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“Johnny… How copy?
There was a hand in Soap’s hair, pulling his head back. Not in the way that Rodolfo had earlier, when he had fisted what little of Soap’s locks he could grab and had pulled him onto his cock with as much preamble and fuss as Ghost sliding a knife across a man’s throat. This touch was firm, but gentle, and the thumb that slid across Soap’s cheek on the opposite side made time to dip between his swollen lips. A burst of chuckles came from somewhere in the room when Soap leaned forward, chasing it.
“Solid.”
Several firm taps on the side of Soap’s face encouraged him to open his eyes. The same hand that had been stroking his cheek now held his chin, firmly scruffing him in his captor’s grip.
“Thought we lost you.”
A wide, lazy grin spread across Soap’s features. Ghost’s skull mask swam in front of his eyes, the only thing even slightly in focus. Piercing blue stared into Soap’s own; blue like the ocean, blue like a bright gem, blue like the sky stretching out forever over grassy hills.
Soap would never tell him, but Ghost’s eyes had remained his favorite thing even after he had seen the man without his mask.
“Johnny.” Ghost’s voice had that edge of impatience to it, the same annoyance laced in that he dealt Soap over comms when he took a little too long to respond.
“‘M tougher than I look, sir,” Soap replied, because he liked mouthing off, and because he knew he was more lucid than he appeared. “You havin’ a go, or am I just getting special treatment for nearly passing out on a boaby?”
Ghost squinted, then huffed. The hands released him, and when Ghost’s support was gone, Soap found himself swaying on his knees. He could feel the stares of half a dozen men on him. Even though he was the only one completely naked, Soap still had more power in that room than any one of them.
Soap tilted his head to the side and cracked his neck this way and that with a satisfying sigh. The room was holding its breath, waiting for his affirmative.
“That all you got, boys?”
It was a challenge as much as it was permission.
A presence hovered behind Soap. Every hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention, not out of fear, but anticipation. Ghost had reclaimed his seat, the only one with a view of the entire room. Soap delighted in feeling that stare like a target on his back.
“You’re still cheeky after all that. Either the boys aren’t working you hard enough, or I’m just very good at my job.”
Soap tracked Price with just his eyes as Price’s legs came into view, pausing right in front of Soap’s kneeling form. Rarely was Price so dressed down, in just cargos and a tee, but then again, it was a special occasion.
“You should give more credit to your team, sir. You may have picked ‘em, but they know how to get the job done.”
The corner of Price’s lips twitched upwards. He could be a mean bastard, but he had a soft spot for Soap.
That was what Soap was counting on.
“And yet you’re still talking.” Price’s hand rested on his belt buckle, and Soap’s heart did a backflip in his chest. “I’m thinking they need a demonstration.”
With the same energy he had used to taunt Ghost, Soap tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded and tongue sliding out suggestively. Where his hands had come to rest on his knees, Soap now clasped them behind his back, a subtle flex of his skills.
Price couldn’t have asked for a better invitation.
Soap’s entire body rocked with the force of Price’s grip on the back of his head. Not that Price needed to hold him in place. The moment he tasted skin on his tongue, Soap surged forward, eyes slipping shut as Price forced his way down Soap’s well-used throat.
Soap had always known he was a little bit crazy, but there must have been something truly broken in him for the way he moaned for a cock in his mouth. Price wasn’t fucking him yet, just gently rocking on Soap’s tongue, pushing further and further until the head was cutting off his windpipe. Sore though it was, Soap kept his jaw open obediently, panting through every upstroke that allowed him a second of reprieve. Price kept a steady rhythm, increasing with the force of his breaths, groaning and cursing with equal fervor.
“That’s it, atta boy. Take it. Fuck, look at you. Fuckin’ efficient, even here.”
Soap couldn’t talk, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a brat with his mouth full. Price’s gentle thrusts were a tease, an appetizer for the main event. And as long as this had already gone on, Soap was damn ready for the action he had been promised.
Ducking his head, Soap inhaled sharply through his nose and slid down smoothly until he was certain he could feel Price in his chest. Those deep breathing exercises the men had been taught to stay calm during missions came in handy under the most unlikely of circumstances. Price’s hips stuttered, and his stance widened, allowing Soap more room to work. Precum was thick on the back of Soap’s tongue as he repeatedly bobbed his head, Price’s thick cock sliding in and out of him at a dizzying pace.
Price wasn’t content to allow Soap to set the tempo for long. A spark of arousal ran right through Soap as Price gripped the back of his neck, effectively stilling him. Soap blinked up at his CO, tears shining at the corners of his eyes, a reflex from the abuse he had already taken.
“You’re gonna be the death a’ me, son,” Price huffed, and then Soap couldn’t hear anymore over the sound of Price fucking his throat and his own whimpers.
If Soap’d had the brain cells to think at that moment, he would have marveled at how Price’s control encouraged him to ease down into the headspace where there was nothing but physical sensation and human intimacy. It was so easy for Soap to be good here. So simple to open his mouth and let Price in, let Price use him, stay on his knees and take and take and take until everyone was satisfied. Drool ran down Soap’s chin, and his face had to be red for how little air he was getting; eyes screwed shut, Soap couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t hear a thing, couldn’t understand anything except the quiet murmurs and the satisfied grunts from Price above him.
“So goddamn perfect, you are, Soap– ugh, that damn mouth on you. Fuckin’ beautiful, that is. Such a good boy you are.”
It took several seconds for Soap to realize it was him making that low, whining sound he was hearing all around him. The words bounced around in his skull, a tether for Soap to cling to.
Good boy.
Beautiful boy, Soap.
So good for me.
Warmth spread out from his core and filled every corner of Soap’s mind, dragging him down, down, down into a place where everything felt hazy and soft and so nice. Nice in a way Soap never got to be. Easy in a way Soap’s life never was.
Soap barely registered Price’s absence as the thick cock dragged along his tongue, pulling out. There was a wet sound, and then Price was coming, hot spend landing on Soap’s cheek, dirtying his eyelashes, covering his mouth. The moment was suspended in time, the boys savoring the filthy picture Soap made, until someone offered their T-shirt and a kind hand began to clean him up.
“Thought you’d like that,” Price’s voice breathed in Soap’s ear, and it was enough for Soap to crack a satisfied smile. “Looks like you’ve given your boy something to think about.”
Soap tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak groan. By the time he could open his eyes, his face was clean, and Price was leaving him with the brush of lips against his neck.
One would have to know Ghost intimately to read his tells. Soap knew him better than anyone, even Price, the only other person who could find the cracks in Ghost’s armor. And Ghost was cracking, indeed.
Veins stood out on his forearm as Ghost gripped his knee, gaze trained a little below Soap’s eye level. Soap could guess what he was looking at, maybe even what he was imagining. Biting swollen, wine-stained lips, plump and ready for the taking. Kicking every single man out of the room so Ghost could have a taste of Soap himself, or rather, so Soap could have a taste of him. Fucking away any reminder of other men. Taking what was his.
That was the game, after all. It wasn’t just Soap who toed the line, relishing in pushing his body to its limit. They taunted one another, a silent challenge and battle of wills, waiting for one to break. Soap was determined that it wouldn’t be him.
There was a line of something wet on Soap’s neck. Price had done the job of cleaning him up, but had done so with as much finesse as a parent wrangling a sticky toddler after mealtime. Reaching up, Soap ran his finger through the mess, and let his mouth fall open. Perhaps maintaining eye contact with Ghost as he dragged his finger across his tongue was a bit theatrical, but if Soap wanted to break him, he was going to have to do so no holds barred.
Even here, on his knees, head full of cotton and vision pleasantly blurry, Soap could see the way Ghost’s breathing did a stutter-step, eyes flashing in the low light. He imagined he could see the subtle shift in fabric that meant Ghost’s nostrils flared underneath the mask. Maybe he was even mouthing the words.
Cheeky bastard.
The room had gone so quiet that the moan that was released a few seconds later echoed in the space. There was snickering, and a sigh of frustration, before chatter filled the lull in Soap’s performance.
“You blew it, Gaz. Literally.”
“Shut up! That was my second time, anyway. I had him earlier.”
“You just can’t last for shit. You fuck your girlfriend with that kinda stamina?”
“Who’s talking about girlfriends?”
“Damn, but he looks good on his knees.”
There was rustling, and then:
“I happen to agree.”
Alejandro melted away from the corner where he had made himself comfortable. He wasn’t an easy man to overlook, but he had made himself forgettable in the shadows, watching and waiting while the others had their fun. Maybe he got off on observing. Maybe he liked having a turn all to himself with no distractions.
Or maybe, as Soap suspected, Alejandro liked having Soap last, sloppy and pliable, moldable to his whims.
“Why is it always me cleaning up the other boys’ messes, hm?”
Soap was having trouble staying on his knees. He was a stubborn bastard, so he wouldn’t have said it out loud, but the skin around his kneecaps was already bruised and scraped up enough that blood showed on the concrete. Pain teetered on the edge of breaking through arousal. When Alejandro approached, appraising Soap’s debauched form, he let out a clear sound of disapproval.
“What a waste, to leave such a pretty thing on his knees.”
Strong arms lifted Soap from his collapsed position, stumble-walking him to the cot Soap had yet to take advantage of. Even Roach had kept him on his hands and knees when he had fucked Soap, out of desperation and due to the fact that Soap had been busy with Gaz at the same time. The moment Soap’s back hit the cot, he stretched out with blissful abandon, muscles sore in all the right places.
“‘M starting to think you’re going soft on me, Vargas.”
Alejandro hovered near Soap’s legs, half kneeling between them. Sending a wink Soap’s way, he took one leg in hand, bending to press a delicate kiss to the inside of Soap’s knee.
“Who says I’m not?”
The pleasant drag of lips on sensitive skin coaxed a soft moan out of Soap, who was helpless to lay back and take whatever Alejandro wanted to give him. Most of the boys weren’t quite as gentle, though a particularly memorable moment surfaced in Soap’s mind of the first time Gaz had joined their inner circle. Gaz had asked to kiss him, and he’d almost been laughed out of the room, but Soap had silenced them all by sliding onto Gaz’s lap and stealing the air out of his lungs.
It was just as well that Alejandro didn’t need to ask. The rasp of his stubble on the inside of Soap’s thigh left behind a tingling sensation that lit up Soap’s entire body. His lips were soft, too damn soft for a man of Alejandro’s job description, but they made Soap tremble all the same. Though he was busy with his mouth, devouring Soap’s skin with kisses and bold nips, Alejandro’s hands were equally as active. One held Soap’s hips in place, a casual display of strength that made Soap question why he found it so arousing. The other played a teasing game, tracing the lines and divots of Soap’s abdomen, always skirting around where Soap wanted him.
Alejandro’s mouth found its way up Soap’s thigh to the crease in his leg, but it didn’t stop there. Eyes dark and twinkling with mischief, Alejandro paused just long enough to blow a cool, teasing breath over Soap’s over-sensitive cock. Soap’s entire body jerked, and he let out a sound between a whimper and a moan.
“Fuckin’ hell-! You just gonna sit there all day and stare at it?” Soap panted out. His fingernails dug into the tops of his thighs out of desperate need to touch himself.
Alejandro’s chuckle twisted Soap’s gut, flaring arousal hot and low. He moved like a shadow, slinking up Soap’s body, until Soap found himself staring down Alejandro’s hungry gaze like he would the scope of a rifle.
“Te está mirando, cariño.”
“Bastard, how the hell do you expect me to–”
Lips pressed against his jaw, and Soap inhaled sharply at the words spoken directly into his ear.
“He is looking at you.”
Soap didn’t need to see Ghost to know Alejandro was telling the truth. Lust, and something like barely contained possessiveness, rolled off Ghost in waves, ratcheting up the tension in the room. At least a few of the men were actively getting off to it, Soap was sure, since he knew from experience Ghost was his most attractive when he was at his scariest.
“What do you think, hm?” Alejandro murmured. “Should we convince him to play?”
Soap’s dick jumped, and his insides writhed in a beautiful, tortuous way.
“What d’you have in mind?”
With the way Alejandro was gripping his ass, Soap was fairly sure he knew, but it never hurt to clarify the mission before it began.
The funny thing about fucking for an audience was that there was never a shortage of lube. Soap enjoyed the way Ghost’s eye twitched when Alejandro asked him directly if he had any, breaking the unspoken rule. Ghost’s posturing didn’t faze Alejandro; he was one of the few who could stand toe to toe with Ghost and never blink.
Their game of chicken was broken when Rodolfo caught Alejandro’s attention, tossing him a bottle. With his audience of one in mind, Alejandro wasted no time in getting to work.
“F-fuck, Alejandro, damn you– you’re a filthy tease.”
Soap’s neglected, swollen cock lay curved on his stomach, twitching and leaking precome into the divot of his abdomen. Alejandro was only two fingers deep, but Soap didn’t need to play up how he was feeling for the crowd; Alejandro could get him there himself. Though Soap was reactive under any circumstance, Alejandro was determined to make this a special one. Alejandro’s surprise was one even Soap, with all his experience, hadn’t been expecting.
Alejandro had left on his gloves.
The thickness of the material, leather, at Soap’s best guess, spread him open to an eye-watering degree, making Alejandro’s slim fingers feel twice as big. Surely the gloves would be ruined, covered in lube and Alejandro’s spit after he stuck his fingers in his mouth to wet them, but that wasn’t a concern in Alejandro’s mind. Flexing his wrist, Alejandro drove his fingers in deeper and savored the whimper he tore out of Soap. Soap’s hands fluttered between clawing at the blanket beneath them and clutching at his own legs, growing all the more distraught by the second.
“C’mon– touch me, need you to touch me, it fuckin’ hurts,” Soap whined, enticing Alejandro with a roll of his hips, but Alejandro only tsked at his response.
“You can be a good boy a little longer, can’t you, Soap? Can you be good for me, ¿puedes ser bueno para mi?”
Soap’s moan caught in his throat, nearly choking him, as Alejandro’s wicked fingers rubbed up against the spot that curled his toes and lit a fire in his belly. Only Alejandro’s other hand on his stomach, rubbing tender circles, kept him grounded.
“Y-yes, yeah, come on–”
“Say it.”
“Good–” Soap bucked against Alejandro’s hand, gasping, as the fingers inside him stilled. “Fuck, n-no, I’m good, I’m good for you, Alejandro, I’m good.”
“Who are you good for, Soap?” Alejandro coaxed. Still knuckles-deep inside him, Alejandro began to rock his fingers, just barely allowing the pads to brush against the spot where Soap really wanted him. Soap could only mewl and squirm as Alejandro built him up, brought him back down, and strung him up to new heights with no end in sight.
“A-h, h-ah, fuck,” Soap slurred, eyes fluttering against the moisture that clung to his eyelashes. “Wanna be good. Need’ta come, Alejo, wanna come.”
The nickname brought a smile to Alejandro’s face. He increased his tempo, rocking with the natural movement of Soap’s hips, which Alejandro wasn’t sure Soap even realized he was doing.
“You are perfect, Soap. Such a very good boy, beautiful boy. Tell me who you’re good for, querido.”
“‘M good– good for you– good for Price and Gaz and Roach and Rodolfo–”
“And?
“Simon,” Soap breathed the name like a prayer. “‘M good for Simon. Always. Always for him— fuck. Need him.”
Soap was aware that he was babbling, but he was also aware that he was past the point of no return; past wanting, past a simple craving, straight to pure, wanton need.
And, even if it was a little bit selfish, Soap burned to see Simon’s reaction, wanting every bit of that frustration, desire, and lustful jealousy directed towards him.
A sob ripped its way out of Soap’s chest when he felt Alejandro’s fingers stop again. Deep, nauseating desire turned his stomach, desperation edging on panic. The idea of being left alone like this, even if Soap logically knew Alejandro wouldn’t, sent Soap into a spiral that had him trembling and fighting for air.
“Johnny.”
Never had one word spoken by a single person filled Soap with so much relief and elation. Soap could’ve found his peak at that alone, except that Alejandro had stopped touching him, and Soap became aware that there was communication happening that he wasn’t privy to.
Simon’s form casted a shadow over the cot, briefly blocking the view, though the men didn’t dare grumble. Alejandro inclined his head, deferring to Simon, whose only tell now was the wild look in his eyes.
“You can have his mouth,” Simon said, after a long beat of silence. “But I got him.”
How the standard-issue cot held the weight of three bulky spec ops agents, Soap would never know, but it was no concern of his. Simon more than filled the space that Alejandro left behind, taking his place between Soap’s legs, while Alejandro slid behind Soap to support his back. Leaning back into the vee of Alejandro’s legs was much more comfortable than raw skin against canvas. Soap melted against Alejandro, head on his chest, as he listened to the pleasant sound of Simon’s buckle coming undone.
There was no hesitation in Simon’s touch. Soap’s legs fell open around Simon’s massive thighs, palms the size of Soap’s face gripping them. Simon shifted, and Soap’s hips were dragged into his lap; with Simon’s hands holding firm, and Alejandro supporting his shoulders, Soap was entirely at their mercy.
“Oh, fuckin’ Christ,” Soap barely had time to whisper before he felt the hot press of Simon’s cock against his hole.
Simon always felt big, mostly because he was big, but there was something about the way he loomed over Soap that made him feel minuscule compared to Simon’s girth. The first slick slide of Simon’s cock into him was both relief and the sweetest torture. He was delightfully thick, almost painfully so, and Soap could feel every inch of Simon dragging along his sensitive walls.
Soap’s jaw was clenched so tight he thought he might have cracked a molar, the only sound out of him a breathy whimper as Simon’s hips met his. For all that he could appear smug behind the mask, Simon looked secretly pleased that he had already managed to fuck the banter out of Soap, who tried to open his mouth to prove Simon wrong. The only thing that came out was what was likely to be the most embarrassing sound a man could make with a cock inside of him.
“You look good like this, Johnny,” Simon said, a note of amusement in his voice. “Quiet. Though I expect you won’t stay that way for long.”
When Simon drew back, he took all the air out of Soap’s lungs with him. The first hard thrust rocked Soap harder than a dingy in a tropical storm, punching a low, wounded groan out of him. Alejandro caught the force of the thrust, holding Soap still, and ensuring he took the brunt of Simon’s strength. Simon didn’t bother with the buildup, and that was just as well; Soap was barely hanging on by a thread as it was, and he couldn’t have tolerated anymore teasing.
Simon took that to heart.
Lifting Soap’s left leg, Simon threw Soap’s calf over his shoulder, locking him in by the knee. The next thrust drilled Soap so deep he felt the meaning of ‘rearranging one’s guts’ in his throat. All the while, Soap’s angry-red cock bounced helplessly against his stomach, smearing precome and fluid all over his skin. Soap was sure a single touch would set him off, as volatile as he was, having been edged and squeezed and pounded like a toy for the others’ pleasure.
“Simon,” Soap wheezed, mouth hanging open. He might as well have been shouting into the wind for the way Simon ignored him, only choosing to dig deeper into Soap’s body with every rock of his hips. “S-Simon, Simon, f-fuck– please, c’mon.”
“Ain’t this what you begged for, Johnny?” Simon grunted. The slapping of his balls against Soap’s ass was obscene in the silence of the room. “Thought I was giving you what you wanted.”
“N-no– fuck, yes, but–”
Soap’s breath was stolen by another spine-tingling thrust, and his mouth snapped shut. The leg over Simon’s shoulder screamed in protest as Simon folded over, nearly touching Soap’s knee to his heaving chest, bringing them eye to eye.
“Speak up, sweetheart,” Simon hissed in a low tone that Soap could feel in his bones. “Can’t hear you.”
Soap couldn’t help the way his moans went punchy and high as Simon fucked him into Alejandro’s chest. His mouth tried to form words, but they were lost to him, all except one.
“S-Simon, f-fu– Simon!”
It was a plea, and a warning. Soap couldn’t force out the words for someone, anyone , to touch him, as his arousal accelerated faster and faster with no end in sight. Something hot and painful was squirming in Soap’s guts, burning him up with white-hot torment and making him shiver at the same time. Soap’s thighs trembled between his and Simon’s writhing bodies, and, unable to escape, Soap could only hold on while the waves of overstimulation crashed over him.
It wasn’t one thing, in particular, that set him off. Alejandro’s lips were pressed against his neck, and Soap thought he might be whispering something, but Soap couldn’t hear much of anything above the ringing in his ears. Simon’s fingers dug into him, bruising delicate skin, while his cock fucked Soap raw and open as efficiently as an M91 clearing a room.
Soap realized maybe half a second before it happened, but far too late to stop anything. It was the most painful and the most invigorating orgasm of Soap’s entire life. His dick jerked wildly, untouched and angry about it. The press of Simon’s cock deep inside of him dragged the rolling pleasure out into eternity as Soap’s entire body seized, mouth open and eyes unseeing. Several excruciating breaths passed before Soap reached the point of coming dry, his cock having nothing left to give, but his body still reacting to Simon.
Alejandro swore quietly in Soap’s ear when it was done. Soap’s dick gave a valiant twitch in response.
“Just can’t resist being fuckin’ greedy, can you, Johnny?”
Soap’s entire body spasmed as Simon resumed rocking, erasing the thought that Simon would stop when Soap was done.
“‘S not my fault,” Soap slurred. His tongue was too thick in his mouth. “Can’t… just can’t resist you.”
Simon didn’t find Soap’s feeble smirk nearly as endearing as Soap had hoped, but he did speed up his thrusts in response. Soap could see the splash of red across his exposed neck, and could hear panting behind the mask.
“Think I’ve had just about enough of that lip from you.”
Soap didn’t see the look that passed between Simon and Alejandro, but he felt it when Alejandro raised his legs and slid out from behind him with a whispered apology. Soap’s shoulders were laid to rest on the cot, and he took a deep breath before Alejandro’s weight dropped onto his chest. Simon was kind enough to slow his thrusts as Alejandro got into position straddling Soap.
Alejandro raised his eyebrows, waiting for the affirmative. “How copy, Soap?”
Soap’s tongue flicked out from behind his teeth. “Solid.”
Fortunately for Soap’s tired jaw, Alejandro was content with the kitten licks and soft suckling that Soap could offer. In all the shuffling, Alejandro’s perfectly gelled hair had fallen to hang in his eyes. They glinted in the low light when Soap made eye contact.
“So good for me, querido. Slow, slow. There you go. Don’t tire yourself out. Beautiful.”
Alejandro came with his palm cradling Soap’s face, encouraging him to relax into Simon’s steady rocking. His spend added to the mess of sweat and fluids on Soap’s chest. Simon wasn’t really fucking Soap anymore, more so rolling with the natural motion of his hips, a slow buildup. As soon as Alejandro’s weight disappeared, Soap was reaching for Simon, and he was received into strong arms.
“You’re a show-off, Simon.”
“Fuckin’ brat you are.”
“Never claimed to be anything else.”
When Simon came, he did so buried deep inside Soap, his cut-off groan muffled in Soap’s shoulder. Soap tugged on the balaclava, earning him a light smack to the hip, but he managed to steal a kiss before Simon yanked his mask back into place.
“Party’s over, lads,” someone who sounded like Price called. There was a collective sigh from those gathered, that of a group of well-fucked, satisfied men. Every one filed past the cot on their way out.
“Good one, Soap.”
“See you later, MacTavish.”
“Fuckin’ A, Soap. You’re an animal.”
“Go easy on him, son.”
Soap met Price’s eyes before he opened the door, grinning over Simon’s shoulder. After all, Simon could fuck the sass out of him, but it was only a matter of time before Soap returned the favor.