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“Fucking hell”, Ghost murmured beneath his breath.
In his hands he stared down at the offending piece of fabric that had begun to cause him so much strife. A seemingly normal, even trusted pair of pants. Worn in to the point of a perfect and comfortable fit. Yet now, he couldn’t seem to put them on.
He knows why, his biology is screaming a him, telling him exactly what it wants and needs. And yet, Ghost ignores it, instead choosing to believe he’d been hitting the squats a little too hard as of late.
He opts to put on something stretchier, and go about his day as if he were none the wiser.
Of course, it isn’t long before someone catches on.
After a very typical if not boring day on base, Ghost makes his way to the 141’s small kitchenet. He busies himself with making a cup of tea, hoping it’ll take the edge off the strange tightness that’s been settling in his midsection. Footsteps sound behind him, instantly recognizable, but he’s surprised by the silence that follows. He takes a curious glance over his shoulder. There, Soap stands in the doorway, arms at his side and hands clenched into fists. His gaze is decidedly looking down. Eyes half lidded as he stares into Ghost’s backside.
Ghost ignores the surge of heat he gets from the intense glare.
“Soap.” He snaps.
Slowly, his eyes trail up, taking in every plain of his superiors back along the way before finally meeting his gaze. A wry smirk lifts the side of his mouth.
“Cozy day LT?”
“Laundry day.”
Soap cocks a brow. “It’s Wednesday.”
“And?”
“You do your laundry Friday.”
“Shit happens.”
Ghost notices his eyes trail back down, and settle. Just briefly, he see a ring of yellow flash in his normally green gaze. The thing behind the curtain peering out into the world. Just as soon as it’s there, it’s gone, and Soap regains his composure with a casual lean against the doorframe.
“ye feel like sparring later?”
Ghost wants to. He wants to punish him for being so blatant. Wants to drive him into the floor, feel his hands on him rough with callouses. His claws digging into ghost’s increasingly soft flesh-
“Can’t. Gotta finish up some paperwork first.” He quickly covers.
He quietly scoops up his cup of tea and pushes past Soap none to kindly. As he does, he notices the slight widening of nostrils, the widening of eyes and a soft, knowing smile of recognition come and go on Soap’s features. Ghost has been scented.
“Aye. See you round then, Ghost.”
----------------------------------
“Goddamn it,” Ghost growls.
The sweat pants he wore yesterday still fit, if not a bit more snug than previously remembered, but that’s not his current issue. The wardobe malfunctions have continued to worsen, and today its his shirt. He glares in the small bathroom mirror at the small sliver of pale skin that has revealed itself between the bottom of his black shirt and the top of his pants. The normally well fitting Tee is stretched taught across his chest. Fabric straining against enlarged pectorals and currently hard nipples. Ghost has always been well endowed, years of training and pushing himself far too hard in the gym had left him with an ample chest, but this was something different. This was his biology. Something with purpose, causing his chest to swell and become increasingly sensitive to the fabric currently pulled across it. He knows exactly why it’s happening, but still, he chooses to ignore it. Instead, he pulls on a sweatshirt, determined to go about his day as if he were none the wiser.
Of course, things don’t go his way. Soap finds him as soon as he steps foot outside his door and hangs off his side the rest of the day. His hands find any excuse to touch him. Gentle pats on the back or a punch to the shoulder after a particularly bad joke, leave Ghost feeling the heat from Soap’s hands near constantly. And he can’t help but desire them more. Want them squeezing across the growing pressure in his chest, kneading and molding the muscled flesh, sucking against-
“Ghost, ye alright?” Soap’s voice breaks through his heated reverie.
Absent mindedly, Ghost had begun to gently massage his own chest, light enough someone might not of noticed what he was doing, but Soap noticed everything.
“Just sore.”
“Been hitting the gym too hard? You’ve been looking pumped lately.”
Ghost glares at him from behind the safety of his mask. It hides the redness that heats his cheeks.
“You know you can always grab me if you need a spotter right?” Soap asks, the slyness of his previous statement replaced with genuine sincerity.
Ghost knows he could ask. He knows Soap feels something for him, lusts for him even, but Ghost can’t bring himself to let his guard down. To let that side of himself be seen. The needy, instinct base version that only wants to be bred and filled. The side of him that has only ever responded to Soap’s presence.
“I’ll be alright, Johnny,” he replies.
------------
Maybe he isn’t alright.
Heat flushes his bare cheeks, a light sweat building upon his brow as he stands once more in the small bathroom attached to his quarters. His breath leaves a thick fog on the glassy surface. Every exhale causes the shirt across his chest to strain, threatening to break under the increasing pressure as his chest has once more expanded inside of it.
The tightness from within each pec has reached near unbearable levels. It causes his shoulders to curl in on themselves, hunching his posture over the sink. As much as he’s used to wallowing in his own suffering, Ghost knows he won’t be able to ignore this level of pressure for the entire day, let alone not have someone notice.
He leans away from the sink, and lifts a hand to his pec. They feel…heavy. Thick with muscle and fat and something else that’s been filling inside. The heat of his own palms is a small balm to the uncomfortability that’s been plaguing him. He doesn’t dare to go beneath his shirt to knead flesh to flesh. Afraid of what he might do with such pleasures.
Gently, he presses in, fingers dipping into pec.
Fuck.
The relief of such a simple touch sends shiver down his spine. He digs in harder, making small circles as he works his way across the top of his chest. Two fingers becomes three, then four as he begs the pressure to wane. Soon, he’s fondling his entire chest with both hands, kneading and squeezing in the humid air of his bathroom.
He bites his lip as his thumb digs in particularly roughly. It’s a pleasurable pain that he traces down from the top of his chest all the way down to his nipple.
”Ahh!”
He gasps as a sudden burst of pleasure rattles his spine and some of the pressure is relieved. It’s when his fingers hit a patch of wetness on his chest that he finally pauses his ministrations. Ghost swallows down a lump in his throat as he glares at the wet patches that have darkened his shirt.
He’s….lactating.
He can’t hide this. Certainly not from Soap. This is his fault. With his stupid scent and hair and hands that could hold him so tightly and fangs that would feel so good as he sucked against his pecs.
Christ.
He’s hard in his sweats. The fabric rubs itself against him with every twitch of his hips, pulled taught by the growth of his lower half in tandem with the top. It’s a cruel turn on fate he’e been given as an Omega. He still holds fangs and claws. But unlike his alpha predecessors, instead of being given a full shifted wolven form, he gets enhanced assets to attract a would be mate. He won’t ever admit to himself he likes how he looks like this. Thick in all the right ways, almost disproportionately so.
He knows it won’t go down until his body gets what it needs.
Maybe…just this once. He could ask for help. If the past few days are any indication, Soap is likely also feeling some effects of a would be heat. As opposed to Ghosts, Soap being in rut alone could potentially be a dangerous affair for those on base. A fully shifted werewolf with a mind only for breeding isn’t one you want running free.
Ghost needs to find him.
-----
He searches their typical hang outs, gym, rec room, roof and their smoke spot tucked between the barracks. Soap is nowhere to be found. By happenstance, or divine intervention Gaz eventually runs into him wandering the halls.
“Lieutenant. Everything alright? You look lost.”
“Looking for Soap, you seen him around?”
“Ah yea,” he says with a grimace. “He’s not in a good way today, not sure it’s a good idea for you to be around him right now.”
Ghost’s head cocks.
“Uh…pretty sure he’s in rut, can smell it from the hall.”
“I figured. Thanks.”
Ghost moves past him quickly, determined to not have to answer any questions, despite Garrick already likely knowing what was happening.
The closer he gets, the more of Soap scent coats the hallways. It’s thick, cloying, and powerful. It’s hard for Ghost to walk in a straight line through it. Like a sweet syrup it coats his tongue and throat. It’s taste sits heavy inside of him and pure want blossoms from it. His body feels heavy, chest full and dripping already, staining dark spots through both layers he wears over top.
Somehow, he makes it to Soap’s door. The scent here is like a wall. A haze covers ghost’s vision as he reaches for the handle. He doesn’t bother knocking. Soap always leaves it unlocked for him.
He hears him before he sees him. Low, guttural, near inhuman grunts greet him as soon as the door is open. A rhythmic wet slapping follows as a chorus. Soap is on his bed, back turned towards the door. His entire body is on display from behind. Powerful thighs and glutes contracting and relaxation as he thrusts into the top of his bed. His shift has already started.
His golden tan skin is riddled with patches of brown fur, a pelt growing in and causing a sheen of sweat to glisten across him. He limbs seem awkward on his frame longer than they normally are and packed with muscle. Based on the scratches and tears in the bed sheets, its apparent his claws have already grown in to their fullest.
“HRRGG.”
Soap’s hips give one final, powerful thrust forward as a growl reverberates through the room. Ghost stays where is it at the door. Stuck in place by the overwhelming scent of power emanating before him.
Breathing heavily, Soap turns to look over his shoulder. His outgrown hair falls over his brow, stuck in place by sweat. Yellow eyes glimmer in the dim light of the room, staring into Ghost with an intensity that has Ghost’s cock twitching.
Purposefully slow, Soap pushes himself to his knees, back muscle rippling with the movement. He crawls out of the messy bed and stands fully bare before him. Ghost can see what he was thrusting against now. A pair of tan cargos lay bundled and stained beyond repair. The same pair Ghost hadn’t been able to fit into for near a week now. Of course Soap had stolen them.
Now, the same man prowls towards him. His footfalls make a light clacking noise against the ground, his nails pressing into the floor with every step. He places his hands on either side of ghost’s head, bracketing him in a prison of heat musk between his arms. Ghost has to look slightly up to meet his gaze in this half shifted form. He won’t grow much taller, but his stance will change to accompany walking on all fours once he’s fully shifted.
“Was wondering how long you’d take.,” he purrs, smiling through sharpened fangs.
Ghost swallows the thick scent that has settled in his throat.
“Was keen on making you wait for it.”
Soap huffs a laugh. “Like we haven’t waited long enough. Besides, I thought you would’ve wanted some help a little sooner, that seems uncomfortable.” His eyes motion to Ghost’s chest heaving between them, pushing at the only sweat shirt that will still fit him currently.
“I didn’t know if this would make you…uncomfortable,” ghosts admits in a moment of earnesty.
Soap’s brows knit together in concern.
“You thought….I wouldn’t like you like this?”
“I know what I look like. It’s…awkward, maybe even a bit too feminine for you.”
“Ghost. I haven’t been able to think straight the last week. I just keep picturing you. How thick and full you’ve gotten. And christ your chest,” a visible shiver rattles through him. “I’ve had to restrain myself from jumping you in the hallways and sucking you dry.”
A bloom of warmth blossoms in Ghosts at his admission. Something he’s going to have to address later if this is going to continue.
“Well I hope that mouth is good for something other than talking-“
Ghost reaches between them, hands gripping the hem of his sweatshirt. He lifts it over his head, feeling the fabric brush against already erect nipples. The offending material drops to the floor, and Ghosts enlarged chest is finally free to the world. It feels heavier than it ever has been before. He can feel the tension in his back from counterbalancing against them. He brings his hands up to cup them. Even the small pressure from his fingers caressing them causes a small trickle of milk to drip.
“-cause it’s got work to do.”
Soap’s cock jumps at the sight, already refilling to full mast despite cumming moments earlier.
“Fuck…can I?” he begs.
Ghost smiles. “Have at it pup.”
Soap spares no time taking what he wants. He surges forward, tongue running a long stripe from bottom to top of ghosts chest. The wet heat of his tongue makes Ghost’s legs go weak. He lets himself fall back against the door and relies on Soap pressing into him to help him stay upright.
Soap makes wet circles around his areola, hand cupping and squeezing to encourage more flow on the same side. Ghost can feel the pressure moving and shifting with each press of ghost’s clawed fingers, building where Soap’s tongue laves against him.
“mmf. Fuck!”
He can feel the first spurt of his milk leave his body, a flow beginning unbidden. As soon as it begins, Soap wraps as much of his mouth around his pec as he can, and begins to suck. The sudden suction has Ghost’s legs trembling, and a spurt of pre leaves his cock as he fights to stay upright.
“Johnny!”
His back arches against the door, encouraging soap to take even more of him inside. Soap doubles his efforts, pressing forward until his nose is crushed against his bare chest. He gulps around Ghost’s flesh, taking every last drop he can and letting none go to waist. His opposite hand cups the left pec, fingers tweaking and pulling the unabused nipple until it to begins to produce.
The only thing keeping Ghost upright is Soap’s body pressed against him. One knee sits between his legs, dragging delicious friction against his cock as his hips twitch of their own accord. Ghost keeps his hands on Soap’s shoulders, though they can do nothing but desperately grasp at the fur covered skin.
Eventually Soap pulls off of Ghost right pec with a wet pop, only to dive back to the other side without so much as a breath in-between. His right nipple looks red and abused, swollen from the vaccum of Soaps mouth. He hates to admit how much better he feels. The pressure somewhat relieved from his chest.
He feels a gentle prick of fangs that tear him from his thoughts.
Soap bites, drawing a mix of blood a milk into his jaws. The taste is overwhelming, and despite his determination to make Ghost cum before himself, he can’t hold back from the pleasure of taking so much of Ghost into his mouth. His hips grind forward until he finds Ghost hip. The hard press of his cock pistons against the soft fabric. His knot begins to inflate, until he’s jerking and cumming across Ghost’s pants and the door.
It does nothing to alleviate the burning want inside.
Reluctantly, Soap backs away huffing. Ghost’s head is still tilted back, chest beautifully abused and heaving from his work upon it.
“Ghost? You with me?”
“I….,” he huffs, “ bed…please.”
“of course, love.”
Soap steers him to the edge of the bed and sits him down. He keeps Ghost there, knowing soon he wont be able to fit his own shifted body into the twin size bed. He hopes Ghost won’t mind the slight uncomfortability of being on the edge, but with the way he’s mewling at him and trying to slide his own pants off rather unsuccessfully he didn’t think it’d be an issue. He helps slip the cum stained material off Ghost’s legs.
Soap has taken many a glance at his lieutenants backside before. He’d always admired the roundness and strength within his glutes and ogled at how well he filled out a pair of jeans. This was something else entirely. Plastic surgeons couldn’t achieve the sheer size and roundness of what was revealed to Soap. Pristine and unmarred save for familiar scars that stretched across it. He can’t resist giving a cheek a light slap, seeing the enlarged flesh ripple with excess movement.
“Soap. Hurry up.”
Soap glances up to see Simon bare-faced. Cheeks red and pupils blown wide. His small fangs poke at the edge of his lips.
“Sorry…just admiring the view.”
Soap rises to settle between his legs. He takes a moment to grind down against Ghost, rutting their cocks together in a delicious wet slide.
“Christ, im wet enough I can slide in without hands,” Soap chuckles.
“Stop stalling then,” ghost grumbles.
“Yes sir”
Soap backs up, keeping his hands on either side of Ghost’s hips to keep him in place. He watches as he lines himself up with Ghost’s entrance, and steadily watches his cock disappear as he pushes his hips forward. His eyes flutter as he bottoms out as much as he can, knot already half inflated from finally being inside. Instinct roars inside him as ghost’s legs wrap around his lower back, feet hooking together and gently pulling to encourage him to move.
Soap pulls back and thrusts forward, watching ghost’s ass ripple with the movement. He steadily picks up speed, hearing the slap of his balls increase in volume as he fucks into his superior.
Ghost can feel the extra movement of his enhanced assets bouncing with every thrust. His chest moves up and down, the left over milk not sucked out sloshing about. His hand grope his pecs as Soap’s cock ravages his inside. He fills full, complete in a way he never had been before.
He hears a deep, moaning growl emit from Soap above him. Momentarily, he feels him still and feels a brief spike of fear as he hears the rest of the shift begin to take hold.
Bones and muscle pop and snap. Soap’s hands stretch forward as they take the form of brown covered paws the size of ghost’s head. His spine rises and shifts, pushing his head forward and stretching his neck to sit ahead of his body. He is forced to pull out as his hips shift back to accompany his now quadruped form. The pressure builds behind Soap’ eyes as he snarls, feeling his jaw and nose crack forward into a snout full of razor like teeth.
His body, fully shifted, is coated in coarse brown fur. It brushes against Ghost’s entirety, encapsuling him in its warmth and smell. His body is double the size of ghost’s and all muscle. With ease, his paws adjust Ghost’s body, pulling him nearly off the bed entirely as he wraps around Ghost’s hips.
His cock once again prods at Ghost. He can feel it too has shifted as the head breaches him yet again. Larger, thicker, and inhuman it presses into him, the press a delicious burn as the wolf seats himself inside. Ghost feels his body giving into Soap. Wanting, needing, burning for Soap to fill him, to breed him. His own claws dig into Soap’s pelt, urging the beast on.
Heavy, furred balls slap against his ass with animalistic intensity.
“Johnny. Johnny Johhny!” Ghost keens.
The wolf growls with each punctuated thrust, hot breath visible in the room. Ghost can feel his knot growing. It nudges against his hole with every thrust, steadily making room. Ghost’s chest leaks between them, droplets wetting Soap’s fur with every press.
His thrusts grow more erratic as the wolf gets more desperate to knot and breed his mate.
“That’s it Johnny. Please. Breed me,” he begs. “Fill me!”
Soap whines as he gives one final, powerful thrust. His knot pops inside with an audible sound.
Ghost yelps as it enters him, back arching as he cums in an arc across his chest.
Soap doesn’t stop thrusting. His hips pump in small frantic thrusts until he too finally cums inside with a deep growl. It fills Ghost to the brim, all stuffed inside and causing a small bump to form in his midsection as Soap’s knot keeps it all in place.
Ghost is a wreck. Covered in his own sweat, ,milk, and cum. But he feels better than he has all week. The pressure in his chest is still present, but dulled significantly. It’s enough to be able to wear shirts normally again for the time being.
Ghost cards his hands through Soap’s fur. The wolf responds with a sated rumble. His tongue gently runs around Ghost’s chest, licking up the remains of their coupling. He shivers when he runs across a still sensitive nipple. And pushes his muzzle away when he doesn’t move off.
“Enough mutt. Give me a second to breath.”
Soap huffs, and settles down, entire weight settling on top of Ghost.
“Asshat.”