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Laying in his dreary bedsit in the arse-end of Manchester, waiting out his torturous holiday leave in misery, Ghost was not expecting the call when it came.
Looking at his watch, he noted the time with a raised brow.
1:14am. Bit late isn’t it?
Granted, he was always awake at this time, seeing as sleep was an elusive little bastard most nights. But that didn’t mean he wanted to spend his time talking to anyone either, even if they were most likely dull enough to put him to sleep.
He was fully prepared to ignore the poor fool calling, when he registered the words ‘Johnny Mactavish’ lighting up his screen. His brow raised even higher.
What are you up to, Soap.
He clicked accept, putting the phone to his ear, not bothering to even greet the man. He waited expectantly.
“H’lo Simon,” Soap’s voice was a rumbling purr over the receiver, his words slurring ever so slightly at the edges.
“Soap.” And because he couldn’t fathom any pleasant reason to call at that time of night, he asked, “Is something wrong?”
There was a clatter, and a muffled thud from the other side. Soap answered after a beat.
“Can’t I call my favourite lieutenant up for a little chat?” He asked innocently, and Ghost could practically feel the other man’s pout from 300 miles away.
Ghost felt himself relax slightly. There was no danger to be had, no fire to put out - it was just Soap being Soap. The thought warmed him slightly.
“It’s past 1am, Soap,” Ghost said, coughing slightly to hide his laughter.
“Hmm,” Soap hummed in agreement. “Why are you up?”
“Because you called me,” he lied, amused in spite of himself.
“No way you were asleep,” Soap grouched, his accent bolstering in outrage. “Yer probably up to no good, I can sense it.”
Ghost rubbed a hand over his face. “What do you want, Soap?”
There was silence for a moment, then, “M’bored.”
“Say again?”
“Booored,” Soap drawled, accent dragging on the vowels pleasantly. “It’s so pretty and peaceful here, and I’m losing my bloody mind.”
It’s grey and miserable here, but I know exactly what you mean, he thought.
“And how is that my problem?”
Soap grumbled something intelligible, and he rolled his eyes.
“Speak up, Mactavish.”
“You should come stay here,” Soap mumbled. “Stay the weekend, then we can be bored together.”
I never said I was bored, is what Ghost should have said. He should have hung up on him the moment he realised there was no danger. But he was bored and isolated, and even five minutes on the phone with the man had brightened his night immensely.
Besides, he was big enough to admit to himself that one of the worst parts of this enforced leave had been his separation from Soap. In his heart of hearts, he could admit to himself that he missed the other man terribly.
Instead of any of the things he should have said, what he went with was, “Where are you, then?”
He could almost hear the other man blinking over the line. “Oh,” Soap said, then cleared his throat. “I’m in Killin, it’s north of Glasgow. Er, might be a bit of a drive?”
Don’t talk yourself out of it now, Johnny, he thought with a smirk.
“I can be there,” he said, mentally calculating a route already. “By tomorrow afternoon.”
There was a peaceful silence, and for a moment Ghost thought Soap had fallen asleep.
“Don’t wear the mask, please,” Soap suddenly blurted, low and pleading over the line. “Erm, I mean, my grandmother is here, it might freak her out a bit, but er, I suppose if I warn her it’ll be ok…”
He blinked in surprise.
Ghost had actually had no intention of wearing it. Unless he was on duty, he’d never been able to truly wear it in the UK consistently without trouble from the local authorities, as they were generally suspicious of odd masked men as a rule. Soap unfortunately had not taken this into consideration.
He basked in Soap's husky, plaintive tone, wanting to bottle it up and savour it forever. The timbre of it sent a wave of want down his body, soft and sickly sweet as it licked its way over his spine.
“What will you give me, then?” He asked, on a whim.
“Wha?” Soap asked, confused.
Ghost shifted slightly on his bed. “What will you give me,” he repeated, voice low and rough. “If I don’t wear the mask, Johnny?”
Ghost didn’t truly expect Soap to play along. He could hear the inebriation coating the other man’s voice, and fully expected Soap to call his bluff and drop the matter, uncomfortable with the dark promise underpinning his words.
Soap blind-sided him though, as he often did, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.
The other man sighed, his voice crackling slightly over the receiver as he considered the question. “To see your bonny face?” Soap’s accent was a rolling purr, and the sound of it so close to his ear caused his cock to twitch in interest. “I’ll do whatever you want, Lt.”
Fuck. He tossed his head back on the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing.
“That a promise?” He breathed, heart starting to pound, beating a fast tattoo against his ribcage.
“Yeah, I promise,” Soap sighed softly into his ear. “Just bring your pretty mug to me and I’ll do whatever you ask.”
++
The next morning, Soap woke up with a blistering headache, and the keen sense that he’d done something incredibly stupid.
Seeing as that was not an atypical state of affairs for him, he simply shrugged and went about his day, heedless of the promises he’d whispered in the dark of the night.
++
The golden glow of the afternoon sun casted warm light into the sitting room, and Soap dozed on the couch peacefully like a cat in the sun. Outside, his grandmother toiled in the garden, mumbling under her breath as she tried to coax life into her wilting vegetables.
The soft knock on the front door was entirely unexpected, and Soap blinked his eyes open, certain he had imagined the noise. When the knock sounded again a minute later, he groaned, and allowed himself a bone-cracking stretch.
He padded softly to the front door, sure that his hair and clothes were a complete mess, but too sleepy to bother fixing himself.
He swung the door open, and faltered.
Hello gorgeous. There was a mysterious and beautiful man darkening his doorstep, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder casually. With the lush and windy Scottish landscape as his backdrop, he looked like the page of a fashion magazine come to life.
Soap blinked owlishly, before recognition slapped him in the face.
That mysterious beautiful man is Ghost, he realised.
He blinked again, and thought, Why is Ghost here? He stared rudely, utterly unsure of himself.
“Cat got your tongue, Johnny?” Ghost drawled, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth.
“Oh, um, hello,” Soap said, completely dumbfounded.
“Hello,” Ghost replied, eyes crinkled in amusement, and Soap stared at him, awed.
I can see your face, he thought dumbly.
“John?” He jumped in fright, whipping around to face the sudden appearance of his grandmother. She was tugging off her gardening apron, tutting at the residual soil that dropped to the floor as she did. “Who’s that then, at this hour?”
“Oh, uh this is my, um.” His mind was a sieve, and all of his thoughts had slipped away. “My, uh-”
“I’m Simon,” Ghost supplied, looking absolutely delighted by Soap’s uncharacteristic awkwardness. “I’m a friend of Johnny’s.”
She raised her brows and mouthed, ‘Johnny?’ at Soap, but he pretended not to see it.
“Well come on boy, don’t just leave the poor man out there all afternoon, let him in then,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes at him.
Soap scrambled out of the way sheepishly, feeling like he was witnessing two worlds colliding as he watched Simon duck to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe to enter his grandmother’s cottage.
Soap led him through to his sitting room, feeling dazed as he sat on the couch once again, this time joined by Ghost. His grandmother sat pride of place on her favourite leather armchair, looking between them both consideringly.
He had the curious sense of being five again, about to be interrogated about a new and unknown friend.
She looked at him expectantly, raising her brow.
“Ghost is one of my,” he hesitated for a moment. “Colleagues.”
“Pardon me, boy, what did you just call poor Simon?”
Oops.
“It’s like a nickname, Seanmhair,” he sighed. “We give them to each other at work, and you just get used to calling each other by it.”
She raised her brow at him, before turning to Ghost. “And what do they call my grandson then, Simon?” She sent Soap a withering look as she added dryly, “He doesn’t tell me anything, as you can see.”
Ghost’s lips curled up in a slow smile. Soap sighed loudly, long suffering. He was outnumbered.
“They call him Soap, Mrs…?”
Oh you smooth bastard, Soap thought darkly.
“Oh, call me Fia, dear.”
Soap looked at his grandmother in disbelief. Dear?
She studiously ignored him. Touché.
After a beat, she seemed to finally register Ghost’s words.
“Did you say Soap?” She asked, aghast. Finally, she looked at him again.
Soap just shrugged. He didn’t want to explain that his affinity for clean yet efficient death and mayhem had earned him that particular name.
“I suppose it’s fitting,” she said after a beat, thoughtful. “I certainly spent enough time washing your mouth out with it, didn’t I, boy? For all the good it did me.”
Ghost’s mouth was twitching, and he looked very much like he was trying not to laugh.
“Shall I make us some tea, Simon, before Seanmhair settles in to talk your ear off all night?” He asked wryly, already rising from his seat to do so.
“Oh can you believe the sheer cheek of him? Between you and me, Simon, he’s my least favourite grandson.”
From the kitchen, Soap lazily called out, by rote, “I’m your only grandson, Seanmhair.”
She tutted loudly, as if to say ‘semantics’.
Soap couldn’t hear their conversation as he switched on the kettle, so he took the spare moment to do some investigating.
He had no memory of inviting Ghost here, but he evidently must have, given the very man’s presence in their sitting room. He fumbled through his phone, and noted the outgoing call from that morning.
1:14am, what the fuck was I doing calling him then? He thought, slightly horrified.
A text not long after, riddled with drunken typos, giving surprisingly accurate and thorough instructions to their cottage.
Right, mystery solved then.
Except, he still didn’t know how exactly he’d managed to convince the notoriously mercurial man to drive five hours to the middle of Scotland, just to stay in his Grandmother’s cottage with him at such short notice.
With nothing to do but wait, he stared out the kitchen window, wondering at the curious nervous anticipation setting his nerves alight.
++
Sitting in Soap’s grandmother’s sitting room, Ghost felt alarmingly at home in the domestic scene.
Or he had, until Soap exited the room, and Fia’s expression turned speculative.
She levelled him with her serious gaze, and said, “You’ve shown up with a bag, so clearly you’re staying the night - I sincerely hope my fool grandson mentioned that there’s only two bedrooms in my wee cottage.” With a wry smile, she added, “Because I’m sorry laddie, I’m not giving up my bed for any of you.”
He blinked, lips parting slightly. No, Soap failed to mention that.
When he made no move to respond, she asked, bluntly, “What do you want from my grandson?”
Unbidden, several answers flooded his mind.
He wanted to hear the purr of Soap’s accented timbre in his ear when he begged.
He wanted to know the shape of his name on Soap’s lips as the other man took his cock for the first time.
He wanted to grip Soap’s hair as he slowly slid his length along his tongue and inside the wet heat of his mouth.
Finally, he had a vision of Soap lying supine in lush green grass, as Ghost leant over to gently kiss the smile from his laughing lips. He found he wanted that, just as fervently.
Without the shield of his mask, he feared his open desire must have been writ large upon his face. He could feel himself turning pink.
Thankfully, as if on cue, the man of his thoughts appeared before them, holding a tray in his arms laden with cups and a steaming teapot.
Christ, Ghost thought, relieved. Fia raised her eyebrow at him, gazing at him with steady consideration.
++
After about thirty minutes of tea and conversation, Soap’s grandmother suddenly announced she would be retiring for the night.
“So early?” Soap asked, puzzled. The sun had barely set over the horizon, washing a rich orange-pink light through the arched windows and into the sitting room. “I was only joking before, when I said you’d talk his ear off.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Welcome to ageing, foolish boy.” The sting of her words were softened when she leant down to kiss his forehead, patting his cheek in farewell.
She wiggled her fingers at Ghost in parting. “Goodnight dear, do try and behave yourself, won’t you?” And with that she abruptly rounded the corner, slowly wandering her way upstairs.
“What’s that supposed to mean,” Soap asked, looking at him, dumbfounded by his grandmother’s bizarre behaviour.
There was a slight pinkness to Ghost’s cheeks, he noted with a stare. Is he sick?
A heavy and awkward silence fell over the room. Without the buffer of his grandmother, he found himself at a loss for words.
He wanted to know what had happened to lead Ghost to be in this very room with him now, so many miles from home - but not at the expense of admitting he’d been so blind drunk he’d forgotten their every word.
Soap had the creeping sense that he was missing something very important.
What have I forgotten, he wondered. What could I have possibly said to convince you to come here?
Ghost sighed, and made to stand, grabbing his duffel as he went.
What?
“Where are you going?” Soap asked. Could everyone near me try and behave predictably for at least 5 minutes?
“I’ll need to find a place to stay, before everything nearby closes for the night,” Ghost said blandly. “I could take the couch, I suppose, if I can’t find anything else.”
The couch barely fit Soap when he slept on it.
“No,” Soap blurted. Ghost looked at him, nonplussed.
“I invited you here, I’m not making you do that.” Embarrassment suffused him. “My bed is more than big enough for the both of us.” There, like a band-aid.
“Come on,” He said, full of nervous energy. “You can put your things upstairs.”
He inexplicably felt as though both of them crossing the line from down to upstairs would somehow guarantee Ghost would stay.
Soap led Ghost up the carpeted stairs, feeling strangely awkward, as though he was a teenager bringing a crush to his room for the first time. When he opened his door, he was once again grateful for his obsessive cleanliness, borne of military habit.
Ghost wandered in, running his eyes over the room. Soap swallowed, feeling dwarfed by the other man’s presence in his space. He dropped his bag unceremoniously to the side of the bed, before turning back to him.
“I’ll try not to kick you,” Ghost said, smirking slightly. “More than once, anyway.”
“Promise?” Soap laughed despite himself, then cut himself off with an abrupt choked noise.
Ghost quirked a brow at him.
He was wrapped in his duvet, wearing only his sleep pants, holding the phone to his ear.
“What will you give me,” Ghost had said, voice low and rough. “If I don’t wear the mask, Johnny?”
When he talked like that, Soap could feel all of his defences crumble to nothing. He would do anything, anything for him at all, when Ghost talked to him in that way.
“To see your bonny face?” He’d whispered back, blind with desire, “I’ll do whatever you want, Lt.”
“That a promise?” Ghost had breathed, laughing slightly. Soap’s chest seized at the noise.
“Yeah, I promise,” Soap had sighed softly back, utterly lost. “Just bring your pretty mug to me and I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Oh,” Soap whispered, wide-eyed.
So that’s what brought Ghost here, he thought, astonished.
His face was going red, and he could feel himself blinking furiously, overwhelmed. His breathing had sped up a mite too much, as he tried to get his thoughts in line.
“Alright, Johnny?” Ghost murmured, examining him with a close eye.
He closed his eyes for a moment, briefly overcome.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Soap blurted.
“Why didn’t I say what?” Ghost asked mildly.
Soap flailed, gesturing vaguely. “About, uh last night.”
Ghost smiled slightly, and took a step closer. “What about it?”
He’s really making me say it, the absolute bastard.
“My uh, promise.” Soap said, carefully avoiding his gaze.
Ghost raised his eyebrows slightly. “Seemed like you’d either forgotten, or you were going out of your way to pretend it didn’t happen.” He took another step forward. “I wasn’t going to hold you to something you couldn’t even remember.”
Soap was relieved for a moment, before he considered his words again. He darted his eyes to Ghost’s, eyes wide.
“And now that I’ve remembered?”
He hadn’t realised how close Ghost was, until he had to tilt his head up to meet his eyes. His dark eyes were half lidded, swirling with promise, and so close Soap could almost count his pale lashes. He breathed in his smell with a small sigh.
“What was it you said again, Johnny?” He rumbled, leaning in close. “Anything I wanted?”
Soap felt curiously light, something soft and dark curling in his gut at the words. Emboldened by the raw desire he saw reflected back at him, he parted his lips, and whispered back, “Anything.”
++
Ghost could pinpoint the exact, delicious moment Soap remembered his sweetly spoken promises to him. Greedily, he watched the man’s expression transform, mortification and desire warring across his features.
Transfixed, his heart warmed, and anticipation buzzed his nerves, when he realised Soap’s desire had won.
When he finally repeated his promise of, “Anything” in that breathy tone of his again - the one that seemed to have a direct line to his cock - his self-control left the building.
Ghost leant down, breathing in the other man’s scent, and watched as his lashes fluttered closed. He cradled his jaw and pressed a gentle kiss softly once, twice to his mouth, before sighing and pulling him closer, parting Soap’s lips and sliding their mouths together properly.
He distantly noted how Soap had to tilt his head back to meet his taller height, and resolved to make fun of him for it later. When the other man let out a soft moan, though, arms around his neck tightening, all thoughts evaporated from his mind.
He slid his tongue along Soap’s, brushing his thumbs against his cheek, luxuriating in the intimacy of the act. He alternated between sucking on his lower lip, and sliding his tongue back inside, savouring the taste and sensation greedily.
Directing him backwards slightly, he led Soap to the bed, not releasing his lips until the other man stumbled slightly, sitting heavily on the bed with a soft, ‘oof.’. He blinked back up at him, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen red.
Do you even know, Ghost thought, desperately. What you look like right now?
Overcome, he reached up to affectionately brush his thumb over a flushed cheek, smirking slightly when Soap’s lips parted, panting faintly. In retaliation, Soap turned his cheek, wasting no time wrapping his lips around his thumb, and sucking with a playful gleam in his eye.
His cock throbbed in harmony, pulsing to the beat of every sucking pull. He watched briefly, his own lips parted, before his desire for the real thing won out. He reluctantly withdrew his thumb, brushing Soap’s lip slowly in parting as he went.
With their gazes still locked, he began to undress, his motions unhurried as he basked in the weight of Soap’s hungry stare. When he eventually pulled his pants down over his aching cock, Soap finally spoke.
“Of course you’re perfect,” he sighed, not sounding at all bothered by the fact. In fact, he sounded inordinately pleased. “How can one man be so pretty?” Ghost felt himself flush slightly at the unfamiliar praise, coughing slightly in surprise.
He stepped closer, until he was looming over Soap, unbothered by his own nudity. The other man was still sat staring up at him, carefully avoiding looking at his cock, even as it neared dangerously close to his face. “Are you going to take all of that off,” Ghost rumbled darkly. “Or am I doing it for you?”
“I would,” he said wryly. ”But you’re sort of in my way there.” Soap eyed his extreme proximity with faint amusement.
Ghost held out his hand, unmoved. Soap allowed himself to be pulled up, his clothed body sliding up his own naked one deliciously as he slowly stood.
Deciding for him, Ghost pulled the other man’s shirt off, trailing his hands down his naked flanks before he reached his fly, making quick work of his fastens and tugging them down. He knelt to pull his jeans off, not breaking eye contact as he did, and making sure to catch his underwear with them, divesting him of the rest of his clothes in one go.
Standing again, he greedily observed the expanses of pale, muscled skin, and the light layer of dark hair furring his body. When he saw his cock, thickened and glistening with desire, he gave in to the immediate urge to wrap his hand around it, grinning at Soap’s surprised groan.
Pressing their lips together, he gave his length several long, slow pulls, brushing his thumb against his frenulum with every pass. He swallowed Soap’s moans, spreading his leaking desire over his cock, unrelenting in his intensity. He pulled away to better look at him, soaking in his fracturing expression as he did.
Just as fast as he’d begun, Ghost released him, sliding his hands to the other man’s flanks, smirking at his bitten off moan of outrage. “Tease,” Soap gasped, blinking up at him.
“I believe you were the one who promised me anything, not the other way around,” he reminded him, kissing the corner of his mouth to soften the blow. And because I can’t fucking help myself.
“Aye, I did,” he breathed huskily, leaning closer, and Ghost’s eyes involuntarily closed. That voice. “You brought your pretty face all the way here to me, after all.” Soap peppered his jaw with soft, open-mouthed kisses, running a hand through his hair. He felt himself shiver involuntarily.
After a moment, he pulled back, looking momentarily pensive. “Can I call you Simon?” He asked suddenly, eyelashes fluttering slightly as he looked up at him, blue eyes wide and beseeching.
Ghost watched his expression, utterly charmed. “You can call me whatever you want, Johnny.” Noting the mischief that immediately lit the other man’s eyes, he warned, “Within reason.”
Soap’s lips curled into a pout, and he couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss it off his mouth.
Bold thing, aren’t you, he thought, secretly delighted. You already got the bloody mask off me, and you still want more?
Soap was the first to break for air, panting slightly. “Ok then, Simon,” he purred, voice low as he stroked a hand over his collarbone. “What do you want from me, then?”
Oh, Johnny, he thought, eyes half lidded as he considered him. There’s no end to the things I want to do to you.
“I want to put your unruly mouth to good use for a change,” he growled, pressing his thumb back against his bottom lip, demanding entry. He sighed happily when Soap obediently sucked it back in again, swirling his tongue sweetly about the tip.
“Then,” he said, sliding his free hand around Soap’s back. He cupped his hand around his rear, squeezing gently. He pulled his thumb free to brush a fleeting kiss to his mouth, before trailing up to his ear to whisper, “I’m going to open you up with my fingers, and if you’re good, I’ll let you come all over them.”
Ghost leant back to look him in the eyes, smiling slightly at Soap's dazed expression. “And finally-”
“There’s more?” Soap blurted with a soft groan.
“And finally,” he insisted, pressing his lips to Soap’s temple. He pressed his hips close. “’When you’re ready, l’ll spread you out nice and wide and fuck you properly.”
Soap seemed to buckle slightly in his arms, and he grinned, smug and bewitched in equal measure. Stroking his arse, he quirked an eyebrow at him, watching his face intently. “Alright, Johnny?”
Soap hummed, “Yeah.” He blinked slowly at him. “Always knew you were a dirty bastard, Lt.” His husky burr was like warm honey curling down his spine, making his cock throb pleasantly.
“That’s for sure,” he said darkly, lips curling up when the other man slowly lowered himself. A repeat of before, Soap pressed his naked body close, and slid agonisingly slowly down, until he knelt at his feet.
Fuck, he thought, looking down at him. The sight of Soap on his knees, inches from his leaking cock, was almost too much to bear. You’ll surely be the death of me.
Then, because he clearly couldn’t help himself, Soap looked up at him, eyes bright. “Can you even see me from all the way up there,” The mischievous bastard had the nerve to ask with a husky laugh.
Ghost sighed, and grabbed a handful of his hair, causing the man to groan slightly. Fisting his own cock, he trailed himself across Soap’s cheek, rubbing against his bottom lip back and forth, luxuriating in the decadent sensation. “Open your disobedient mouth and be quiet for a change,” he growled.
Soap opened his mouth, moaning softly as Ghost’s mushroom tip parted his lips and pressed inside. He briefly delighted in fucking his swollen lips with just his head, rubbing his sensitive glands against his tongue, before he gripped his hair properly and began to fuck his mouth in long, slow pulls. Soap looked up at him, gaze lidded, and began to gently undulate his tongue along the underside, lapping at his frenulum as he slid in and out.
“Fuck,” he growled, as he watched his cock disappear between his swollen lips. “Should’ve fucked this mouth of yours ages ago.” The other man moaned in agreement, and the vibration caused his cock to twitch deliciously.
He slid himself along his tongue in a back and forth motion, before pushing steadily inward, eyes rolling back at the soft wet heat as he hit the back of his throat. Throughout it all, Soap kept his eyes fixed on him, occasionally rolling back when he pushed too deep.
When Soap began to slide his hands up to touch him, he pulled himself out with a soft pop, a white strand still connecting his cockhead to the man’s lips. “No,” Ghost growled, sliding his hand down to cup his jaw, stroking his cheek. “Keep your hands to yourself, Johnny.”
Gripping his hair again, he began to slowly slide himself back in, sighing in pleasure as he went.
He could feel himself dripping with every pass, coating the man’s lips and tongue with precum as he went, and knew he was close.
Soap was moaning, redoubling his efforts and sucking his glands, a determined gleam in his clouded eyes.
Ghost noted the look with a dark pulse in his spine.
“Wanna make me come, Johnny?” Ghost watched him shudder at his words, and laughed. God you’re perfect, he thought, chest aching.
“Haven’t decided where I will yet,” he added, panting heavily. “Your face, or your mouth?” Soap moaned eagerly, and when he felt him swallow on his cockhead on the outstroke, he tossed his head back with a groan.
Balls tightening, he pulled Soap’s mouth off his cock until until only his tip remained. “Open,” he demanded, wild and desperate. Aiming himself at his lips, he felt the first irresistible pulse travel up his length, white strands roping messily across his swollen lips and chin. Groaning, he pressed himself back in, gently rocking his hips, as he coated Soap’s tongue with several more pulses.
Still throbbing deeply, he stroked his hair gently, before he slowly pulled himself out, panting slightly. Noticing the other man’s throat moving, swallowing, he realised, Ghost let out an involuntary moan. Soap smirked up at him, reaching up to idly thumb the leftover spend off his face and lips, licking it clean.
His cock gave an optimistic twitch. Fuck.
Heady and buzzing with endorphins, Ghost sank down bonelessly onto the bed, and patted the spot next to him. “C’mere,” he sighed.
Soap went to lay down next to him, and grunted in surprise when Ghost wrapped his arms around him and pulled him on top of him instead. He felt the other man’s hard length pressing against his stomach, and stroked his back soothingly.
“Who knew you were so touchy feely, Simon,” Soap breathed, but let out a surprised yelp when he received a firm slap to his arse in retaliation.
He flipped them so Soap was flat on his bed, head nestled on the pillows. “Behave yourself,” he warned lightly, caging him in with his body. “Do you want to come or not?”
Soap surprised him by biting his lip, looking as though he was genuinely considering the question.
He watched a blush form, starting from his chest to his face, in slight amazement. What on earth are you thinking, Johnny? He wondered, mystified and amused in equal parts
“I’m hungry,” Soap blurted, looking faintly surprised at his own outburst. “Do you want dinner?”
“How can you still be hungry,” Ghost murmured, trailing a thumb over his lip with a smirk. “Have I not fed you well enough?”
“Filthy man,” he groaned, his accent purring along the edges, but there was an embarrassed smile curling his lips all the same.
Ghost kissed him, smugly tasting himself on his tongue, before he pulled away reluctantly. “We can eat,” he said, reaching down to cup his hard length. “But why not let me take care of you first?”
Soap moaned as he began to stroke him, eyes fluttering in indecision. Ghost cocked his head at him, slightly puzzled.
“No,” he blurted suddenly. Ghost paused his ministrations.
“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you.” Soap said, staring at the ceiling, mortification writ large on his face.
What are you on about, Johnny?
“Say what?”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before looking at Ghost again. “I don’t want to come yet,” he said, voice low, face flushed with embarrassment. “I’d prefer to later.”
He stared at the other man, truly baffled for a moment, before the realisation hit him.
When it did, Ghost gave him a slow, knowing smile, and reached up to stroke his jaw. “You want to skip step two and go straight to three, do you, Johnny?” He whispered darkly, pressing his lips to his ear, “You want to come on my cock, instead, is that it?”
Soap’s eyes were molten when he breathed back, in a hoarse whisper, “Yeah, I do.”
Filled with smug delight, he pulled the man into his arms, and brought them both to their feet in one quick movement. Soap looked slightly stunned, unused to being thrown around so easily.
“Not as young as I used to be, Johnny.” When Soap opened his mouth, eyes glinting, Ghost was quick to interrupt him,“Save it.”
He pulled his shirt on, levelled him with a self-satisfied smirk, and promised, “But I’ll be ready for you after dinner, since you asked so nicely.”
++
After a light dinner of cucumber sandwiches, it was Simon who led Johnny back to his own room, holding his hand as he did.
With the sun firmly set, his room was painted in shadow, only the moon casting a pale white glow through the curved arched window.
Wordlessly, Johnny allowed Simon to undress him again, and they marvelled at the intimacy of the act as they maintained easy eye contact throughout.
The gentle moment was unfortunately ruined, however, when Simon procured a bottle of lube from his bag, causing Johnny to laugh in feigned outrage.
“Presumptuous fucker, aren’t you, Lt?” He snickered.
Simon smirked back, before pulling Johnny into his arms, and unceremoniously tossing him on the bed. Temporarily winded, he swallowed, watching Simon crawl over him, looming ominously over him as he did.
“You tell me, Johnny,” he murmured, settling between his parted legs. Uncapping the lid, he poured a dollop of clear liquid on his fingers. “I can fuck you dry, if that’ll make you feel better.”
Parting his cheeks lightly, Simon slid his lubed fingers over his hole, savouring the choked moan Johnny let out.
Laughing lightly, Johnny said, “That’s if you can even get it up, old ma-”
Simon abruptly leant down, spreading his legs wide, and sucked a filthy, wet kiss over his hole, causing Johnny to cry out in surprise. Holding his cheeks open, he lapped at him, savouring the surprised noises escaping the other man.
Gently undulating his tongue against him, he worked the muscle until he was able to swirl the tip of his tongue inside. Inhaling his musky flavour, he sighed, before replacing his tongue with a slick finger.
Simon watched Johnny’s face in the gloom, working him open relentlessly with his mouth and tongue, and smugly swallowing his moans with his mouth when he grew too loud.
Gently withdrawing from him completely, Simon took advantage of the low light to crawl up the bed to Johnny’s side. His head was propped on a pillow, searching for his gaze in the dark, and Simon smiled slightly.
Cupping Johnny’s jaw, he murmured, “Open,” and watched, pleased as his lips obediently parted. Simon took his cock, slick with desire, and pressed his head inside, relishing the surprised moan as he did so. At such an awkward angle, it wasn’t feasible for him to take his full length, so he indulged himself by stroking his sensitive head against Johnny’s tongue, letting him feel the evidence of his desire.
When Johnny began moaning around his cock on every stroke, he pulled out, stroking his hair as he did. Brushing his head against his lips once more in parting, he smirked. “What was that about me not getting it up, Johnny?”
Johnny panted softly, looking dazed as he whispered, “If it makes you do that.” he sighed, “I might just keep doing it.”
“If you want to suck my cock, Johnny, all you have to do is ask.”
He grinned, eyes gleaming, and asked, “Where’s the fun in that?”
Rolling his eyes, Simon kissed him, licking his own flavour from his tongue. He idly reached down to press his fingers to his hole again, sighing at the soft slickness there. “Shall I fuck you, then?”
Johnny groaned, and looked up at him. “Please.”
Simon hoisted the man up, rolling him over until he was on his hands and knees on the bed, spread wide and waiting. Stroking his back, he pressed another open mouth kiss to his hole, making the other man jerk in surprise.
Lifting himself, Simon parted his cheeks, trailing his fingers idly over his hole as he drifted closer. He draped himself over him, passing his head over his slick hole, and groaned at the sensation. Fisting his cock, he parted his cheeks, letting his cock run over his entrance again and again, teasing him.
“Please,” Johnny moaned, pressing backwards desperately.
Hushing him, Simon kissed his ear, swiping his tip on his silky hole indulgently, wetting it further with his own desire. Slowly he pushed, running a soothing hand up his back, lips parting as his hole finally snapped over his head with a gentle pop.
“Fuck,” he groaned, just as Johnny gasped, “Simon.”
He looked down at where Johnny’s slick hole stretched over him, and pressed his thumb where they were joined, marvelling.
I’m barely inside, he thought deliriously. And I never want to leave.
Simon hummed, leaning over to nuzzle the other man’s temple. “Alright, Johnny?”
Letting out a few breaths, Johnny nodded. “Yeah,” he said breathily, slowly rolling his hips back tentatively. The movement caused him to sink in another delicious inch.
Fuck. He gripped his hips tightly.
He pulled out experimentally, slowly, watching Johnny intently for discomfort as he did. He received a delightful moan for his efforts.
His lips curled up. You like it, do you, Johnny? He pressed himself back in, pushing in slightly deeper with every stroke, before pulling all the way back again. He repeated this process several times, until he was smoothly and steadily fucking Johnny with the entire length of his slickened cock.
The other man’s shoulders were shaking slightly, bracing with every thrust. Simon pressed his lips to his shoulder blades, groaning at the blissful warmth of him. When he brushed his cockhead against his prostate, Johnny let out a strangled moan, losing control of his arms and falling so his head was on the pillows, arse still high up in the air.
His cock had slipped out in the chaos, so he took a moment to observe Johnny. Fisting his slippery cock slowly, he pressed his thumb to his hole, marvelling at the soft slickness there. The man let out a husky sigh at the touch, craning his head to quietly watch him back.
Look at you, Simon thought, hungrily, sliding his thumb back inside his warmth. He watched Johnny’s blue eyes shut, overwhelmed. You were made for this.
Removing his thumb, he readjusted his grip on his hips, pressing his mushroom tip against his hole.
“Wait,” Johnny groaned. “Please.”
Simon sank back, stroking his rear as he went. “Alright, Johnny?” He murmured.
“Yeah,” he breathed, before lowering his arse out of reach. Simon’s cock gave a throb of disappointment.
Johnny slowly turned, until he was supine on his pillows again, gazing up at him. He looked completely debauched, his lips swollen, hair askew, with his legs parted invitingly. His cock was a hard line against his stomach, bobbing delightfully when he moved.
You’re all I’ll ever want, Simon thought, unbidden and despite himself.
Johnny smiled at him, eyes half-lidded, open desire plain on his face. He grasped Simon’s hand, tugging him close.
“You promised me your pretty face,” he purred, voice low and dark as he parted his legs further. “I want to see you when you come in me, Simon.”
Fuck, your voice.
Johnny laughed, head flopping back.
I said that out loud, he thought, flushing slightly.
“You did say it out loud,” Johnny chuckled, pulling him even closer. “Knew you liked it, Lt.”
“Demanding thing, aren’t you.” Simon growled, slightly embarrassed, but secretly pleased all the same. He dipped his head to press their lips together, moaning at the feeling of Johnny sliding his tongue against his.
He bit into his soft bottom lip, and pushed his legs apart, hooking the right one over his shoulder. Their lips parted with a breath, and Johnny looked up at him, wide-eyed at the casual manhandling.
Simon grasped his slickened cock, stroking it slowly before he pressed against his hole once again. He leant down to kiss Johnny, blindly grasping for the other man’s hand until he found them. With their fingers intertwined, he let out a strangled moan as he slowly pushed himself in.
Johnny tossed his head back, lips parting, as he began to fuck him in earnest.
Simon wasn’t sure what it was, but something about the change in position did something for Johnny, because once he could see him, he could not keep his fucking mouth shut
“Fuuck,” his accent was a rumbling purr, and he stared up at him, eyes half-lidded. “Love your bonny mug, Simon. You know you looked so sweet, coming down my throat earlier.”
Simon gave a gasping laugh, his hips faltering out of rhythm slightly in surprise.
“Gorgeous man.” He growled, wrapping his free leg around his back, thrusting his hips to meet Simon’s. “Can’t believe you hid that pretty face from me for so long.”
He ducked his head with a gasp, feeling himself flushing, overwhelmed at the praise.
When Johnny scratched his nails faintly down his spine, Simon growled, parting his leg wider and fucking him with longer, harder strokes.
“Look at me,” Johnny breathed, voice catching on every thrust. He stroked his neck and shoulders, and said, “Promise me you’ll look me in the eye when you come.”
“Jesus, Johnny,” he moaned, eyes squeezed shut and pressing his forehead against his.
“Promise me, Simon, please,” he begged against his lips, and oh, Simon loved it when he begged.
“I will,” he groaned, feeling the sweat pooling on his tailbone as he thrusted. He leaned back slightly to meet Johnny’s eyes, and said, “I promise.”
When their eyes met, Johnny let out a throaty moan, arms tightening around his shoulders as he came. Slowing his pace, he fucked Johnny slowly through his orgasm, stroking his sides, watching him coat himself in his own spend. As his hole milked him, he sank slowly into the hilt, enjoying the delicious pulsing grip on his own cock. He wouldn’t last long, now.
Noting the arms around his neck, he looked at Johnny, slightly astonished. “Did you come without touching yourself?”
“Hmm, what gave you that idea, Simon,” Johnny laughed, before groaning when Simon gave him a hard thrust as punishment, resuming his long strokes. “Told you, b’fore,” he sighed, dreamily. “Wanted to come on your cock.”
You’re gonna be the death of me, he agonised, moving faster, snapping his hips harder and shorter than before.
“That’s it, Simon,” Johnny gasped, bringing up a hand to cup his face. “Keep your pretty eyes on me.”
Eventually the full weight of Johnny’s pleading stare, as he repeatedly begged for him to come in him, was too much to bear.
Gasping, he thrust himself fully inside, leaning his face into Johnny’s hand, as his orgasm rolled over him. He could feel his vision going black around the edges, but he kept his eyes on Johnny’s anyway, desperate to keep his promise.
Eventually he was aware of hands stroking his sweaty back, and a whisper in his ear, “So beautiful, Simon.” At some point, he must have come to rest his full weight on Johnny, and he made to rise, afraid of crushing the man.
Johnny simply held him tighter, laughing lightly. “Welcome back, Lt.”
His heart still racing, Simon simply pressed his face into his neck, and breathed deeply, overwhelmed.
Eventually, when he came back to himself, he gave Johnny a slow kiss, and slowly pulled out. Rolling onto his back, he pulled Johnny’s back against his front, nuzzling his face into his messy black locks.
That night, when the clock struck 1:14am again, unlike the many nights before it, both Johnny and Simon would be fast asleep for once, cocooned in each other’s arms, softly dreaming.