The mission had been a shit show of a blunder. Soap isn’t sure how it all went to hell in a hand basket, but it had. The helicopter hadn’t even finished touching the tarmac before Ghost was jumping from the deck, his boots thudding harder than the skids. Soap watches him go, the rotor wash whipping dirt and debris into his face, watches Ghost’s stiff shoulders and rigid posture.
Soap thanks the helicopter crew before jumping down, sighing to himself as he ducks under the blades.
Even more aggravating than the mission was Ghost, who’d been silent and broody since they’d gotten airlifted back to base. He sat there through the entire debrief in stony silence, saying all of two words about the whole ordeal. Except, his silence isn’t exactly silent. It’s actually incredibly loud, had been from the truck to exfil, and from exfil to base, screaming at Soap over Price’s natural baritone.
By the time they’re out of debrief, Soap’s had enough of the moping.
They’re walking shoulder to shoulder down the hallway, Soap dropping casual conversation only to be ignored, when he suddenly snaps. With a twist of his lips, he wrenches open the door of a storage closet, grabs Ghost by the straps of his vest, and shoves him inside.
The moment the door closes, they’re plunged into darkness, and Soap crowds Ghost back into a set of shelves. The equipment strapped to the front of him bumps against Ghost’s, clacking together in the quiet of the cramped space.
“Johnny, what do you think you’re doing?” Ghost grumbles. Pissy.
“Ye’ve been a right fuckin’ bastard all day.” Soap murmurs, his fingers able to find the hem of Ghost’s mask even in the pitch black. They’d grown accustomed to finding him anywhere, acutely aware of how much space was needed to, “‘M fixin’ it.”
He shoves Ghost’s mask up over his nose, pulling him down be the back of his neck to crush their lips together. It’s not soft, not gentle, not this time. It’s crude and messy, teeth nipping at lips and tongue, saliva being shared between their mouths as they breathe heavy into each other.
Soap’s fingers find the clasp of Ghost’s duty belt, dragging him forward to grind their hips together. Ghost hisses, the thick, hard line of him rubbing harshly into Soap’s growing erection. He gets the belt unbuckled, the tac pants unsnapped, before Ghost’s fingers wrap tightly around his wrists.
“Again.” Ghost breathes, voice hoarse in the dark, “What do you think you’re doing, Johnny?”
“Come on, sir.” He says, running his tongue nice and slow up the length of his jaw, stopping to whisper in his ear, “You an’ I both know what I’m doin’.”
“Don’t remember asking for it.”
“Didnae need to.” Soap says, grinning at the twitch of Ghost’s cock against his, “Yer basically screaming at me te fuck you.”
In the months that they’d been fooling around, that Soap had found himself bent over every surface available, something of great curiosity had been found. While Ghost preferred to fuck Johnny senseless, there were times where his brain didn’t like to shut off. Times where he got stuck in the middle of a mission and couldn’t get himself out even after it was all said and done. In those few instances, he needed a jump start, a reprogram, and who better to rewire a brain than the bomb guy himself?
The first time it had ever happened, when Ghost had disappeared into his room to mope, Soap had all but kicked the door in to find out what was wrong. Had turned into an argument about Ghost’s attitude as if Soap didn’t have one at all times. Which turned into Ghost, face down in the mattress, and stuffed full of Soap’s cock.
It doesn’t happen often when Soap gets to fuck his Lieutenant, but when he does, he makes sure to savor every single second. Because what’s hotter than having the big bad Ghost sweating and panting out his name, taking his cock balls-deep instead of giving it?
He shoves Ghost’s tac pants down his thighs, turning him around to crudely shove him face first into the shelves. He gets his own pants unbuttoned and sagging down his ass, cock grinding hot and heavy against Ghost’s ass.
“Oooh, would you just feel tha’ Lt.” Soap purrs, wrapping a fist around Ghost’s throbbing cock, slick with precum under Soap’s fingers, enjoying the jolt of his hips and hitch in his breath, “So hard. So wet fer me. Were ye hopin’ fer this? Sittin’ in tha’ debrief just thinkin’ about me fucking you.”
He loves being able to be the one in charge. Ghost, by nature, isn’t a big talker during sex, which usually means Johnny isn’t either. He’ll throw out the general feels so good, so fuckin’ big, harder, but in terms of actually talking, sex was surprisingly the time when Soap actually shuts up. But when he gets to do the fucking, when it’s his cock getting wet, he dials it up as high as he can go.
His cock slides in the crack of Ghost’s ass, the head of it tapping against his lower back with every forward stroke of his hips, “Want me to open ye up, Lt?”
“Not this time.” Is Ghost’s reply, “Want to feel it.”
Soap gathers the saliva in his mouth, spits down onto his cock to lather it up, before pulling Ghost open with one hand and guiding himself up to his hole with the other. He spits again, pushes it around Ghost’s rim with the head of his cock, and then fucks himself right in.
Ghost lets out a deep grunt when he does, and Soap’s cock throbs at the sound, jerking as he’s halfway inside his partner. He huffs a laugh, hands reaching up to grip Ghost’s hips and pull him back the rest of the way onto his cock.
“Fuuuck, Ghost.” He groans, head tipping back, pulling out only to slam back in, eyes rolling behind his closed lids, “Tha’s so fuckin’ good.”
He sets a slow but rough pace, making sure Ghost feels every fucking drag of his cock, every which way it opens up around him. Because Soap can feel it, the heat and velvet, body soft and yielding all for him. It drove him nearly mad every single time he’s done this, bringing out the stupid, primal, meathead instinct to bury his cock in something and come.
He grabs onto the handle of Ghost’s vest, using it as leverage to thrust into him. The shelves in front of Ghost rattle as he does, adding to the cacophony of sex in the small space.
“Mmm, I love this hole.” He breathes, sagging against Ghost’s back to grind his cock in and enjoy the feel of a nice pert ass bouncing against his hips, “Always so nice and tight fer me, Lt. Suckin’ me in. Grippin’ my cock.”
“Fuck.” Ghost whispers in the dark, and it burns right through Soap.
He thrusts hard, knocking Ghost further into the shelves, and something crashes to the floor. Panting out his moans, he leans his forehead against the scratchy Kevlar of Ghost’s vest, and is utterly pleased to whimper when Ghost reaches back to grapple with his mohawk, pulling sharply at the top of his head.
Soap laughs, more breath than anything, and lets go of a hip to squeeze Ghost’s cock tight. Two can play at that game. This earns him a moan torn straight from the man’s lungs, involuntary and fucking delicious. With his new hold, Soap’s thrusts rock Ghost forward right into his fist, fucking him from both angles.
Ghost can’t seem to help himself now, little groans muffling themselves into the wall in front of him, bent in half on one of the shelves. His hips are twitching in Soap’s grasp, barely holding himself back from fucking into Soap’s hand. He’s never been this keyed up, this needy or desperate. And Soap’s never wanted to come so badly in his life.
The sound of their skin slapping together, of Soap’s balls hitting Ghosts, fills the closet, and there’s positively no way it can’t be heard from the hallway. Anyone who passed would be able to hear it, hear their grunting and groaning, like two horny animals who’d found each other in the wild.
Soap’s stomach is burning, chest heaving as he nears release.
“Come on, Lt,” He pants, nearly pleading, his hand gripping Ghost as he jerks him off, “give it to me, come on my cock.”
“Fuck, Johnny.” Ghost grinds out, rolling himself back against Soap, “Y-yeah, I’m—”
He cuts himself off with a surprisingly filthy moan, shoving his ass back onto Soap as he clenches and unclenches around him. His cock jerks once in Soap’s hand, then spills come down his fingers with every pulse in their grasp.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yer so—” Soap’s breath stutters, “Oh my Go—fuck me.”
He thrusts in once more before he’s emptying himself into Ghost, biting down on the handle of his vest to try and stifle the moaning and whimpering taking control of his sensibility. His entire body is quivering, sagging into Ghost as the last of his orgasm twitches out.
“Are ye fixed?” He breathes, eyes dropped shut as he continues to lay across Ghost’s back, the gear between them digging into his belly.
Ghost sighs, “You’re a regular repairman, Johnny.”
“Happy te hear it.”
“Get off me.”
“Rog.”
They straighten and make themselves decent, donning straight faces as Soap pulls the door open and blinks against the incoming light. Poking his head out, he’s nearly stepping foot out into the hallway when Ghost is yanking him back.
His mouth is on Johnny’s just as he opens it to ask what was wrong, swallowing his concern to kiss reassurance there instead. He lingers when he breaks them apart, lips brushing sweetly at the corner of Soap’s mouth, skimming across his stubbled jaw.
“Thanks, Johnny. I feel much better.” Ghost says, his dark eyes lighter than they had been, shoulders without weight, “What about you?”
Soap arches an eyebrow, “What about me?”
“Your head on straight?”
“Head’s on great after that.” Soap smirks, but then tips his eyebrows up into a pout, “I mean—oh no, I’m big and I’m broody, and I’m gonna walk around in silence until someone eats me out.”
Ghost rolls his eyes and pushes him out of the closet by his face, nearly sending him sprawling backward. He catches him by the long hair of his mohawk, hauling him in close to say, “Better get back to your room then, Sergeant. I’m starving.”
Soap knows a dopey grin spreads across his face, pupils practically dilating into hearts, “Yes, sir.”
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