Archive of Our Own

Ghost had always been close with his unit on a surface level. Answering to Price and keeping his sergeants in line. But he has always been so... infatuated with Johnny. The way the Scots' smile showed his canines and determination, his bare back muscles flexing during FTX, and his tan, battered skin drenched in sweat from PT or water from a shower. He couldn't help but admire the man.

His infatuation had begun the day they had met—a few years ago—and only grew after ops with each other, until they had been closer than they had ever been after rescuing Alejandro and his vaqueros from captivity. Soap had flashed that pleased smile, communicating "nice work, L.t." And unfortunately, it just made his eyes glow with appreciation and his cock throb with need.

He didn't want his Sergeant.

He wanted Johnny. 

And being Ghost, the monster all feared, he was going to get what he wanted. Whether the Scot was giving him the greenlight or not. Well, Ghost didn't want to hurt Johnny. No. He was too precious to hurt. 

At least on purpose. 

If the Scot were to fuck up, then possibly, as his CO, he'd have to punish him, and or teach him a lesson in why and how to not fuck up. But God...Ghost just couldn't keep his mind off punishments to give the bastard... Forcing him to take his big, veiny cock while he strangled him, drowned him, intoxicated him, or even when he held a gun or knife to his scarred skin. All those scenarios, plus a hundred more, were all the things that kept his dick hard and full when tossing one off any chance he could get. He knew in the future he would have time to do every fantasy he was thinking of, so, he settled on one. 

The image of waterboarding Soap, holding him down with his own weight, a rag over his face, choking on water, not being able to release any moans or rapid breaths as he thrusted his cock into the Scots' hole with no preparation. Just his slippery prick from the shower head above them. It was beautiful and made the blood rush down south at the mere thought of it. Not only would the soaked rag mute Johnny's moans of pleasure, but it would also shut him up if he decided that this was beyond him. Ghost would most likely carry on with the knowledge he'd feel guilty afterwards. But Ghost just needed to get his hands on the sergeant. It pained him to watch from afar. 

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to have his hands on Soap after hearing Price’s words that had snapped him back to reality. 

“He what?” Ghost furrowed his eyebrows, his voice gruff, clearly not pleased.

Price exhaled, taking off his hat to rub his forehead. “It wasn’t his fault, Ghost. Makarov’s men flanked the west, that’s why you had such a smooth exfil at 3 o’clock.” 

“Yet instead, he was supposed to stay with Garrick, and now he’s been shot. Bloody brilliant.”

Price gave Ghost a stern, yet reassuring look as his hands absentmindedly lit a cigarette. “Kyle ‘ll be fine. Medic said it missed an artery. He’s got 2 weeks leave till he’s cleared. Said it was a bother goin’ back inland home, so he settled on stayin’ here with Watcher.” 

“Where’s Garrick now?” 

“Still in medbay. Last I saw him, he was knocked out. Bet the bastard’s exhausted. ‘Specially from those meds for the pain, you know how they buzz you to the gills." Price took a short inhale of his cig and blew out the smoke to the side. "But that was bout’ an hour ago. Not sure if they’ll let you in now. Visiting is over. It's almost 2300.” 

Ghost nodded once and let out a small grunt, as his gaze fell to the floor for a moment. As much as he cared for Gaz, his heart was pounding for a different reason. This was the perfect opportunity to teach the Scot a lesson. He could just imagine it. 

With Ghost’s silence, Price continued. “Soap agreed to take any repercussions. Claimed he left Kyle’s side and came back to him shot. Had to carry him to the second heli because he couldn't walk on his leg after the bullet struck his calf."

"I'll talk to 'im." Ghost blurted.

Price put his hand up in a slowdown gesture. "I already spoke with him." 

"I'll talk to him." he repeated, his voice stern. "Strip his previous punishment.  I'll handle it." 

"Calm down, Simon." Price cautioned.

Ghost's eyes narrowed. "I am calm." He said evenly.

Price squinted his eyes but saw the persistence and incense in his Lieutenant's eyes. After a moment, he closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh. "Fine. But go easy on him. He feels guilty enough as is." Price paused briefly and bit his cheek. "He knows he fucked up. He doesn't need help feelin' worse."

Ghost offered Price a single nod. "Take care of Garrick.  I'll take care of MacTavish."

Price just shook his head slightly "You never know when to quit." 

-

=

-

The walk to Soap's barrack felt triple the length than it normally was. It was hard to walk with even a slight erection in your pants—especially in this heat, when your balls stuck to your thighs and your briefs were constantly sticky. It was always hot, even during the night, probably due to the layers and layers all soldiers had to wear to be up to code. Or maybe that was just the arousal catching up to him. But oy fucking vey, the things he was about to do to this man. He had been waiting for this day. He was finally given the opportunity to get his hands and disturbing fantasies into action. Or maybe his cock just couldn't take the singularity of his own hands anymore, so his need had most likely outweighed his hesitation. 

He would have tossed one right then and there, but he didn't want to let a rope out. Not even a small one. He couldn’t risk it. That was all reserved for Johnny.  

Ghost made it to the door of Soap's barrack, which was right beside his. He had spent many nights tossing off to the sounds of Johnny's shower running, knowing he was naked just a few thin walls over. 

He offered one knock, and simply let himself in, opening the door, finding Soap sitting on his bed, elbows resting on each knee with his hands folded in between, his eyes looking down where wall meets floor. He could assume Johnny was feeling immense amounts of guilt at the moment. But the expression on his sergeant's face. Full of regret. That sight alone made the blood pool to his groin. 

"Soap." Ghost finally spoke after standing in the doorway for a moment, before closing the door behind him. 

Soap didn't look up immediately, but when he did, he cleared his throat and nodded. "L.t" he addressed back, his voice almost tired.

Ghost looked him up and down, taking in his outfit, which was no longer his uniform from the mission, but casual grey joggers and a dark grey tee shirt, showing off his veiny, scarred biceps and hands, clearly still grimy with dirt and blood from his previous fucked up mission. Sweat stained his collar and sleeves. He didn't blame him. It was truly hot, and the guilt was most likely burdening him. 

"How's Gaz?" Soap asked, snapping Ghost out of his descriptive eye.

"Alive. The bloke'll be fine." 

Ghost could see the relief flood his face; some color faded back to his cheeks. "Good. That's good." Soap nodded slowly a few times, to which Ghost returned the nod. 

"You're aware you fucked up, though, yes, sergeant?" Ghost said, his voice not rising, but hardening.

Soap nodded once, keeping his expression controlled the best he could. "Yes, sir.  I coulda gotten 'im killed. I know. I promise et won't happen again. I'm sorry, L.t." He apologized, his voice wavering very slightly with not fear, but guilt. 

"Don't apologize to me, sergeant. You could've compromised the entire mission and both yours and Garrick's life." 

"Aye, sir. I know."

"You say you know, yet you still abandoned Garrick. Sticking together was in the brief. What didn't you understand from the brief?" Ghost took a step closer, now standing about 3 feet away from Soap—the barrack being incredibly small, now feeling even smaller with two bulky soldiers occupying it. "Don't tell me I need to read it to you like a child next time, Soap." 

Soap shook his head. "Ye don't, I promise." he swallowed, his eyes falling to the ground.

Ghost moved until he was in front of the Scot, staring down at him. "Look at me." He demanded, his voice still even. But the way Johnny's eyes fell to the floor, like a puppy... God. Ghost just felt the need to fuck him senseless to truly show the sergeant what a goddamn pathetic puppy he really was.

Soap looked at Ghost, his blue eyes filled with guilt, it almost made him feel bad.

"You're a mess." Ghost stated bluntly. 

Soap's eyes batted away and just scoffed slightly under his breath. "I know.  I fucked up." He exhaled, his breath stuttering ever so slightly. "I shouldn't 've let that happen." 

"Damn right."  Ghost stared down at the Scot in front of him. "Take a damn shower.  You need it."

"No, no. 'm fine. Et's jus-"

"Take. A bloody shower, MacTavish." Ghost bit out, his voice now demanding rather than suggesting.

Soap squinted his eyes into a glare, and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Ghost's hand wrapped around his arm where sleeve met skin, his grip tight. "Look at yourself, Johnny.  You're a fuckin' wreck." Ghost huffed before pulling Soap with decent strength. 

"Oi! 'm not a wreck!" Soap protested as the Brit dragged him towards the bathroom door. "I may be a mess, but 'm not a bloody wreck, ye wanker!" He growled, too tired to fight off his lieutenant—too mentally drained as well. 

"Just shut your bloody mouth, you're actin' like you're pissed." Ghost barked, getting the two of them in the bathroom.

"'M not pissed! I haven't drunk since this mornin'!" Soap snapped back as Ghost pushed him down on the toilet seat and leaned over to turn the shower on.

Ghost stared at the sergeant, looming over him, clearly irritated. Thank God his gear hid the now very tense erection in his pants. His cock was barking to be let out. Just simmer down you twat. "You fucked up.  Be glad that all I'm making you do right now is shower." 

Soap glared hard, his neck tilted up so his eyes met Ghost's. "Yer a dobber, ye know that?"  

"Strip, MacTavish.  Get your arse in the bloody shower before I make you." Ghost replied, his tone harsh, certainly losing patience. 

"No." 

"Johnny."

"'M not showering." Soap spit, his eyes casting back towards the now closed bathroom door, his eyebrows furrowed, seeming almost pensive. 

Ghost finally snapped, hauling Soap up by the collar of his sweat stained shirt. "Why're you being so stubborn, you daft bastard?" his movements made the sergeant's eyes widen. Though Soap made no effort to move. That only made Ghost more aroused. He just knew he was already getting wet in his briefs. "What, you think you don't deserve a shower after you nearly got Garrick killed? Think you're too much of a careless prick?" Ghost was thoroughly enjoying this 'asshole' act. Though, in reality, he certainly wanted to play both roles: the obsessive, controlling, sadistic asshole, as well as the gentle, reassuring, caring partner. But tonight? He was the former. Maybe afterwards he could be the latter. 

Soap's eyes widened for a moment, before his hands went to Ghost's chest to push him away but he didn't move his hands yet. Neither did he speak.

Ghost scoffed at his obvious self-pity. "Don't pity yourself, sergeant. You know what you did was wrong. Just be happy it wasn't the lad's head." he retorted, his tone flat, yet still hard and unyielding. 

Ghost let go of Soap’s collar, and shoved him to the entrance of the shower. 

“Ghost-“ Soap tried to protest, but the brit roughly pushed him into the shower, soaking his already sweat stained shirt, as well as his joggers. The dirt and blood had already begun dripping off him. Now the Scot was mad. And fucking hell did Ghost love the look on his face. It just made him want to punish the sergeant even more. 

“Simon, ye fuckin’ bastar-“ He growled out before pulling Ghost into the shower with him, which simply resulted in Ghost gripping his shoulder, and whipping him around, shoving his chest against the tile wall, both soldiers now dripping wet beneath the shower head. 

Fuckkk, the way his name slipped from the Scot’s lips.

As Ghost’s gear began to soak, he held Soap by the neck with one hand, his other bracing his shoulder blades with his forearm to keep the man still. “You had the chance to pull yourself together.” His gloved hand grabbed Soap’s collar, pulling his shirt up, taking it off of him. 

Soap bared his teeth. “Yer a cunt and ye know et.”  He squirmed slightly as the Brit tossed his drenched shirt to the opposite end of the shower where they weren’t. 

The sight of his teeth baring, Jesus… it was one of his favorite features of the sergeant.  It made him want to see how his teeth would feel around his own cock. How sharp they’d grind at the sides as he had no choice but to blow him. “You did it to yourself, sergeant.” Ghost then pulled at Soap’s waistband.  “I had Price strip your original repercussions. Take this as your punishment.” 

“Cmon, L.t.” Soap gritted behind his now clenched teeth, pushing his hips against Ghost’s, in an attempt to get him off him. 

Fuck, that made Ghost bite back a groan. He had just hopped that Soap hadn’t been able to feel his erection. 

“Behave, you prick.” Ghost grumbled, as he pressed his forearm harder against Soap’s shoulder blades. “Your foot, Johnny.” he continued.

Soap scowled under his breath but stepped his feet one by one out of his now drenched joggers—which Ghost also tossed to the opposite end of the shower—leaving him in just his black briefs.

The Scot’s bulge was obvious. Clearly not erect but simply packing in his boxers. It was difficult to tell if those were sweat stained as well, due to the fact the water from the shower head had drenched through his joggers, to his skin and briefs, though Ghost could only assume they previously were.

“Don’t move.” Ghost reminded, as he stepped back for a moment, giving the man space to breathe, as he himself began to strip only his gear. He pulled his vest off, this time tossing it out of the shower, leaving him in his black compression long sleeve, black combat boots, his cargos and his mask. He figured it would be best to do it now rather than later.

“‘m fine, Ghost.” Soap began to speak, as the Brit tore off his gloves next.

“I don’t give a shite if you’re fine.” Ghost replied firmly, making it clear making it clear this wasn’t help—it was punishment. He tossed his gloves outside the shower, how he had done with his vest.

Suddenly, Ghost moved his hands, one going to the Scot's throat, the other wrapping around his abdomen to keep him against him, Soap's back to his chest. Ghost's hand squeezed his throat with reasonable strength—not enough to restrict his airway, but enough to cause discomfort. He tilted the sergeant's head back, straining his neck, water now pouring over his face. 

Soap acked slightly.  "Fuckin' 'ell-" he spat through the water. His hands moved to Ghost's hand on his neck, debating on pulling it off, but Ghost pressed his chin to his shoulder and spoke into his ear.

"You feel guilty, yeah, sergeant?  Whose fault is it that one of our own 's almost died?" Ghost grumbled lowly, though he could feel his cock throbbing to the point he couldn't ignore it anymore.

He could hear Soap's teeth clench together before he spoke. "Mine-" he breathed, blinking water through his eyes. 

"Why's that." Ghost continued, his voice still low and firm. 

"Because-" 

Ghost tightened his hand slightly around his throat, knowing it was probably affecting his breathing now. Ghost was right, now that the Scot's breath was slightly audible through the downpour of the shower head. 

Soap let out another small sound that just made him want to start grinding the fuck out of the man's behind. Relax... you're almost there. 

"Because- I was, careless" Soap muttered.

"What else are you?"  

"S- tupid." 

"What else are you, sergeant?" 

Soap took a harsh inhale that sounded half air, and half water. "Retar- ded."

Fuckkkkkk. Yeah. That had done it. Hearing the Scot degrade himself. Music to his ears. 

"Damn right." Ghost grunted, his cock twitching, basically crying to be let out of his wet uniform.

Ghost's eyes fell on a rag on one of the shower shelves. He let go of Soap's throat, which earned a loud breath from the man, his head instantly falling back straight to avoid the water. Ghost could feel his bare back heave slightly against his chest. 

Ghost grabbed the rag, letting it soak under the shower head for a moment before that hand slid back around to the front of Soap's chest, snaking up his neck, just resting it there for a moment as he spoke.  

"Relax, sergeant." He murmured, his voice gruff. "Take a breath." 

Soap silently obliged, continuing to catch his breath slowly. "'m sorry, L.t" he murmured again. 

"Don't apologize.  Just don't abandon someone again." Ghost responded, his voice much airier. His other hand that was wrapped around the Scot's abdomen slid down slightly, rubbing his hip slowly. 

Soap's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, still audibly breathing, feeling his hip being rubbed. It felt nice. Odd coming from the lieutenant, but it definitely felt good. "Aye..." he breathed. 

"Good..." Ghost murmured back, before taking the rag and moving it over Soap's mouth—slow enough to not startle the man. "Relax, sergeant." he repeated, feeling Soap tense slightly again. He figured it would already be tough to breathe, because the cloth was soaked.  

"Just for a little bit... take this instead of Price's punishment." Ghost huffed out by his ear, before pulling his neck back again like before, forcing his face up towards the shower head, the water now drenching the rag, ultimately making it impossible for him to breathe.  

Soap immediately squirmed, his shoulders tensing, small choking sounds bleeding through the cloth. Though Ghost had a firm grip on him, keeping the rag over his mouth, continuously drowning him. 

Ghost slipped his hand out from around Soap's hips, and hurriedly unzipped his cargos, dying to let his throbbing cock out that was in so much bloody pain at the moment. He pulled his briefs down, finally letting his cock spring out, already red from the blood pooling to it, ever since Price had told him what Soap had done. He let out a harsh groan, no longer able to hold it in. Soap's muffled sounds were no longer chokes but gagged pleads. And damn it only made it harder not to immediately fuck the balance out of him.

"Relax, Johnny..." Ghost breathed, his breath shaky, as he pressed the rag harder over his mouth. "You're okay..." he mumbled, his voice oddly reassuring, his chin back on the Scot's shoulder. 

His hand got to work, relieving any painful pressure in his cock before he penetrated the bastard in front of him. One hand was certainly not enough to stroke the pain away, but it would have to work. 

He could feel Soap's knees twisting, using the tile wall of the shower in front of him as support. He figured he'd need a quick refresh.

Ghost pulled the rag back slightly so Soap could catch his breath. Soap instantly coughed, his head instinctively going down, but Ghost held his head back by his forehead. He gasped and attempted to spit out any water stuck in his throat after being drowned for nearly a minute. Ghost allowed him to regain some composure as he continued tossing one, pre already spilling out.

"Fuck-" Soap panted, his eyes shut tightly. Ghost pulled the rag back down over Soap's mouth, back to another round of drowning, to which Soap tensed once again, his toes curling against the tile beneath them. 

Ghost let go of his prick, and roughly gripped the Scot's hip, using his back to grind against, which made him pant, "fuck..." he murmured in a breath. 

Soap could feel what he was doing. It almost hurt. Was his lieutenant that erect?  He mumbled protests through the rag, his eyebrows furrowing, which were left unanswered.

Ghost bucked his hips against Soap's hips and ass a few times, grinding his cock against his slick, scarred skin. A moment later, his fingers hooked Soap's black briefs, harshly pulling them down.

Seeing that Soap was depending on the wall again, needing oxygen, he gave him another round of air. He gagged once again, coughing up water and spit, panting and catching his breath, this time, being waterboarded for over a minute, close to two.

"Ghost-" Soap panted in a plead. "S- top..." he panted, before letting out a rough groan, his back arching into the Brit, and his jaw tensing. Ghost had slipped a finger in him, already preparing him for his punishment. 

"You're fine..." Ghost panted, his chin still against his shoulder. He shoved another finger in, earning a strained moaned from Soap, his eyes tightly shutting and his toes curling against the tile again.  It had been a while since he had any form of sex, and his hole was incredibly tight.

"Fuck, you're tight, Johnny..." Ghost groaned, scissors his fingers back and forth, trying to stretch him out for his massive cock.

Soap let out another stuttering groan.  "Si- mon- stop" he whined, his head falling back down, for Ghost to only pull it back again, forcing the rag back over his face, drowning him once again.

"Shut up, n' take it" Ghost grunted in a pant, slipping another finger in, trying his best to open him up. 

Soon enough, it was 4 fingers. The Scot's hole was already leaking. Jesus he just started. Soap was choking beneath the rag, which he could only imagine those sounds as if it was his cock in his mouth instead. Soap's knees began depending on the wall again, needing air. His hands finally went up to his face, trying to pull the rag and Ghost's hand away so he could breathe. But Ghost pulled his fingers out from the man's hole, which made him released a strangled moan from his throat. 

His hand slipped to the front of Soap and grabbed the head of his cock between his fingers and twisted it, causing Soap to let out a painful choke.

"Pull that shite again and i'll make sure you pass out." Ghost murmured in his ear, his voice ragged.

Soap nodded, his eyes wet, rather from the shower water, or the inability to breathe taking a toll on his brain. His cheeks and ears were red: all from oxygen deprivation, drowning, and the fact he was being fingered and prepared so suddenly.

Ghost released the rag, which caused another fit of gags and coughs from the sergeant, this time, much more severe.

Ghost kept the hand with the rag resting on his throat, while his other hand smoothing through his soaked mohawk, as his hips kept him pressed against the tile. 

"Breathe." Ghost demanded quietly, though it was more careful than anything, as he caught his own breath. 

Soap continued to cough and gasp for air. "f-fuck..." he panted, blinking hard. 

"You're doing good." Ghost praised. 

Soap nodded slightly, his teeth now slightly chattering, now that the water had grown slightly colder due to using the hot water for such a time. His throat and lungs ached, the continuous switch from oxygen to restriction taking a toll on his muscles. 

"Almost done..." Ghost murmured, which in his lingo meant we've got a long fucking way to go.

“Please…” Soap pleaded under his breath, his voice wavering. Despite his efforts, the Brit took the rag, and this time, just shoved it in the Scot's mouth, nuzzling it between his teeth like a gag, allowing him to breathe through his nose. 

Soap only whined behind the rag, which Ghost shushed gently, his hand massaging one side of his lymph nodes in his neck. “Be a good ole’ boy and we’ll get this over with, yeah?” Ghost murmured, his voice assuring. “Just bite down, Johnny…” 

Soap obliged, biting down slightly on the rag, but not without letting out another slightly whimper.

“Yeah…There you go.” Ghost praised quietly, his hand running through his slicked mohawk again. “You gonna take it right this time? Gonna get this done and over with?” He asked. 

Soap nodded, still whining quietly beneath the makeshift gag. 

Ghost released his hand from his neck, and bought it back to his own cock, his other hand still tightly holding Soap’s hip. He positioned his cock, toying it, sloshing it around at the Scot’s entrance. Ghost couldn’t help but groan, his head tilting back, preparing to feel what he’s been dying to since day one. ”Gonna go balls deep in you, baby…” 

Soap let out a moan, his knees locking up again.  Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck’ty fuck… he didn’t want to moan, it just came out unconsciously.  It felt good, but hell, he couldn’t control that reaction. 

Ghost stretched the sergeant’s hole the best he could, before slipping the head in, which earned a small yelp and twitch from Soap. Ghost simply shushed him again, sliding his thick, firm cock into his hole slowly.

Ghost let the first thrust come naturally finding the man’s prostate, to where he couldn’t go any deeper (which was balls deep, thankfully) and slid out gently. “There we go, there we go, ‘m gonna…fill you up… you fuckin’ cunt.”  

The first slap of skin came along with a painful yelp from Soap, his entire back arching, eyes shutting tight, biting down hard on the rag between his teeth. His hands instinctively went to try and stop the pain, but Ghost reminded him.

“You want to be boarded again?” 

And that was enough for his hands to curl back at his sides.

Ghost began thrusting, back and forth at a steady pace. Nothing that he thought would hurt but would certainly pain a hole that hadn’t been fucked in a while—which was fine for Ghost, because he was very fond of fingering himself when trying to get off. But for the Scot, man was it painful.

Soap whined and moaned in pain behind the gag, his body jerking with each thrust to his prostate. Despite the thrusts steady, feeling his prostate be slammed each time, hurt like a bitch.

"-ost" he muffled out a plead which went ignored as Ghost slammed his entire length in again, making Soap cry out, his head tilting back for the 'nth time. Fuck it hurt, but it felt so good.

He continued fucking his hole, in and out, now with more pressure and speed, wetness stringing out from his head to the walls of Soap's hole each time he pulled out slightly.

"'s hurts" Soap whimpered out in a muffled whine, before letting out another loud groan-mixed-cry that Ghost worried others may even hear. 

"Good." Ghost panted heavily, his breathing rapid and needy.  "Hurt more than Garrick's leg you think?"  

Soap nodded profusely in between moans, his eyes blinking away the water from the shower and tears from the pain—Ghost was a big man, with an even bigger penis.

"It should hurt. 'spose to" Ghost reminded him as he slammed repeatedly into the Scot's hole as he cried out under the gag. 

With each rapid thrust from entrance to prostate, Soap cried out a sobbed moan, as his knees hit the tile wall before him from the force the Brit was using. His own cock had begun growing hard, pain striking through him each time it slammed against the tile wall similar to his knees. How badly he wanted to stroke it to soothe the pain, but he knew that his lieutenant would simply punish him again.

"Good... good... fuck you're doing good." Ghost panted harshly. Fuck he was close—he had begun fingering the sergeant about 8 minutes ago. He just needed to come sooner or later. It was getting painful for him too.

So, as if on cue, Ghost's hips stuttered, his shoulders tensing, as he came, letting out a loud, twitching groan, full of relief. He continued thrusting, returning to that painfully fast rhythm, white filling the man's hole, oozing out between each deep thrust to the Scot's prostate.

Soap screamed and moan behind the gag, his entire body jerking with each forceful thrust. His legs and hips shook, his toes curled into the tile ground, and his hands clenching, leaving his fingernail indented into his rough palms. He cried with each thrust, to the point it was slightly worrying. Though Ghost continued, not letting up until his climax had been over. Soap could feel the hot fluid, pooling and leaking from his hole. It felt so fucking good. 

Ghost eventually slowed his thrusts, and eventually pulled out, now fingering the Scot's hole with 2 fingers to soothe it. His masked chin returned to his bare shoulder.

"Feel good?" He panted in a whisper into Soap's ear.

Soap stuttered a nod; his eyes squinted with pain and pleasure he couldn't help as he caught his breath in small whimpers.

"mhmm" he whimpered behind the makeshift gag. 

"You lyin' to me, you little shit?" Ghost asked, much more gently this time, his hand that held his hip releasing, now coming up to rub his collarbone slowly. 

Soap shook his head "...'eels good." he muffled in a recovering moan.

Ghost looked at his eyes, which weren't looking at him, but at the tile wall in front of him. But from his eyes, he could tell he was being honest. And instead of arousal, he felt happy. Excitement. The Scot enjoyed it. Wasn't upset. No. He was being honest. 

"You like it when I rape you, yeah?" he asked, his voice low and still gentle, yet incredibly pleased, still moving those 2 fingers around in him gently.

Soap nodded once again, his chest heaving slowly as he caught his breath through his nose. Fuck yes... holy fuck that felt good... is what he would have said. 

“You’re a still a mess. Just a leakin’ one now.” Ghost murmured in a breath, before turning his head, his lips nipping right below his jaw gently, which Soap let out a quiet, content whine. 

“You won’t abandon one of your own again, I assume.” Ghost said, his voice the only thing Soap heard, the running water a mere mute feeling. 

Soap nodded slightly.

”mm” he mumbled a sound of agreement.

Ghost’s eyes fell, eyeing his leaking hole, his 2 fingers oozed with wetness, before falling on his legs, which were still trembling. The poor bastard was probably in pain. 

Ghost nipped another gentle kiss at his jaw, before carefully pulling out his two fingers, now slick and sticky, which provoked a small groan from the Scot. 

"Easy, johnny.” he spoke quietly. “Sore?”

Soap nodded once again. He was definitely sore. He hadn’t been fucked since a quick hook up with a lass at a bar after a crazy op that everyone wanted to get pissed after—that was nearly 6 months ago. He was a solider, he had better things to worry about than sex. Well- this would certainly be on his mind for a while. Plus another craving for a second round. And a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and so on.

”Gonna be good if I take this out?” Ghost asked, referring to the rag in between his teeth, his hand running through his wet mohawk once again. 

Soap nodded “‘romise.” He muffled.

Ghost nodded in return, and slipped his hand from his collarbone, to his mouth and pulled the rag away.

Soap took a greedy inhale, his mouth no longer restraint. Though it didn’t last very long before Ghost bought his 2 fingers up to his mouth. “Be good for me and clean your mess up.” he murmured, head still by his ear, staring at his mouth as his fingers danced on his lips. 

Soap obeyed immediately, his mouth closing around his white, sticky fingers, licking them slowly, but with ease. 

“There you go.” Ghost praised lowly, his voice gruff as he watched his sergeant’s mouth work around his fingers. It made him want to go a second round, but he’d wait for a new opportunity. 

Ghost eventually pulled his fingers out; now freshly cleaned, covered in saliva, and let the water from the shower clean that off. 

“You took it well, sergeant.” 

Soap breathed and huffed a slight smirk, though his eyebrows narrowed. “Yer such a cuck…” he breathed. 

“You deserved it.”

“Really? Well I dinnae think drownin’ me is real fair. Think that’s a bit far, aye, mate?”

“Mm. Not necessarily.”

Ghost took Soap by his shoulders, and turned him around, with the Scot’s back to the shower wall, so that way they could face each other. 

Ghost had one hand on his hip, the other going to the side of his face, just looking at him. 

“You’re beautiful when you cry like that.”

”Piss off.” Soap growled, whilst trying to look away, only for Ghost to turn his head back.

Silence lingered comfortably as they stared at the other, taking in their soaked state. 

“…didn’t know it would hurt that bad.” Ghost scoffed. 

”Oi shut et!” Soap barked, his cheeks and ears turning red in an instant. 

“What, it sounded like you hadn’t been laid in years.”

“Ye dinnae let me breathe, ya slag! No wonder I was chokin’!” 

“What, not into that shite? What is it, BSDM?” 

“Well- ‘m just sayin’ my reactions were prettay reasonable.” 

“You cried when I was just usin’ my fingers, Johnny.” 

“Well, gee sorry I dun toss et every night!” 

Ghost huffed a small laugh through his nose—the closest the sergeant would get to a smirk. 

“Feel good, though?” Ghost asked, knowing he asked once already, but wanting to know if it really did feel good. 

Soap’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded gently. “Yeah…real braw.” he murmured, his hands still at his sides, unsure what to do with them.

Ghost could see the tension in Soap’s shoulders and the slight tremble in his knees. 

“You alright?” He asked quietly. “Didn’t fuck you up too bad?”

Soap shook his head. “No, no, ya did fine. I got the message.”

Both messages. One, his punishment on not to be a careless idiot, and two, that the lieutenant had been absolutely wanting to fuck him senseless for what seemed to be a while now. He was actually happy with that. The Brit had always seemed so protective over him, always keeping him in line. And now he could see why. 

“Ye can be sweet when ye want tae be, Simon” Soap murmured, gently, his hands finding the Brit’s waist.

Ghost blinked at the way his first name slipped from Soap’s lips, as he said it so gently, rather than yelling it like normal. He was surely blushing beneath his mask, similar to Soap’s red cheeks and ears. 

“You can be smart when it’s in your favor, I suppose.” 

That earned a small chuckle from Soap, his teeth baring in a smile now. 

“That’s ‘he nicest thing ye’ve said to me since I made ye that breakfast tea.”

Ghost let out another one of those small huffed laughs. “Shut up, you prick. I just raped the daylights out ya.” 

Soap let out a greater chuckle, bordering a laugh. “N’ next time i’ll be the one to catch ye off guard and pump one.” 

“Please. You can barely stand after one round.” 

“Oi! Can I try n’ show ye like I like ya for a moment?!” 

Ghost let out a soft chuckle, a true, chuckle that made Soap pause, his eyes widening with awe. 

“Leave that part to me, ya cheeky bastard.”