the edge of his own bed and it’s only now that Soap notices the way he keeps scratching his blunt nails over the balls of both his hands.
“Hey,” Soap says gently and wheels himself over to Ghost’s side on his office chair, “none of that, come on.” He’s long since noticed that when tension ran high, Ghost had a tendency to dig his nails into his own skin. It’s grounding, Ghost had told him once, when it was late at night and neither of them could see the other’s face.
Soap takes Ghost’s hands into his own and as soon as they make contact, Ghost sucks in a sharp breath. Their eyes meet and now Soap can practically feel his own body radiating heat, an insistent tug in his gut.
“Guess that’s as good a warning as we’ll get,” Ghost mumbles and in silent agreement, Soap slides off the chair and into his lap. The clock on the wall tells them it’s barely been nine hours since Soap got exposed.
From then on there’s no stopping whatever the agent is doing to them. Soap feels outright lightheaded at the speed at which his cock starts filling out, seemingly not needing more than the barest hint of stimulation to be twitching and leaking in his shorts. He’s pressed up close against Ghost, unable to stop his hips from rutting up against his stomach while Ghost has his head buried against Soap’s neck, hot breath fanning out across his skin. The balaclava he’d been wearing a moment ago is lying discarded on the floor.
“Fuck, Ghost,” Soap pants, brain foggy with desire and when Ghost shoves a hand between their bodies, it doesn’t take more than a brush of his fingers against the bare skin of Soap’s cock for him to be coming almost explosively.
Soap is almost sure he blacks out for a second, and when he comes to again the mess between them is something to behold, splattered across both of their trousers and Ghost’s hand and hoodie.
“Christ,” Soap gasps, “I’m sorry, that—”
But he’s interrupted by a whine sounding like it rips itself from Ghost’s throat and then Ghost is clawing at Soap’s shirt with his come-covered hand, eyes glassy and unfocused.
“Please… need you…”
They undress in record time. As soon as Ghost is out of his clothing and back on the bed, Soap watches how he guides his sticky hand between his own legs, probing at his hole before sliding one finger in, no lube or anything, only Soap’s come to aid as a shitty substitute.
Soap groans at the sight, his cock somehow still fully hard and leaking. He stumbles over to the bedside drawer, rips it open to retrieve the lube he knows Ghost keeps there.
“Careful, you’ll hurt yourself,” Soap mumbles, already uncapping the bottle to pour some of the cool gel onto his hand. He joins Ghost back on the bed and lines his own hand up with Ghost’s, coating his fingers at the same time to ease the glide. And just how one brush of Ghost’s fingers to Soap’s cock made him shoot off instantly, as soon as one of Soap’s fingertips breaches Ghost’s hole, he curses loudly and clenches hard around them both as he comes, orgasm punched out of him.
Soap barely even has time to process what just happened when he can feel Ghost shoving himself back onto his fingers. Soap catches his eyes over Ghost’s shoulder and the expression on his face is almost enough to send him over the edge again.
It’s not like Soap isn’t well aware of Ghost’s preference for bottoming, but holy shit, right now he looks like he’s seconds away from begging Soap to shove his cock up his arse. And Soap would love to make him work for it, but at the moment he barely has the brain power to resist him long enough to make sure he’s not about to hurt Ghost by fucking into him without proper prep.
“I’ve got you,” Soap breathes out as he carefully fingers him loose. Ghost’s own hand has slipped to the side and he’s now using it to hold himself open for Soap.
“Never,” Ghost moans, “never in my life felt like this before.”
“How?” Soap asks, pressing a third finger inside him.
“Like I—like I need to be filled, else I’ll fucking—I’ll lose my mind or something.” Again, Ghost moans loudly and Soap has to wrap his free hand around the base of his own cock almost painfully tight to stop himself from coming.
“Bleedin’ fuck!”
Ghost hugs a pillow to his chest, his spine curves low and in an almost obscene display he slides his knees further apart. “Johnny…”
Soap curses again and moves to line himself up behind Ghost. He slips his fingers loose and then pushes in. He only gets as far as to fully sheath himself before Ghost comes again, fists clenched into the pillow and back arched even more. Soap tries to hold out but the tight squeeze around his cock combined with the beautiful display before him milks his second orgasm out of him as well. Though, milks really isn’t the right term. Soap comes like he’s been abstinent for weeks and didn’t just come a few minutes ago. Rope after rope shoot out of him, filling Ghost up as he whines into the pillow, own cock untouched but heavy between his legs, only the wet spot on the sheets betraying the fact that he, too, already came.
“This is insane,” Soap mutters, draped over Ghost’s back. He’s hot and sweaty, own skin sticking to Ghost’s like they’ve been at it for an hour instead of just a few minutes. And they both know, this is far from over, can feel it in the way they’re both still hard and aching for it.
“Move. Please, Johnny…”
And Soap doesn’t have to be told twice, thinks distantly about how he probably doesn’t even have to do anything to have Ghost begging beneath him. He watches, mesmerised, as he moves out of Ghost until only his tip remains inside before pushing back in. Can see the way his own come gets forced out of Ghost with his movements, even more so when Ghost clenches his arse. It’s like both their refractory periods have been wiped out and it feels like no time has passed at all when Soap comes again, eyes rolling back into his head as he shoves himself as deep as possible.
It’s then that Ghost grabs one of his hands, slides it to his own front and down to his belly, makes Soap splay his fingers wide over the skin there and Jesus fuck! Soap can feel the amount of come inside of him. Heat surges through Soap at the feeling of the small but distinct bulge in Ghost’s abdomen and he all but collapses on top of him, shuddering with aftershocks.
“If this is how I die, I won’t even be mad,” Soap mumbles, making Ghost laugh and lower his hips to grind against the sheets.
Soap rolls himself to the side then, slipping out of Ghost, who protests with a soft noise.
“I’ll be back,” Soap snorts and stands to fetch them a bottle of water, grabs one of the isotonic drinks as well. He takes a long drink and then hands the bottle to Ghost who eyes it for a moment before sitting up with a quiet grunt.
Soap watches his throat bob as he swallows and even that simple display makes his cock twitch. He’s still hard, doesn’t think he’s actually softened even once since this whole thing started, but to Soap’s surprise it’s not an overly uncomfortable feeling, just the sort of desperate urge to get off he gets when he hasn’t wanked in a little too long.
“You feeling alright, Lt.?” Soap asks when Ghost puts the water bottle back down next to the bed and Ghost nods. His hand drifts down to his stomach and now Soap can literally see the evidence of what he’s been doing to Ghost, the way he filled him up.
“Holy fuck.”
Ghost swallows and Soap can see the shiver running through his body. His own cock drips some precome on the floor.
He settles back on the bed, slides in behind Ghost who lies down on his side this time, pulling one leg up to give Soap better access. Some of Soap’s come has leaked out of him, making a sticky mess between his thighs and Soap can’t help himself – he swipes his fingers through it, then pushes as much as he can back inside of Ghost’s hole.
“Fuckin’ look at you, Lt.,” Soap whispers as he proceeds to fingerfuck Ghost, “Can’t believe how much I got in you. Think you can take more? Make me really fill you up.”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ghost nod. “Please, Johnny, I can take it.”
Soap nods. “Aye, I think you can.” But he keeps fingering Ghost, watches as he takes himself in hand and comes only a few strokes later, face pressed into the pillow. With mild interest, Soap notes that Ghost’s orgasm isn’t accompanied by copious amounts of come. So for Soap it has to be one of these strange side effects Price mentioned.
Even though Ghost is panting, it doesn’t stop him from trying to get Soap to properly fuck him again. He gets back onto his hands and knees only moments after he came and shoves himself backwards. His efforts make more of Soap’s spend leak out of him and Soap feels almost delirious with how much the sight affects him.
“Alright, alright, yeah. I got you.” Soap strokes one hand down Ghost’s back, watches fascinated how his fingertips leave a faint trail in the thin layer of sweat coating Ghost’s back. He lines himself up and presses back in.
Determined to actually get a few more strokes in this time, Soap sets a swift pace, pumping his hips, sliding in and out of Ghost, one hand on his hip, the other still flat on his back. Ghost’s head hangs low, his hair a mess, his arms are fully extended, muscles bunching in his shoulders, but Soap can see the way they tremble slightly with effort.
“Ready?” Soap gasps when he can feel the pressure inside of him building for the fourth time.
“Yes,” Ghost moans and pushes back, clenching around Soap.
Soap moves with him, still setting an almost brutal pace but just when he starts coming, his rhythm falters and he slips out of Ghost, spilling most of his load across his broad back.
Ghost honest to god mewls at the loss of more come inside of him and spurred by the noise, Soap manages to push back in for the final few spurts.
“Sshh,” Soap soothes, once again plastered over Ghost’s back, entirely uncaring about the mess between them. “I’m sorry, love.”
The endearment slips out of his mouth without thinking, but even if Ghost noticed, he doesn’t comment on it.
Soap guides them to lie on their sides, still buried deep inside Ghost, and wraps an arm around him. Ghost entangles their fingers and slides both their hands back down to his belly. Soap knows that the amount of come he actually landed inside Ghost with his last orgasm must be almost negligible, and yet he still feels like the swell in Ghost’s abdomen is even more noticeable.
Soap hums, pressing his lips to Ghost’s shoulder. “So full…”
He feels Ghost swallow thickly.
“Can you feel it inside?” Soap asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Ghost shivers and nods. “Yes.”
He shifts around a bit, probably to get away from the wet and sticky spot on the sheets. They desperately need a shower, but Soap feels like they aren’t quite done for the moment and as if reading his mind Ghost asks, “Do you think—can you go again?”
Soap groans and presses his sweaty forehead against Ghost’s shoulder blade. His cock twitches. “You’re killing me, Lt. Want me to get you full to bursting? Want me to get it in so deep it takes?” The words are out of Soap’s mouth before he’s really even thought about it, but before he can get embarrassed and self-conscious over it, Ghost’s hand on his tightens and Soap can feel the way his cock leaks more precome.
“Yes, Johnny. Want you to—to fuckin’ breed me.”
A wave of desire rolls through Soap at Ghost’s words, gut coiling up tight. He makes Ghost turn onto his back, shoves a pillow under his hips to angle them up, then slides back inside him without resistance.
Ghost moans loudly, more come leaking out of his hole as Soap begins to move. The pace is sloppy, messy; more than once Soap slips out of Ghost while pulling back, getting a perfect view of the way Ghost’s muscles clench and pucker around nothing for a moment as more of Soap’s spend trickles out of him. It’s obscene, it’s absurd, and they’re both loving it.
“Christ, you look—” Soap has to pause to stop himself from coming at the thought alone, “You look pregnant like this.” He smooths a hand over Ghost’s belly again, feeling how full he is.
“Please,” Ghost says, catching Soap’s hand in his. “More…”
Even as overwhelmed as he is with the situation at hand, Soap can’t help but take a moment to admire Simon like this. Usually, when they fuck, it’s a quick affair, stolen away in a corner or a cramped shower to get off and share some closeness. Soap rarely allows himself to watch his fill like this, still unsure if what he’s truly feeling for Ghost is mutual. They’ve never really talked about it, only fallen into bed together again and again, never even truly kissed, but god, how Soap wants to kiss him. Looking at Ghost now, unmasked, expression open and vulnerable, hazy-eyed, he’s so much more to Soap than The Ghost. He’s Simon, and fuck, if Soap isn’t slowly but surely falling in love with him.
“Johnny…” His name pulls Soap from his thoughts. Ghost’s hand has found its way to Soap’s ribs and when they lock eyes at the same time as Ghost clenches around him, Soap can’t help it. He gasps, gut coiling tight, and he makes sure to get as deep as possible when he comes, yet again, and just as intense as the times before.
One of Ghost’s heels digs into Soap’s arse, urging him even closer and Soap is vaguely aware of Ghost stroking himself before he, too, comes again with a shout, spilling over the bulge in his abdomen.
“Reckon it’ll take?” Soap mumbles, slumped halfway across Ghost, face smushed against his shoulder. He’s slipped out of Ghost’s hole but he’s still distinctly aware of the come leaking out of him right next to his cock trapped by their bodies. Soap shudders.
Ghost chuckles. “Guess only time will tell.”
Soap snickers as well. He turns his head a bit, presses a kiss to Ghost’s upper arm.
“Looks like we’re allowed to catch a break,” Ghost says tentatively, and Soap hums in agreement, both their cocks softening for the first time since it started.
“Only took both of us coming like five times.”
“‘S one hell of a drug.”
“For sure.” Soap loops one arm and one leg around Ghost like an octopus, uncaring how messy and sweaty they both are. He yawns.
Ghost ruffles a hand through his mohawk. “Nap, then shower.”
Soap hums, eyes already closed. Just before he drifts off, he wonders where the rest of the night will take them.