Uhh bsky seemed to like this thread when I posted it, so thought I might put it here too.
It's the only smut I've written (and man am I in awe of people who can just write smut all the time, I was in struggle town lads)
Top!Ghost, Bottom!Soap. Little hint of praise kink, I just want Ghost to call Soap a good boy and have Soap's brain melt over it.
Good Boy
In Soap’s defence, it had never happened before. He’d been praised for his work.
A clap on the back and a ‘Good work, son’ from Price.
A cheeky grin and a ‘There’s a good lad.’ from Gaz
It felt good to have his work recognised. It left a warm, comforting sense of pride in his chest.
But when Ghost rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, leaning over with hot breath against his ear to say: “Good boy, Johnny.”
It nearly takes him out at the knees. The blood rushes south so fast, he nearly blacks out. As he walks away he can feel Ghosts eyes on him, face hot as the stumbles the first few steps.
The prick looks amused. Fucker.
It could have been fine, though, a one-off oddity that he can safely ignore until he’s in the privacy of his bunk.
But it wasn’t just once.
He swears Ghost is doing it just to fuck with him now.
He's sly about it, never saying when it's obvious or going to draw attention.
It's almost like he waits until Soap feels like he's back on solid footing before he casually drops it into conversation.
It was a quick murmur as they leave the helo after a mission, the sound of the chopper blades drowning out everything else as the hand on Soap's shoulder sears him like a brand.
Or an offhand comment when they've gone for a smoke, the words cheeky as Soap hands over the rolled cigarette.
The others don’t notice, too used to tuning out their banter by now. The addition of the occassional 'Good Boy' blending in with all the other colourful commentary they normally keep up.
Which is probably why Ghost feels ballsy enough to pull that shit during a mission.
After Soap has a frantic few seconds disarming a tangle of trips rigged to blow the building out from under them.
"Building safe, copy." he radios out, hands still shaking from how close that call had been.
“There’s a good boy, Johnny.” comes the heavy rasp crackling over the speaker.
On comms for fucks sake! Soap wants to fuckin throttle him.
Ghost is doing it just to get a rise out of him. And he hates that it's working.
Even when they’re at mess afterwards, hail and hearty with a successful mission right behind them, he can't seem to help teasing Soap.
“Nice job on that last one, Tav.” Gaz slaps him on the shoulder as he takes his seat.
“Youngest in the SAS for a reason.” Soap says around a mouthful of food, winking as Gaz pulls a face.
“Was well handled, nicely done, Soap." Price murmurs behind his mug.
"Proper good boy aren't you, Johnny?" comes the rumble at the end of the table.
His cheeks burn as Gaz and Price laugh. They don’t mean anything by it, they figure it's just being lads and taking the piss.
Soap risks a glance at Ghost and sees his eyes trained on him, a glint of something burning and dangerous peeking through the mask.
Christ he was so fucked.
-
It’s later on, past midnight, when he decides that something has to be done about it.
His can't focus when they’re on mission, either fuzzy with lust or trying to walk in a way that doesn't give away he’s hard enough to punch through wood.
He's not putting his squad at risk just because he's tenting his shorts like some hormonal teenager.
The sound of his knuckles rapping against the door feels louder in the late night air. There's no answer at first, and he wonders if he's made a mistake, should just go back to his bunk.
But then the door opens, Ghost blinking languidly at him.
“Took you long enough.” he rasps.
“Piss off, ye feckin reprobate.” Soap shoulders his way past the door into Ghost's room and throws himself into a chair and feeling a little pissy he’ll admit.
Across the room, Ghost leans against the door, arms crossed and looking at Soap expectantly.
This was going to be like pulling teeth, and he can tell the bastard is amused by it all; eyes seeming to brighten under the mask.
“So, what's your reason, then?” he finally gets out.
“For?” Ghost asks, tilting his head.
Of course, the cunt was gonna make him say it. Part of Soap wants to just give up, storm out. Just go to his room, wank himself unconscious to be done with it.
But Ghost was blocking the door. On purpose, Soap would bet.
“Why do ye keep callin' me a fuckin good boy, eh?” he presses
Ghost holds his gaze and blinks slowly, “Morale”
Fuck it, Soap is leaving, he’s not playing this fuckin game. Even if he has to wrestle the man out of the door. He shoves at the big bastard to move.
“Telling me you didn’t like it, Johnny?” Ghost asks, barely moving from the force of the push Soap gave him.
Soap growls, frustrated, “No’ about that, is it? You dinnae call Gaz or feckin Price that. Is only me you do that to.”
“S’right. Only you.” Ghost counters.
He looks up at Ghost to find that gaze burning into him. This feels dangerous.
“Feelin a bit singled out is all, LT.” he mumbles, hand coming up to awkwardly rub at his neck.
He feels like he's on the wrong foot now, not sure where's safe to step in this minefield of a conversation.
Ghost pushes off the door and moves toward him. It feels like being hunted, and Soap is very quickly learning that apparently he likes that.
He stumbles as the back of his knees hit the bunk and suddenly Ghost is looming above him.
His blood feels molten, too close to his skin and rushing through him. There’s a buzz in his ears and his throat clicks when he swallows.
This close, he can feel Ghost chuckle, feel the hot wet breath on his neck when he leans down.
"D'you want this?" he asks, voice low.
Soap's tongue seems to stick to his mouth, unable to form words.
The prospect of finally getting to have the thing he'd been obsessing over for weeks.
The thing he'd spent the dead of night fucking his fist too, face hot with the shame of it.
It left his head spinning.
Eventually he manages to choke out,
"Yes. Fuckin' yes, Ghost, pleas—"
He cuts off as Ghost grabs him by his hair, pulling just enough for his scalp to prickle as he growls in his ear.
"Good boy."
The whine that comes out of Soap should be embarrassing, but he's too gagging for it to care.
Ghost lets go of Soap's hair and stands back, just out of reach.
"Get your kit off then, or do I have to do all the work?"
“Shoulda known you’d be a nasty bastard.” Soap snarks as he pulls his shirt over his head.
“Reckon you like that, Johnny.” comes the smug reply.
Soap ignores him, fumbling for his belt, shoving his pants down to his knees.
His head falls back, groaning lowly as the pressure on his cock finally lets. He goes to take a moment to collect himself. But instead there's rough hands tugging them the rest of the way, boots yanked off and tossed into the corner of the room.
"Impatient aren't we LT?" he jokes weakly, heart hammering in his chest.
The words die out as the bed dips. Ghost straddles him, settling on his chest heavily.
Soap feels like nothing exists beyond him, the way Ghost fills his vision. Calm and collected as he casually unzips and takes himself in hand.
"Done this before, Johnny boy?" he asks lightly, as if he wants to know the weather and not whether Soap's sucked cock before.
"Dinnae flatter yersel' Ghost. No' my first." Soap eventually rasps out, eyeing the thick length in Ghost's hand. "I can take ye."
Ghost chuckles at that, "We'll see about that."
He taps the heavy head of his cock on Soap’s lips.
“Open up.” he orders.
God fuckin help him, Soap does, and tries to ignore the way his blood fucking sings at the single huff of approval out of the man over him
His head swims at the scent of hot skin and musk, mouth flooding with saliva at the taste of salty skin on his tongue as Ghost steadily feeds him his cock.
Part of him wants to drag his teeth against the tender flesh, just to be a brat, but there are strong hands in his hair and his eyes fall half closed.
Ghost hasn’t even taken his gloves off, still practically dressed.
At the realisation, Soap feels himself moan around the length in his mouth, Ghost's hands tightening in his hair.
“Knew you’d be good for me.” Ghost says, his voice is dark, and eyes bright in the dim light of the room
Soap can feel the sticky pool on his stomach from his cock, already angry red and steadily leaking.
“With me, Johnny.” Ghost demands.
Soap tears his eyes back to the man above him, the lighting making it seem like Ghost's eyes are molten gold.
He can tell under the mask he's smiling.
“There you are sweet'eart.”
He can’t stop the groan that comes out of him, stomach clenching at the petname.
Ghost adjusts his grip on Soap's hair, testing how much he can take before adjusting and rocking his hips forward.
“Just take it, there you go. There’s my good boy, eh?”
He relaxes his throat and breathes deep until his eyes start to water and his head swims with it. He’s already so close and he hasn’t even been touched yet, cock twitching each time Ghost bottoms out.
There's a moment, which his nose buried in the coarse hair at the root of Ghost's cock that he looks up and locks eyes with him. It's like staring at glowing coals, flickering embers held in the dark with a smouldering heat that scalds his blood.
Soap's feels his cock twitch in warning, he's so fucking close, he feels his eyes start to roll back.
But then Ghost smoothly pulls out of his mouth, leaving Soap gasping and blinking away the tears. Lightheaded and dizzy from the sudden rush of oxygen into his lungs.
“Not bad. Reckon there's room for improvement.” Ghost says, chuckling at the frustrated sob Soap lets out against his thigh. There's the soft touch of a hand through his hair, before Ghost moves away, sitting at the side of the bed. Soap throws an arm over his eyes, chest heaving with each breath.
There's the feeling of a gloved hand trailing over his stomach, making him jump.
“Nearly made a mess of yourself, though.” he hears Ghost tease.
“Fuck off” Soap's voice cracks, Christ he sounds wrecked
He looks at Ghost from under his arm, seeing his eyes trace the same path as his fingers had.
“Ye could get more comfortable, ye know?” he grumbles, causing Ghost to look over at him. As much as it had been exciting, he's starting to feel awkward completely starkers while Ghost could zip up and be ready for the tarmac.
“I look uncomfortable to you?”
The bastard is grinning, Soap can tell.
“Ye look like yer dressed for a fuckin funeral.” Soap quips, looking at the ceiling, heart still beating too fast.
“Can’t have you dying before I’ve had my fun.” Ghost teases as he gest to his feet and strips off. The pale flesh and scars are devoured by Soap’s hungry gaze as his eyes are drawn back, like a moth to a flame.
As he drops the last piece of clothing to the floor, he looks over to Soap on the bed.
“Mask stays on.” he says, the rest of him bare.
“I dinnae care.” Soap lies.
Both of their eyes tracking how his cock jumped at the idea.
Ghost laughs, not unkindly, “Slag.”
The bed shifts under him as Ghost settles at the end of it. Soap sits up on his elbows, suddenly nervous.
He's no stranger to casual dalliance, to a quick and dirty release stolen in a pub bathroom or if he's lucky someone's flat if they're generous.
But it's Ghost.
It matters. It's not something he leaves in the early hours, hidden in cigarette smoke and strangers mouths. What if it ruins everything?
"Johnny?" Ghost is looking at him, a hand circled around Soap's ankle.
"M'fine," he says without thinking, scrambling for an excuse for his sudden silence, "was jus' wondering how ye want me?"
He goes to roll over, but there's a sudden fierce grip on his hips as Ghost tugs him down the bed, keeping him on his back.
"Wanna see you." is all Ghost says.
Soap feels like his heart is lodged in his throat, as Ghost rummages around in the bedside table.
"You've done this part before, haven't you?" it's a genuine question. But there's that teasing tone to it that has Soap rolling his eyes, falling back into the rhythm of their banter.
"Oh aye, I'm a fuckin blushin virgin." he jokes, kicking out and catching Ghost in the side. "Chaste as a priest, I am."
Ghost glances up at him, the heat still in his eyes.
“Better start praying then Johnny. Won’t be after I’m done with you.“
Soap feels his breath catch at the threat. “That a promise, LT?”
Ghost doesn’t respond, instead just clicks the bottle of lube open, pouring some onto his fingers and pressing two into Soap. There's an intensity to his focus as he presses deeper until they brush against the spot that punches a groan out of Soap.
"There we are."
"Hurry it up will ye?" Soap growls. He'd been trying to ignore the dull ache of being stretched open. But now there was a steady building at the base of his spine, his breath coming in shallow, cock filling out again after flagging.
"Patience is a virtue, Johnny." Ghost murmurs.
Soap winces at the feeling of Ghost removing his fingers, looking down as there’s a pause.
“Ye alright?”
He can't help but ask.
He gets a nod in response.
“Well, come on then. Show me how nasty ye are.” he wiggles his eyebrows and revels in the small huff of a laugh from Ghost as he lines himself up.
“Might regret that, Johnny.” Ghost says, locking eyes with him.
“Regret you takin yer fuckin tim-” he cuts off in a groan as Ghost smoothly presses the head of his cock in, his other hand tightly gripping Soap's waist.
“Fuckin hell, coulda warned me.” he says to Ghost's shoulder.
Ghost hums. "Could’ve.”
“Prick.” Soap lets his head fall back. He relaxes into the feeling, letting his body adjust. Ghost waits until Soap gives him a nod before slowly sheathing himself to the root.
That lightheaded feeling is back as Soap rests his head against Ghost's sternum. That languid bloodwarm feeling of being full trickling up his spine.
“You solid?” he hears from above him.
Soap shifts a bit, feeling the ache of how stretched he was. “Aye.”
“Good.” is all the warning he gets before the first thrust knocks the breath out of Soap’s lungs. His hands come up to grasp at Ghost's biceps, groaning at the drag of skin on skin, wet heat and rushing blood.
It's not gentle, he’s sure he’ll have bruises on his hips to hide for weeks from the whiteknuckle grip Ghost has. But he could tell the bastard was holding back.
“I’m no’ made of glass, Ghost, I can take it.” he bites out.
Ghost laughs in his ear. “Careful Johnny, or I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”
The response is automatic.
“Ye already have.”
Ghost stills and Soap feels immediate panic he’d overstepped.
They hadn’t spoken about what this was.
Whether it was just a bit fun to left off steam or something more that they'd been dancing around for years.
Before he can scramble to come up with an apology, a joke to lessen the seriousness of what he’s just let fall out of his mouth, Ghost gives a snarl.
He snaps his hips forwards and Soap can swear he feels it in his throat.
The grip on his hips tightens so hard it nearly hurts as Ghost drives into him. It feels primal and possessive, heady and addicting as he rakes his nails down pale flesh, urging for more.
Ghost grabs the back of his neck, pulls him forward so he can growl in his ear.
“Made for this aren’t you, made for me.”
It isn’t a question, though Soap thinks he’s nodding. He feels dizzy with it, how much he wants this, how much Ghost wants him.
“Gonna be a good boy for me, Johnny?”
Ghost voice sounds raw, eyes burning as the meet Soap's.
“Fuck.” Soap sobs, it sounds more like a plea than an answer.
“There you are, sweet'eart, show me how well you take me.”
Soap falls back on the bed, Ghost's hand drifting from the back of his neck down to his thighs. He can feel the rough calluses on his skin, feel his teeth nearly rattle as Ghost slams into him.
It’s too much, just on this side of painful and he never wants it to end.
There's a dizzying feeling every time he feels Ghosts cock drag against him in just the right way. There's bruises blooming on his hips under the near deathgrip Ghost has on him.
“Thought about this a lot. How good you'd be for me.”
Soap doesn't have it in him to respond, he feels like he’s sinking deeper into a calm. His body goes lax and boneless, mind buzzing at the pleased growl from Ghost when his body just submits.
“Love seeing you like this Johnny, fucked brainless and still fuckin desperate for me.”
That pulls a whine out him, clenching down around the cock still driving deeper into him. He thought Ghost would be quiet, but each word of praise fills him like warm honey, mind swimming.
“Show me you can come like this, sweet'eart.”
Soap can already feel himself hurtling towards the edge, wrapping an arm around the back of Ghost's neck and pulling him close.
"Fuck, Ghost, please." he pleads.
He hears Ghost's voice in his ear, raw and rough, “That's it love, be pretty for me.”
That does it.
Soap's entire body seems to lock up for a moment, pleasure sparking through him and settling into the base of his skull with a blistering heat. His cock pulses, untouched and painting his stomach.
“There’s a good boy.” he hears Ghost murmur. He bites down on the meat of Ghost's shoulder to muffle the whine that threatens to make its way out, hearing those words.
As he comes down, dizzy still, his head lolls forward, like his strings have been cut. He dimly registers the twitch of Ghost’s cock inside him, and softly groans at the feeling of it slipping out of him spent.
Soap slumps on the bed without Ghost’s grip holding him, body heavy and lax after the orgasm that was wrung out of him. He should get up, he knows the routine. He should leave so he isn't intruding.
Instead, his eyelids grow heavy and he drifts into darkness.
When he comes back to himself, he's been cleaned up, blanket pulled over him to keep out the chill. There’s a solid weight beside him.
“Back with me?” Ghost asks.
“Solid.” his words sound slurred, but the laugh from Ghost isn’t cruel. Soap pushes himself up so he's sitting, before Ghost speaks again.
"Didn't hurt you, did I?" There is a weight to his words, even though he's clearly trying to keep the tone light.
"Reckon me hips'll have a few bruises. I dinnae mind that though." he glances down at the purple on his side. It's not quite a handprint but enough of a suggestion of one. Showers were going to be fun.
He jumps as Ghost trails a finger over one, gentle and completely at odds with what had caused them.
"I'll keep that in mind." Ghost says. There's something about his voice that's off, doesn't feel like it's hitting Soap's ears like it normally does. He looks over to ask him if he's alright. It takes Soap a moment to realise what’s different.
“Ye weren’t lyin. Yer a bonnie bastard beneath the mask.”
He gets a smirk in response, and his heart fuckin clenches with it. He still hadn’t asked what this meant, for them. He suddenly feels vulnerable, naked and tucked into the covers of Ghost’s bunk.
"Eh, sorry for passing out on ye at the end there," Soap mumbles, his ears burning.
Ghost shrugs, "S'fine. Don't mind."
Thre's a quiet, but the buzzing unease under Soap's skin doesn't settle. Just like before, he doesn't know where to put his feet, worried he'll detonate whatever this is between them.
"Do ye want me to leave?" he asks like an idiot.
“Got somewhere to be?” Ghost raises an eyebrow.
"You reckon there's somewhere I should be?" he counters with another question. It's the same dance they've done for years, always toeing the line but neither crossing. Strange to have the feeling after they've fucked like they'd die without it.
Ghost sighs after a moment, and Soap readies himself for the pushback. The return to status quo.
Instead, Ghost grabs him by his chin, holding his gaze steady.
"If I wanted a quick fuck I've got more than enough offers, Johnny. Wouldn't have risked this."
He rests his forehead against Soap's.
Their breaths merge in the space between them,
"Fucking said before, didn't I? Only you." he says softer this time, thumb absently running along Soap's jawline.
It feels like the minefields behind them. Throwing caution to the wind, Soap moves forward and kisses him.
Something in him settles when Ghost's hand shifts from his chin to cup his face, a warm feeling in his chest that burns brighter than pride as he drags his teeth and gets a nip back in retaliation.
It feels just like the normal back and forth in a strange way that makes him laugh, Ghost grumbling a bit.
"Was enjoying that." he murmurs into the crook of Soap's neck.
"Was enjoying not doing missions half mast, but ye ruined that ye fuckin bastard," Soap counters, frowning as he feels Ghost smile against his skin. He shoves him.
"Ye can't be calling me fuckin good boy in front of the others." he says seriously. As much as his blood sings with how good this all feels, he doesn't want it to effect the team, or his ability to do his job.
"I won't." Ghost says, and actually sounds like he means it.
He pulls Soap close to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing his face into his neck. Sleep doesn't make them wait long.