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Soap closed his eyes as the first few tunes of a, by now, familiar song started playing. If asked, he wouldn't really be able to describe it in words. Just that it was some electro tune. One that was underlined with some sort of static. He was pretty sure there were words in it as well, but he wouldn't be able to tell what they were. Though, he was pretty sure he knew exactly what those words said. He just couldn't remember.
But while he wouldn't remember the song itself, what happened to him whenever it played was painfully clear in his mind. Even now, Soap could feel his muscles relax against his will. His body became soft, plaint, ready to take the abuse that would follow without a fight. Would enjoy it even.
Soap tried to grit his teeth, tried to fight against the hold the song had over him. Tried to block it out.
But he failed.
Just as he had every other time since he had been captured by Makarov.
Soap couldn't even remember how it had happened. The last thing he could remember of before was the reveal that Makarov knew Yuri, called him a friend. The explosion and the pain that followed. He thought that he told Price about their connection, but by now he was no longer certain of that fact. All he was certain of was that Makarov had somehow got his hands on him, patched him up, and now kept him as his own personal pet.
Speaking of the devil, Makarov opened the door to Soap's room. Acting all nonchalant and casual, as if he weren't here to destroy Soap with his touch. Their eyes met after Makarov locked the door. Soap wished he could still glare at the man, to let his true feelings about the situation shine through his eyes. He failed, though. His eyes more half lidded with desire, lust, that enveloped him as the music continued to play through speakers Soap couldn't reach. Makarov's eyes glinted with amusement. All too aware of what Soap was trying and failing to do.
"Come here, and greet me like a proper wife."
The first command of the day.
Soap found himself completely walled off any control over his body, pushed into the background as Makarov's "wife" took control of him. A persona crafted by Makarov to do whatever he wished. One Soap refused to acknowledge as a part of himself. No matter what Makarov told him. No matter what feelings she might pull to the front of his mind. She slipped out of the bed Soap had laid in, unashamed to lose the blankets that covered the fact she only wore sheer and lace lingerie. A matching set, of course. Soap had long since learned that he'd preferred to wear them over being completely bare, even if it ended with him hiding beneath blankets whenever he could.
She approached Makarov with confidence, took pride in the way Makarov's eyes travelled over her body. She ignored the way Soap shivered in disgust as she leaned in and planted a loving, soft kiss on Makarov's lips. "Welcome home."
Makarov chased her lips, pulled her into a much more passionate kiss. He coaxed her to open her mouth with his tongue. Pulled her against him until she could feel his growing hardness in his pants. An action that had her shiver with excitement. Makarov only released her once they were both panting heavily. The pale green of his eyes was barely visible past his dilated pupils. "Take my suit off."
She complied, as she always did. Her movements were smooth, and fluid as she disrobed Makarov and hung up his suit. A testament of how many times Makarov had already visited her. Once the only thing Makarov wore was his underwear, she came to stand in front of him. She awaited her next command, like a good wife. Makarov rewarded her with a gentle caress of her cheek. She shivered with an emotion that made Soap's stomach turn. An emotion far too close to love for his comfort. It didn't lessen, either. Neither with time nor with the way Makarov's hand slid down her body until it rested beneath one of her breasts. A thumb brushed against the seam where lace met skin.
"You've never worn this one before."
With good reason, considering that there wasn't much of any fabric covering anything. Not that the sheer lace covered much more, but at least the other sets didn't come with a thong. Soap had kept away from them as much as possible, for as long as possible. But Makarov loved to get a bit rough whenever he spent some quality time with his wife, and slowly the number of sets to choose from got smaller and smaller.
Makarov's wife only smiled at him. The same, small, innocent one that always managed to drive Makarov wild. It didn't fail to do just that this time, either. His eyes got impossibly dark. His free hand joined his other one as they roughly groped and kneaded her breasts through her bra. She gasped in surprise. Arched her back in a way that pushed her chest further into his hands. She took a hold of his hands, and led them underneath her bra. Clever fingers found her nipples. Teased and twisted them until a continuous string of moans left her throat. Her hands caressed his bare arms, up towards his shoulders. She tugged slightly at Makarov's shoulders. A silent plea for another hungry kiss that Makarov generously granted her.
He slowly pushed her towards the bed. He was obviously in a good mood today. Maybe it was because of her eagerness. Maybe it was because of things that Soap didn't dare to imagine. Makarov only removed himself from her once her legs bumped against the bed.
"On your back, I want to see your pretty face today."
A blush rose to her cheeks that had nothing to do with how winded the kiss left her. She was quick to comply. Settled on top of the sheets comfortably. Feet on the mattress with her legs spread, waiting for him to crawl on top of her. Makarov licked his lips as he took her in. A show of teeth as if she were nothing but vulnerable prey laid out for him to take. And that was exactly what she was. What Soap was.
Makarov let his underwear fall to the floor before he crawled on top of her. His hard cock bobbed with the movement, but her eyes were drawn to his more than anything. As if she didn't want to miss a single second of him looking at her. One of Makarov's hands slid down one of her thighs. Followed it between her legs. Down to where the only thing noticeable from her panties was the single thin seam of the thong. Down to where she was already wet and open for him.
"So wet..."
"Just for you," she was quick to assure.
Everything for Makarov.
"Of course. You're mine. My wife." He kissed along her throat. "And no one will ever be able to take you away from me, John."
Soap flinched inside his mind. Tried to crawl deeper into it as Makarov pushed the seam aside to pull out the plug that had kept him open for hours, the only preparation Makarov allowed most of the time. But he was held in place by his body, her body, their body. Couldn't get away from Makarov entering their hole. He was bigger than the plug. Stretched them out around his cock.
It hurt.
Yet, it felt so good.
Their body used to taking Makarov's length, welcoming it inside over and over again.
She didn't hold any noises back. Too well-trained in letting Makarov know how good he made her feel. The slapping of skin against skin, and the squelching sounds of their wet hole, were almost drowned out by her voice. Her moans were loud, her screams louder. Yet, the almost whispers of "Vladimir" were the loudest. Each one like an explosion inside Soap's mind. Each one rewarded by Makarov with a hard thrust.
"That's right," Makarov said into her skin. "Continue to say my name like that. Let everyone know who your real God is."
"Vladimir!"
Teeth grazed over the skin of her neck.
"Again."
"Vladimir!"
Fingers dug into her hips until he was sure to leave bruises.
"Again."
"Vlad- Ah!" She threw her head back as he angled himself perfectly to hit their prostate. She clenched around Makarov's cock in reflex. "Vladimir..."
Makarov groaned as he sunk his teeth into her neck. An action he repeated every time he hit that spot that drove her crazy. Neither noticing nor caring about the tears of pain-filled pleasure that ran down her cheeks. Some of which were soaked up by his wild black hair.
As her orgasm was rapidly approaching, she sunk her fingers into his hair. Slightly coaxed him to tilt his head upwards. "Vladimir, please," she begged.
Makarov didn't hesitate to lift his head. He captured her lips just in time for her to come on his cock. Her cum soaked the front of her panties, dripped through the lace texture in a way that all but assured that this set was ruined as well. Makarov wasn't far behind her. Though, he continued fucking into her as he came. To fuck his cum as deep into her as he could. Used her contracting muscles to milk himself dry.
It was almost romantic. Coming together like this. Maybe she thought it was, but Soap couldn't help but remember who Makarov was, why Soap was in this position in the first place, why Makarov's wife even existed.
With their body exhausted, Soap thankfully found himself dragged towards unconsciousness. Though, not before he was all too aware of Makarov pulling out and replacing the plug.
Soap only woke up alone in bed. Probably long after both Makarov and the music were long gone. It might've been early morning, but Soap knew that men like Makarov didn't operate on a normal schedule. He had hunted the man down far too long to assume he operated on such an easy schedule.
He made his way to the adjacent bathroom. While he knew he didn't have the energy for a proper shower or bath, he at least wanted to wash his face and brush his teeth. Just to get rid of the taste of Makarov in his mouth. All while ignoring the mirror and the woman he didn't wish to see. Brushing his teeth was something his body was trained to do automatically, no further attention had to be put into that.
But no matter how much time passed, he never could get over the reflex of looking in the mirror after washing his face with a few handfuls of water.
And when Soap looked into the mirror, there was no curvy, lustrous woman.
The only one who looked back at him was himself.
The satisfaction of having been dicked down good was clear to see on his face. The marks Makarov left on his skin on proud display. The echoes of Makarov's touch, of his cock, still echoed through his system. The cum plugged inside his arse a claim that he wouldn't lose anytime soon. But that would fade sooner than the golden band around his left ring finger.
He was the perfect image of Makarov's wife.
Soap looked away from the mirror. He still refused to acknowledge that Makarov's wife was a part of himself.
One that had always been there.