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Soap had figured out from a very young age, that you could get whatever you wanted as long as you said the right combination of words.
It was almost like a mathematical equation. He had it down to a science. Didn’t even need to be truthful.
People didn’t actually want the truth, they just wanted to hear what they wanted to hear.
So Soap let them hear it. It had served him well, getting him in good graces with higher ups, helping further his career, helped him get laid any time he wanted, because people were so desperate to be loved by someone who couldn’t do it.
But Simon fucking Riley. That man came and switched everything up.
Soap knew he was the best of the best, that’s why he was so successful at such a young age. Why he had made Sergeant in a highly trained military covert task force at just 26. But Lieutenant Ghost seemed to beat him in damn near every way imaginable and it grated his fucking gears.
He was stealthier, faster, a better shot, bested all his times during training. The only thing Soap could hold a candle to was his expertise in demolition.
But even someone as solid as the Ghost could be broken down by the right words. It was easy, as soon as he realized the brute was into him. The playful flirting turned inappropriate, a calculated “accidental” brush of hands here and there-
Ghost was putty in his hands by the end of the year. It felt good to have some control over the man who challenged his self assuredness, felt good to be able to break him down and put him back together just in the way Soap liked. And it felt even better to hear the other one beg for it.
“Please, Johnny,” Ghost huffed, clad in nothing but his briefs as he straddled the other’s shin, hips rolling to chase the damn near painful friction of a fully dressed Soap’s jeans against his achingly hard cock.
“Ah-ah, Ghostie.” Soap tsked, enjoying the visible shiver that ran down the phantom’s spine at his favorite nickname. “Yer gonna get off on my leg like a good pup, aye?” He teased.
Ghost’s cow brown eyes looked up through wet eyelashes as he continued his drag against the fabric, a wet spot forming at the tip of cock through his grey briefs. “So pretty,” Soap cooed. Ghost was a tank on the battlefield, a right scary motherfucker to anyone who dared challenge him. But here he was, humping his sergeants leg like a dog. Soap relished in the thought. He always felt the best when getting the other off, the humiliation radiating from the man as he drives Ghost to orgasm even through the most degrading of acts.
“Johnny, please, need more,” Ghosts breathy moans rang out, hips starting to stutter as his orgasm approached.
Soap leaned down, condescending smile on his lips as he spoke. “You wanna be good for me, right? Good boys don’t beg after being told no. Listen and be good, mutt.” He commands, shifting his leg to press more into the other’s leaking cock.
Ghost bites back a whine but listens nonetheless, taking what he needs as he feels the tight coil of arousal in him wind up. He presses his forehead against Johnny’s stomach, needing anything to ground himself as his hips speed up slightly, shaking as he comes untouched with a whimpered “Johnny,” falling from his lips.
His briefs are uncomfortably wet now as he slows his rocking, the rush of his orgasm fading as he tries to catch his breath. Johnny stares down at him from his spot, face stoic as Ghost looks up at him, eyelashes wet with tears.
“Look at you. Such a pathetic little pup.” He taunts, moving his leg quickly to watch the other fall back on his ass. “What would people think if they saw you like this? Big bad scary Ghost, crying after humping my leg?” He coo’s meanly.
Ghost bites his lip, the humiliation making his spent cock twitch in interest. “Will you stay tonight?” He asks.
Soap feigns thought for a moment. “Maybe if you’d been a good boy, I would’ve.” He shrugs. Standing up, he makes way to Ghost’s door, hand on the doorknob. Ghost frowns, moving to stand.
“I’ll be better.” He promises, and he means it. He’d be anything Johnny needed him to be.
Soap hummed, amused smirk on his lips as he turned the doorknob. “Enjoy your leave tomorrow, Simon.” He calls.
“You’ll call, right?” Ghost asks, hopeful.
Soap knows he won’t. He never does, not until he knows Ghost needs something to pull him back after being pushed so far.
Because that’s what makes Ghost come crawling back each time. He’s mean, cruel even sometimes, until he isn’t. The rare times he stays, letting Ghost curl around him as he whispers sweet nothings to him in the dark after the other milks his cock. He knows Ghost will put up with anything Johnny gives him, just to be able to get those sweet moments. Because those moments mean more to Ghost than any of the mean times. And Soap will keep stringing him along as long as he lets him, because the thought of anyone else touching Ghost, getting to see his Ghost like this? Infuriates him. Ghost will always be his toy. No one else’s.
“Sure.” Soap says, throwing a smile over his shoulder. And with that, he leaves, the soft click of the door being the only evidence he was even ever there. And Ghost watches him go, knowing he’s not going to get that call. Knowing the other will ignore him for however many days his leave consists of. But also knowing he’ll get to have Soap’s sickly sweet apology when he comes back, knowing he’ll probably spend the night and tell him how much he missed him.
And that’s all Ghost needs.
Knowing that the bigger the push, the bigger the pull. Ghost just had to be good. He’d be good. For Soap.