Chapter Text
Soap has a problem.
Just a tiny, barely significant problem.
The problem is his 6'4'' broad built, thick as fuck, insanely attractive lieutenant crowding his personal space on a regular basis. Or more accurately, the raging hard-on Soap is trying desperately not to sport in his presence. But even though Soap is a strong man with an even stronger will — there are some things even he is powerless against.
It all started slowly, inconspicuously, just a friendly pat on a superior's shoulders to wish him luck and to make himself known to Ghost. Soap always tries to be open and he doesn't care much about hierarchy and the rules he is supposed to act upon. Frankly, his early career had been a nightmare considering the way he had to push himself down on a regular basis. Following command does not come naturally to Soap — especially not from people he has no respect for, or who are clearly not suited for their position.
Ghost seemed like an alright superior for him. Sharp, clear, not an arsehole to his fellow soldiers. Maybe a bit grim and edgy, but hell, if edgy was a problem for Soap, he would have to burn quite the collection of My Chemical Romance band shirts, as well as incriminating evidence of his eyeliner phase.
When Soap got to know him properly, he realised quickly that Ghost was not only a professional soldier and good leader, but also cared about people, even though he seemed to try not to let it show. But when Soap was fighting for his life in the gut-wrenching horrors of the Las Almas sewers, Ghost didn't leave him, but instead talked him through it and carried him out of it.
It was only natural for Soap to develop a little crush at this point.
Soap crushes easily, he does it all the time when he gets to know new people. There's something enrapturing about sharing just a short time with people and getting to know all their interesting and good parts. Soap regularly crushes on persons he finds interesting; not only on people he finds physically attractive, but also on the ones that have that special spark to their personality. Soap finds himself almost obsessed with them, with getting to know them, finding out about their past, about their interests, what makes them get out of bed every day, and what they would fight for. Quickly learning everything there is to know about interesting people makes him feel like liquid ecstasy was running through his veins; he's addicted to it.
But these crushes are short-lived for Soap, just briefly there until he learns something off putting. This could be either an unpleasant quirk or character trait, or just vibes stopping to align between them. More often though, the dopamine rush of new disappears after a week or two, and if Soap doesn't end up with the other person leaning heavily into romantic intentions – or the intentions to fuck him, to be fair – the attraction just ebbs down into a pleasantly gentle potential of friendship.
Ghost, however, is an exception to that. The crush on the big bastard has not died down like Soap experiences usually. It's been several months at this point and Soap is still incredibly, helplessly hot for him.
The fact Ghost keeps up with their silly banter doesn't help his case. Kyle told Soap it's not only bordering on flirting, but that he expects them to fuck any given second if they kept up like that. Soap wants to disagree, because there is nothing happening between Ghost and him. There is not, even though their flirty banter has gone on for months now. Though, on the other hand, he does want to fuck with Ghost.
Desperately so.
Many a night has been spent by Soap wanking the soul out of his cock to the mental image of Ghost standing in front of him, the low rumble of his deep baritone praising Soap for being a good little Sergeant, doing so well, being such a good soldier for him. Soap comes pathetically fast almost every time; the first time after a particularly close sparring session he didn't even have the time to care for the angle of his prick. He ended up taking an accidental cum shot to his face from the excitement, and the embarrassment about being so uncontrollably lost for his lieutenant burned worse than the spend in his eyes.
It's infuriating, the way Soap gets hot and bothered over the same mental scenario time and time again, without it loosing its thrill.
And it has started to become not only a silly past-time crush that doesn't affect his professional life at all. Recently, his attraction to his lieutenant almost fucked up a mission.
They were clearing a building on a high-stakes mission, the two of them sewn together at their shoulders. It had become normal after Price discovered how well they worked together. Soap was breaching the next room, Ghost right behind him, watching his six. There was no one Soap trusted more with that, except for Kyle or Price, maybe.
And the trust was not misplaced, judging by the fact Ghost pushed the both of them into a wall for cover in the last moment when their room was charged unexpectedly by hostiles they didn't detect before. With bullets flying past their position – just where Soap was standing mere seconds ago – and a broad chest pressed into his face, Soap couldn't compute the situation fast enough. As he took the first breath in, he was overwhelmed by Ghost's familiar smell that hit him in an intensity Soap couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams — not for lack of trying though.
Ghost smelled like detergent, aftershave, firewood, earl grey, cheap cigarettes, and – to Soap's surprise – a hint of lavender. All of it was overlaid by a fair amount of sweat, the essence of a built military man in action. It was such a fucking cliche, but Soap couldn't deny the significant effect it had on him. Soap knew it was all kinds of wrong, and pathetic on top of it, but with his face pressed right between the pecs of the man he trusted most and who probably saved his sorry arse from carking it a few moments ago, and the intoxicatingly manly smell invading his nose mercilessly, Soap immediately popped a boner.
He heard commotion out of the room and familiar voices squeaking weakly out of his comms, yelling about the breach happening, and he distantly registered the threat was overcome quickly by Kyle's team. Ghost didn't move a single inch throughout the whole time, and Soap felt the whole surface of his body being covered by Ghost. Heat radiated off him, and Soap was slowly, impossibly being pressed even tighter to the wall whenever Ghost took in a breath. His chest rose against Soap's face, thereby gently pushing Soap's head back into an infinitesimal small arch.
This is how he wanted to die.
Soap felt every single detail of Ghost's outline; the hard, straining muscles which made up an impossible proportion of his body mass, but even more deliciously, the soft fat covering large parts of it. He could feel it on his stomach, on his chest, and on the thick thigh pressing into his crotch. Soap could only imagine the actual shape of Ghost's body hiding under all the layers covering him, and he was more eager than ever before to cut down every single one of them. Soap wanted to see him, to know him, to get under his skin, and to be ruined by whatever he might find.
As quickly as it started, the situation ended with Ghost retracting suddenly and leaving Soap to almost fall forward. So apparently Soap was leaning his whole body weight against him? Christ, Soap was acting even more pathetically than he anticipated.
Impossibly, his embarrassment was even exceeded later at the mission.
With his concentration being unusually disturbed by a certain superior's presence next to him, Soap was too distracted to recognise a hostile that hid in plain sight. Luckily, Ghost was observant enough and tackled him down to the ground before the bullets could hit him. Unluckily though, when a familiar heavy weight pinned him to the ground and the outline of a familiar heavy weight's fucking horse cock was very much detectable through his fatigues, the noise escaping Soap was closer to a moan than the grunt or wheeze one would suspect when their colleague was being thrown to the ground.
"You like being pushed around by me, Sergeant?" Ghost's deep voice was right next to his ear, and the volume of the words was low enough for it to be inaudible to anyone but the two of them. Soap could detect the faint smile that was most likely curling up the corners of Ghost's lips behind his stupid mask.
Soap was so fucked.
There was no way Ghost didn't notice Soap's dick twitching on his thigh earlier.
An now, the bastard was actually making fun of him. Better than giving him shit for running around like a headless chicken — which would be fair, given the circumstances. But this hit closer. This very interaction was irreversibly part of their personal, way too flirty banter now. And knowing them, Ghost would never make him forget about that mission he had to save his sorry arse two times in a row.
Not able to react with anything but a dry swallow, Soap wanted to either forget this ever happened, or for Ghost to put one of his beloved knives to his throat and end it already before he had to live through the shame of being humiliated by his superior any longer. The same superior who had Soap's hard-on pressed against his massive thigh about 15 minutes ago.
After the mission was over, and debrief was done in a badly ventilated, dark conference room with Ghost standing all too fucking close again (Soap wanted to push him away and glue their sides together at the same time), Soap stormed off to get some desperately needed privacy in his room. As he slammed the door shut behind him with his belt already opened and his zipper down, he praised the fact Price allowed his officers the luxury of personal quarters instead of sharing with others. Because Kyle definitely would not enjoy Soap letting himself fall down on his bed immediately with his pants not even pushed down his arse, frantically jerking off to the memory of Ghost's huge pecs in his face and his fat thigh pressing into his crotch. Soap's eyes shut automatically and his mouth fell open as he imagined Ghost's hands clutching his waist, grabbing roughly into the flesh there and running up to his chest, pinching his nipples. A dry whimper escaped his throat and Soap turned his head to bite down on a pillow.
"Don't want anyone to hear you, don't we?" His subconsciousness immediately conjured up that deep, gravelly voice, now reinforced by the recent memory of Ghost whispering right into his ear, making fun of him. It was not too far of a stretch to imagine him talking down to him, belittling him, degrading him in that gentle, cruel way, asking him softly to do things for him… Soap's cock leaked violently down his hip and onto his bed sheets just at the thought of it. And Soap would comply, he would do anything Ghost would ask of him. He was so desperate to be good for him, make him happy, accommodate him. Just the thought of praise, an imagined "good boy" in that sweet, filthy gravel had him bucking up and coming all across his chest.
It was a pain to get his tac gear clean of his cum.
Not because it was difficult to wash out. Soap had been 16 once, he knew how to handle it.
No, it was the embarrassment on his way to the washing machines, the horror scenario of Ghost walking right across the corner and inspecting every single irregular stain on his uniform. Boring his dark, heated gaze into his, making him squirm and scramble for words when explaining himself. The longer he thought about it, the more his brain derailed, ending up with him imagining being scolded in the nearest supply chamber. On his knees, begging for mercy, begging for the chance to redeem himself, to be a good boy…
Christ, he just couldn't be normal about Ghost once in his fucking life. He could not even be properly scared of Ghost anymore without being horny.
What a fucking mess.