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To be quite frank, Soap couldn’t really remember the first time it happened. Fuzzy from adrenaline and pain, he only remembered the warmth of skin. Hands clammy from being in tactical gloves for too long gripping at skin that hadn’t seen the light of the sun in days. He can remember deep, raspy groans, the writhing of bodies, and an overwhelming sense of need, but not much else. They had just come down from completing an assignment that neither of them had been too happy about. They had been tasked with the infiltration and murder of a man whose company had a cache of files that they very much weren’t supposed to, at least by their superiors’ standards. Neither of them had expressed disdain for the task verbally, but shared looks and the occasional grunt of disapproval told them everything they needed to know. Soap wouldn’t admit it, but their easy communication through means other than words was something he cherished.
There were a lot of things about his bond with Ghost that Soap cherished. They understood each other in a way that Soap had never experienced with anyone else he had worked with. All they had to do was look at each other to communicate grand decisions or opinions that would otherwise be left unsaid. They entertained each other during missions in ways that Soap didn’t even know existed in his line of work. Corny jokes and borderline flirting aren't things that should be thought about when your partner in battle is holding his finger over the trigger of a sniper rifle, posed and ready to kill. Ghost made things nearly enjoyable for him. It was undeniably hard for anything to mask the anguish that came with witnessing death and unimaginable pain on the regular, but his bond with Ghost helped.
This newfound dynamic he had developed with the Brit also most certainly helped.
It wasn’t particularly encouraged to have any kind of relations with fellow soldiers, especially in a tight-knit operation like 141. That isn’t to say that it didn’t happen. Soap witnessed it often in his training and previous experience. There was only so long one could go playing the wantless, emotionless, robot that these soldiers were supposed to be. It struck Soap that the lifestyle of a soldier wasn’t all that different from that of a priest. Well, maybe just a little. Regardless, a man had needs. In a way that Soap never would’ve foreseen, it was Ghost who had begun to fulfill those needs.
Again, Soap couldn’t really remember the first time it happened. All he knew is that they didn’t really talk about it afterwards, and he was alright with that. It was desperately needed for both men and they both recognized that.
The second time, though… Well, Soap remembered the second time much more vividly. It was a similar circumstance, with both of them coming down from the adrenaline high of a firefight. Ghost was driving and Soap was nursing a nasty bump on the back of his head from being butted with the back of a rifle. Without warning, Ghost had pulled over on the side of a dirt road in the pitch black wilderness and gently ordered Soap to get out of the car.
Before he knew it he was fucking Ghost over the back of the truck with an urgency that he hadn’t felt even during the fight.
“MacTavish,” Soap suddenly heard and it brought him out of his own head. Ignoring the semi he had developed, he whipped his head towards Ghost who was looking at him with mild frustration.
“Get out of yer head,” Ghost snapped. “We need to go.”
The sour-sweet smell of death suddenly hit Soap’s senses. It surrounded him, with dead bodies lining the floor under his feet. He looked at Ghost and nodded. “Sorry.”
Soap was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming idea that he needed a shower. Thankfully, he knew he could finally get a decent one.
—-
The room they were holed up in, for once, was actually a hotel room. By no means was it fancy, nor was it luxurious, but compared to the Mexican jungle bunkers and dusty Afghani shacks they were used to, it was a blessing. And, by the grace of whatever God existed, it had a working shower, and a rather nice one at that.
As soon as they got in the room, Soap excused himself to the bathroom. He could feel the stench of death lingering on his gear and was at his breaking point. He undressed slowly, making sure to apply care when handling his gear. The sound of running water was the most enticing thing Soap had encountered in weeks and he couldn’t resist immediately stepping in. The feeling of hot water on his shoulders was nearly orgasmic.
He often wished that he had chosen a life path that allowed him a feeling of luxury such as this more often. To millions of people, a hot shower wasn’t something that warranted such pleasure. For such a noble profession, it was certainly barbaric. Soap wouldn’t admit that though.
With the opening of the bathroom door, Soap’s thought process was interrupted. The door to the shower was one of those sliding glass ones and it was fogged from the heat of the shower, providing a layer of protection between Soap’s naked form and Ghost’s eyes. Ghost had already seen a fair amount of Soap’s form, but never in full view like it was in this shower. Soap’s battle instincts prompted him to poke his head out the shower door. He was put at ease upon seeing Ghost standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes pointed down towards the floor.
Ghost was dressed in a black thermal, dark cargo pants, and, of course, was wearing the balaclava. He was also not wearing shoes, so his socked feet made no noise as they entered the foggy bathroom. Something about Ghost standing there, wearing casual clothing that clung to his strong, sturdy form with no shoes on struck a chord in Soap’s chest. Well, not just his chest. He was rather glad for the fog on the shower door in that moment.
“Sir?” he prodded. Ghost looked at him and reached his hand up as if he was going to run his hand through his hair, only to weakly scratch at the back of his head through the mask.
“You can drop the formals, McTavish,” Ghost replied. He began walking and went to sit on the closed toilet. “I came to see how you were doing.”
Soap furrowed his brow. “Just peachy.” There was confusion in his tone.
Ghost smiled. There was something dark to it. Soap was finding it harder and harder to ignore the thinly veiled darkness that lived inside of the other man. “I figured,” Ghost teased in reply. “You seemed a bit off towards the end there is all.”
The fog in the bathroom was thick from the hot, running water that pounded against Soap’s back as he hung out of the shower to look at the lieutenant. It wasn’t so thick that Soap couldn’t see the way Ghost’s eyes trailed up and down his chest and arms, though.
“There was quite a bit going on, L.T.,” Soap said, “Mind started wanderin’”.
“Mhm,” was all Ghost replied with. He stood up as he hummed it out. Soap had about five seconds to process what was happening before Ghost was walking towards him and slowly opening the shower door wider, exposing Soap’s naked body.
“Simon?” Soap choked out, standing there in his vulnerable position. He felt no need to cover himself up though. Something about the way that Ghost was devouring his form with his eyes, the rest of his face hidden behind the mask, provided Soap with a surge of confidence. “Simon.”
“Yeah?” Ghost breathed out. Something had changed in his voice, it had lowered in volume and the cold edge it normally carried was gone. Something about the breathiness in his superior’s voice pushed Soap’s confidence over the edge, and without even really recognizing that it was happening himself, he was stepping out of the shower and towards Ghost. With every step that Soap took forward, Ghost took one backwards until he was being backed into the bathroom counter.
“Lieutenant,” Soap rasped, his face inches away from Ghost’s. Their chests were touching and the warmth of Soap’s wet body was like a blazing fire. He reached up to run his fingers through his hair, pushing back the wet mass that sat in this middle of his head. On the way down, he took hold of the edge of Ghost’s balaclava. Without hesitation, Ghost grabbed Soap’s wrist.
“Don’t,” he warned. His tone was firm, but not harsh. Soap leered at him.
Leaning in towards Ghost’s ear, Soap whispered, “We aren’t on the battlefield, L.T. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” With Ghost’s hand still gripping his wrist, Soap lifted the balaclava up, bringing it over the senior agent’s mouth but stopping at his nose. He could see concern in Ghosts’s eyes, which were wide, his pupils blown so that his eyes took on a darker look. He was undeniably disheveled, and that was something that was rare to see in man as perfect in everything that he did as Ghost.
Without a moments’ more hesitation, Soap leaned in and closed the distance between his and Ghost’s lips. Still holding onto the balaclava, he kissed Ghost bruisingly, their bodies pressed together completely. Ghost grabbed at the back of Soap’s neck, pulling him even closer. He kissed back fervently, which helped to spur Soap on.
It was hard for Soap to help himself from pulling the balaclava completely off. Curiosity ate away at him wondering what Ghost looked like under the mask. They had enough trust to fuck like animals in between missions, but not to be able to see each other’s face, even during the act. Soap was determined to get that mask off.
Soap ran his hands down Ghost’s back harshly until he reached his ass and grabbed with both hands. Ghost made a noise, an almost imperceptible squeak that Soap promised to save for a late date in his mind. He grabbed harder, pulling Ghost’s hips against his. He was starting to dry off at that point, but the hot, foggy bathroom combined with his rutting against Ghost was starting to get to his head. He gave Ghost’s ass one last squeeze before taking his hand and leading the other man out to the main area of the room.
There were two twin beds in the room with a nightstand in between them. Without thinking anything of it at all, Soap chose the closest bed and led Ghost towards it. He brought them both towards it, Ghost’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed, before kicking Ghost off of his feet so that he fell backwards with a small gasp.
“Fuckin’ hell you’re aggressive today,” Ghost managed. Soap smirked down at him.
“I’ve a lot’a steam to blow off.” Soap dropped a knee in between Ghost’s legs. He leaned down, propping himself up with one of his arms next to the lieutenant’s head. “Let me take it out on you.”
With that, Soap pushed his knee forward, rolling it against Ghost’s groin. Ghost let out the tiniest little moans with each movement, sounds that were closer to grunts than anything. Soap let out a sadistic little laugh.
“Good boy,” he purred, his tone deep and his accent thick like honey. It was risky of him, to call someone so volatile something so… sensitive, but Soap trusted himself, and he trusted his instincts when it came to Ghost. It had seemingly been the correct choice, because there was an immediate change in Ghost’s behavior. Soap watched as his eyes widened, and a long, low whine came from his throat. Soap had the lieutenant whining and writhing underneath him, all from just a few words. It made him feel powerful beyond belief.
“You like that, don’t you?” Soap purred into Ghost’s ear. He was pawing at the other man’s crotch, trying to undo his pants. “You like it when I call you a good boy, L.T.?”
There was a tinge of amusement to Soap’s voice. When he finally opened the closure of Ghost’s cargos, he ripped them down, forcing Ghost to arch his body upwards to allow his pants the freedom to move down over the curve of his ass. Soap took that as an opportunity to sit back on his knees and use his other hand to push Ghost’s shirt up, revealing an expanse of pale, muscled abdomen. With one smooth movement, Soap had revealed most of Ghost’s body, save for his boxers, the pants pulled down to his ankles, and his shirt bunched up under his armpits, hiding only his shoulders. And, of course, there was the mask.
Ghost was starting to lose any composure he had left. Soap watched as he squirmed under the scrutiny of Soap’s own gaze, a vulnerability that Soap (who was still naked from his shower, mind you) hadn’t even allowed himself. It excited him wildly to be able to see so much of the elusive soldier’s body. He took advantage, raking his nails down Ghost’s chest, starting at his sternum and ending at the waistband of his boxers. Soap prodded underneath the elastic with one finger, trailing the line from one hipbone to the other. He smiled at the reaction it prompted from Ghost.
“What do you want from me, Simon?” Soap purred. At this point, he’d pulled Ghost’s boxers down so that his cock bobbed out from under the fabric, standing at attention delightfully. Soap resisted the urge to lick his lips. “What do you need, sir?”
Ghost full-on whined at that one. Soap wished he had a video camera at that moment, just so he had proof that he had pulled such a noise from Ghost, of all people. He grabbed the lieutenant’s cock roughly, choking the noise in Ghost’s throat. “Tell me. Tell me what you need.”
Ghost’s voice was barely above a rasp when he responded with a, “Fuck me. Please.”
“Louder.” Soap was filled with a conviction he had never felt before, not even on the battlefield.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost choked out. “Fuck me. Please.”
That was all it took for Soap to give in, pulling Ghost flush to him by his hips. In one swift move, he positioned himself between the other man’s legs, spreading them apart with ease and running his calloused hands down the soft skin of Ghost’s inner thighs. He relished in the grunt that pulled out of the lieutenant.
“Lube. We need somethin’. Do you have?” Soap suddenly prodded, breaking the thick tension for just a moment. Ghost gaped for a moment, disoriented by the question and his intense arousal.
“Uh. In my pack. Over in the corner. I’ve gotta…. I’ve got an oil. It’s somewhere in there.”
Soap got up from the bed, immediately missing the warmth of Ghost’s body, assaulted by the cold air of their room. He could feel Ghost staring at him from the bed like a bullet wound in his back, and it lit a fire inside of him. He desperately wanted to crawl back on the bed, rip the mask off his lieutenant’s face, and get a good look at the face that so often stared at him in a way that set his chest and stomach alight. He had a feeling that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon, so he resigned himself to rummaging through Ghost’s pack (something that felt deeply personal and satisfied Soap’s need to know more about Ghost, at least for that moment) until he found what he was looking for. As he walked back to the bed, his heart jumped at the way that Ghost’s eyes devoured his body.
“Spread yer legs, sir,” Soap ordered, crawling back onto the bed. There was something about using the formality in a situation like this that turned Soap on beyond belief. Ghost did as he was told. “There’s a good lad,” Soap praised in response.
Barely capable of controlling himself, Soap got the bottle of oil open and dripped it over his fingers. He wasted no time in pressing one of his fingers against Ghost’s entrance, circling his fingertip around the tight flesh. He placed his other hand on Ghost’s stomach, feeling as the muscles there flexed and twitched in anticipation. He spent a few minutes preparing Ghost before he slowly pressed his finger inside, relishing in the gasp his superior let out.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Soap observed. There was no venom behind it, no air of teasing. He was genuinely concerned with the comfort and pleasure of his partner. “Relax, L.T.”
Soap continued gently, pressing his finger in and out of Ghost, fingering him carefully but with purpose. When he felt that the other had relaxed enough, he slipped another finger in, watching closely as Ghost’s eyes widened. His lips, still exposed from the mask resting on the bridge of his nose, parted and a tiny gasp escaped from between them. “Johnny, please. C’mon.”
“Think you’re ready?” Soap teased. He crooked his fingers as he said it, prompting a deep groan from Ghost.
“Fuckin’ hell, yes. Stop being such a tease.” For the first time that night, Soap simply listened to what Ghost had ordered, pulling his fingers out in response. A small whine came from Ghost, who was feeling discomfort from the sudden lack of being filled up, but it was quickly resolved when Soap pressed the tip of his cock against Ghost’s entrance. Almost immediately, Ghost reached up to grab Soap’s shoulder, grounding himself with his eyes wide.
Soap had the intention of drawing this out. He wanted to tease Ghost a bit further. However, the image of Ghost laying under him, grabbing onto him for dear life with his eyes rolled back in his head was something he was powerless against. Without warning, he bottomed out. That pulled a noise from Ghost that could really only be described as a squeak.
Soap wasted no time in setting a pace that was intense, to say the least. He was losing control of himself rapidly, fucking into Ghost fast, hard, and deep. There was something intensely erotic about having this man, widely regarded as one of the most dangerous men in the world, under his control, and willingly at that. Ghost was writhing, moaning under his touch, and if that wasn’t one of the most goddamn beautiful things Soap had ever seen. Something about the way the lieutenant was looking up at him boosted Soap’s confidence once again, and he took a leap of faith.
“You’re so good at everything, Simon,” he bit out in between thrusts. “Even good at taking dick”.
Ghost looked up at him with fiery eyes. There was a warning look in those eyes, a warning not to cross a line or a threshold that he may not be able to come back from.
Soap didn’t particularly care about any of that in that moment.
“Come on, L.T. You can admit it. You live for this. Keeps you goin’, doesn’t it. I know you think about it while we’re workin’. Can’t say I don’t too.” Soap knew he was babbling, trying to think of anything he could to get the lieutenant off while simultaneously fucking him like it was his last act on this earth.
“Johnny,” Ghost pleaded. It was a plead for mercy, a plead to allow the senior officer at least some of his dignity left. His eyes begged for mercy from the man above him.
“What, Simon? Want me to stop?” Soap punctuated the statement by slowing his thrusts until he was completely still. Ghost’s eyes went rabid. He tightened around Soap’s cock.
“No, fuck, please, don’t stop, don’t stop, keep go-“.
Without warning, Soap slapped his hand over Ghost’s mouth and began moving again, this time much harder and faster than before. Ghost’s legs, almost of their own volition, wrapped around Soap’s waist, pulling him even closer. Soap could feel their strength and was once again reminded that Ghost could easily end his life right then and there, at any second he wanted to. Soap fucked him even harder.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Soap breathed into the other man’s ear. Ghost had thrown an arm around his shoulders and was rocking his hips back against Soap’s each and every thrust, matching him in rhythm. That began to push Soap over the edge, and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to finishing. Before he did, though, he grabbed Ghost’s cock and started stroking him at a pace just as fast as he was fucking him, pulling yet another whine from the lieutenant. Soap relished those noises, craved them, so he moved faster, harder, if that was even possible. Ghost had become nothing more than a string of moans and whines at that point, and that was all it took for Soap to fall over the edge, pulling out with what wherewithal he had left and finishing all over Ghost’s cock and stomach.
Even in the daze he had entered after cumming, Soap prioritized getting Ghost off. He used his own cum as lubricant to continue jerking Ghost off, whispering words of encouragement in the other man’s ear as he did. He probably sounded like a crazy person, fervently whispering dirty words in his superior’s ear, but he didn’t care. There was nothing holding him back at that point.
It didn’t take long for Ghost to follow him with his own orgasm, gripping Soap’s shoulders with urgency as his body spasmed. He was a shell of the cold, intense man that he usually was in that moment. Soap held him through it, feeling tender in a way that he knew he absolutely should not. He continued to hold the other, stroking his stomach until Ghost’s breathing steadied. He could almost pretend that their situation was different than it really was in those few moments of silence, holding Ghost gingerly, waiting until he had recovered from his orgasm. All it took was Ghost lowering his mask back over his mouth for that dreamy bubble to be popped. Soap wasn’t particularly bothered by it, though. He knew who he was dealing with.
“Thinking you might need to take another shower, Sergeant,” Ghost finally rasped out, a smile bleeding through his tone. Soap sat up, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He smiled in return.
“You might be right about that, L.T.,” he responded. He turned around to look back at Ghost with a smile that meant he was up to no good. “You could join me.”
Soap watched as Ghost’s mouth opened under the mask to say something, but he interrupted before he could. “Ah, that’d require you to take off the mask, so it won’t happen. Don’t have to tell me.”
Ghost huffed out something that could barely be considered a chuckle. “Someday, Johnny.”
In one last feat of confidence, Soap reached back and placed a hand on Ghost’s masked jaw.
“Countin’ on it, L.T.”