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John MacTavish was walking through the streets of Soho, London. Rain was pouring down, saturating his threadbare clothes as he began to ponder about his numerous bills and what he was going to do to pay them.
From his grandfather’s death to his grandmother being in the hospital, he’d been given the gift of an extraordinary amount of debt, in the form of hospital bills, funeral expenses, and debtors that hounded him on his gambling grandfather’s account.
And he was the only one around to carry the brunt of it.
It’s why he’d been out that night, actually. John’d been working 3 jobs ever since his grandmother fell ill, and he’d just got off shift from his 2nd job working security at some art place uptown. When he’d taken a little peek at his paycheck he’d gotten from the head office, he wasn’t too happy about it. The pay would barely be a drop in the bucket of all the payments and debts he was left to take care of.
John sighed heavily as he trudged his way through the bustling night-life of downtown Soho, lamenting all his woes whilst making his way to his shitty apartment. It technically wasn’t his; after all, he hadn’t been contributing to the rent that much.
That’s why he was thankful for his roomie and best mate, Kyle Garrick, who was more than happy to pick up his slack on the apartment expenses while John dealt with his family matters.
The first time Kyle (or Gaz, as he liked to be called, though he’d never told John why) learned that John was struggling financially, he simply clapped him on the shoulder and told him not to worry about his share of the rent.
John smiled as he reminisced on the memory as he walked his way up to their door. He remembers cleaning the apartment spotless, wanting to make up for being such a bum, and Gaz had come home and just laughed. The man had told him then that he didn’t need to pay him back in any way, he was just happy to have his friendship, which made Soap jokingly hurl but he treasured that moment nonetheless.
It did earn him the nickname “Soap” though, Gaz taking to calling him it every moment he could. John found he didn’t mind it; in fact, he preferred it over his painfully common name. Yet another unwanted inheritance from his grandfather.
After finally coming up to the apartment door, Soap unlocked it, stepping in with a quick greeting to Gaz, who was sitting in the living room in front of the tv. Sighing deeply, Soap toed off his shoes and all but ripped off his soaked rainjacket before moving towards the sofa where Gaz was seated in front of the telly.
Soap settled down on the couch, grabbing the many blankets folded around him and swaddling himself, trying his best to warm up after damn near being soaked to the bone. Gaz patted him on the shoulder in mock pity.
Soap sighed as he snuggled further into the sofa, curling towards Gaz as he stared at what was on.
“Wheel of fortune?” Soap questioned jokingly, bumping his elbow against Gaz. “Really mate?”
Gaz bumped him back. “Hey, don’t make fun of me! This shit is really entertaining.”
Soap snorted. “Ye sound just like my nan.”
A beat of silence. “How is she, anyways?” Gaz asked.
Shuffling a bit, Soap answered, “Not too bad I think. I visited her the other day. I held her hand as I talked to her, like every other time, and she squeezed my hand back.” If Soap were really honest, he’d tell Gaz that he damn near shed a tear at the feeling.
“That’s good mate, really! Hopefully that means she’s on the up and up, yeah?” Gaz wrapped an arm around him, enveloping him further in feeling of comfort and safety.
Soap hummed his assent as the two turned their attention back to Wheel of Fortune. They watched as contestants got question after question wrong, chuckling all the while as they tried to make their own guesses on the absurd questions the host asked. They got them wrong every time, obviously.
He was about to fall asleep, Soap’s eyes drooping and head tipping forward every now and then when there was a harsh knock on the door.
Soap startled from his near-sleep trance, glancing at Gaz who gave him a perplexed look back. He grumbled at the door, wondering who the hell was knocking at eleven at night on a friday.
“Just ignore it,” Gaz whispered. Then more conspiratorially. “It’s probably some old lady looking for her cat or something.”
Soap chuckled, though the hairs on his nape and arms felt like they were prickling with nerves. He just hoped whoever was at the door would go away soon and he could shuffle off to bed.
Another sharp knock sounded, making Soap’s heart beat faster in his chest. ‘Who the fuck could be at the door?’ was the only thought playing through Soap’s head as he sat further upright.
Soap motioned for Gaz to stay where he was, getting up and stretching as another tortuously loud knock reverberated through their tiny flat. Now irritated, Soap made his way to the door wrenching it open and glaring furiously at whoever dared to disturb his peace.
He was sure he looked pissed off as he took in the man outside the door, and he didn’t bother hiding his glare. Black hair hung around his shoulders in strands, tattoos absolutely covering his whole body, including a garish looking one on the side of his face.
“John MacTavish?” the man, tattoo face Soap decided he’d call him, asked.
He felt a small wave of dread at the use of his full name, but squashed it down as he stood to his full height. Soap was rather tall and well-built and hoped that maybe he could intimidate the fucker into leaving him alone. “What do you want?”
Tattoo face quirked his head. “Are you saying you’re John Mactavish?”
Soap felt more nerves vibrate his body before he squared his shoulders. “Aye that’s me, now what the fuck do ye want-”
The Scot was cut off by a hand reaching out, pulling Soap out by his shirt out of the flat. Around the corner came three more men, all heavily tattooed like the first, who surrounded him. Soap’s fight or flight kicked in as he watched two of the men close the door to his apartment and block it so there was no escape.
Soap snarled, winding his fist back and punching the man on the left hard in the stomach. The man let out an oomph and curled around himself as Soap turned his attention to the other, ready to give him the same treatment. He hoped that he’d be able to make it to where he kept his pistol locked under his bed.
He was grabbed immediately by the two behind him and got wrestled onto the pavement, spitting at the fuckers all the way. Tattoo face wiped at some of the spit that got on his pants, grimacing. “That wasn’t very nice Mr. Mactavish. We just wanna talk.”
Pounding sounded from the other side of the door. “John? What’s going on?!”
Soap’s heart seized in his chest. Gaz.
“Stay inside mate!” he hollered.
One of the men holding him down snorted. “Yeah, tell your friend you’ll be gone awhile, unless you want us to take him as collateral.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Soap’s eyes as he wondered what the hell was going to happen to him, the bastards talking about collateral. “Gaz, I’m gonna catch up with some old friends, alright?” His voice broke a bit toward the end, but he took a breath and continued strongly. “I might be gone for a bit.”
Soap glared at one of the henchmen fiddling with the doorknob before he heard Gaz’s voice once more. “Are you sure, bruv? Y’know what, open this door-”
“No!” Soap shouted, one of the men’s hands forcing his head down further onto the floor. The others tensed, and Soap was sure they were wondering if they were going to take another hostage. “I’ll be back soon Gaz, I swear, just don’t come out.”
A beat of silence before he heard Gaz, bass to his voice. “The fuck is going on?”
Soap worked hard to keep his voice from wavering, trying to force a joking inflection. “Don’t worry about me man. I’ll just be gone right quick, I’ll see you here soon.”
And with that, Soap watched as tattoo face wrenched his meaty fist back and swung at hiss temple. Soap’s vision dimmed around the edges before he was out cold.
***
When the man woke up, blood trickling from his hairline, he found himself in a moving vehicle. One glance around told Soap he was surrounded by two of the three tattooed men that were outside his door in the backseat of some car, the third driving, and tattoo face sitting in the passenger seat.
Distantly, he was just grateful that Gaz wasn’t in there with him.
Soap glanced down to see his hands were bound with rope and tried to steady the panic rising in his gut. He was about to open his mouth to say something, maybe ask what was going to happen to him, before realizing that he was also gagged with fabric.
Tattoo face turned from the front seat to look at Soap. “Morning sleeping beauty!” He laughed at his own joke.
Soap spit as many curses as he could towards the man around the gag in his mouth.
The man to his right spoke this time. “We don’t understand you, could you speak clearer for us. Oh wait…”
The car erupted in chuckles from everyone save Soap, who was trying his best to glare at them all, even though dread was seeping into every pore of his body. He genuinely had no idea who these men were or what they wanted from him. Either way, Soap could feel a certain nervousness spreading through his system, wanting to fight but having no way to.
There was no way out.
Soap stared out the window trying to make use of any landmarks but found that they were driving through a forest, no distinguishing landmarks to draw any idea of where Soap was. It only wracked more anxiety through his already stressed body.
He was gonna die out here.
Soap was sure his internal dismay was showing on his face by now, because tattoo face leaned into his personal space and grinned. “Looks like the panic is setting in, boys. Poor guy.”
More jovial laughter that was beginning to fizzle in Soap’s ears. He couldn’t get enough air in as he took ragged breaths through his nose, wishing he could open his mouth to take in deeper breaths.
He just prayed to whoever was listening that his death would be quick. And that nobody would hurt Gaz or his grandmother.
Amidst his inner-hysteria, Soap failed to realize the car had stopped until he was looking up at a huge mansion, outwardly made of cobblestone with red accented windows. It was nestled in a piece of small land in the forest, one that Soap would be unable to track down even if he tried his hardest.
He wondered distantly if anyone would find his body.
It wasn’t long before a black hood was shoved over Soap’s head, effectively rendering him blind as the two henchmen grabbed him by each arm and all but dragged him inside. Soap tried to let the feel of the cobblestone shifting to marble under his dragging feet ground him, but it only made him panic harder as he tried to gauge where he was going. And what was going to happen to him.
The journey could’ve been hours or minutes, Soap didn’t know. All he knew was he was eventually being shoved down to the ground, the voice of tattoo face murmuring too low for Soap to hear. He heard the footsteps of the four men retreat and close the door.
Soap, after listening awhile, concluded that he was alone. He knew this would be his only chance at escape.
He started moving, hood still on his head as he blindly tried to wriggle his hands free, simultaneously trying to rise from kneeling and failing desperately. He could only barely feel the knot begin to loosen before a deep dark voice rang out in the otherwise silent room.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, John MacTavish.”
Soap’s head snapped up even though he couldn’t see. He listened intently once more, but heard nothing. Horror still flashed through him regardless as he sat and waited.
Even without hearing anyone approaching, the hood was still ripped from Soap’s head.
He blinked hard at the dim lighting in the room before lifting his head up to look at who was in front of him.
A very large man stood in front of him, clad in all black with tattoos on his left arm, a handgun and a large knife strapped to his right thigh. Soap balked at the terrifying skull mask he wore, and would deny vehemently to whoever asked that he started shaking.
“Wait aminute,” the figure crouched down. Looked him in the eyes. Soap registered somewhere in his mind that his eyes were a deep soulful brown. He decided that if he lived through this encounter, that would be the first detail he shared with the police.
“Who the fuck are you?” the masked man asked, a deep Manchester accent rattling his bones now that the two were face to face. The man then reached forward and tugged the fabric gag out of Soap’s mouth, making him splutter.
Soap wrenched in gasp after gasp before smacking his dry lips together. “Who are you?” he growled. If he was gonna die tonight, Soap decided he wouldn’t die a coward. Though if his voice shook a little, that was between him and God.
The man tilted his head slightly, those dark brown eyes boring into his. “I asked first.”
“I’m John MacTavish, as I’ve already clarified with those fucking bawbags,” Soap spat. “Now answer me, who the hell are ye?”
“You can call me Ghost,” The man – Ghost – said sinisterly. He kneeled down further in front of Soap, leaning in close as if to study him. “You’re supposed to be older.”
Soap blinked before he tipped his head back and laughed, cursing that old man. “Ye mean my grandfather?” Soap blinked before he tipped his head back and laughed, cursing that old man in his head.
He felt some relief flood through him before it stopped abruptly. Soap was still in an unknown place tied in front of a terrifying man. Reigning in his laughter, he spoke quietly. “He’s dead.”
Ghost regarded him before slowly straightening up. “Sorry for your loss.” He muttered.
Soap just chuckled nervously. “Don’t be. The man was a proper cunt if you ask me.”
“At least we share the sentiment.” Ghost said, amusement glittering in his eyes before locking back with Soap’s.
Soap took a deep breath. “Mind telling me why tae fuck I’m here, then? Your little guys failed to inform me.” Soap couldn’t keep the resentment from his voice even if he tried. Those fucking bastards.
Ghost tilted his head once more, regarding him. “You’re here because we thought you were your grandfather. He borrowed a lot of money from us, y’know.”
“And by us you mean..?” Soap asked, waited with baited breath.
“The English mafia, of course,” Ghost answered, with the same countenance as if saying he were with the tax collectors or some shit. Soap’s mouth ran dry.
Soap swallowed hard. “You mean the mafia still exists.”
“Oh yeah they do,” Ghost’s deep voice crackled. “There are syndicates all around. They exist, and your grandfather’s been running from us for a long time. Pretty convenient he died just before we found him, eh Johnny?”
Huh. Normally, if anyone used that nickname, Soap would be recoiling. Maybe it was the bound hands and weapons strapped to the masked man, but Soap found he didn’t mind that much in the grand scheme of things.
Stunned into silence, Soap watched as Ghost began walking circles around him. “Did you know he owes us about 10,000 pounds.” The Brit tsked, before continuing. “Where oh where are we going to get the money now, MacTavish.”
Heart beating fast, Soap opened his stupid mouth. “I’m run ragged as is, so I hope you weren’t expecting me to-“
Ghost brandished the knife at his words, stopping in front of him and kneeling down once again before pointing it at him and snarling. “You better watch your tongue, or I’ll cut it outta you.”
Soap gulped slightly. Knowing he was pushing his luck, he stuttered out a quick. “‘M sorry, sir,” before hanging his head.
The masked man took the knife and used it to lift Soap’s chin up to look him in the eyes again. An inexplicable shiver ran down his spine at the act.
“Better,” Ghost whispered, further setting Soap on edge. “It’d do you well to know that I’m head of this house. Better treat me with proper respect.”
That voice set Soap squirming as he nodded. Ghost chuckled darkly before bringing the knife to his hands and cutting him free, large gloved hands gripping Soap’s shoulders as he was hauled upright.
“I have a proposition for you,” Ghost mused, and Soap trembled slightly at the dark tenor in his voice. “You don’t wanna have to pay a debt that isn’t yours, right?” Soap paused before shaking his head, hoping this wasn’t some trick.
“Very good,” Ghost nodded. “And I don’t want to have to kill you where you stand, pretty boy.” Soap shuddered at his words.
“What do ye want then?” Soap asked, almost fearing the answer, mind running through the worst possibilities. Maybe he’d be shipped off to become an indentured servant. Maybe they’d force him to work in the mafia until he breathed his last. Maybe-
“Spend the night with me instead,” Ghost purred, suddenly leaning in close to Soap’s ear. “Sleep with me, do whatever I ask, and the debt your grandfather left will be paid. You’ll be free to go.”
Soap’s stomach fluttered at the man’s words. He looked down for a moment, thinking he misheard. “Wait, let me get this straight: I either have sex with you or.. die?”
Ghost snickered, his left gloved hand snaking around his waist, the radiating heat making Soap’s face flame up. “That’s one way to put it, sweet’eart.”
“You offer this to all those in debt to you?”
“No.”
Soap believed him.
Ghost then leaned in further, and using the knife in the other hand that Soap had forgotten about, trailed its sharp edge slowly up and down his back. “What do you say, Johnny?”
Soap’s heart froze as a steady and familiar burning heat began traveling through his body. He recognized somewhere in his mind that he was incredibly turned on at the aspect.
Spend the night with what seemed like a very hot, muscular, dangerous man, or die because of his fuckass grandfather and his gambling habits. Or even worse, be forced to add that payment to his accumulated debt.
Soap quivered as the knife’s point dug in slightly at his back. “A-aye,” Soap stuttered, face slightly red as he looked Ghost in the eyes. “I’ll fuck you if you drop his debt.”
“Good boy,” Ghost murmured, eyes flashing with approval. His hand that was at his waist began sliding up his torso to feel at skin under his shirt, and Soap couldn’t help but shiver from the feeling.
Ghost yanked his shirt off in one swift movement, tossing it aside before bringing his knife up and dragging its blunt side across one of Soap’s pectorals. “Strip for me.”
Soap fumbled over himself to obey, out of horniness and a bit of fear. Soap stripped off his pants and boxers, pushing them down swiftly off each leg before taking off his socks as well, noticing distantly that he’d lost his shoes somewhere along the way.
He stood up straight before the masked man, desperately trying not to cover himself as Ghost dragged his brown eyes across every inch of his frame.
“Well lookit you,” Ghost muttered to himself. “Pretty little fucker, aren’t you Johnny.”
Soap blushed at the words and the name, sure that he was beginning to flush all over. Ghost kept tantalizingly trailing his knife over Soap’s chest, and Soap would never be man enough to admit to himself in that moment that he found it rather hot.
When the knife nicked him slightly, Soap groaned low in his throat at the feeling, and Ghost grumbled his approval. His gloved hand that wasn’t holding the knife began tracing one of his nipples softly, making them pebble from the attention.
Ghost growled. “You like when I mark you up all pretty?”
Soap nodded, and Ghost slashed a larger cut across his abdomen, not big enough to really hurt him, but deep enough to bleed. Soap groaned once again from the feeling.
“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer. You like it when I mark you up, Johnny?”
The Scot answered shakily. “Aye Ghost.”
“Very good.” Ghost praised. He then lifted a hand to his mask, and Soap’s heart thundered in his chest as he wondered if the man was going to take the mask off.
Like a tease, Ghost only lifted his mask to the bridge of his nose, revealing a sharp jawline covered in blond scruff and many scars including a jagged one that pierced his lips and trailed up to where the mask still hid his face.
Yeah, he was hot. And Soap was fucking done for.
“Not gonna take the whole mask off, big boy?” Soap asked, a bit breathlessly, taking in every bit of that bonnie face he could see.
Ghost glared. “You’re lucky you even got this much, MacTavish. I don’t even show my face to my most trusted underlings. Jus’ thought you deserved a reward for letting me cut you up so prettily.”
Soap watched with rapt attention as Ghost kneeled slightly and brought his mouth to the cut on his stomach. Without breaking eye contact, Ghost lapped at the blood that had trickled down his abdomen, following it up to the still weeping slash. He closed his mouth around the wound and sucked harshly.
With a small moan, Soap brought his hands to the man’s shoulders, gripping tight as his mouth assaulted Soap’s skin. He felt like everything was on fire, and he could feel his prick slowly filling.
There was a look of satisfaction as Ghost pulled away, looking down between them at Soap’s growing erection. Ghost looked up once again, dark brown meeting blue.
“Kneel.”
Soap was on his knees faster than he’d like to admit, already heavily turned on and willing to do whatever the man asked. He watched through his lashes as Ghost stood and sheathed his knife, hand going for his gun strapped to his thigh instead. Soap’s heart beat in slight fear.
Ghost gave him a knowing look, a grin splaying on his lips. "Safety's on, Johnny.” Looking deep into his eyes, Ghost brought the gun to his head, right in front of his lips. “Be a good boy and suck it, nice and slow.”
Another full body shudder wracked Soap’s whole body as he wetted his lips, Ghost’s eyes tracking the movement. Tentatively, because Soap wasn’t wholly convinced that the big bastard wouldn’t blow his brains out, he wrapped his mouth around the nozzle.
Tasting gunpowder and metal harsh on his tongue, one smoldering look from Ghost had Soap taking the gun further in his mouth, wishing to please the man. Ghost groaned as Soap bobbed his head on the gun, partially for show, tonguing the bottom of it.
“Slower,” Ghost murmured, voice thick with arousal.
Soap breathed in a harsh breath through his nose as he followed the man’s orders, slowly taking the gun further down his throat. He had to force down a gag from the feel of it hitting the back, and he paused there, looking up at Ghost through wettened eyelashes.
Ghost hummed. “Better. Take it as far as you can.”
After pulling off with a vulgar slurp, Soap took the barrel down his throat once more, slow and steady, not stopping until his saliva slicked lips came up to the trigger. Ghost’s finger that was braced there lifted off said trigger and started rubbing little circles on Soap’s chin. His eyes rolled back slightly at the feeling.
Ghost’s hand came to the back of Soap’s head, holding him there and somehow pushing him even deeper onto the gun. Soap spluttered a bit, but overall kept his composure as he waited for Ghost to let him off.
For what felt like minutes but might’ve only been seconds, Ghost held him there, dark eyes blazing hot, almost looking intoxicated with the sight before he lifted his hand off Soap’s head. Soap reared back, coughing a bit as he panted and caught his breath.
“Good fucking boy,” Ghost rumbled, clearly satisfied as he tucked the gun back in its holder. Soap preened a bit from the praise, quivering where he was seated on the ground, cock now fully hard and weeping.
Ghost took one look at his squirming and snorted. “You get off on that too, huh? Better not make you wait any longer.”
Without fanfare, Ghost unzipped his pants and freed his own member, Soap noting how long and thick it was, flushed a pretty pink and leaking at the tip. His mouth watered at the sight.
Now, Soap had taken many cocks before in his life, but he’d never seen anything this fucking big, let alone prepared to take one. Fuck, the bastard would split him in two.
“You gonna get that thing in me, Ghost?” Soap’s voice quavered with arousal and maybe a bit of apprehension. He had half the thought that the brutish man would enter him dry, but Ghost just chuckled.
“Oh, I’ll fuck you real good with it sweetheart. I’ll stretch you nice and easy, then have you screaming on my cock.”
Soap’s body flushed deeply, and he was pretty sure he was dripping more precome onto the floor with how turned on he was. Ghost dropped to his knees, pushing Soap to lay down on the ground. Soap spread his legs invitingly, and Ghost hummed in appreciation.
Ghost then reached into one of his back pockets and procured a packet of lube, making Soap distantly wonder if this was the plan the whole time.
Without wasting a beat, Ghost tore off his right glove and opened the packet, smearing the lube on his fingers and warming them. Soap trembled from nerves and excitement. This was shaping up to be the best — albeit most dubious — fuck he’s ever had.
With another glance at Soap, Ghost smirked, scar twisting up pleasantly as he did so. Without looking away from his eyes, Ghost inserted one finger into Soap.
He groaned from the stretch. Everything about this fucker was big, even his fingers, and Soap had to breathe through the intrusion.
Ghost began pumping his finger in and out, impatiently adding another finger, making Soap whimper. Ghost began twisting this way and that, scissoring along his walls and making Soap keen when he pressed deep enough.
“There you are,” Ghost whispered. He added another finger and started to fuck Soap with his hand, angling just right to hit his sweet spot each time.
Soap couldn’t control the moans that broke from his parted lips, hips canting down to meet every thrust of those thick fingers. His hands scrambled on the marble floor for purchase, and when he found none, Ghost's gloved hand grabbed both of Soap’s own near his head and brought them to his chest.
“Hold on tight, Johnny,” Ghost said, amusement and arousal lacing his words. Soap did as he was told and cinched his hands in the black fabric, twisting and holding on tight as Ghost finger fucked him relentlessly.
He was getting close, and when a gloved hand came to wrap around his cock, the three fingers in him rubbing against his sensitive walls deliciously, Soap was embarrassingly brought that much closer to the precipice.
Every stroke on his cock was timed perfectly with every thrust from Ghost’s fingers, and Soap began whimpering from the encompassing feeling of it all. Every time Ghost stroked him, he thumbed at the tip before trailing down, smearing his precome down and easing the glide on the leather glove.
That paired with those clever fingers inside him, poking his prostate with every insert, had Soap seeing stars, and he was about to come, he was so close-
So when Ghost quickly wrapped his hand around the base of Soap and squeezed hard, he damn near sobbed from the staved off orgasm.
“You fucking–” Soap dug his hands into Ghost’s shirt harder, sure his nails were digging into his skin. Ghost just chuckled darkly.
“Can’t have the fun ending already, Johnny,” Ghost jeered. With that, he lifted his hand off Soap’s cock, fingers withdrawing from his hole, and Soap clenched around nothing.
He whined from the sudden emptiness, and Ghost shushed him.
Soap watched through half-lidded eyes as Ghost dumped the rest of the lube packet on his own cock, slicking up and groaning as Ghost gave a few indulgent pumps to his very hard member.
Ghost then leaned down over Soap, hands bracketing either side of his head on the floor, a softer smile on the man’s lips as he bent down to mouth at Soap’s neck. Moving one of his hands, Soap grasped onto Ghost’s back, clutching the black fabric once again as he moaned softly.
“You ready, sweet’eart?” Ghost whispered in his ear, and Soap vibrated with anticipation.
The Scot’s voice trembled. “Aye, please sir. I’m ready, Ah need it–”
Shushing him once again, Ghost shifted onto his elbows and carded his hand through Soap’s mohawk in a surprisingly tender gesture. Soap lifted his legs around Ghost’s waist, feeling the knife and gun still strapped on the man and whining from the hard edge of danger.
Apparently having enticed the masked man enough, Ghost pressed his cockhead against Soap’s hole and began to enter him.
“Fuuuuuck,” Soap breathed. Ghost was barely in and Soap felt like he was going to snap in half. Ghost groaned as he shifted further inside.
“Mmm, nice and tight for me baby,” Ghost murmured. He latched onto Soap’s neck, the hard shell of the skull digging into his skin as Ghost started sucking sweetly, bottoming out in one large thrust.
Soap keened at the feeling of being filled so thoroughly and so quickly, taking quick piping breaths as he felt his walls shift to accommodate the man.
Even just sitting inside, Soap could feel it just barely graze his prostate. Already he felt so full.
“Ach, you’re too big,” Soap cried, and Ghost cradled his face sweetly in his gloved hand.
With a growl, Ghost told him, “You can take it, lad.”
With that, Ghost started pounding into Soap, deep thrusts setting his body on fire as Ghost fucked into him deeply.
Soap could feel the burn throughout his whole body as he quaked with every rock of Ghost’s hips, his mouth falling open as he moaned shamelessly. His sounds were loud in the otherwise quiet room, the only thing breaking up the noise being the lewd sound of skin slapping skin.
Suddenly becoming very aware for a second, Soap’s mind half cock-drunk, he wondered if those four men from before were still waiting outside the door.
Ghost was also groaning as he sank into Soap’s heat, thrusting faster as he chased his pleasure. He wrapped his legs tighter around Ghost, both hands now grasping at the shirt on Ghost’s back for stability as he mercilessly pounded his prostate, making Soap cry out loud and high pitched. There was no fucking way that nobody in this daft mansion didn’t hear that.
‘Good,’ Soap thought, mind already blissfully fucked out. ‘Let all those bastards hear.’
“You’re taking me so well, Johnny,” Ghost panted.
Maybe it was the cock rearranging his guts, or maybe Soap had a death wish. Either way, he couldn’t stop the words from being uttered.
“Kiss me,” Soap pleaded. Biting his lip, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as they beseeched deep brown ones. “Please Ghost, kiss me–”
Ghost shuddered, and with another fond look into Soap’s eyes, Ghost leaned down and kissed him, immediately licking into his mouth.
Soap panted and groaned into the kiss, licking back with as much passion as he could muster. This truly was the best fucking of his life. They snogged as Ghost thrusted into Soap faster and impossibly deeper, absolutely nailing his sweet spot.
He could barely break away from Ghost’s lips before Soap positively wailed into his mouth, eyes rolling before pinching closed as he threw his head back in ecstasy.
“Fuck.” Ghost’s voice sounded as shredded as Soap felt. “You’re gonna make me keep you forever sweet’eart.”
Another sweet moan fell from Soap’s lips as he laid there and took it, words turning him on impossibly more. “Yes, yes!”
Ghost kissed him deeply before kissing down to his neck, his thrusting never letting up the whole time. He sucked hard right below Soap’s ear, licking the shell of it and nipping him slightly. Soap groaned at the little sting of pain.
Before he knew it, Ghost had reached back to pull back out his knife, pressing the blunt edge against Soap’s throat. Soap yelped at the sudden feeling of cool metal on the most sensitive part of his neck before he realized what it was and tipped his head forward onto it, welcoming the knife against his pulse point.
Fuck, Soap was absolutely gone for this half masked man.
Ghost could probably sense his thoughts, because he leaned to whisper in his ear. “I bet I could slice your precious neck open and you’d cum with your final breath, huh?”
Soap whined and nodded, the sharp tip of the knife digging into his skin and pricking a drop of blood from the movement.
“Fuck,” Ghost grumbled, leaning down to lick at the small bit of blood welling there.
He was close, Soap was so close he could practically taste his orgasm, moans rising in pitch as Ghost went faster, faster–
Then he stopped.
Soap let the tears fall from his eyes as he shouted. “No!”
Ghost laughed at him, a sinister grin pulling at his lips as he looked Soap in the eye. “What, were you close?”
He simply glared at the man, Soap digging his nails in hard and raking them across Ghost’s clothed back. “Yes, ye fucking cunt, you knew–”
With another chuckle, Ghost leaned in and kissed the words out of Soap’s mouth, tongue curling around his and rubbing gently, making Soap squeeze his legs tighter around the man.
“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Ghost said into Soap’s open, panting mouth. “I’ll let you come this time.”
Then Ghost started up again, thrusting languidly slow and deep, and Soap could do nothing but take what was offered.
It was tortuous, the feeling of his walls constricting around that girthy cock as Ghost slowly pumped in and out of Soap’s hole. He could feel a dull ache spreading, shooting off sparks through his abdomen.
Soap needed it to be quicker, needed Ghost to go faster, to touch him. So he of course opened his mouth to voice it.
“Sir,” Soap whispered hoarsely, getting an idea. “Please. Go faster.”
Ghost hummed. “And why would I do that, Johnny?”
“Because if you do, I’ll let you fuck me again. As much as you want.”
A groan sounded from Ghost’s lips, and Soap knew he’d worked his magic as he started pounding into him faster like before. Gripping onto Ghost’s back tighter, he let his mouth fall open to moan unashamedly, uncaring of any who might hear.
Ghost grunted. “You were always going to be mine after this. But it’s nice to hear you’ve taken to my cock so well.”
With his last word, Ghost thrust into Soap extra deep, setting him squirming with a wail as he was brought close once again.
“You gonna come on my cock, sweet thing?” Ghost asked, grinding into Soap hard enough for him to see stars.
“Y-yeah!” Soap whined, hips canting downwards to meet every thrust. His cock had been rubbing steadily against Ghost’s hard stomach through the fabric of his shirt, and Soap distantly realized he might come untouched from this.
Ghost licked Soap's ear. “Then do it.”
The pace stayed steady as Ghost continued to fuck him, and Soap couldn’t help the little piping noises that squeaked with every thrust. It wasn’t long before Soap came with a shout, clamping down hard around Ghost as his orgasm washed over him.
Absolute bliss heated Soap’s mind as his body pulsed white hot, stars dancing behind his eyes as he let out one more moan, the highest he’s ever heard himself.
Ghost followed not a second later with a loud groan, fucking deep into him one last time before spilling inside of Soap.
“Gonna knock you up, Johnny.” He murmured, and Soap couldn’t help the whimper falling from his lips, nor the squeezing tighter around Ghost’s cock. “And you’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you.” More of a statement then a question.
“Aye Ghost, please.” Soap's mind was so pleasantly whitened out that he didn't care what he was saying.
Ghost wrapped his naked hand around Soap’s cock, squeezing out more come from his hand and filthy words alone, setting Soap to squirm from the stimulation.
They panted hard against each other, and Soap was pleasantly surprised when he was kissed again, sweet and slow. Ghost rocked into him slightly, making Soap yelp around the tongue in his mouth.
The masked man leaned back and grinned at him. “Gotta make sure it sticks.”
Soap sighed heavily, partially into his grinning face. “Ye’ll be the death of me.”
So Soap laid there on the floor, a vicious and surprisingly sweet mafia man curled on top of him. He winced slightly as he felt Ghost’s spend leak out of him, and while Soap's brain came back online he suddenly thought of something. He chuckled, maybe a bit breathlessly to himself.
Gaz would never fucking believe him.
With a contented sigh, Soap rubbed at Ghost’s back, feeling more satiated than he had in a long time.