Work Text:
ghost always loved to watch soap work.
it didn't matter what he was doing. rigging or defusing explosives, staring down his scope, copying mission plans to his journal. it always got his full attention, a scowl always pulling at his face with the purse of his lips and furrow of his brows. it was almost cute in a rugged-ly handsome way.
it was no different now.
the mattress had been cleared of anything except a white sheet. the lamp of the nightstand beside it had been risen up by a few thick books they had laying down. it gave out a warm glow, strong enough that his eyes didn't strain.
soap had always been particular when obtaining references for his full pieces. would spend an hour trying to find the perfect spot to sit when he wanted to paint a picturesque location while they had the time. it was a side of him that wasn't apparent to people who didn't know him too well, didn't watch him like simon did.
and christ, he had spent maybe 10 minutes shuffling around on the bed, following johnny's verbal commands. completely nude, he felt more than a bit awkward. but the feeling went away around the umpteenth time he heard soap mutter a "little to the left—no, my left," from where he stood behind the small easel he had set up in the bedroom.
he knows he's satisfied when he abandons his position without a word. beside the bed was a box that had been dragged out. it was innocuous, merely a box full of ropes. all in varying materials and colors, some soft and vibrant and others coarse and dark. he always let soap choose for him, trusting him to know what he could take.
"on your back, head to the headboard," soap is saying, not even looking at him. in stark contrast to simon's nude figure, johnny stood there in jeans and one of ghost's t-shirts, the band logo faded enough to be barely recognizable.
he listens, adjusting himself carefully. he can hear him still sorting through the rope, the occasional drop of one as he discards it back. slowly, simon takes a deep breath and then lets it out. forces his limbs lax.
the only sign he gets that soap is done is a warm hand resting on the outside of his thigh. he nearly jumps, even if his leg twitches into the feeling. "good, just stay there." soap's voice is painfully soft when they were like this. it used to grate on him, so used to rough hands and loud voices. now he can only relax into it, into him.
simon lets his eyes close as he hears him start to sort out the rope. slowly unraveling it in order to get to the bite. soap's fingers were deft from his experience with electronics and hardware, so it was unsurprising that he was just as skilled with rope.
there were days that he couldn't keep himself malleable. too tense, too jumpy to fully give in to the feeling of soap's hands guiding his limbs into position. today was better in that regard, pliant with effort.
the first thing soap reaches for is the ankle on his left leg. his grip is firm but soft, gently urging his knee to bend and heel to slide backward. the rope is one of the softer ones they have, getting wound around his ankle to form a secure cuff.
the first time they had done something like this, simon had been all nerves. the idea of getting tied up was appealing, yes. but making it a reality was much more daunting, threatening to drag memories to the surface that he didn't want. but with safewords and frequent check-ins established, he was able to get used to this... arrangement.
like now, as johnny slips his index under the cuff, giving it a tug to test the tightness. "how's that?" he asks, adjusting the disturbed rope back into place once he pulls his finger out.
"good," simon murmurs back. it was hard not to let his mind drift like this, something he had heard soap call a float. knowing he was in capable hands had his overworked mind desperate to let go. but he also knew that the other man appreciated having him there to coherently answer these check-ins, although it had never been made a necessity.
with that, soap begins to wind the rope around his thigh and calf, his heel now pushed back to meet his ass to fully fold his leg. soap had that focused look on his face, lips nearly pouting and staring hard at his work, deft fingers starting to tie knots on each rung of the spiral.
by the time he's done with that leg, it's properly held in place. soap has him try to extend his leg back out, testing where the resistance dug in and making slight adjustments. the color of the rope this time was a dark purple, giving a stark contrast to his pale skin and the white of the sheets.
the sergeant grabs a second length of the same rope, and shuffles around him on the bed to start on his other leg. the same tie, done to perfectly mirror the other side. soft check ins and adjustments are made, until soap was able to sit back to stare at his work so far.
with gentle hands, he moves simon's legs together. he's sure that if it was needed, he'd find a way to bind them shut. but as it was, simon tended to be obedient to a fault, especially whenever he was being used as a muse.
"doing perfect for me." his hand is put on his sternum as he says this, warm where the air of the room was keeping his body cool. the praise just adds to that heat, melting over him. once he had gotten used to being tied up, the pressure of the rope holding him into place was nice. sometimes, he liked the abrasiveness of the rough rope. liked the burns that were left, marks to remind him for the rest of the week. and times like now, the softer rope merely held onto him gently, pleasant where it dragged against his skin.
he barely pays attention once soap gets a much longer length out, starting on a harness. rope winding around his chest and ribs, johnny seeming to have no trouble when working it between him and the mattress. cuffs similar to the ones on his ankles get tied to his wrists, and his arms are eased up to fold, the cuffs getting secured in the harness.
again, soap has him test the give. checks for pressure where circulation could get cut off. his body is adjusted a bit more, gentled to lay on his side, facing the easel. one of the pillows are grabbed off the floor, tucked under his head to prevent the strain on his neck.
the last key detail comes with soap's hand trailing down his front. he's already half chubbed, not quite aroused but certainly interested in the way he was so easily tied and posed.
"i know," soap murmurs when simon inhales sharply at the feeling of his hand curling around his cock. it's too dry to stroke, but johnny merely rubs his fingertips along his length, massaging him to full hardness. thumb lightly stroking the underside, right against his frenulum the moment his foreskin was pushed back.
sometimes soap had him cum, painting the streaks of white over his belly or the stains on the sheet. sometimes he fucked him before, leaving him leaking or painted with soap's spend. today merely seemed to be tame, as he feels the familiar rubbery texture of the silicon cockring they sometimes used get slipped on right before he was too hard for it to comfortably fit. it'd keep him hard, making sure he didn't flag without attention.
"let me know if you need a break," johnny reminds him. always does, never wanting him to feel like he had to lay there for the whole duration. today he only had his travel kit of watercolors and a sketchbook pinned to the easel, but that didn't mean it'd be a short one.
"i will." his voice is already softer, already retreating back into his head. it had been difficult to get him to the point of verbalizing his understanding or agreement, soap never wanting to continue if he didn't get a definitive answer, never accepting a hum or a nod.
"good boy." he leaves him with one last tug on the ropes, adjusting everything to his liking before finally stepping off the bed.
simon lets his eyes shut, mentally tracking the other man as he goes about cleaning up the box of ropes, getting pushed closer to the closet. always made clean up easier beforehand, never wanting to leave simon alone for long when he was coming down.
not long after, he hears the chair behind the easel creak. sometimes soap had music softly playing, sometimes a show going on his phone. now, he seemed content to merely sit in silence, the scratching of graphite on the paper starting not long after.
it had been a stressful week, to say the least. a new batch of recruits that price had picked had arrived, put under soap and consequently ghost's command. they were good, but young and frustrating. had soap rightfully pissed by the fourth day, and had run them both ragged on the mats to work it out before he actually tried to deck someone.
initially, ghost underestimated what johnny got from their arrangement. didn't realize that this was just as much of a stress reliever for him than it was for simon. even if they didn't fuck, he always seemed a bit more relaxed afterward.
soap had explained it eventually, that it was about feeling in control. a variable that he had full power over when everything else felt like it was so far out of it. he could pose and tie up simon however he pleased, move him like a doll to draw and fuck. got him to that soft, floating place in his head and helped him back down.
so seeing soap all keyed up, he had suggested this. once they had a clearer schedule the following morning to give them both time to recover.
and as he cracked open his eyes, he could already see how this already had an effect on him. pencil strokes loose, face still focused but lacking the underlying tension of anger. he had seen him draw angry before, nearly ripping the paper with how hard he pressed, lines bold and sharp.
simon quickly loses track of time. it was easy for him to sit in one spot for a long time, having spent hours prone behind a scope. but this was different, not needing to be entirely present and alert. he knows he's safe, knows that he doesn't need to worry about anything. soap has him.
at some point, he's blinking to the mattress dipping. a hand gently lifts his head, supporting the side of his neck. the soft tap of plastic makes his lips part, and a straw is gently pushed into his mouth. he sips at the water, only aware of how dry his mouth had become as the water soothes it.
"any numbness? pins and needles?" soap asks once he pulls the cup away. simon knows the drill enough that he doesn't think about it, clenching and unclenching his hands and rolling his ankles as the ties are tugged at.
"no," he murmurs after a moment, having took full stock of his body. "'s good, green."
he's rewarded with fingers combing through his hair, nails gently scratching over his scalp. "good, doin' so well. i think ye deserve a treat."
he already knew what soap was wanting. his jaw easily goes slack, mouth falling open. he hears the sergeant chuckle at that, affectionately tugging at his hair. with his other hand, he pushes his sweatpants down.
simon watches him stroke himself a few times, before shuffling closer to his head. with the pillow, he doesn't have to strain to meet him. merely laying there as soap kneels beside him, leaning close enough to tap the blunt tip of his cock on the soft bed of his tongue.
he can only squeeze his hands into fists, unable to do anything else as he's slowly fed his length. he always goes so slow, easing simon into taking him. and he only gets thicker, swelling the rest of the way in his mouth.
a hand is kept on the back of his head, a thumb gently stroking just behind his ear as soap starts to give small thrusts of his hips. he isn't even halfway in, merely rutting into the wet heat of his mouth. the taste of him, the heady scent and salty tang of pre had simon completely boneless. so far gone that he didn't even think of trying to help, not that it was expected of him.
"that's it," soap is murmuring. he plunges in further with each thrust, only slowing when he feels the threat of a gag. "taking me so well. perfect fuckin' mouth."
the hand on the back of his head slides foward. he splays his fingers out under his chin, cupping his jaw. he digs his fingers into the hinge of his mouth, keeping him open with leverage. the other hand cards through the front of his hair, finding a firm grip.
it's his only warning before soap starts to put more effort into the thrusts. still not going further than he could take, he fucks in just past halfway. little grunts and noises leave simon each time, dragged out of him each time he pulls out from the sucking heat of his throat.
he gasps wetly the moment soap pulls out completely. sucks in air he didn't realize he needed, lungs starting to burn. the weight of johnny's cock is still on him, over his lips and the side of his face, the other half still pressed into the pillow.
"ye don't know what ye do to me, si. want to fuck yer pretty face for hours, hear all those sounds. just for me, aye?" he's just rambling, grinding against his cheek as he waits for him to catch his breath. his brain is too scrambled to reply, only answering with a soft whine. his mouth opens again, tongue flicking out to swipe over what he could reach of his shaft.
soap happily takes the invitation. pulls back to line up once more and slides back in. he doesn't stop until he's hilted, simon's nose pressed to his pubic bone. his body heaves with a gag, too caught off guard to try to suppress it. but soap only groans as he feels his throat convulse around him, unable to force him out with the weight of him pressing in.
he pulls out again, lets him catch his breath. tears had stung at his eyes, clumping his eyelashes together.
johnny thrusts back in the moment his mouth eagerly opens again. he can feel the whole bed shaking with the momentum of his hips, his own cock tapping against his belly each time, a string of pre keeping him connected to the skin of his torso.
he was faintly aware of the mess. drool dribbling down the side of his face, across his cheek and into the pillow, undoubtedly mixed with the precum that the other man was leaking out. tears had long since been fucked out, reflexive each time his gag reflex is nearly triggered and rolling down his face.
he used to be embarrassed about it. how responsive he was, how red he'd get. so used to relying on his mask to cover him, hide his expression from everyone else that it was hard to stop when he could barely even think.
but soap made his love for it known. loved to wrench noises out of him that he didn't know was possible, get him to cry and jump and squirm every which way.
"fuckfuckfuck—" soap hissed out, pulling out suddenly. he brought a hand down to his cock, slick with simon's spit and his own precum. he strokes himself quickly, the squelch of his fist loud in the room until he was groaning loudly.
simon had obediently kept his mouth open, panting hard. he barely flinches as the first rope of cum hits his face, streaking over his cheek. two land in his mouth, with one getting dangerously close to his eye.
he isn't given much of a break. johnny's fingers swipe through the mess on his face. the cum, the spit, and tears. and he lets out a hoarse moan as he feels him grab his own cock, rock hard against his stomach.
he strains against the ropes, barely able to move. he feels his palm tight around the head of his shaft in quick succession, only paying attention to the sensitive, drooling tip in a way that made him see stars. it was too much after getting completely nothing, and he let it be known through gasps and whimpers as he tried to squirm away from the sensation.
"that's it, c'mon sweetheart," he all but coos down at simon. his hand only stops to dig his thumb against his frenulum, rubbing tight circles, only deviating to drag his fingertip mercilessly over his slit to swipe up another bead of precum. it makes him practically sob, back arching and thighs tense enough to shake.
he cums silently, breath caught in his throat. he feels it splash up his front, sure to be getting on the mattress as well. soap rubs him through it, murmuring sweet words to him as he does.
his hand finally withdraws once his cock stops pulsing. the cockring keeps him stiff, skin flushed an angry red.
with gentle hands, he's moved to lay on his back, bound legs nudged open. he lets out a suffering moan as he watches the other man lay down on his stomach, head between his thighs.
"good boy. look so fuckin' pretty. love it when you cry for me," johnny is humming, leaning forward to lick a stripe up his cock. it makes him jump, thighs squeezing around his head. he's so sensitive it hurts, just the barest touches making him shake.
he swallows him down easily. mouth hot and wet, lips tight around his girth. the ropes dig in painfully as he tries to thrash, even the soft material of the rope unforgiving against any resistance. soap pays it no mind, only humming around him and bobbing his head, steadily sinking further down.
"johnny," simon whines. he can only grab onto the harness, desperately wanting to sink his fingers into that mohawk. he can feel where more hot tears roll down his cheeks, shaking hard every time he feels his cock rub into the soft flesh of the sergeant's throat.
he cums again with a sob, too soon after the last one. he can feel as soap greedily drinks him down, hands bruising where he grabs at his hips, holding him against the mattress. the sensitivity only arcs higher when he doesn't let up, lips still firmly sealed around him and cheeks hollow.
simon gets near frantic, whimpering and struggling against his binds. his eyes are squeezed tight enough to see colors, head shaking when he couldn't vocalize the desperation he felt.
he misses one of the hands on his hips dragging back. only realizes it when a thumb is pressed firmly underneath his balls, digging into his taint.
he wails, only aware he's cumming from the way that he feels soap swallowing around him, his cock pulsing. johnny doesn't stop rubbing circles against his taint, targeting his prostate, until he starts to really sob, chest heaving with it.
he pulls back, sucking in a loud breath as simon's cock slips from his lips. he's quick and gentle as he works the cockring off first, setting it somewhere to the side. in an instant, he's crawl up the bed, quick to drag him into his arms.
simon lets his head get pushed into the crook of his neck, body curled into soap's. he's still shaking, trying and failing to blink tears out of his eyes. they stay like that until both of their breaths had evened out, simon getting the rare chance to feel achingly small where he was held close to the sergeant's body.
"not too much, was it?" soap asks, a tinge of worry in his voice. he loved to see simon break and cry, but there was always the chance it wasn't tears brought on by pleasure. so he's quick to shake his head in reassurance, knowing it'd be useless to try to speak at this rate.
he leans into the kiss against his temple, given a chance to merely enjoy the embrace while still tied up. but he could already feel the pins and needles brought on by his limbs being in one spot for too long, and he's sure that a shower will be a pain in the ass.
inevitably, soap does get up to begin untying him. starting with the harness first, he's just as methodical as he works the knots loose and unwraps his limbs. each one he gets loose, he massages, fingers working circulation back into simon's arms and eventually legs. he's still red where the ropes dug in, though certainly not as bad as what the coarser ropes did.
"can i see the drawing?" he asks eventually, voice wrecked, even if soap would've showed him anyway.
when he does see it, it's just as gorgeous as all the others. graphite lines setting the foundation for what the watercolors filled in. sometimes, he went through the trouble to painstakingly mark every single scar and muscle. pink and white lines on his pale skin.