#cod tickles

And so you lay there, a play for all to see. A comedy for people to heckle at. A tragedy to amuse. With the responsibilities of your life coming to crash down on you, you were paralyzed. The inner turmoil of failure trapping you within it's corrosive claws of anxiety. Whereas others would disregard the pains of being, the torture of existing, the agony of living, you were not so numb to it all. The demonic laughter echoed throughout your mind, a smile of malice to accompany it. Your mind begged for you to take this head of yours and hit it with a sense of sanity, whether that be metaphorical or literal. Your head hurt, but no medicine in the world could cure you. Your body lusted for violence against you, but with your waning self-control, you reigned it in.

Simon saw your inner struggle. He saw your will to survive, much like his own. You fought and fought, even when there was no way to win a battle of this magnitude on your own. Your hands were twitching, a sign for Simon to assume the role of your protector once again.

"Love, is there any way I can help you?" A voice so soft, so full of warmth, as if wrapped in the downs of a mother bird. He sat down beside you, placing one of his large, warm hands on your thigh. With a few gentle caresses, you felt yourself ease into his touch.

The ceiling, however, was much more interesting than your boyfriend as you were unable to tear your gaze from it. You sighed, another pang of pain shooting through your head. The pressure was unbearable. For a moment you hummed with closed eyes, images of violence flashing before your eyes, piercing through the little bit of peace you had. Your mind was blank. "I don't know... I don't know anything at this point. I just want to not have to think for a little bit. It's all so exhausting, really..."

He regarded you for a moment. There were quite a few things you liked, but none of them would give you some peace of mind for a few minutes. Oh, how he despised himself for not being able to help you.

"You know what? Please just tickle me. I can't do this anymore."

The way you looked at him, so vulnerable in this moment. The shame in your eyes was evident as you moved your wrists closer to your face. Simon moved his hand to your side, caressing your body all the way. He inched closer to your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Your wish is my command."

A lone finger was all it took to shift your focus to something mor pressing. Gliding along your ribs, down to your waist, along your thigh, before finally nestling within the warm comfort behind your knee. You wiggled as it traced your sensitive skin, unable to flee before this mercy. Simon grabbed your leg and angled it in a way, where he had easy access to your inner thigh. Gently fluttering his fingers across that very spot, he observed you. Even in this moment of weakness, your desire to appear tough ruled out the possibility of giving in just yet. You bit your lip, your eyes squeezed shut. Even so, the smile on your face was undeniable. As you crossed your arms over your chest, Simon smiled.

"Seems like someone wants to laugh a little. Come on, baby, let me hear you." Setting aside your leg, he made himself comfortable between them. Had it not been for the sensation making you giggle, you would have missed it. Gentle fluttering of his fingers up and down your upper body made you squirm a little. You clasped your hands together, fingers intertwining tightly. Simon watched in amusement. A single finger scratching along your side had you arching your back in the opposite direction. Two fingers nestling in the opposite armpit, dancing without worry, had you clasp your arm down. You gasped, airy giggles leaving your throat. A battle worthy of being fought. An insecurity, a greater enemy than any historical figure.

"Does that tickle? You gotta talk to me. Or would it be better if I did this?"

Two fingers spidered down your body, making detours as often as they could. From circling your tummy to tracing your knee, it seemed as though their journey was endless. But even an odyssey has an ending. Celebrating ever after, one of Simon's hands grabbed your ankle, applying light pressure on it. You, on the other hand, inhaled sharply. A lone finger traced up and down your foot. You whined, gently pulling your foot away from him. A mere civillian stood no chance against a lieutenant and so you were left with that strange sensation you could not describe. Your breathing was uneven, soft gasps filling the room here and there. The lone finger was joined by three others.

"Come on, I want to hear you. Do I need to be rougher with you? Or do I need to do something along the lines of... this?"

Although deadly as a soldier, swifter than the minds of many can comprehend, he was deliberate in his leisure of moving his hand holding your ankle to your hips. Once more, you whined as his hands chased your body, caressing it with all the love a forlorn man could muster. You rolled over, onto your stomach, and kicked your legs ever so slightly. Giggles spilled from your lips as you wiggled some more. Simon ceased his onslaught, leaning over your form and pressing his forehead against the back of your head. He took in your scent, and then a content sigh left him.

"I wish there was more I could do for you."

His skin touching yours rivalled the sun shining on a pleasant spring day. Both were just as healing in their properties. For a moment, all the thoughts racing through your mind had come to halt in order to consider something far more important: Simon. Despite everything, you deserved him. Despite everything, you were grateful to have him. You inhaled the scent surrounding you. Some cheap men's deodorant, but it was familiar. The weight on your back kept you grounded, a reminder that you weren't alone in this.

"Where would I be without you," you murmured, twisting your arm so you can touch him. The pale skin was adorned with scars, the soft bumps making him all the more unique. For a moment, you didn't have to think.

"I'd find you, even if you were with some other bloke."

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

You groaned as you lay down on your bed. After the day you've had. You felt like you could cry. Everything just seemed to not go your way at all.

You fucked up in training multiple times, you dropped your lunch, you tripped while walking down the hall. The list went on. So by the time the day ended, everyone could sense your irritability.

You sighed as you looked uo at the ceiling. Mumbling and grumbling under your breath. Every little thing was pissing you off now.

But the one thing you couldn't be pissed at was when you saw your boyfriend, soap, enter your shared room. You sighed. But you didn't look at him.

"Ay love, you alright..?"

Soap asked as he closed the door behind him, setting his bag down. He could see how upset you were. A frown etched on your face.

"I know it been one of those day, aye?"

You just nodded your head. You finally glanced at him. He smiled at you as he sat down next to you on the bed. You smiled back weakly.

"How bout we cheer ye up, aye?"

You raised an eyebrow as he reached into his bag. Pulling out a paintbrush. You were confused. Why did soap have that out now? He only ever used it for painting...

"Lie down, I've got an idea..."

You blinked a few times, still very clearly confused. But you lay down anyway. Soap sits on your hips, paintbrushes in hand. You open your mouth to ask what he's doing, but he speaks first.

"We're gonna play a wee game..."

Soap lifts your shirt, making you blush slightly. You instinctively reach to pull it back down, but he takes your wrists gently.

"Ah, ah... trust me, love, it will be fun."

You hesitate for a moment before sighing and playing your hands at your sides. Soap takes one of his paintbrushes.

"I want you to guess what I'm drawing, alright?"

You slowly nod, still very confused by all this. Soap brings the paint brush down onto your tummy and starts to draw something.

You flinched at the touch. Drawing in breath at the feeling. What on earth was he doing? You had to fight the urge to defend your stomach with your hands. But you didn't.

The more it went on, the more giggles you felt bubble up in your throat. You tried to cover your mouth. But the ticklish feeling just got more and more sensitive.

"What's wrong, darlin'?"

Soap asked with a grin. You glare up at him. You didn't want to speak, knowing giggles would just pour out of your mouth. But when the brush trailed iver your belly button. You lost it.

You let out a squeak. Your hands instantly grip soap's wrists. You troed your best not to squirm, but it was hard. Very hard.

"Aw... feeling all giggly, love?"

Soap teased. Your face was already burning, and soap's teasing didn't help at all.

"Come on. Just let ot all out..."

Despite your wiggling and giggles. Soap's voice sounded soothing.

That was. Until the paintbrush was tossed aside, and Soap's hands came down on your stomach.

You squealed loudly. Taken quite of guard by the sudden change. You thrashed and laughed loudly. Kicking your legs as soap's fingers vibrated on your stomach.

No matter how much you squirmed and kicked. Soap wouldn't let up.

"See? Your starting to feel better already!"

Soap smirked. You somehow managed to glare up at him through your thrashes and squeals.

Eventually, soap had to take mercy on you at some point. So he finally backed off when he saw tears of laughter in your eyes.

You panted. Your face burning as you gulped in air. Soap remained on top of you.

"Feeling better, darlin'?"

He asked softly. You weakly nodded, finally calmed down after a moment. Soap got off of you. Laying next to you before pulling you close.

"Rest now, my little flower..."

Soap mumbled into your ear. And it didn't take long for exhaustion to take over you. Falling asleep in soap's comforting arms.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Yippee!

Even within the barracks, a place of damnation for many, one may still find the tenderness of love all around, one just needs to know where to look. Whereas many would only see the misery of forlorn soldiers, awaiting another day to succumb to orders of another, never carrying out their own will, within some rooms, one could find a certain domesticity only seen within those with nothing to lose. Such was the case between Ghost and Soap within the former's room.

A gentle and pleasant veil of darkness had enveloped England by then, but by no means would everyone give into the innate desire to curl up and sleep throughout the night. Simon was changing into a more comfortable shirt. Still black, a color he had been favoring ever since he had taken up his shtick of being an unapproachable lieutenant. He took a strand of his hair betwenn his index finger and thumb, eyeing it with misdemeanor. "Hair's gotten long again. Fucking hell." He unbuttoned his trousers next, opting for a pair more fitting to being worn in his own spare time, in his own room. Johnny watched his boyfriend closely, admiring his defined muscles. The way they flexed upon being strained a little bit was nothing short of fascinating to watch. Although not a soft spot, he would have loved nothing more than to place his head in Simon's lap.

Johnny snickered. "It's fluffy, though. Pretty sure I could pat it and it'd be silky smooth." Propping himself up with his arms on Simon's bed, he grinned as the lieutenant turned to face him, a scowl on his face. Even with the short distance between them, Johnny could tell Simon was trying his hardest to seem serious. Professional. The corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly did not go unnoticed, however. Johnny sighed, pulling Simon's pillow closer to him. It smelled of his boyfriend. Cigarette smoke and some men's deodorant. Despite everything, it was pleasant. Sinking further into that smell, he closed his eyes, imagining it was his boyfriend he was holding. Simon huffed.

His voice had gotten a little softer as he saw Johnny relaxing on his bed, his chest swelling with pride. "To say it in a language you understand as well: Haud yer wheesht. You know it'll just be shorn off in no time again." Pacing towards his bed, he took in the sight of Johnny's back rising and falling. Simon sat down next to him, putting his hands on Johnny's hips and leaning over the Scot. Johnny opened his eyes, looking at Simon, tears welling up in his eyes. Simon gently pats Johnny's hair, humming. With a breathy voice, he whispered: "It's alright, Johnny. I love you too. I'm glad we get to spend these moments together."

Seconds passed as Johnny leaned into Simon's touch. "I love ye too, ye old bastard." He hooked one of his arms around Simon's neck, pulling him on top of him as he moved to lie on his back. With Simon's face snugly nestled against his neck, he ran his fingers through the blond's hair. It was so light, he could hardly believe it. Simon always wore his mask, barely any sunlight touched that hair, and yet it was this beautiful. Soft. Smooth. Simon. Johnny kissed his head caerfully. One wrong move and Simon could shatter in front of him, leaving him with nothing yet again. None of this could be further from the truth, he was well aware of that, but sometimes you had to gently love your boyfriend.

Simon sighed, gently massaging Johnny's hip with one hand, his face nuzzling into his sergeant's neck. He had done this a thousand times over, yet every time he was astounded by how warm his boyfriend was anew. That terrible cologne would make anyone else cringe, but to Simon, it was a reminder that he was not alone. Johnny's warmth seeped through his body, reaching his very core. Oh, how he wished to consume him, become one with him forevermore. But alas, such wishes could never become a reality, and thus he opted for lying on top of his love instead. Simon ran his hand up and down Johnny's side. Eventually, he kissed the only patch of skin he could reach: Johnny's neck. Over and over again, small pecks, gentle, reverent, as though his lover was but a mere memory slipping through his mind. Johnny giggled.

"Stop kissing me there, it tickles," he cried out through giggles. Simon, more so than anything else, saw this as an invitation.

He spidered his fingers up and down Johnny's side, continuing to kiss him on his neck.

"Oi, ye bastard! Watch it before I get you too!" His hands shot up to Simon's ribs, prodding and squeezing. Simon froze, lips curling up into a smile. If Johnny had desired a war, then Simon was more than willing to give it to him, had he been more awake.

"Alright, alright, you win. Now get your hands off me."

Johnny ran his fingers through Simon's hair yet again, kissing the top of his head. "I always win, LT. There's never been a battle I have not won. Like, I won your heart, didn't I?" Simon could hear the grin in his voice. The pride before the fall. But that reminder of reality would come soon enough, as it was, Simon wanted to spend his time relaxing with Johnny instead. He sighed, snuggling more closely into Johnny.