Archive of Our Own

It’s no secret to anyone on base that Soap’s boyfriend refuses to bottom. It’s not the worst thing in the world. Soap’s barely home enough for it to truly be a problem, leave just a week or so long every few months that he spends holed up in Sam’s flat drinking and fucking and getting takeout. It’s nice, having someone there to keep him from climbing the walls and he gets some relief on top. 
 
Well, not on top. 
 
He’s bitched to Gaz enough about that little detail to the point his fellow sergeant just hums an uninterested response whenever it’s brought up, which is often. Gaz has heard it all- how he wishes he could be the one in control, how he wishes he could get some real friction on his aching cock. Yes, Gaz has heard it all, and so has the rest of base. 
 
It's now, just a few days before he’s due back in Glasgow, that Soap decides to give a real effort to do something about it. Something more than just a hint halfway through leave that would end with Sam scoffing and just grinding back into his sloppy hole until Soap’s moans drove away his complaints. 
 
The picture is a good one- his hand wrapped lazily around his hard, throbbing cock. It’s been a minute since he’s had time to himself and the ruddy- near purple- hue of the head peaking out his foreskin shows it. Pre glistens thickly at the tip, making even Soap’s mouth water. If this doesn’t get Sam to reconsider- along with his cheeky little caption- he doesn’t know what will. 
 
Waiting for a response is agonizing. It isn’t all that late, his boyfriend notorious for his late night gaming sessions, and Soap sits impatiently, waiting with all the hope he can allow himself that he’ll get the reaction he’s been craving for months. He reads over his text again- Anything ye wanna do with this?- and tells himself it’s not as cringey as it sounds. His phone does ping, but it’s just Simon and he decides to ignore it for now, his cock starting to leak as he strokes it in anticipation for a fun conversation with Sam. But as the minutes tick by, he slowly flags, hand rubbing slower and slower until he lets go of himself, huffing in frustration. 
 
“Bloody typical,” he mutters, tucking his flaccid cock back into his joggers. He’s not all that surprised his effort’s gone unnoticed. Wouldn’t even be surprised if Sam had managed to pause his game long enough to glance at his phone and just rolled his eyes, deciding it wasn’t worth an answer. 
 
With nothing else to occupy his disappointed mind, Soap opens up his chat with Simon. It takes all of half a second for his eyes to widen, stomach dropping like ice cold lead, his heart stopping in an instant. 
 
There, taking up most of the screen, is his thick, hard cock. 
 
He’d sent Simon- his fucking lieutenant- a picture of his hard fucking cock. 
 
His thumbs hover, frantically twitching as he tries to come up with the proper apology for accidently sexting his CO and friend, when the text bubble underneath the picture catches his eye. 
 
Blood pounds in his ears as he stares at the four words, fingers gripping his phone tightly, like the response will slip from his grasp if he loosens them. The words echo in his mind, burning themselves to his lids with every incredulous blink, as he reads them over and over and over again. The response he’d been hoping for. The reaction he’s craved more than anything in a long time. Four words that mean so much from the wrong person. 
 
I’d bounce on it. 
 
It’s not banter. That he knows for sure. Simon is well aware of his little problem, having been present many times while Soap loudly complained, which makes the offer that much more of a mind fuck. 
 
They’re friends- an accomplishment Soap takes great pride in. He’s painstakingly torn down every wall that Ghost’s shielded himself with until he got to the soft, gooey center that is Simon Riley. They’re close. Closer than Soap’s been with someone in a long time, and with that closeness has come some- complicated feelings. 
 
He knows he’s a little too interested in his LT. Their banter a little too flirty. His touch and gaze lingering a little too long. It started as curiosity. Wanting to know more about this enigma of a man. When it shifted to something more primal- more obsessive- he doesn’t know, but Simon’s never made any indication he’s interested and Soap has a boyfriend. 
 
A boyfriend that has ignored his needs and even his attempts to communicate them. 
 
But Simon hasn’t. 
 
He licks his lips, thumbs hovering over the keypad on his phone. He should ignore it. Should close the chat and just apologize tomorrow and move on. There’s no way of telling if Simon is joking- making light of an embarrassing slip up- and if he replies like he wants to, he could show the hand he intended on hiding forever. He should just go to bed and put this all behind him. 
 
But he doesn't want to. 
 
He types before he can stop himself. 
 
🧼: That so, LT? 
 
The ping that follows is near instantaneous. 
 
💀: By the time I'm done with you, you won't be settling for mediocre dick 
 
He should be offended, at least on Sam's behalf, but his cock is twitching again and he can practically feel Simon wrapped around it. Can feel the heat he’s all too familiar with churning in his gut. The heat that simmers and ignites any time they’re together. The heat that isn’t as ready and willing when he’s on leave. 
 
Ping. 
 
💀: Should know though... I don't share 
 
And there it is. 
 
It’s no surprise Simon’s possessive right off the bat. He’s not much of a sharer- of secrets, or food, or anything really. Real fucking protective of his shit, he is. Except for with Soap. Soap can get away with swiping chips off his plate or stealing a hoodie when he’s cold. He takes Simon’s time and attention and has never heard even a hint of protest at his audacity. Because they’re friends, and that’s what friends do. 
 
Except Gaz and Roach and Price are his friends too, but they don’t get away with half of what Soap does. It’s to the point that his fellow sergeants complain loudly and often about Ghost’s obvious preferential treatment. He’s known his LT less time than Roach or Price, but he gets privileges they very clearly do not. 
 
Because they’re friends. 
 
Soap bites his lip, thumbs hovering again. If he goes through with this, there's no coming back. He'll be giving up his boyfriend. Giving up Sam. He knows he can say no. That Ghost will respect that and they'll go back to how they were. That he’ll wave off this little hiccup and treat him like it never happened. 
 
That he can go on, not knowing what Simon’s arse feels like, wrapped around his cock. 
 
Soap tosses his phone down, standing and pulling on a shirt. He toes on his shoes, pocketing the damn brick of metal that started all this, and adjusts himself in his joggers before stepping out his door. The walk down the hall to Simon’s room feels longer than normal, his chest tightening in anticipation.  
 
As he knocks on the door, he wonders what Sam would say if he saw him now. Whatever it is, it’d be pretty fucking hypocritical. It’s not like Soap doesn’t know he’s cheating on him. It’s pretty fucking clear when he has to go out and get condoms when they didn’t use up all the ones from last leave. It’s not like he doesn’t notice the dirty looks and passive aggressive comments from their friend, Matthew, when the three of them go out to the pub. His little snide remarks about all the time he’s away, leaving poor Sam all on his own. It’s almost an open secret that he ignores. They don’t acknowledge the huge fucking elephant in the room the rare times he’s home. What’s the point? He wasn’t gonna to waste what little time he has at home looking for a lay when he has him right there. 
 
He finds he doesn’t care all that much about any of it. Especially not when the door cracks open and he sees Simon peek out over his balaclava, brow quirking up and eyes crinkling in a smirk Soap can read easily through the fabric. He cares even less when it widens and Simon stares down at him, broad, pale, bare chest on full display. 
 
“Need somethin’, sergeant?” Simon fucking purrs, eyes hooded and dark as they drag down Soap’s body, pausing at the tent in his trousers. 
 
Soap shivers, letting out a breathy chuckle, prying his eyes from a pert, pink nipple and the barbell in it he wants nothing more than to suck on. 
 
“Aye,” he replies, shifting to stand with his hip cocked, a hand sliding between his legs to grip loosely at his aching length. “I’m here ta take ye up on yer offer”. 
 
Simon hums, leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly attractive as he teases Soap more with his hungry gaze. 
 
“That so?” he lilts, crossing his arms so his muscular chest grows even more plush. “Then I’m sure you took care of my stipulation?”. 
 
Soap purses his lips, knowing exactly how he looks as he stares up at him through his full lashes. 
 
“Thing is,” he starts, leaning further into Simon’s space and breathing in his spiced scent. A comforting one he’ll never grow tired of. “I’m havin’ a bit of trouble findin’ the right words. Thought maybe ye could help me out with that too”. 
 
Simon scoffs, pushing back up to full height and towering over him. All Soap can feel is the band in his gut tightening, his cock damn near weeping at the sight of him. 
 
“Needy little thing today, aren’t you, Johnny?” Simon hums.  
 
Soap swallows, throat thick with want. He’s imagined the low timbre of Simon’s voice whispering filth directly into his ear numerous times. Shameful isn’t the word he’d use to describe his wanks when his imagination ran away from him, especially when they followed seeing social media posts of his boyfriend standing a little too close to one of his friends, arms wrapped far too low around each other in his opinion. If Sam can have a little fun on the side when the loneliness gets too suffocating, then why can’t he? 
 
“Just fer you, sir,” he replies, barely a breath between them as he pushes further into Simon’s space. He’s close enough to see the way his pupils swallow the rest of his amber eyes. Close enough to hear the stifled groan that bubbles out of him. 
 
“Get the fuck in here, Soap”. 
 
The sergeant damn near squeaks as he's suddenly yanked into the room, not given a moment to gather his wits before he’s then flung backward onto the bed. Simon wastes no time, bending down and shedding his trousers, tossing them to the floor and climbing up to straddle Soap’s hips, hands skating under his tee and pushing it up above his pecs. 
 
“Simon,” Soap breathes, kicking off his shoes, his hands tracing up Simon’s thick thighs, mouth watering at the blond’s own, frankly giant, cock hanging just over his own stomach from the weight of it. It’s the bigger than any he’s ever seen- let alone taken- and in his trepidation at how fucking enormous he is, he forgets why he’s here. The feeling of Simon’s balls resting on his clothed bulge doesn’t help either and it feeds the flames quickly raging to an inferno inside him. “What are-” 
 
“I’m keepin’ my word,” Simon cuts him off, rolling his hips to drag those perfect, heavy balls over his throbbing length. Soap’s head drops back into the pillows as he lets out a long, shuddering moan, feeling his pants grow wetter at the stimulation. “Told you I’d bounce on it, and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do”. 
 
“Fuck, get on with it then,” Soap whines, trying to get him to lift off so he can pull his own clothes off with the reminder of his goal, but Simon is so deliciously big and he’s still too entranced by the way his poor, neglected cock is finally getting some attention to really try to push him off. Simon clicks his tongue. 
 
“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Still got one little problem you’ve gotta take care of first. Not gonna fuck a taken man, Johnny. Just wouldn’t be right”. 
 
Soap would like to point out that dry humping a taken man would probably fall under the same level of unethical, but his head is spinning with the feeling of Simon on top of him. He whimpers, unable to formulate a better response. Simon merely grins, hand slipping into Soap’s pocket. The sergeant sucks in a breath when his fingers nudge his cock, but they’re gone in a flash, sliding out- 
 
Holding Soap’s phone. 
 
“Best get it done,” Simon says, handing it to him. “Unless you’d rather go back to your room. Sleep it off and join him for another disappointin’ leave”. 
 
Soap huffs incredulously, but takes his phone, unlocking it and tapping on his and Sam’s chat. He looks at it. Notes the gaps of days between conversations. The single word replies to his own texts. His last hopeful text he actually sent him to get Sam to let him have what he wants for once, left on read. That’s not even counting all his missed calls, especially the ones after a hard op when he just needed to hear a voice untainted with fear to remind him of the outside world. Or the ones cut short when Soap tried to stand up for himself. The heat in his gut churns, annoyance mixing with it and he taps the camera with no further thought. 
 
Simon’s smooth skin, broken up by scars Soap’s wanted to map out with his tongue for months now, glows with the low light of the room on his screen. His giant cock is leaking a small puddle of pre on Soap’s stomach, sticking in the hair leading beneath his sleep pants- tented obscenely, blocking most of the view of Simon’s balls. He snaps a picture- making sure the blond’s face and tattoos are out of frame- then taps his fingers quickly before sending it. He tosses the phone aside, face up and waits as Simon glances down at it. 
 
🧼: Don’t worry bout it. Won’t bother you anymore. Have fun with yours 
 
“That good enough fer ye, ye big-” 
 
Again, he’s cut off, but this time it’s by the desperate press of masked lips against his. He gasps wetly against the fabric as Simon arches against him, their cocks rubbing harshly as they grind together. Soap’s hand flies up, fingers slipping beneath the balaclava, trying to push it up just enough to feel his lips proper, but can’t bring himself to separate for the second it would take. His efforts don’t go to waste though as Simon reaches up and yanks it off, lips now moving, soft yet frantic, with his.  
 
Soap doesn’t waste any time plunging his tongue into Simon’s mouth, moaning, hips jumping, when Simon sucks on it. Their kiss is sloppy. Wet and lacking finesse as all their pent up desire surges between them, hands unable to pick a spot to land on. They skim over each other, determined to touch every bit of each other they can. Soap squeezes Simon’s arse, pressing him harder against him before his fingers dance up to his hair that he tangles them in. Simon strokes his sides, digging his grasp into his hips, then shoulders, then mohawk. 
 
Soap can feel his breaths thinning, panting harshly into Simon’s mouth, but fuck he can’t stop. Can’t imagine parting from him, even as his mind buzzes from it all. 
 
Buzzes  
 
and buzzes  
 
and buzzes. 
 
Simon curses, pulling away and Soap will deny the pathetic sound that escapes as he chases after him. He’s brought back to himself a bit as he looks down at what Simon’s frowning at. His phone screen is lit up, showing Sam’s face as his phone vibrates. It shuts off after a moment, clearly going to voicemail before lighting back up. Simon sighs, raising a brow at Soap who contemplates for all of two seconds before picking up his phone and turning it off, tossing it onto the nightstand. 
 
“Fuckin’ bastard didnae wanna talk before, he doesnae get to now,” he growls. Simon chuckles, gaze growing hungry again. 
 
“I don’t mind,” he replies, sitting back on Soap’s thighs, taking away the delicious pressure from his cock. “I’m sure you have a lot to talk about. Break ups can get messy, you know. Better get it over with now rather tha-” 
 
“Simon, ye better sit yer arse back down on my cock or we’re gonna have a problem of our own,” Soap snaps. Simon grins at him, a finger lightly tracing over his still covered bulge. 
 
“Right now?” he asks, tone silky and dangerous. It makes Soap wanna scream or come or both. “Don’t even wanna take these off? When I offered to ride you into the mattress, I figured I’d at least be gettin’ somethin’ out of it. You always this greedy, Johnny?”. 
 
“Greedy?” Soap spits bitterly, making himself still under Simon’s finger still traveling idly along his shaft. “I’d say I’ve been a damn saint fer too long now. Seems not one goddamn person wants ta give me what I want. Ye gonna sit there and tease me, Simon? Then maybe I should answer the bloody phone. Bet I can still make it up ta Sam if I beg all sweet like he likes”. 
 
Simon’s eyes darken, fingers freezing before reaching up to brace himself as he leans over Soap. 
 
“Don’t want to hear that fuckin’ bastard’s name when I’ve got you in my bed, Johnny,” he snarls, sending shivers down Soap’s spine. He smirks back. 
 
“Then give me a reason ta say yers”. 
 
The sound that comes out of Simon is pure animal as he lifts off, wrenching Soap’s joggers down and off, throwing them behind him. Soap gasps as Simon reaches between his legs and finally puts a hand on his throbbing cock, jerking him harshly a couple times, then lining him up. 
 
“Wait, Si-,” Soap chokes, feeling his heated skin press against his tip. 
 
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Simon growls, slowly sinking down so the head slides easily in, tight, wet heat enveloping him. It’s better than he remembers. Better than he even imagined. 
 
“Ye’re,” Soap slurs, mind a haze as he’s taken deeper and deeper. “Ye’re wet. So wet. And warm”. 
 
Simon chuckles. “Was already three fingers deep when you sent that bloody text. Came the second I saw the picture. Prettiest fuckin’ cock I’ve ever seen. Knew I had to have it in me. Knew I needed you, Johnny”. 
 
God, he’s not gonna last. As Simon seats himself to the hilt, he knows he won’t. He’s so bloody tight around him. So fucking perfect. His balls are already drawn up, the band deep in his belly taut and straining. Simon smirks down at him like he knows, rolling his hips enough to pull out a deliciously wrecked moan from his sergeant. 
 
“Gonna let me ride you, Johnny?” he purrs. “Gonna fill my arse with your cum? Been gaggin’ for it. Since I first heard you bitchin’ ‘bout that wanker”. 
 
“Simon,” Soap groans. “Please. Please”.  
 
“Tell me what you want, love,” Simon whispers, bending at the elbows to press a soft kiss to his quivering lips. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want me”. 
 
“I want ye,” he cries, thrusting up into him once, shaking as he feels himself skirt closer to the edge. “I just- I can’t- I’m too close”. 
 
“Then let’s get the first one out of the way,” Simon hums, sitting back up, hands moving to grope at Soap’s chest. “Can’t imagine how pent up you are. I’m sure you’ve got enough to fill me ‘til I burst, hm?”. 
 
Soap can only moan, nodding as Simon lifts off and plops back down, the slick slide ringing out louder than the blood pumping in his ears. He curls his fingers around Simon’s thighs, digging in on each bounce. The rhythm’s too slow, despite how wired he is, driving him mad as his pleasure rides the line. His cock aches with the friction, leaking enough to make the glide slicker and slicker, pre frothing along his base each time Simon lifts up. 
 
Soap watches, slack-jawed at the mess they make. Simon’s monster cock keeps dribbling onto the sergeant’s stomach, pre flicking up his torso as his pace quickens. His balls slap loudly on Soap’s pelvis, full and tight with his impending orgasm. Soap uncurls a hand, gently grabbing his sack and rolling it. Simon moans, quickening his pace as he braces himself backward on Soap’s thighs. 
 
“Fuck, yeah, keep touchin’ me,” he pants, the joining of their flesh growing louder and louder as their skin grows dewy with sweat. “Gettin’ close. Come with me, Johnny. Please. Come with me, and you can fuck me proper”. 
 
It's just too much. The sweltering heat around him. Simon’s soft sounds and sultry voice cooing at him. He can’t hold back any longer and Soap comes with a broken moan, fucking up into Simon as deep as he can, keeping up his ministrations until Simon follows him. 
 
Cum splatters across his torso, those perfect, heavy balls emptying to mark Soap. He feels the way they seize, tightening and twitching with each long spurt. God, had he been the one being fucked raw, he’d be dripping out around Simon, and the fact that he’s not has his cock twitching. Still hard, like he hadn’t come his fucking brains out. 
 
His gaze drops from where he’d been staring at Simon in his come down- flushed chest heaving, head thrown back, eyes shut, with a little smile on his face- to where he’s sat flush with Soap’s hips. A moment of pure, unadulterated need takes him, and he moves, lifting Simon and flipping them. 
 
Simon curses as Soap pries his legs further apart, pressing his knees to the mattress, then slowly pulling out. His groan as he watches his spend chase after him is louder than any sound he’s ever made in the bedroom. Pearly white drips obscenely from Simon’s twitching hole and he can’t resist the urge to thumb it back where it belongs. Simon’s content little hum and the way he pushes into his touch only drives Soap further into his molten haze and, before he can even think about it, he’s flipping Simon again. 
 
The view of his giant lieutenant on his belly, face down on the mattress, is one he’s thought of before, but fuck, it’s so much better in person. His plump arse jiggles as he situates himself more comfortably, turning to grin over his shoulder, across the pale expanse of his back, divoted with more scars, rolling with hills of firm muscle. His thick thighs quiver and shift when he hikes a leg up, sloppy hole peeking from between the wisps of hair furling along those biteable cheeks. 
 
“There he is,” Simon grins, pulling one to the side to show off how cum has begun trickling out again. “I was wonderin’ when the Johnny I know was gonna show up. C’mon, sergeant. I know what you want. Know what you need. You can have it. You can have anythin’ you want with me. C’mon. Fuck me into the mattress. Split me open on that nice, thick cock of yours. Make me cry as you fuckin’ breed me like you were made to”. 
 
Soap curses, draping himself over Simon, licking the rest of his filthy words out of his mouth as he ruts along the seam of his arse. Simon moans into his mouth, again turning their kiss sloppy and wet, the glide of their tongues as fucking lewd as the wet squelch of their fucking had been. Soap whines when his cock catches on Simon’s gaping hole and he chases the warmth he already misses, sinking back into him. 
 
Simon sighs like he’s soaking in a hot bath, growing pliant under the sergeant. The give of his body on Soap’s first thrust has fire prickling along his skin, gut like lava with each slide of his oversensitive cock. It feels too good to stop though, and he keeps rolling into him, hearing his cum get fucked deeper and deeper into the man he’s been pining for longer than he should have. 
 
This is what he’s been missing. This is what he’s been craving. Simon. Simon, who listens to him blather on like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Simon, who weathers Soap’s rage when an op goes sideways. Who knows when to listen and how to calm him down. Simon, who has never made him feel stupid or annoying for asking for what he wants. Simon, who’s only ever accepted and cherished him, just for being himself. 
 
Why the fuck had he wasted so much time on that worthless prick? 
 
He glances at his phone, still laying silently on the nightstand as he fucks, hard and deep, into the blond- his hands curled possessively around his hips, keeping his arse in the air to get as deep as he can. The moans and grunts and keens beneath him drive him forward, and he falls onto the hulking man, chest plastered to his tacky back where he props himself up on his elbows. 
 
“Fuck, Johnny,” Simon grits, turning to nuzzle Soap’s head where he’s panting harshly into his shoulder. “So fuckin’ good. Bloody natural you are, even out of practice”. 
 
“Never let me do this,” Soap spits, snapping harder into him, blood boiling. “He never gave me even a taste of what I wanted. Fuckin’ bawbag. Fuckin’ bampot. I’m the bloody bampot. Could’ve had ye this whole time, couldn’t I? Ye would’ve let me fuck this perfect fuckin’ arse day one, wouldn’t ye, LT? Wasted so much fuckin’ time. Fuckin’ givin’ myself ta some bloody wanker that didnae even care. Fuckin’ had someone on the side the whole time. More than one, probably. And I just went on like it was nothin’, when I could’ve had you. When I could’ve-” 
 
His eyes sting, and Soap is miffed to find tears dripping down onto Simon’s nape. He doesn’t stop though, blinking through them and continuing his harsh pace. Simon tries to turn, but can’t fight his weight, and by the sounds he’s making, he probably doesn’t really want to stop him. Soap just keeps fucking him, letting all the rage and hurt and regret run down his back with his sweat. He nips and licks and kisses at Simon’s nape, his salty musk coating his mouth. Drinking it down with the keens that spill out past Simon’s lips. He tastes better than anything he’s ever tasted before, and he knows- is absolutely sure- he’ll never get enough. 
 
“Ye better have fuckin’ meant it,” he growls, shifting to roll them on their sides enough to get a better angle, that has Simon crying out, clutching Soap’s arm he wrapped around his chest. “You better have meant ye’re not sharin’ me. Ye’re fuckin’ mine now, Simon. Mine. I’ll have ye like this every fuckin’ day. Gonna make sure yer hole only knows my cock. Make sure ye’re molded ta take me. Only me”. 
 
“Yours,” Simon slurs, arching his back so Soap hits his prostate on every thrust, punching sobs and whimpers out of him. “Fuckin’ yours, Johnny. Always was”. 
 
Soap curses, taking Simon’s massive cock in his hand, barely able to get his hand around it, and stroking him in time with his thrusts. He’s gonna get his mouth on him soon. The only part of him that will be breached by this weapon. Simon may be built to breed, but him who will be fucked full from now on. 
 
It’s only a matter of seconds before Simon is coming again, clenching so hard around Soap, he has no choice but to follow suit. He fills Simon once more, sick satisfaction spreading through him at the hot feel of his spend around him when he stays tucked deep inside him. 
 
He holds Simon through his comedown, cooing softly to him as he shivers, catching his breath and stifling the last of his sobs. When he has his lieutenant pliant and still once again, he pulls out, turning him to lie flat so he can thumb away his tears, kissing his cheeks, his head, then his lips. 
 
“Everythin’ you ever dreamed it’d be?” Simon asks tiredly. Soap snorts. 
 
“Not my first time, ye numpty,” he scoffs, kissing him again. “But, aye. All I dreamed and more”. 
 
They’re silent for a bit, Soap soaking in all the warmth Simon’s body will give him. This has been a dream of his too. Laying with Simon after, just holding each other. Another thing Sam wasn't big on. 
 
Speaking of. 
 
He reaches out and pulls his phone off the nightstand, turning it back on. Simon blinks his lidded eyes back open, humming a questioning sound at the disturbance to their little bubble. 
 
“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap mutters as his phone pings and pings and pings with all the missed calls and texts. He opens his chat and watches as they filter in. 
 
What the fuck is this? 
 
Ye fucking cheating on me? 
 
Mine??? What the fuck are ye talking about??? 
 
Answer yer fucking phone John 
 
Did you fucking hang up on me??? 
 
Ignoring me now? 
 
ANSWER YER PHONE 
 
It’s then that the notifications for several missed voicemails pop up too. What the hell, Soap mentally shrugs as he clicks on one. 
 
“Ye fuckin’ son of a bitch. Ye think you can just run and hide after sendin’ me that fuckin’ picture? Oh, ye don’t get what ye want, so ye act like a fuckin’ whore? Ye’re a waste of my fuckin’ time, John”. 
 
Another voicemail. 
 
“Ye ken, ye’re right. I do have my own. Matt’s a much better fuck than ye ever were. Doesnae fuckin’ bitch about the best fuckin’ cock he’s ever had. That big cunt ye were fuckin’? Doubt he’ll even remember ye. Ye’re nothin’, John”. 
 
And another. 
 
“This is why ye’ll never be shit. Youngest in SAS or whatever, but you havenae moved up in rank. Always bitchin’ ‘bout bouncin’ around teams. Ye ken why that is?  ‘Cause no one fuckin’ wants ye. Good fuckin’ riddance. All ye were was a willin’ hole too eager ta throw away. Should’ve known ye were trash with how quick ye gave it up”. 
 
On and on they go, in a similar vein. After the sixth one, Simon places his hand on Soap’s, pushing the phone down. 
 
“Enough, Johnny,” he whispers. Soap swallows thickly, huffing out a hollow laugh. 
 
“Not like I didnae ken what he really thought of me,” he says, ignoring the way his eyes sting and his stomach hurts. “Fuckin’ stupid. I don’t really care what he says, but it still hurts ta hear it said out loud. Like I said, wasted time”. 
 
Simon wraps him in his arms, kissing his jaw. Soap shudders under his touch. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this quiet intimacy. The fact that he’s being given it freely is a mind fuck on its own.  
 
“Guess I kinda deserve it,” he continues. “Not the old shit he’s bringin’ up, but I get he’s fuckin’ fumin’. Don’t really get why though. It’s not like he ever loved me”. 
 
“’Cause he’s a fuckin’ wanker who liked to control you,” Simon huffs, squeezing him tighter. “He knows you’re a fuckin’ catch and he’s just mad someone else sees it and wants to treat you like you deserve- and you deserve better than that, Johnny”. 
 
Soap grins, heart feeling lighter. 
 
“Oh, aye?” he lilts, turning to smile cheekily at the blond. “Ye gonna treat me right, LT?”. 
 
Simon smiles back, but his gaze is firm. Unwavering. Serious. 
 
“I’d give you the fuckin’ world if you asked”. 
 
Soap blinks, taken aback by the raw honesty shining back. Before he can unstick his tongue to reply to what was basically a fucking love confession, his phone vibrates again. He sighs, reaching to pick it up and get the inevitable shit show over with when Simon snatches it up. He watches with wide eyes as he swipes to answer it, holding it up to his ear. 
 
He can hear Sam yelling before he’s cut off by Simon’s steady, even voice. 
 
“Johnny can’t come to the phone right now,” he says, cutting easily through Sam’s ranting and raving. “He’ll call you back when he’s done splittin’ me open on his thick fuckin’ cock”. 
 
Then, the call is ended and his phone shoved in the nightstand drawer- ringer turned all the way off. 
 
Soap is silent for a beat, staring at the wood of the drawer before an incredulous chuckle bubbles out. He looks up at Simon, who’s grinning nervously, as if he hadn’t taken a fuckin’ load off Soap- in more ways than one. 
 
“Ye just delayed the inevitable,” Soap points out after tackling him onto the bed, straddling his stomach. Simon cocks his head. 
 
“That implies you’re ever gonna get tired of my arse,” he replies. Soap’s brow furrows in confusion. “You said you’d have me like this every day. Keep that promise, and you’ll never have to talk to that fucker again”. 
 
Soap shakes his head, chest swelling with how fucking relieved he is that he chose to come here tonight. 
 
“Ye’re a bloody menace, LT,” he grins. Simon smiles warmly. 
 
"Your bloody menace, Johnny. Only yours”.