Work Text:
Soap knocked on Price’s door.
“Come in.”
Soap entered the office, closing the door quietly and coming to stand in front of Price’s desk. His captain looked tired, perhaps a little stressed out as he scribbled something on some form.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Soap prompted.
“Sit,” Price grunted.
Soap sat in the chair across from him and started to feel a little nervous as the man kept writing. Was he in trouble? Maybe something to do with not stopping Ghost on that mission the other week. Ghost had gone Too Far in Price’s opinion and got yelled at for it, but Ghost had pointed out that Soap had been there and not stopped him as some sort of proof that it couldn’t have been so bad. Price hadn’t asked why at the time, just gave up and stormed away. Soap had expected he’d ask for an explanation eventually, especially after he finished his report.
Price finished what he was writing and put it in a folder. Then he stood up and retrieved a bottle and two glasses. Soap swallowed dryly as the glasses were set down and filled with scotch. So this was a pretty serious conversation then. Price pushed one glass across the desk to him and Soap picked it up, taking a nervous sip while Price sat down. It was good scotch, but it didn’t soothe his nerves. Price took a drink himself before he spoke.
“I’ve been talkin’ to Ghost,” he said, “About his recent inability to control himself. He confessed to me he has…urges.”
“Okay,” Soap answered carefully.
“Dark desires to hurt people,” Price clarified, “He’s suppressed them as well as he can, but they bother him. He described it like an itch drivin’ him insane. If he doesn’t do somethin’ to soothe it to some degree, it becomes unbearable and he steps over lines he knows he shouldn’t.”
Soap supposed that made sense and he couldn’t be surprised. You sort of had to be a little bit of a sadist to do this kind of thing. Or a masochist. Or both.
“He said he can’t keep holdin’ back constantly,” Price continued, “We argued a little about how he couldn’t keep crossing lines and he kept sayin’ things were going to get worse if I kept tryin’ to force him to hold back. Finally, I asked him what he wanted me to do about then and he said ‘give me Johnny to play with’.”
“What?” Soap grunted, utterly confused.
Price took another drink.
“He wants to scratch the itch with you,” he explained, “He wants to…hurt you.”
Soap felt compelled to suddenly take a much too large drink of his scotch. Ghost wanted to hurt him. That was decidedly bad news for him. Although it didn’t seem to fit exactly. Ghost was always friendly with him, even flirty enough Soap sometimes thought he might have a shot with him. And he was very protective. But maybe it was all an act?
“He…hates me?” Soap guessed.
“Quite the opposite, it seems,” Price dismissed, “The way he talks…I think he’s a little obsessed with you, actually.”
“What-Obsessed??” Soap demanded incredulously.
“Yes,” Price insisted, “He said how pretty you are and how much prettier you’d be under his knife like he’d thought about it a lot.”
Soap blushed and his guts squirmed a little. He really didn’t know how to feel about that. It was sort of flattering and really horrifying. Of course, he liked knives a little too much, so a knife would be fine. He was more concerned about what other things he might be considering.
“I’m…in danger, aren’t I?” He guessed.
“Yes, you are,” Price confirmed, “Not because of Ghost though.”
Soap frowned at him in confusion.
“Ghost would not hurt you without permission,” Price explained, “He says for practical reasons, not morality, but it’s why he’s gone this long doin’ nothin’ to you despite really wanting to.”
Then the proper realization dawned on Soap.
“You’re gonna give me to him,” he realized.
Price sighed heavily and took another drink.
“Not without your consent,” he answered, “And I don’t want to. But I’m outta options. Other than just the moral issues here, I can’t have Ghost putting missions at risk and drawin’ the eyes of people who want us shutdown. And I don’t really want to discharge him, he’s incredibly valuable as long as he’s behaving. So I have to at least ask if you’re willin’ to be a bloody chew toy.”
Soap swallowed again, feeling like something was constricting his throat.
“It’s okay,” Price assured him, “You don’t have to do this. I just had to ask.”
“It’s…fine,” Soap offered, “Did he…mention what all he wants to do to me?”
“Unfortunately,” Price muttered.
“I need to know,” Soap said.
Price nodded even though he didn’t look happy about it. He took a breath.
“The knives, o’ course,” he started, “Electroshock. Restraints. Flogging. Whipping. Slapping. Burning. And…”
His face pinched a little as he hesitated.
“And he wants to rape you,” he concluded.
“Ah,” Soap choked.
That probably made sense with the “pretty” comment.
“But he said that wasn’t as necessary,” Price added, “He could just get himself off.”
“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap breathed, putting a hand to his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” Price said, sounding genuinely incredibly remorseful, “I had to ask.”
“It’s…it’s okay,” Soap dismissed, shaking his head, “I…I understand.”
He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his wild heart and his racing mind. It sounded…bearable, actually. He could take all that provided Ghost would stop at a certain point.
As long as he wasn’t being crippled or killed, it shouldn’t be that bad for him. Most of it he might even enjoy, being a pretty big masochist. Hell, he had even done some of it before, including rape play. Which was most likely what it would be, considering he wanted Ghost and wanted to get fucked up. Although he assumed it would be far more intense than a BDSM session, because this was to be far more real.
So the question was just how bad would it be? Soap took another drink.
“Would I…still be able to work?” He wondered.
“John, you don’t have to do this,” Price dismissed.
“Aye, you said that,” Soap agreed, “Would I still be able to work?”
Price hesitated, clearly uncertain about continuing. He probably didn’t expect Soap to show any signs of agreeing to the deal.
“Aye, you would,” he finally answered, “Ghost specified he would never damage you enough to stop from workin’ more than a day and all injuries would be under clothes. He also said he could refrain from makin’ you need stitches for the most part, but you would still likely end up with lotsa bandages.”
Soap nodded slowly. That seemed pretty manageable. More intense than normal BDSM, but not quite the torture he’d seen Ghost inflict on others.
“Okay,” he decided, “I’ll do it at least once.”
“John,” Price started.
“I don’t have to, I know,” Soap interrupted, “I understand. I’m gonna do this.”
Price looked concerned and hesitant.
“I can’t guarantee he won’t go too far,” he warned.
“It’ll be okay,” Soap assured, “Ghost is smart, he’ll be careful.”
Price sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Alright, we’ll do our best to make it as clean and safe as possible,” he offered, “Do you want leave before we do this?”
“Nah, I don’t think that’ll do much for me,” Soap dismissed.
“He’ll want to do it as soon as possible,” Price added.
“We could do it tomorrow,” Soap said, “I just need a night to get my head on right.”
“I’ll tell him,” Price agreed, “Do you want to be here when I talk to him?”
Soap drank the last of his scotch.
“Aye, that’ll be best,” he decided.
Price nodded and used the intercom to call “Lieutenant Riley” to his office. He put more scotch in Soap’s glass as they waited.
“John…thank you,” he murmured, “You’re doin’ us a great service.”
“Service is what I signed up for, sir,” Soap joked.
Price gave him a sad sort of smile just before a knock came at the door.
“Come in,” he called.
Ghost entered the office and paused minutely as he closed the door, eyes going to Soap who carefully took another drink. Ghost looked at Price as he crossed the room to stand in front of the desk.
“You called, sir?” He prompted.
“Please sit, Simon,” Price requested.
Ghost slowly sat in the other chair, eyes flicking back to Soap again briefly.
“You told him what we discussed,” he accused.
“I did,” Price confirmed.
“Real lovely conversation we just had,” Soap muttered dryly.
Ghost’s hands flattened on his thighs as he looked back around at Soap cautiously.
“And you want me dead,” he guessed, “Or locked up. Threat eliminated.”
“No, I don’t,” Soap dismissed, “I agreed.”
Ghost sat up and forward, eyes widening.
“You agreed??” He demanded.
Soap smiled at him and Ghost stood abruptly, moving toward him with one hand reaching. Soap’s heart exploded in his chest.
“Wait!” Price snapped.
Ghost froze. Then his reaching hand curled into a fist before he dropped it and stepped back, sitting back down.
“Yes, we have to do this right,” he agreed, although his eyes didn’t leave Soap, “What am I allowed?”
Soap tried to keep breathing even, tried to force his heartbeat to slow down.
“Soap approved the full list you gave me,” Price offered, “But this has to occur behind closed doors and discretely. And again, he has to still be able to work.”
“Yes, the damage won’t be alterin’,” Ghost assured, eyes trailing down Soap’s chest.
Soap felt like his heart was going to crack his rib cage and his face was going to burn off as he took a gulp of scotch.
“When?” Ghost prompted.
“Tomorrow,” Price said, “Let him get himself in order. We’ll have one of the interrogation rooms prepared for it.”
“I’ll prepare it,” Ghost said quickly, “I’ll get everythin’ I need. Johnny.”
Soap hesitantly met his eyes which were burning pretty fiercely.
“Eat a good dinner and breakfast,” Ghost suggested, “Wear comfortable civvies and use the loo before you see me. We can meet at eleven hundred hours.”
“Copy that,” Soap murmured, trying not to sound nervous.
“You agreed to me rapin’ you, didn’t you?” Ghost asked bluntly.
Soap could’ve burned right into the floor.
“Affirmative,” he confirmed.
“You should prepare yourself a little,” Ghost suggested, “You know how to do that, right?”
“Affirmative,” Soap repeated.
“Good,” Ghost grunted, “Because I’ll probably rip you if you don’t do it yourself.”
“Fuck, alright,” Soap agreed, definitely not hiding his nervousness this time.
“Do you want to get off too?” Ghost asked him.
“I don’t know if that-” Price started uneasily.
“Yes, please,” Soap answered.
Ghost leaned forward, eyes dancing with amusement.
“Well, since you asked so nice,” he mused.
Soap tried to hide behind another drink of scotch, draining the rest of the glass. He also tried to ignore Price’s face right then, not wanting to see the look of judgment that was probably on it. He was mildly terrified, but he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t find some pleasure in Ghost using him like a chew toy.
~
Price gave Soap an earpiece outside the interrogation room and instructed him to specifically call out for him if he needed Ghost to stop.
“You’re gonna listen?” Soap prompted apprehensively as he took the earpiece.
“Just to be sure,” Price confirmed, “I have to be sure you’re coming outta this okay. And listen, lad, I’m not gonna judge anythin’ you do or say in there. I understand.”
He squeezed Soap’s shoulder with a brief reassuring smile and a nod. Soap nodded back and hesitantly put in the earpiece.
“Wish me luck?” He joked.
“Not sure it’s luck you need,” Price snorted, “Think you need constitution.”
“Well, I got plenty o’ that,” Soap murmured as he headed toward the door, “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He still swallowed nervously as he opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
Ghost pushed off the far wall and uncrossed his arms as Soap shuffled forward, glancing around. Near Ghost was a sort of table he didn’t really recognize that went almost to Ghost’s hips that had padding on the top and handcuffs attached to two of the legs. There was a chair in the center of the room that Soap did recognize as the one that belonged there. It was specifically made with straps all over it for restraining prisoners. It could be leaned back and the leg rest propped up to put a prisoner nearly horizontal if need be.
Past the chair was a table with medical and cleaning supplies and blankets. On the nearer side of the chair was a table usually referred to as the “toolbox” which was where you put the necessary tools to make people talk. Soap leaned over it a little to look over Ghost’s tools. There were a couple knives, a stun gun, and a small flogger. Lackluster for what Soap had expected, really.
“Thought we’d start small,” Ghost’s voice murmured in his ear.
Soap jumped in surprise. Ghost’s hand laid over his lower back and smoothed up his spine to grip his neck. Soap suppressed a shudder.
“Last chance to back out,” Ghost warned lowly, “I’m not stoppin’ once we go unless Price comes in here and makes me. And this will only make me more hungry for you.”
Soap did shudder now. Fuck.
“Decide,” Ghost ordered a bit impatiently, hand flexing on Soap’s neck.
“Yes,” Soap answered a little shakily, “I’ll do it.”
Ghost let out a breathy little laugh and pushed his mask against Soap’s ear.
“That was a terrible decision, Johnny,” he whispered.
“Aye, probably,” Soap agreed.
Ghost snorted and drew back from him, taking his hand away.
“Take your clothes off,” he ordered, “And sit down. We’ll begin proper when you’re strapped down.”
Soap nodded and stepped out of his shoes. He was pretty sure the only reason he didn’t shake as he pulled his clothes off was because he had years of experience looking more collected than he was. He piled his clothes against the wall, out of the way and moved toward the chair.
“Cheeky tat, sergeant,” Ghost commented.
“Fuck up,” Soap grumbled, blushing.
He didn’t need Ghost teasing him about his ass tattoo when he was about to fuck him up. He sat in the chair, shivering at the coldness of it and Ghost stepped forward to strap him down. Soap’s body warmed up a bit as Ghost fastened the strap around his middle, then the ones over his wrists and forearms, and finally the ones on his ankles and calves. Ghost’s head tilted down at his crotch when he was done and then his eyes flicked up to Soap’s. Soap blushed worse.
“Already havin’ fun?” Ghost teased.
“Don’t,” Soap grunted.
Ghost let out an amused huff then moved around the chair to lean it back slightly and lift the leg rest a little. Not really fully laying Soap back, but giving him a good view of everything. Soap burned hotter at the feeling of being exposed like this.
“One last thing,” Ghost said.
He put his hand on Soap’s arm and even through his glove it felt as scorching as his burning eyes as he leaned in.
“Who are you while you’re in this room with me?” He asked, “Are you you or someone else? I can role play, if that’s better for you.”
Soap shook his head and took a calming breath.
“No, I’m me,” he said, “I’m Johnny, yeah?”
Ghost leaned in further to bump the forehead of the mask against Soap’s.
“Aye, my Johnny, finally at my mercy,” he agreed.
Oh God.
“What will you do with me, Simon?” His Johnny whispered.
“I’m gonna show you a real good time,” Ghost assured gently.
He drew back as Soap shivered and turned to retrieve a knife. Soap didn’t know knives well enough to identify exactly what it was, but it was certainly not a throwing, combat, or hunting knife. It was a small knife with a wood handle and a slightly curved blade. Likely a tool for something specific, but he didn’t know what.
Ghost flexed his hand on the grip as he looked over Soap’s torso and then he reached out with the free one to run over Soap’s skin. Soap suppressed another shudder at the way Ghost looked at him, touched him. Evaluating him. Deciding where to cut first like he was an animal being butchered. His hand stilled on Soap’s right pec and his thumb brushed over his skin.
Then the knife finally came down. Soap hissed as it sliced cleanly into him, the sting of the cut erupting immediately. The edge was incredibly sharp, though very thin and it carved cleanly across his pec in an arc. Blood welled up and spilled from the cut, but it was very little, one single drop running down his chest and soaking into Ghost’s glove.
He brushed his thumb over the cut, sending more stinging through Soap’s skin as he smeared blood across it. He made another cut, nearly identical to the first just above it, but pressed deeper this time. Still not deep enough for real damage, but enough to send more blood dripping to his hand.
“There’s that pretty red,” he murmured.
Soap let out a shaky breath as Ghost smeared through this cut as well. A third cut went above the second and Soap’s whole pec was pulsing with stinging now. His fist clenched and he unclenched it quickly, trying not to get too tense too fast.
Ghost moved to his sternum and cut along it, bottom to top in about a dozen short, but deep cuts that spilled down over each other like a layered waterfall. Soap sucked in a sharp breath and pressed his head back as the knife neared his throat.
“Easy, Johnny,” Ghost muttered as he moved the knife down, “Not gonna cut your throat. You’ll be no use to me then.”
Soap let out a shaky nervous laugh then hissed again as the knife cut into his other pec. Ghost carved three more arcs just like the first ones and Soap sucked in some harsh breaths as he tried to calm down.
“If I’d known you liked knives so much I’d have tried this earlier,” Ghost commented bemusedly as he stepped back.
Soap huffed, didn’t even try to defend his boner as Ghost turned away.
“Let’s see how much you like the next one,” Ghost mused.
He turned back with a much bigger knife, one that looked like it belonged in a kitchen and glinted ominously as he brought it closer.
“I can get to your bones with this one,” he told Soap, a gleeful tint to his voice.
“F-Fuck,” Soap huffed.
Then Ghost leaned over him and abruptly slashed with the knife.
“Fuck!” Soap snapped jolting as the blade burned over his ribs and immediately across the other side as well, “Bleedin’! Fuckin’! Bells!”
He panted and swore, flexing against the restraints as four more slashes landed brutally over his ribs. It burned and throbbed and moving just made it worse, but for a moment he couldn’t stop himself from squirming.
“There you are,” Ghost purred gleefully, “Look at you fuckin’ squirm. Good boy.”
His hand landed hard on Soap’s thigh and Soap jumped.
“Fuck you!” He spat instinctively.
“We’ll get to that,” Ghost assured him, a bit breathily, “First you have to be nice n’ broken.”
“Good fuckin’ luck, L.t.,” Soap growled at him.
Ghost’s eyes met his as his hand squeezed over his burning handprint. His eyes were wild and bright behind his mask as he leaned in.
“I am gonna make you whimper like a little kicked puppy, sergeant,” he warned.
“Fuckin’ try it,” Soap countered defiantly.
“Oh, I will,” Ghost assured brightly, “Pick a number now: one or two. You don’t pick, you get both and you don’t want that.”
Soap huffed.
“One,” he grunted.
“Good boy,” Ghost praised, smacking his thigh again.
He turned away and Soap tried to relax his tensed up body as he glanced down at the new cuts. Three on either side, all remarkably even for how much he’d squirmed during some of them. They were oozing out blood at a rate that should probably be alarming, but to Soap’s tactical brain it was registered as “survivable”. They fucking throbbed though and every deep breath he took flexed them, sending more burning and blood over his skin. He tried to breathe with his chest.
Ghost turned back with the flogger in his hand, flicking the tails of it with a little snap and Soap almost jumped in surprise. Without warning, he brought it down with a vicious loud smack across Soap’s thigh.
“Fuck!” Soap barked as the burning sting erupted on impact and he jerked in the restraints.
Ghost didn’t give him a pause, quickly smacking the other thigh and then the first again, back and forth, back and forth while Soap jerked and shouted curses at him. It felt a lot less like the flogging Soap was used to and a lot more like a proper beating. Like he aimed to really bruise Soap whose curses and pained sounds sometimes came out sounding a little like moans.
Ghost didn’t stop until some of the blood on Soap had started to dry and he was shaking badly, eyes closed and body wound up tight.
“Look at your fuckin’ cock,” he laughed a bit breathlessly when he finally did, “God, you’re rock hard and I’m really hittin’ you. No wonder you said yes.”
Soap rocked in the chair, panting as he squirmed restlessly. The tails of the flogger landed twice more, this time on his aching cock and moaned through his teeth as he jerked hard against the chair.
“Good boy,” Ghost praised.
He shifted away again and Soap huffed as he pried his eyes open to look down. Nearly the entirety of both of his thighs were blush red and the tails had broken skin in a few places, not enough to bleed but enough to show little trails of crimson. All to match the carmine drying all over his chest and the scarlet his throbbing cock now was. When Ghost turned around with the stun gun, he could only assume he’d end up another shade of red and had to suppress that whimper Ghost wanted.
He looked at Soap a moment, eyes sweeping over him before jabbing the stun gun into his gut. Soap tried to scream a curse but it got stuck in his throat because he froze up as the shock jolted through him, stinging and constricting around an impact. Like a punch, a cramp, and a million bee stings all on exactly the same spot. As always, it felt like it lasted forever, but he knew it couldn’t be longer than three seconds before he was released, slumping in the chair and panting harshly.
“Show me that pretty face again,” Ghost whispered breathlessly right before he stuck Soap again, in the side.
Soap managed a choked “fu-” before he was paralyzed again. He shouted when he was released only to be stuck a third time. When he was released this time, he was dazed and twitchy. He felt like electricity was still jittering through him and tears spilled out of his eyes as they darted around wildly.
“Good boy, good boy,” Ghost murmured, hand petting at Soap’s shoulder and arm, “Bloody hell, you got me worked up so fast.”
He moved away while Soap blinked rapidly, shaking his head and trying to come back online. Everything felt like it was coming to him through cotton. It took him a few seconds to register Ghost was sitting the chair up, but by the time he was undoing the straps, Soap could grasp him properly.
He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly and his hands were moving in impatient jerks. When he had Soap freed, he gripped him around his aching middle and hauled him to his feet. Soap hissed as some of the cuts rubbed against Ghost’s shirt and the scatter of sharp stinging caused a little clarity to come back to him.
Ghost started to drag him toward the padded table and Soap managed to get his feet to work, stumbling along with him. He couldn’t get his aching body to stay upright though, leaning heavily on Ghost until he was turned and sort of dumped over the table. He growled a curse into its surface as his cheek whacked against it and his cut up torso throbbed in protest. He was shifted on it, causing him to throb more and he groaned.
His wrists were taken and secured in the handcuffs. He instinctively clutched at the legs of the table as Ghost moved around behind him.
“Just two more things before I give you what you want, Johnny,” he promised.
Soap hissed as a blade sliced into his ass. It curved around, carving into him and he moaned weakly as Ghost drew some new shape on his skin. By the feeling of it, he was almost certain it was a heart. Or perhaps his brain was fucked by the stun gun and it was nothing of the sort. When he was done, he was sure to smear the blood and then smacked his palm over it, making Soap jolt, feet sliding across the tile floor.
Then he gripped Soap’s ass to spread it and a gloved thumb pressed to his asshole. Despite it feeling like hours ago he’d prepped, Ghost’s thumb slipped right inside him, indicating perhaps not hours had passed after all. Other than the roughness of the glove, it didn’t really hurt. He shuddered and Ghost pulled his thumb out to press two fingers inside instead. They slipped in with a little less ease and a little more stinging, but he still took it fairly easily. Ghost pulled them away with a pleased sound.
“That’s a good little slut,” he praised, smacking Soap’s ass again.
Soap huffed and Ghost moved around behind him. The sound of fabric shifting and a foil type wrapper crinkling. Soap knew those sounds. His breath struggled in his throat and he gripped the wood in his hands tighter.
The tip of Ghost’s cock, covered in a lubed condom, pressed up against his asshole and Soap had to fight to stop himself from tensing up. Ghost pushed and the head of his cock popped inside Soap who sucked in a breath and held it. Ghost pressed forward insistently, all but forcing himself inside a space not that prepared and Soap wheezed out a breathless groan as he was forced to stretch wider. He was straining to take it, burning as he was filled up. He couldn’t even really grasp the size of Ghost except-
“Too much too much too much,” he whined.
“Yeah, I bet it is,” Ghost agreed breathily.
But he didn’t stop until the fabric of his jeans were scraping against Soap’s ass. Then he paused and Soap let out an almost relieved breath that there was no more as another tear leaked out of one of his tightly closed eyes. He had never been so unprepared and unlubricated at the same time. It was too much. He couldn’t breathe. He was shaking again. Or still, but worse. Trembling on Ghost’s cock which could be completely average, but felt huge. He was still hard.
He felt Ghost lean over him and a hand gripped the back of his neck.
“Now’s the time to stop listenin’, Cap,” he murmured, “You’re really not gonna like what I do to him next…Cry for us, Johnny.”
He jerked his hips hard against Soap, stretching him further and jarring him harshly and Soap cried out.
“That’s a good little victim,” Ghost praised breathlessly in his ear, “Oh, love, you are everythin’ I dreamed you’d be.”
Through all the pain and the arousal, Soap felt his heart flutter. Maybe it was the electricity still fucking with his insides or maybe he was just that fucked up.
“Last chance, Cap,” Ghost warned.
Then he thrust against Soap again, forcing out another, weaker cry before lifting up a little to get a better angle. He pulled his hips back and Soap groaned miserably as his cock dragged through his sore, pulsing hot rim. Once he was nearly out of him, he snapped back forward immediately, cock jabbing into him sharper and hips jarring him even harder against the table. Soap keened, the sound nearly echoing in the room.
Ghost shuddered, but again gave him no pause, immediately thrusting again and again, his pace and his panting picking up quickly. Soap’s feet kicked weakly as he squirmed and he whined and moaned under Ghost’s impatient assault. As he fucked into him, his hand slowly smeared up Soap’s neck, over his jaw to his face, pushing it more firmly into the padding. One of his fingers landed over Soap’s lips and Soap bit it instinctively, but ineffectively with the glove. It tasted like blood. Ghost laughed breathlessly.
“Tryin’ to fight back now?” He sneered, “Too late, little victim. You’re already broken.”
Soap bit harder and kicked his heel into Ghost’s shin, but it was pathetic. Ghost just laughed again, colder and crueler and smacked Soap’s ass, seemingly as hard as he could. Soap jolted and cried out around his finger.
“God, I love makin’ you hurt,” Ghost groaned, low and rough and breathless, “You sound so good it makes me want to twist my knives inside you.”
Fuck.
“I’d kill to hear you squealin’ from that,” he growled as his hips started moving faster, “Or hear the way your fuckin’ finger bones snap in my hands. That’ll give us a proper scream. Or the shriekin’ begs as I carve my initials directly on your bloody ribs. Marked with me forever, no one could touch it. Fuck.”
He stopped abruptly, slamming hard into Soap’s ass with a groan that Soap weakly echoed back at him. He leaned further onto his hand on Soap’s face for a moment as he breathed harshly and Soap tried to catch his breath and get his whirling mind back on right. But he was too dazed with pain and arousal, maybe a bit woozy from blood loss and getting shocked too, not to mention exhausted from taking it all. His mind was clouds.
Ghost shifted as his cock slipped out of Soap and his free hand suddenly brushed over Soap’s still throbbing thigh, causing a weak whine into his other glove. He gripped Soap’s cock and Soap moaned, eyes immediately rolling back at the pressure. Ghost stroked his hand up and down his cock in quick, almost impatient jerks.
“Come on, my little victim,” he coaxed lowly, “Be a good little slut and come for your tormentor. Give me every part of you.”
Soap moaned, shuddering and jerked as his orgasm ripped out of him almost as painfully as a cut from one of Ghost’s knives. He felt a burst of pleasure, but a wave of exhausted relief almost knocked him out. He slumped, letting go of the table to go limp.
“Good boy,” Ghost praised.
He drew back and slipped his hand out of his glove, leaving it between Soap’s teeth. Soap was too dazed to wonder what Ghost was doing as he moved around him. He was pretty sure he was asleep for a moment before he was shifted.
He hissed as he was tipped on his side, dried blood ripping off his body like tape and dropped the glove from his lips. He was lifted up into someone’s arms and carried a short distance. Then laid on something soft, but hard. He realized his eyes were still closed and he blinked them open, looking around blearily.
He was on the floor, on a blanket. Ghost was above him. Ghost’s eyes found his and Soap smiled dazedly up at him. Ghost leaned closer to him, touching his cheek with a bare hand. His thumb brushed over the corner of Soap’s lips as his head tilted like he was curious or confused.
Suddenly a door opened loudly and Soap jumped in surprise. Ghost’s hand snapped back and up, his other joining it in surrender.
“Back off,” Price’s voice growled.
Ghost stood and backed off several steps. Soap weakly tried to look around as boots rapidly came toward him. Then Captain Price was crouched beside him, worried face hovering above him, his pretty blue eyes darting all over Soap.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he whispered.
“I only did what we agreed,” Ghost muttered.
“Shut up,” Price ordered sharply, “Don’t speak right now and stay there.”
“What’s wrong, Cap?” Soap wondered, his voice hoarser than he expected.
Price let out a shaky breath.
“Nothin’, lad,” he dismissed, touching Soap’s face, looking in his eyes, “Everything’s just keen, right?”
“Mhm,” Soap agreed as he shivered, “Baltic though, int it?”
Price shifted and a blanket went over Soap.
“Hold tight, lad, I’m gonna take care o’ ya,” Price assured him.
“Mmkay,” Soap agreed.
Price pulled away from him and Soap’s eyes found Ghost standing at ease nearby, watching what Price was doing very closely. His clothes were covered in blood. My blood, Soap realized. He shuddered again. It was a good time for a nap, he thought. But Price returned with cleaning and medical supplies, so he doubted he’d get much sleep. Still, he closed his eyes and drifted a little, trusting his captain to handle things. He thought he was still smiling, but he couldn’t be sure.