Chapter Text
It's been driving him up the wall, sharing a wall with Ghost. Not because he does anything bad, per se. Actually, the majority of the time it's great. He’s usually pretty quiet, doesn't remind König of his presence by playing loud music or stomping around. It makes König feel more comfortable to be in his own room. Less aware of the feeling of eyes on him at all times.
Most of the time, he isn't even aware of Ghost on the other side of the wall.
Most of the time.
Sometimes, however, he is painfully aware of who he shares a wall with. Aware of who that person is dating.
The worst part is he likes Ghost. Likes the fact that he's quiet, but witty. He looks up to him, as a would-be sniper. Ghost represents what he could have been if he wasn't so... him.
Hell, he likes Soap, too. He's a bit much for König, sometimes. A bit too energetic sometimes, but he's good at seeing when König is feeling left out. Good at knowing when to include him and when to leave him alone.
And he feels guilty about this. So incredibly guilty over it. They are friends, or at least König hopes so. But this has been destroying his mental sanity. It’s been driving him crazy for the last week.
Every night, every single night , for the past week he has heard Soap and Ghost having sex. Ever since Ghost got back from that classified mission in Russia, it's like they don't know how to be outside of each other's pockets. Or each other’s pants.
They're more subtle about it when in a bigger group, but König has a little more... insight into their relationship than most of the rest of the military, minus maybe the 141. He sees the glances. Sees the nods before they disappear, one after the other.
Most of all, he hears them.
He hears the breathy moans of Ghost. Here's the praise that Soap lavishes on him. Hears the bed creaking, not slamming against the wall, they're so considerate.
What they aren't, however, is quiet.
Quite the opposite, actually. Sometimes, König can tell just based on the slurps that Ghost is blowing Soap. The cursing of the Scotsman a dead give away. Other times, he swears he can hear Ghost sob.
It's been affecting König more than he wants to admit. He's been having a harder and harder time being around them, but still he persists. He still listens to them, talks to them the few times they aren't squirreled away in Ghost's bedroom.
König has even taken to going for walks in the middle of the night. He goes to the range, shoots a few bullets, hopes that when he gets back that they're done. Most of the time they are.
It's been a long day, König has been frustrated. So much so that he didn't do nearly as well at the range as he usually does. Price was nice enough to pull him aside, ask him what's wrong, but what is he supposed to say? Sorry Captain, but your subordinates have been going at it like rabbits and I can't help but want to join them? Yeah of course, because that will go over well.
So when he gets back to his room, he's tired, frustrated, and embarrassed. He wants to stop pining over his friends. He wants to be able to get off in peace, but he knows if he can hear them, they would be able to hear him and he doesn't trust that he wouldn't say their names.
He just wants them to stop for one fucking night.
So, when he gets back and hears silence on the other side of the wall, he relaxes.
No footsteps, no creaking, and he thinks he remembers something about Ghost saying he had night training with the recruits. Maybe he's in the clear.
He lets his hand and thoughts drift. Let's formless shapes light up behind his eyes. He thinks of Ghost, the sounds of him sobbing as he cums. Thinks of the orders that Soap gives, voice gravelly, biting, and so effortlessly attractive.
His hand drifts down, past his stomach. He doesn't have much time, doesn't have the patience for that. So he gets right to it.
He palms his dick through his clothes, already half hard and just the thoughts of Ghost and Soap together. The sounds they make.
He thinks of Ghost on his knees, taking König's dick in his mouth. Thinks of Soap watching, ordering Ghost to take König as far as he can.
König wonders what Ghost would look like, on his knees in front of him. König knows he's pretty big, would Ghost be able to take all of him?
Would Soap be touching himself, slowly stroking himself to the image of König and Ghost? Would he order them around, demanding that Ghost let König cum down his throat? Or would he make König wait until Soap could touch him? Would Soap be behind him, touching all the spots that Ghost couldn't take?
But then, Soap is so much shorter than him, maybe it would be Ghost taking Soap in his mouth, König behind him, thrusting into him.
The thought has him gasping, shakily unzipping his pants so he can reach in.
It's not even dry, is the thing, his dick has already been leaking so much the slide is easy. He opens his mouth, lightly panting. It's so warm in the mask, but he doesn't have the patience to wrestle it off, too desperate to touch himself after a week of torture.
He thinks of Soap clenching around him, Ghost looking up with his mouth bobbing up and down Soap's cock. He bites his lip, muffling a whimper.
He speeds up in earnest, desperate for any kind of release.
He imagines Soap calling them good, praising them for making him feel so good, so dizzy. He thinks of the spit collecting at the edge of Ghost's mouth, rutting against König's leg.
Then König hears a door open and shut.
Immediately, König stills in his movements. He wasn't very loud, he knows that, but he still feels like he's being watched. To his own embarrassment, he doesn't soften at all. If anything, he feels himself get a little closer to the edge.
He hears steps, several pairs, and the sound of a bed creaking.
Quickly, too quickly for his liking, König hears the voices he was just imagining not that long ago. He hears gasping moans, Ghost saying, "fuck, Johnny, feels so good, god, please."
On a particularly loud moan, König bites down on a whimper, rutting up into his own hand. He brings his other under the mask, biting down hard on the meat of the thumb, trying to control himself.
It's quiet for a moment, and König thinks he's in the clear. Thinks he's good, he'll just put his pants back on and waddle down the hall to the bathroom. He can do that, he can . He's strong enough, he just has to take his hand off his dick and do it.
And then he hears Ghost shout, "Fuck! Johnny!" It's followed by the sound of skin slapping skin and Ghost letting out a half choked sob.
Any resolve König had is evaporated into smoke, and he gives in, stroking himself in time with the thrusts he can hear in the creaks of their bed.
They're fucking in earnest, no slow torture that he's heard for the past week in sight. Soap sets a brutal pace, one that has König biting even harder at his own hand.
He brings his hand up his shaft, thumbing at his slit, wondering what they look like. Are they fully naked? Did they even have the time to do so before they were going at it?
On the downstroke, he squeezes, one long finger going back to prod his entrance, swirl his own sweat and precum around it. What he wouldn't give to have one of them doing this to him.
Ghost is letting out sweet little whimpers, and Soap is whispering something too faint for König to hear. He imagines it as praise, Soap telling Ghost that he's being such a good slut for him. That he's doing so well, that he can hold out for longer, that he looks so pretty as he cries.
König speeds his hand up again, half in a fantasy fueled by the sounds he can hear behind that stupidly thin wall.
He thinks of himself on his knees, Soap positioned behind him and slamming into him. Thinks of his mouth being fucked by Ghost. Imagines their sloppy kisses above his head as König is blissed out, being used by the two of them.
"Sir, please, can I cum, please, give me the order sir, I've been so good!" He can't even tell if that's just from his own head, or if that's really Ghost. Either way he imagines it. Imagines that Ghost is asking Soap if he can cum in König's mouth, down his throat.
He'd take it, he'd swallow every drop. Would lick and lap at Ghost's cock to make sure he got everything.
He pants, hand slipping from his mouth as he gets caught up in the fantasy, in the bitten off scream of Ghost cumming beside him, just one room over.
"Good boy," he hears Soap say. "So good for me, look at you, taking my dick even after you've cum. So beautiful."
Yes , König thinks. I could take you still, would let you use my over sensitive hole and wreck me.
His mouth drops open, his other hand going to his ass. It's dry, so he takes a bit of his own precum and spreads it on one finger. It hurts, it burns, and he writhes around it. The pain feels so good, and he can still hear the praise being lavished on Ghost, on himself within his own fantasy.
“Think you can give me one more, love?" Soap asks, and all König can think is yes, yes, anything, yes. He moans aloud, a drawn out thing that could be Soap's name but he's too far gone to care.
He's dizzy from the overwhelming need to cum, but he's not been given permission just yet. Needs to wait a little before he can. Only Ghost has been given permission, he's waiting for his turn, for Soap to command him. Boss him around and use him.
He fucks himself back on his hand, the other stroking up and down his dick. He can feel himself getting louder, breathy whines turning into soft keens. Moans into words that could be names, if he focused on it.
Unfortunately, he isn't. All that exists is Ghost and Soap, the thought of them, the sound of them.
He hears things start back up again, and he clenches around his finger, manages to get another in there to scissor. It hurts, but he crooks his finger just right and pleasure zips in to erase the pain.
Time stops meaning anything. He stops stroking himself just long enough to throw off his mask. Another time he'll mess around with breath play but for now he's suffocating under the combination of himself, his fantasy, his friends the next room over.
He thinks he hears Ghost call out, a wordless shout as Soap must pick up the pace, and König imagines that it's his own name falling from those lips.
He can't help but let out a drawn out moan, Ghost's name in his mouth, in his head, surrounding him.
The Soap in his head is still ordering him to stay still and take it, and his fingers hit his prostate over and over. He's waiting, still waiting, why is he waiting?
And then he hears Soap growl out, "Now!" And nothing could quiet the keen that comes from König's throat as he finally releases, cum shooting all over his shirt and hands, some almost reaching his face.
König goes still, breathing heavily as the reality of what he's done crashes into him. His legs straighten, lowering him on his bed from where he had pushed up in the air.
For a moment, he's scared, wonders if they heard him, but he can still hear Ghost whining the next room over and thinks himself in the clear.
He brings both hands up to his face, and lets out a near silent groan. Despite the guilt, that was the best orgasm of his life , and he knows that it'll be something he replays in his mind for the next few weeks, at least. He just hopes that he can still face them tomorrow. He sinks deeper into the bed.
What has he done?