The atmosphere in Soap’s flat was gloomy, typical of the London weather he wasn’t quite a fan of: soggy, gray, dreary, and always on the cusp of a downpour. It usually soured his mood; this time, it translated inside his home.
He didn’t even bother to turn the lights on, just let the dull, gray light filter through the windows as he lay on the couch, unsure of what to do with his time. He found it all depressing.
The entire team was granted a week’s leave, and this was supposed to be Soap’s time to get some much-needed rest and do whatever the hell he damn pleased. And while he was grateful for finally being able to sit down and breathe, he realized he wasn’t entirely used to it anymore—this strange calmness.
He had considered seeing his family back home in Scotland but decided not to in the end. One week wasn’t enough for them anyway, so he opted to stay in London for some alone time. Now, he was beginning to doubt if he made the right decision. He wasbored as f*ck—which was something he did not expect. He hadn’t even been at his flat for 24 hours, yet he felt like he was going out of his mind from the drabness of everything.
Soap felt restless—his body had gotten used to constant action and adrenaline pumping in his veins, used to being alert and ready all the time, used to danger.This was the complete opposite. It was too safe, too bland, too normal, and it made him feel uneasy.
There was nothing suitable on the telly, and he’d be damned to admit now was the ideal time to lie back on the couch and watch a movie with a cold beer in hand. The thought of sitting still in front of a TV screen for roughly two hours made him want to claw his eyes out.
He heaved a loud, weary sigh. He should probably go out to a pub—at least it’d be livelier there, louder definitely, and drinks and socialization weren’t an entirely terrible idea. In fact, Soap thought it was quite a good idea. And if he was lucky, he’d perhaps get to take someone home and finally have a proper f*ck.
Months of just his hand easing his carnal aches were miserable, but he had to make do with what he could. How he longed for an actual body on him, skin on skin, sweat, the sounds of huffed gasps and loud moans, the feeling of someone’s tongue licking into his, his dick inside a warm hole or possibly, one inside his—no, he stopped where this train of thought was going.
No matter how hard Soap tried, all his horny thoughts eventually ended up on one person. The one secret he kept deep, deep within himself. It was too complicated. For starters, that person was a man, just like himself. It shouldn’t be a problem, right? Well, it was… because Soap still hadn’t entirely processed this whole getting-horny-for-another-man bit. It still made him a little off-kilter, thanks to the Catholicism. Next, that man was his commanding officer, adding to more complications, fraternization, and whatnot—big trouble for their line of work if they get found out, especially for his lieutenant. But Soap couldn’t help how his heart skipped a beat, and his skin shivered whenever he was near. He did his best to control any physical reactions; he had to keep it professional, keep it tactical, and all. And lastly, he wasn’t entirely sure Ghost was interested in him that way.
They were friendly, had great banter, and worked exceptionally well together. There might also have been some light flirting if Soap were to indulge himself. Besides Price, Soap thought he was the next person closest to Ghost, and that counted for something.
But still, Ghost was a cryptic code he could not crack, a bomb he was unable to diffuse. Soap wasn’t even sure if Ghost was attracted to men, let alone him.
He couldn’t seem to breach an opening to ask the burning question, and making the first move was incredibly risky. He had no idea what the hell he was doing, to begin with, only following what his body dictated—which was to ultimately get physically closer to Ghost, rational thinking thrown right out the window.
Soap also had no idea how Ghost would react. There was a chance it’d be violent, and he’d get a good decking. If Ghost would at least be cool with it, but it was still a ‘no’, that ‘he was not like that’, or worse, ‘just not into you’, Soap thought he’d quite possibly die of shame. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself after such a rejection. He’d probably request a transfer to another unit based far away so that the chances of their paths crossing again would be slim. Or maybe he’ll just quit the SAS altogether, find something else to do, maybe become a farmer back in Scotland. He could do that, he thought. It could be peaceful. Perhaps he’d find a nice lass and eventually get married, just to finally shut his Ma and Da up.
Soap sighed noisily, letting all his pent-up frustrations out on the exhale. Unrequited attraction was something he was not used to. He never had a problem chatting up girls at school when he was a teenager, and then there were the ex-girlfriends, the f*ck buddies, and the one-night stands that he barely had any difficulty in pulling. Simply put, Soap wasn’t used to being turned down. So this entire crush on his commanding officer, of all people, was just… a thorn in his side that he couldn’t get rid of, a thorn that hurt beautifully.
He’d tried his best not to think about it and was doing well over the past few weeks. Until now, in the gloomy state of his home and the glaring fact that he was alone, he caved in and let his mind drift to where it shouldn’t. It was always an easy battle to lose when it came to Simon Riley. Soap had to laugh at himself.
Since Ghost had managed to slither into his thoughts again, he might as well make something out of it.
He knew his lieutenant was also in London. Ghost wasn’t much of a fan of going home to Manchester. He said ‘ there was nothing to do there’ when Soap dared to ask him about it once, and it ended at that. He didn’t want to pry further, even though he was deathly curious about the real reason, so he just left it. Ghost’s flat was probably full of dust and cobwebs. Suits him with that skull mask of his, Soap chuckled to himself at the thought.
If Ghost was in the same city as he was, it shouldn’t be too difficult to reach him. Yes, Soap decided he would bother his CO—payback for making Soap think about him while he was wallowing in boredom in his miserable flat with the miserable weather. He might as well have some harmless fun; he had nothing better to do anyway.
With a wicked smile plastered on his face and ignoring how his stomach swooped, he reached for his phone on the coffee table and dialed Ghost’s number.
It rang for a long time, and Soap thought Ghost wouldn’t answer. Then, when he was about to give up and drop the call at the last second, he heard a low grunt on the other line.
Soap’s mind blanked instantly. What the hell was he going to say? He couldn’t think of anything, so he just breathed on the receiver for a few seconds.
“Do you ever plan on speaking, Johnny?” Ghost asked, breaking Soap out of his trance.
“Aye, wouldn’t have called ya if I didn’t,” Smooth, Soap thought sarcastically.
“Mmm,” Ghost grunted again.
Those sounds were giving Soap brain damage.
“So, what ya up to, Lt.?” Soap finally managed.
“Not much, Johnny.”
A man of few words this f*cker was. Just couldn’t make it easier.
Before Soap could think of what to say, Ghost asked, “What about you, Johnny? What are you up to?”
The way Ghost kept saying his name made his brain fizzle. He managed to get himself composed right away, though.
“Well, I’m just at home, hating the weather and bored out of my mind…” he began.
Then Soap prattled on about the somber vibes of his flat, how utterly bored he was, how the weather was sh*te, how he wanted to hit a pub, how he hadn’t unpacked yet, nor showered. He thought he heard Ghost’s breath hitch at that last part.
“Bet you stink, Johnny,” Ghost said with a good-humored laugh.
“Oi, I don’t stink that bad!” Soap defended himself while simultaneously sniffing his armpits. Okay, there was some odor, but it was masked by his deodorant and excessive cologne that had faded some by now. Still, it wasn’t that funky.
“I’ve been with you when we hadn’t showered for days, Johnny, covered in mud, grime, sweat, and dust. Trust me, I know what you smell like.”
What the f*ck? Why did Soap’s heart suddenly flip wildly at Ghost’s words? I know what you smell like?Who says that to their subordinate?
Soap shook his head to clear his mind before it wandered off to inappropriate places.
“Awfully quiet there, Johnny. You alright?”
Soap could swear he could hear a soft snicker after that, the bastard.
“Aye, ye bawbag,” he snapped back. Soap then cackled, realizing just how absurd their conversation was going. “Just so you know, you stink too!”
“Not denying that,” Ghost affirmed.
Both men laughed comfortably until they fell into easy silence.
After a beat, Ghost spoke, in that teasing, low voice of his, “So, tell me more about your horrible day, Johnny.”
Soap obliged him. This was the relaxed ease they were used to: Soap talking and Ghost listening and making his stupid jokes. So he told him more about his day as he paced around the living room, starting from his flight to the moment he arrived home, everything in excruciating detail, including the trivial ones, while Ghost hummed and grunted on the other line.
It was in the middle of one of his tirades about whether he should add more color to his place to liven it up when Soapheard it.
Ghost grunted rather loudly, followed by what sounded like clothes rustling, and then... there… a loud stream of liquid that sounded like it was hitting the water on a toilet bowl.
Soap froze in place, and just listened.
Was Ghost pissing while on the phone with him? Jesus, it was loud and continuous. It was not what you’d call a trickle; it was an actual torrent of piss that Ghost seemed to have held for the longest and was now releasing.
A few low moans and rasps escaped from Ghost’s mouth while Soap was on the other line, hearing it all, stunned into silence.
What the actual f*ck? He didn’t know what to feel, but he was captivated. It just kept going and going, and Soap was genuinely amazed at how much piss Ghost was producing.
He felt his dick twitch in his jeans. f*ck. This was doing numbers to his system. Soap thought he should say something, but his mind was frozen, mesmerized at listening to the steady surge of piss coming out of Ghost’s co*ck. And Ghost wasn’t goading him to talk. Did he want Soap to listen? What was his deal?
Soap’s head was spinning.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the perpetual loud stream slowed to a dribble, then a sigh from Ghost that almost sounded like a moan, and finally, the sound of a toilet flushing, which all but confirmed it.
He had just listened to Ghost piss while on the phone with him, and Ghost just let him. He had to process what just happened because he couldn’t fathom it all right at that moment.
“So Johnny,” Ghost’s low drawl snapped him out of his daze. “Got plans tonight?”
“Uh…”
sh*t. Soap willed his brain to function, to answer immediately so as not to make it weird. Sure, mates pissed in front of each other, no big deal. It wasn’t the first time they’d done it; out on the field, they didn’t exactly have the luxury of privacy. But something about this felt loaded—like it was done on purpose. For what, though? Soap wasn’t entirely sure. He was still baffled about it all.
“I dunno, might take a rain check on the pub,” Soap answered, suddenly not in the mood for people and loud places. His insides felt like jelly. He returned and sat on the couch before his knees gave out under him.
“You?” Soap asked him back.
“None, Johnny.”
“So you’re just staying in then?”
“That a problem?”
“Never said it was,” crankiness laced Soap’s voice.
Ghost just laughed low on the other line. “Alright then, I’ll leave you back to your moping.”
Soap felt a pang in his chest that Ghost was hanging up, but he knew it was for the best. He was suddenly feeling volatile.
“Nice talking to you, Johnny.”
“Aye,” was all he managed to say weakly before he heard the click of the call being dropped and dead silence on the other end.
Soap just sat on the couch, mind going a hundred miles an hour but simultaneously rooted in place.
What the f*ck just happened?
He tried with all his might, but Soap couldn’t get what happened on the phone call with Ghost out of his mind. It made him feel even more on edge, mind racing but unsure exactly what to do about it.
He had not left the couch since Ghost ended the call. He tried to ignore what happened and attempted to take a nap. Still, every time he closed his eyes, all he could picture in his head was Ghost holding his co*ck in one hand with piss streaming exquisitely from it, a golden waterfall if you were depraved enough… or curious, which Soap was convinced he was. Yeah, he was justcurious.
How warm was it? What did it taste like? Would he let Ghost piss in his mouth? Would he swallow it?
All these thoughts shook him to his core; this was something he had never dared to consider, and it had never once crossed his mind. And now, it was all he could think of. His world felt turned upside down. How did something so unexpected get him all fired up? Ghost really did a number on him with that stunt.
Soap tossed and turned on the couch until he could take it no longer. He felt like he was going mad, like something had taken over his brain, and it wouldn’t rest until he did something about it, until he found out for himself.
Throwing all caution to the wind and ignoring the gnawing insecurities he had concerning Ghost, Soap paced around the living room as he decided.
What was the harm in trying? The pervert seemed to enjoy it; he moaned like a whor* knowing Soap was on the other line, listening. He was convinced the bastard did it on purpose.
He now let his mind cross treacherous territories—maybe Ghost also wanted Soap? And that was his unusual way of letting Soap know? Only one way to find out. Damn the complications; they were on leave anyway, nobody had to know.
In an instant, Soap’s mind was locked in. Right there and then, he knew he wanted Ghost and only Ghost. It didn’t matter if he was a man and that Soap’s never been with one. It was never too late to try. His CO got him f*cked up good. He was beyond reasonable judgment and sound decisions; only the nerves and the heat in his body dictated his next move.
He grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys, not bothering to shower anymore, quickly opened the door to his flat, shut the door rather fiercely, and left.
Thankfully, the rain had stopped when Soap got out of his building. The wet pavement reflected the street lights shining at night in a pretty way that Soap appreciated. That, at least, improved his mood marginally as he walked.
He stopped by a corner shop and got a 10-pack of Peroni lager. He knew Ghost loved bourbon, but beer made you piss more. He added another 10-pack for good measure. As he was paying, he looked at the condoms displayed near the counter and wondered if he should get some, then decided against it. f*ck it, ruining it all for Ghost. Every sensible thought had left Soap’s brain, and he was practically thinking with his dick.
He then briskly walked to Ghost’s flat like a man on a mission. What mission exactly? He wasn’t too sure. He just wanted to get drunk with Ghost and see where it went. Who knew what the night had in store? His skin prickled in anticipation as he walked faster.
Whatever happened earlier unlocked something in Soap he didn’t know he harbored. There was something unbearably alluring about Ghost not giving so much of a f*ck as to do something that was usually private in Soap’s presence. He felt like a voyeur who was also given permission and somehow forced into the situation, yet he didn’t do anything to stop it. It completely messed up his head.
He desperately wanted Ghost to do it again in front of him this time, let him watch. Soap wanted to put his lips on Ghost’s still dripping co*ck; he wanted to dri—he wantedso, so badly.
Once Soap got to Ghost’s door, he gave it a couple of assertive bangs, not caring if it would annoy his lieutenant or the neighbors. After a few moments and several incessant knocks, the door finally opened, revealing Ghost, shirtless, maskless, and clad only in grey joggers that did nothing to hide the monster he kept in his pants.
Soap’s breath hitched as he gaped at the man in front of him, absolutely shameless. Ghost had one arm propped on the doorframe, exposing his armpit. Soap’s gaze paused there for a beat too long before moving down to his torso, the scarred skin and the muscles under a small layer of fat, the V of his hips and the hair on his stomach going downward and below his low-slung sweats, the outline of his limp co*ck and balls, sweatpants doing a piss poor job to conceal them. His eyes lingered there the longest.
And the thing was, Ghost just let him, as if he wanted to be ogled.
For a while, they stayed there. Ghost’s eyes were soft on Soap’s as he stared at Ghost’s body like a man hypnotized.
Suddenly, Soap snapped out of it when it dawned on him that maybe Ghost had company and that he had intruded. Because why wouldn’t he open his door all the way through? Why was he blocking the inside of his flat with his body? Was he f*cking someone? Ghost’s hair was mussed, and those sweats looked haphazardly put on; they sat too low on his hips. Soap’s face fell instantaneously, evident with his signature pout that he couldn’t seem to hide.
“Something wrong, Johnny?” Ghost asked in his low, husky voice, sounding concerned but also amused.
Soap tried to find the words to ask him without appearing affected or jealous. Ghost just watched him as he tried to work out the emotions on his face, eventually settling on chagrin.
“Nah, just wondering if maybe you were busy,” he responded without meeting Ghost’s eyes. He peeked over Ghost’s shoulder before asking the dreaded question, eyes hardening, “You got company?”
Simon just smiled, a delighted look in his eyes. Soap couldn’t handle it; his face felt hot, and he couldn’t look directly at Ghost.
After an intense moment of standing before each other, Ghost opened the door wider and said, “No, Johnny, it’s just me. Wanna come in, or you rather we just stand here?”
The relief that washed over Soap made his knees turn weak. f*ck, this was really happening.
He rolled his eyes and nodded as he followed Ghost inside.
Ghost’s flat was scarcely furnished, but it had the bare necessities: a massive couch, coffee table, and a flat-screen TV on the wall. The kitchen had a table with chairs, a huge fridge, a stove, a microwave, and a kettle. Functional, at least, Soap thought.
“What ya got for me there, Johnny?” Ghost asked, nodding at the shopping bag of lagers Soap was carrying.
“Beer.”
Ghost gave him a knowing smirk. “Bored at home?”
“Aye, thought bothering ya would be a better waste of my time,” Soap said as he passed Ghost a can, and they sat around the kitchen table.
Ghost assessed the can before cracking open the tab. “Peroni? So cultured, Johnny,” he said teasingly.
“Oi shut it, ya dafty. I just picked up whatever seemed decent at the shop,” Soap retorted, not wanting to give Ghost the idea that he was trying to impress him because he could honestly do better. They just needed something decent to drink, that was all.
Ghost just hummed. He took a few sips of his beer, then said, “I was about to take a shower, but then you showed up bearing gifts, so I thought, eh, it could wait.”
He then nodded at Soap, indicating his sweat-drenched t-shirt, pit stains and all. sh*t. He thought about what Ghost said again earlier, about how he knew what Soap smelled like. What the f*ck did that mean?
“Aww, how nice of you, Lt.,” Soap said sarcastically.
He suddenly felt self-conscious. Was Ghost poking fun at his sweaty shirt? Soap realized he still hadn’t showered, and the walk toward Ghost’s flat carrying the beers made him sweat more. Was Ghost implying he smelled? That annoyed him for some reason, and before he could stop himself, he fired out, “You telling me I smell bad, Lt.?”
Ghost howled, clearly finding all of Soap’s hot-headedness hilarious.
“Never said anything, Johnny.” Ghost took a sip of his beer while peculiarly looking at Soap in a way he’d never done before, as if he seemed thrilled to have Soap alone at his place. “Haven’t showered either,” Ghost added, “So we both smell if that makes you feel any better.”
“How considerate, should I thank you then?”
“Only if you want to,” Ghost said noncommittally.
Soap chugged his beer to try and get a grip on himself. What the f*ck was happening? He just got here and already managed to get riled up twice. He felt like a walking fireball, pent up with so much—he didn’t know; he couldn’t put a name to it.
Both men sat silently as they finished their beers and went for a second one before Ghost spoke again and changed the topic. Soap was grateful for it.
They eased into comfortable conversation as they drank, their usual banter and jokes slowly slinking their way through. Eventually, they moved from the kitchen to the couch as they made their way through the 10-pack. Simon was still shirtless and bare-faced, never bothered to put on a shirt. Their knees knocked occasionally on the couch, both men spreading their legs as wide as possible.
As Soap was in the middle of telling a story, all animated, raising his arms while gesturing, obviously already tipsy, he noticed Ghost’s eyes flit for a second toward the pit stains on his shirt before moving them back up again to meet his as he took a long sip from his lager.
The air felt charged, and it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. Soap knew it wasn’t just him who seemed to expect something to happen. His original intention was to get Ghost drunk enough to fool around with him, but what Soap did not expect was Ghost seeming to have an agenda of his own: the loaded fleeting glances, the non-answers whenever Soap would try to get a rise out of him, holding himself back because he knew that drove Soap crazy. And then there was that self-assured look on his face like he had something cheeky planned.
Either way, this would probably work out in his favor, and that placated Soap. He still felt on edge, though, so he opened another can of lager and drank to help calm his nerves.
Out of nowhere, Ghost stood up and crushed his empty beer can before throwing it on the coffee table.
“Gotta take a piss,” he announced as he moved around the couch and walked toward the bathroom, his fat ass framed nicely by those damn sweatpants as Soap turned around to watch him.
sh*t. This was it, Soap thought. Losing inhibition fueled by the alcohol, he stood up after a few seconds and followed Ghost to the bathroom before he had the chance to change his mind.
The door wasn’t locked, like Soap was expected. He barged in and sat on the sink just as Ghost lowered his sweatpants down his hips and settled it below his balls, ignoring his visitor at first.
Soap stared blatantly. Not only was Ghost’s co*ck insanely impressive, but his nutsa*ck was also a thing of beauty, big and heavy. Ghost didn’t trim his pubes and was pretty hairy down there. What a brute, Soap thought. But it was such a Ghost thing to do that it only felt right. Not that he often did either; occasionally, he’d trim for ‘special occasions’, but he hadn’t tonight.
And then the show began; Ghost held his dick in one hand and started pissing, looking at Soap to make sure he was watching. Oh, Soap couldn’t take his eyes away even if he was forced to. Hearing it on the phone was brain-breaking. Watching it happen in real-time in front of him? Soul-ascending. He felt hypnotized as he watched that heavy, steady stream of gold spurting out of Ghost’s limp co*ck.
“Like what you’re seeing, Johnny?” Ghost’s low voice broke him out of his stupor. He still kept his eyes on Ghost’s dick as he answered breathlessly, “Aye.”
Ghost just chuckled. “Didn’t know you had this in you.”
“Neither did I, Lt.”
Ghost hummed, “Interesting.”
The heavy, constant flow was now slowly turning into a trickle. sh*t, he was almost done. Soap felt antsy. He wanted to do something he’d never done before but feared it might be too late.
“Are you just gonna sit there or get your mouth over here for a taste, babe?”
That did Soap in. He immediately got off the sink without thinking and kneeled by the toilet as Ghost maneuvered his co*ck toward Soap’s mouth, already wide open and ready.
Soap managed to catch the last few spurts before Ghost was finally done and jiggled his dick in front of Soap’s face, drops of piss painting his face.
He swallowed as his eyes bored into Ghost’s. The piss tasted strange, but still, Soap thought it was something he could get used to.
Ghost smirked as he tucked himself back in his sweats and, in a rare act of tenderness, wiped the droplets of piss off Soap’s face with a paper towel.
“You’re filthy, sergeant,” he teased as he helped haul Soap up before leaving the bathroom. Soap just stood there for a few seconds, processing just what happened.
He just tasted Ghost’s piss. It felt insane. How did it go from a deeply buried, unrequited crush into… ingesting bodily fluids in several hours? The aftertaste still burned warm on his throat. He wanted more.
Soap returned to the living room and found Ghost smoking. He lit a cigarette from the pack before sitting beside him.
Suddenly, Ghost hooked his ankle against Soap’s and pulled his leg closer, “Get in here.”
Soap obliged, scooting closer to Ghost, who clearly wasn’t satisfied because he ordered, “Closer, in here,” opening his arms and thighs wide to get Soap on top of him.
With a racing heart, Soap straddled Ghost’s thighs, facing him, and sat comfortably in his lieutenant’s lap, which made their clothed co*cks brush against each other and earned a low, involuntary gasp out of Ghost.
Soap breathed heavily as he looked at Ghost, who was nonchalantly taking a drag off his cigarette. Ghost stared back at him, and there was something in his eyes that looked a little like affection… and hunger.
For some time, they just stayed like that, staring at each other while smoking, crotches pressed against the other, feeling each other’s obviously hard co*cks. Nobody dared to move. It seemed they were assessing one another. If this was what the other really wanted, if they were going to cross that line that they both knew they could never go back to.
Of course, they could never speak it out loud. There were too many things in the way, too many complications that talking about it could just about ruin whatever was going on between them right now, and it was apparent that neither wanted to back down.
So they settled to let their bodies dictate what they wanted deep down, to let their eyes convey what they couldn’t say out loud: I want you.
When their cigarettes were nearly burned down to the filter, Ghost took Soap’s cigarette butt and, with one arm around his back, leaned down to ditch the cigs in an empty beer can before pulling Soap closer to him, both hands firmly cupping his ass.
Soap let out a shaky exhale. His forehead touched Ghost’s, their lips so close that they breathed each other’s air.
This was when Soap found out just how much of an immense f*cking tease Ghost was. He didn’t smash his lips on Soap’s, as Soap expected, but instead brushed them featherlight along his jaw and then down his neck, tongue lightly leaving a trail until it reached his Adam’s apple, and that’s when Ghost left a wet, open-mouthed kiss on his neck. The mewl that came out of Soap’s mouth was filthy, and Ghost just hummed along his skin, seemingly pleased with himself, and then continued his tortuous assault on Soap’s neck.
Only it was still that light, tender teasing, soft licks here and there, and Soap shivered all over even though he was sweating from the heat radiating off both their bodies.
He let Ghost have his way until his mouth finally reached Soap’s, then that dirty f*cking tongue licked his mouth open, and finally, finally, they were kissing.
The kiss wasn’t torrid either, not like Ghost wanted to eat him whole. It was soft, lightly licking against each other’s tongues, like Ghost was slowly getting to know what the inside of Soap’s mouth was. Soap let him lead and followed whatever Ghost wanted to do to him. He was putty in his commanding officer’s hands, a kind of surrender he had never experienced before.
“Yeah, just like that, babe, let go,” Ghost hummed against his mouth, or that’s what Soap thought he said.
So lost in the sensation of Ghost’s hot mouth on his and the delirious feeling of their crotches rubbing against one another, Soap didn’t notice Ghost was pulling off his t-shirt. He raised his arms so Ghost could get it off and watched with widened eyes as he took a long huff from the sweat-stained pits before throwing the shirt on the other side of the couch.
Large hands trailed down the hair on his chest. Soap expected Ghost to have rough, calloused hands, but he noticed how beautiful they were without the gloves. Solid and manly but with clean, elegant fingers, they were surprisingly softer than he expected. He yelped when a thumb found one of his nipples and started rubbing back and forth, teasing and pinching.
Soap groaned loudly as he ground his crotch against Ghost’s once more, harder this time, insistent, unable to take it anymore. He was so hard inside his jeans, and he could feel his boxer briefs wet with precum. Thankfully, Ghost got the hint, ordered him to stand up, and helped him undo his belt and open his fly.
“Take it all off. I want to see you.” Ghost commanded.
Soap hurriedly removed his shoes, then took off the rest of his clothes and stood straight right in front of Ghost in all his naked glory, co*ck hard and leaking.
“Tsk, poor thing,” Ghost murmured. “Bet that’s dying to be touched, eh, sergeant?”
“You just gonna let me stand here, or you’re gonna do something about it?” Soap retorted in that co*cky way of his.
Something changed in Ghost’s eyes at the dare; it looked more feral, just on this side of danger.
“What do you want me to do to you?” Ghost asked gravely, making it clear he wasn’t messing around.
f*ck. Soap’s knees buckled, and Ghost caught him, but this time, he turned him around so that Soap’s back was to Ghost’s chest, sweaty skin against sweaty skin.
Ghost propped Soap’s legs on his knees and spread them open.
Motherf*cker.
“You ever done this before? With another man?”
How Ghost got such an easy read on him was astounding. Soap shook his head.
“f*ck,” Ghost muttered under his breath. “Telling me I’m your first?”
Soap just nodded. Ghost pressed his mouth to the back of Soap’s neck and let out a shaky exhale.
He ordered Soap to spit on his hand then Ghost began working Soap’s aching co*ck, slow at first, setting a slow, tortuous pace as he breathed heavily behind his ear and placed soft kisses on his nape.
“You still haven’t answered me…” Ghost ground his crotch up Soap’s ass, making him feel just how hard he was.
“Huh?” Soap answered uselessly.
“I asked, what do you want me to do to you?”
“I… f*ck,” Soap struggled to respond as Ghost twisted his wrist at the head of Soap’s co*ck.
“I want to…”
Ghost’s hand slid down.
“f*ck… I want to…”
Slid back up and twisted.
“What you…”
And down again.
“Aah… What we…”
Then up and squeezed.
"f*ck… Did in the…”
Down.
“Aaaahh… bathroom…”
Up.
“Fuuuck!”
Ghost rubbed a thumb over Soap’s head, spreading the precum that kept drooling out, gently toying with his dick. Soap panted harshly in return, unable to stay coherent.
“Plenty of time for that later. I asked what I asked, Johnny. You won’t give me an answer.”
Soap groaned; Simon’s hand was insanity. He knew just the right way to tug and pull and squeeze to get the most pleasure out of him.
“If you don’t answer me, I’ll do what I want,” Ghost warned.
“Gimme your best, sir.” Soap managed as Ghost granted him a bit of reprieve to respond.
Oh, it was on.
“Keep your legs wide open for me, just like that.”
Ghost let go of Soap’s co*ck and ordered him to spit on his palm again, over and over, until there was a pool of saliva. Then, he hooked his other hand’s fingers inside Soap’s mouth with no warning and told him to suck and get it wet. Soap obliged, sucking hard and playing with them with his tongue.
He nearly jumped up when Ghost’s wet hand fondled his balls, but Ghost held him back with a strong arm across his chest, instructing him to keep his fingers inside his mouth.
Soap’s mind was reeling. He’d never been touched like this. None of the women he’d been with was as attentive to him as Ghost; they certainly didn’t play with his nuts this way.
After Ghost was satisfied, he moved his hand back up Soap’s shaft and set a slow, steady pace. “Easy,” Ghost breathed in his ear, “Don’t want you to come yet.”
The fingers were then removed from his mouth, and Soap gave out a loud yelp as he suddenly felt them breaching his hole.
Jesus f*cking Christ. Ghost was going to finger him. Soap was starting to feel like he’d gone insane.
The intrusion of Ghost’s thick fingers burned despite how wet with spit it was. Still, Soap welcomed it, and Ghost was going in slowly, steadily pumping in and out until his fingers got deeper inside him.
“Relax,” Ghost instructed. “It’ll slide easier when you’re not clenching. He let go of Soap’s co*ck and started rubbing circles around his stomach, touch soft and reassuring. Once Soap relaxed, Ghost got to working on him again.
The bastard started with two fingers immediately, not giving a sh*t if it was painful or not. He began pumping his fingers faster in tandem with his hand jerking Soap’s co*ck, twisting his wrist near the head on occasion to let the nastiest sounding groans out of Soap.
It felt too much and too good at the same time. Soap’s brain was static, and all that registered were his lieutenant’s sturdy body underneath him, his hot breaths in his ear, and the way his fingers were wreaking havoc down inside him.
He turned around and kissed Ghost, a way to ground himself. One hand grasped Ghost’s hair, a tether to remind him where he was before he lost himself in the intoxicating bliss.
Ghost’s hard, fat co*ck inside his sweats rubbing on Soap’s bare ass wasn’t helping, he couldn’t wait to put it in his mouth and choke on it, but he had to give Ghost this first. He was breathing heavily, and it made Soap’s heart swell. He was so into pleasuring Soap—you couldn’t find a partner just like that. Before he dared to let it cross his mind that he was possibly falling deeper for his commanding officer, Soap kissed Ghost again, hard and wet and with intent, choosing to say in that kiss what he couldn’t even allow himself to think.
Ghost was pumping Soap’s ass faster now that sent him whimpering.
“That’s it, babe… Open your legs wider. I wanna get deeper.” Ghost said as he sucked a bruise on Soap’s neck, who was hanging on for dear life with one hand on the back of Ghost’s head, pulling on the hair, and another squeezing his forearm hard enough that it would surely leave a bruise, but Soap didn’t care. Ghost’s relentless hands were tearing him apart; he could get a little rough in return.
Then Ghost went for it, pushing his fingers deep until it hit Soap’s prostate, and kept doing it and doing it and doing it, all while jerking off his co*ck hard and fast. Soap was shaking from the intolerable euphoria of it all, moaning loudly and incoherently; he barely registered Ghost saying, “You’re f*cking incredible, baby.”
Ghost suddenly removed his hand from Soap’s dick and pressed it hard on his lower abdomen, right where his bladder was. He realized he hadn’t pissed yet from all the drinking, and Ghost’s hand pressing on his bladder, along with his fingers doing their damage inside Soap’s asshole, made him feel it—the sudden urge to piss.
The sick f*ck knew what he was doing. He wanted Soap to piss all over himself and most likely on him too. Soap’s head spun as he could feel himself about to burst. He squirmed in Ghost’s lap as the man held onto his chest like a vice, fingers stilling inside him, locking him in place.
“Let go, Johnny,” Ghost’s husky voice in his ear.
And that was it. Soap seized and trembled as he pissed all over himself and Ghost. The bastard still pushed his hand down his belly, huffing harder by his ear like he was enjoying what he was seeing. Soap groaned as he let it all out, unable to control himself and feeling the immediate relief. Ghost’s fingers were still inside him as he made a mess all over them both.
After he was done, Soap heaved deep breaths, willing himself to come down from whatever madness he had just experienced. Ghost soothed him by trailing fingers on his chest, possibly feeling his rapid heartbeat. He gave Soap a filthy lick just by the crook of his neck and shoulder as he slowly began working his fingers inside him again.
Soap succumbed to it all, just laid back on Ghost’s chest with his legs opened wide like a whor* for his lieutenant, and allowed him to do whatever he wanted to his body.
I’m all yours, he practically screamed. But all Soap could manage were loud gasps and dirty moans. Perhaps those were good enough to get the point across.
Ghost spat directly on Soap’s hard and weeping dick and went back to his onslaught, furiously fingering Soap’s asshole, hitting his prostate over and over while jerking his co*ck in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers. He didn’t stop until Soap’s body quivered, and he felt that white hot heat coil in his belly before coming with a garbled shout all over his stomach and Ghost’s hand, vision nearly blacking out from the insanity of it all.
Soap slumped back to Ghost’s chest as he breathed heavily from perhaps the wildest org*sm he had ever had in his life. At this point, he didn’t know how or if he would even be able to come back from this. Soap realized he didn’t care; he was a goner for Ghost, that he was sure.
Ghost removed his fingers from his ass and his hand off his softening co*ck, then grabbed Soap’s discarded t-shirt and gently cleaned his piss off them while Soap steadied himself. It was the most peaceful he had ever felt, like nothing else mattered except for him and Ghost, solid and comforting beneath him. His brain was empty from getting finger-f*cked out of his mind, just exactly what he needed from all the stress and tension during the past months while they were deployed.
Ghost kissed him softly, tongue teasing his as his fingers made their way to his nipples and lightly squeezed them.
f*ck. Soap felt like he was losing it. He wanted Ghost to stop, yet at the same time, he didn’t. Stop because it felt too much, and continue because he wanted him to play with his body more.
They sat like that for a while, with Ghost lighting a cigarette and sharing it with Soap until both finally settled down.
Until Soap was recovered and confident enough to ask, “So when do I get to go down on you, you filthy bastard?”
“You want it that bad?” Ghost asked him, a smug expression on his face like he felt proud that he managed to get Soap so undone.
“Yes,” Soap answered honestly.
“Know how to do it?”
Soap rolled his eyes at such an absurd question. He had a dick; he should at least know what not to do.
“It’s okay, Johnny. I’ll guide you,” Ghost said with a smirk and a hint of condescension in his voice.
The f*cker. It was probably doing things to Ghost’s ego that he was the first dick Soap was going to suck. But Soap was too horny and in too deep to care; he just wanted his lieutenant’s fat co*ck in his mouth.
He sank to his knees and pulled Ghost’s sweats down to his ankles and off, finally freeing that monster that had been on Soap’s mind for the past 10 hours. He looked up at Ghost and passed him a can of beer—a devious look glittering in his eyes—then scooted closer. He took Ghost’s co*ck in one hand and spat on it, eyes on Ghost the whole time, and experimentally moved his hand up and down, lightly at first, teasing the son of a bitch the way he had teased him.
Ghost cracked open the beer can and took a sip, looking all relaxed, legs spread wide open, balls hanging heavy as Soap continued to jerk him off—the gall of this man to appear unbothered.
Not wanting to prolong it any longer, Soap leaned in and suckled the tip in his mouth, tongue roving sloppily around the foreskin. He heard Ghost suck in a breath.
With quiet determination, Soap tried to take in more of the head, but his teeth caught on the skin. Trying to avoid embarrassment, he played it off and tried to distract Ghost by lapping his tongue around the girth instead.
Ghost didn’t let it slide. He shoved his thumb just inside Soap’s mouth, “No teeth, babe.”
Soap adjusted his lips over his teeth and tried again, pushing deeper, eyes peering up at Ghost, questioning whether he was giving it as good as he thought.
Ghost had that amused, borderline pitying look in his eyes, and Soap’s heart sank. Frustrated at his incompetence, he thought about giving up, but then Ghost exhaled loudly as if he had felt a long-awaited relief.
That was all Soap needed to keep going. He pushed down further, making sure his lieutenant’s co*ck fit properly inside his mouth without catching his teeth on it again. It was a little tricky at first because of the sheer size of what he was working with, but Soap was persistent. This was a lot different from eating c*nt, but he was determined to figure it out. This was his one shot to impress the man he’d been secretly fantasizing about for months; he could not f*ck this up.
Eventually, he managed to get the hang of it and was now sucking co*ck like he had something to prove. He wanted to make this good for Ghost. No, not just good, great, mind-blowing, something he’d never forget. Ambitious for a first-timer like him, but really, Soap wouldn’t let something like that stop him.
He kept sucking, letting his spit drool over so it was wet and messy. The slurping sounds spurring him more to take Ghost’s co*ck deeper. Soap dared to look up at his Lt.—the bastard was smoking a cigarette and sipping his beer. He looked nonchalant but had a pleased spark in his eyes.
Soap sank even further, and the breath Ghost hitched involuntarily with his eyes closed etched itself in his mind forever. He kept his eyes on Ghost as he kept going, wanting to see his every expression. Ghost took a long drag of his cigarette and moaned on the exhale.
“f*ck, that’s it, keep going,” he said as he hurriedly downed his beer and motioned for Soap for another one.
Head thrown back, eyes closed occasionally, moaning and grunting softly in a failed attempt to not make a sound, smoking his cigarette and drinking his beer like Soap’s mouth wasn’t affecting him at all. With all the indifference he tried to keep up, he looked insanely sexy that it was turning Soap’s brain to static again, disbelief washing over him as lapped up Ghost’s fat co*ck before going down and suckling his balls. Ghost jerked at this.
“f*ckin’ hell.”
Soap went to town on Ghost’s balls, huffing the sensitive skin there. He thought it was probably the most unforgettable scent he’d ever smelled: salty, sweaty, and musky. Ghost’s pubes tickled his face, but it didn’t deter him. He went lower and swiped his tongue over Ghost’s taint, which earned him a surprised growl from his lieutenant. Soap thought it was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard.
Gaining more confidence now that it seemed Ghost was enjoying this, he went back to his co*ck and swirled his tongue along the underside before swiping kitten licks on the head, precum leaking like crazy, and Soap slurped it all like he was starving for it.
He went down Ghost’s shaft again, this time determined to take it all. Ghost looked at him intensely as he sipped his beer. He had another cigarette lit this time and was exhaling shakily. Soap went down lower and lower, slow, letting Ghost’s fat co*ck drag against his tongue until, finally, the tip hit the back of his throat.
Soap’s gag reflex wasn’t practiced yet, so he choked and gagged on it but did his best to keep it in. Ghost’s hips twitched below him, which made him gurgle and drool even more. Garbled moans came out of Soap’s mouth before he let up with a loud pop and started slapping Ghost’s co*ck on his cheeks, then lips, then tongue.
“Motherf*cking hell, Johnny.”
Another loud groan, and Ghost grabbed his mohawk with one hand.
“That mouth of yours is unreal, you nasty f*ck.” Soap started to suckle the tip again, but Ghost pulled his head away. “Don’t make me come yet.”
Soap just smirked, satisfied with himself that Ghost was enjoying him.
“Baby, I wanna f*ck your mouth. Do that for me?”
Soap nodded and leaned down. Ghost held his jaw open with one hand as he guided his dick in, “Keep it open just like that,” he instructed.
“I need another beer.”
Soap maneuvered deftly and passed Ghost another can from the coffee table while his co*ck was in his mouth. They looked absolutely debauched, doing the most unhinged things to each other. Soap tried not to catch feelings, but it was hard with how accommodating Ghost was as a sexual partner. He tried to push it aside to deal with later and instead focused on the task.
With one hand on Soap’s nape, Ghost slowly started thrusting into his mouth, slow and shallow at first, while he drank his beer. Then, eventually, fast and deep. Soap took it all, the attack on his throat every time Ghost’s tip hit the back of his throat. It would probably bruise the next day, but he didn’t care; the discomfort would be worth it. Ghost’s thrusts started getting faster, and he knew it was coming…
“You ready, Johnny?”
He nodded, teary-eyed and about to lose his mind from anticipation. With one thrust, Ghost let it all out, warm, golden liquid in a steady stream inside Soap’s mouth, some splashed on his face with the pressure. He kept his tongue wide, determined to swallow it all. He still found the taste strange, but it was like he was addicted. He couldn’t explain what was happening to him, and frankly, he didn’t want to. Eventually, it slowed into a trickle, and Ghost was finished pissing.
Like earlier, he shook his co*ck in front of Soap’s face, spraying it with piss droplets.
Ghost shoved his co*ck back into Soap’s mouth without warning and started f*cking relentlessly. Soap flattened his tongue out as he let Ghost violate his mouth. It didn’t take long; his thrusts became erratic, and Soap felt Ghost’s balls pull up as he cupped them and, with a growl, came hard inside his mouth. He tried to catch it all, but Ghost was impatient and pulled out as more cum spurted out of his dick and onto Soap’s face, tongue ready to catch any strays that would land.
Ghost seemed to come forever, not that Soap minded. If he was being honest, he actually liked it.
Soap did not take his eyes off Ghost, how he looked as he reached his peak, something that Soap caused, eyes rolled to the back of his head, mouth open, and a lewd moan off his mouth.
It was the most beautiful thing Soap thought he’d ever seen.
Finally, Ghost was done. He slumped on the couch, breathing heavily. Soap grabbed one of his legs for support. When he finally caught his breath, he looked at Soap, face drizzled with cum and piss, and gave out a soft laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re f*cking unbelievable. I wanna take a picture of you.”
“Fat chance, Simon.”
Soap’s words were ignored because the next thing he knew, Ghost had his phone out and was taking several photos of his defiled face, judging by the camera’s shutter sound. sh*t.
He got up and tried to grab Ghost’s phone, but the man was too fast, and his arm was too long to reach it. He kept one firm hand on Soap’s jaw, holding him back.
“Just a little remembrance, Johnny,” Ghost said to pacify him. “Only for me. I’m selfish like that,” he continued with soft yet resolute eyes, a way to convince Soap to believe him.
Soap conceded after some moments. He had to admit he felt a dirty thrill at the idea of Ghost jerking off to pictures of him. Oh, he was so f*cked.
He slumped down on Ghost in defeat. Ghost then fished for Soap’s discarded underwear from the floor and tenderly cleaned off his face.
Soap leaned his head on Ghost’s shoulder as he lit cigarettes for the both of them.
Ghost leaned his head on the back of the couch while staring at Soap, his expression inscrutable. One hand was toying with Soap’s mohawk while Soap nuzzled Ghost’s neck.
They stayed like that for who knows how long, content and relaxed, looking at each other with no need to speak as they waited for their hearts to steady and their breaths to even out.
Eventually, Ghost motioned for Soap to get off him and sit on the couch.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to get some water.”
Soap settled in. The couch was surprisingly comfortable and large, enough for two people to lie on. Ghost must’ve splurged on this, he thought.
Ghost came back with a bottle of water and ordered him to drink. When he was done, Ghost chugged the rest and put the bottle on the coffee table. He climbed over Soap, softly pressing kisses on his neck.
“You thought we were done?”
“I dunno, Lt., are we?”
“No, I still have to f*ck you. Open your legs, baby, let me in.”
As the couch creaked loudly while they f*cked, several times in different positions, insatiable for each other, the digital clock on the shelf below the tv changed times. Right beside the numbers—invisible to the undiscerning eye—was a hidden camera capturing everything transpiring on the couch.
