#soap fic

he’s obsessed with you. the first time he saw you, in some dingy little bar he couldn’t believe someone as beautiful as you would be in— he was hooked. hopelessly in love, already throwing back a shot and sauntering over.

you’re alone at the bar, and he thinks that’s a damn shame. tells you that in those words. you laugh, and he cracks a smile— and the conversation starts to flow.

has he known you twenty seconds, or twenty years? there’s a natural spark between the two of you, something that makes it feel as though you hadn’t just met.

he buys you a drink, and before you know it, the two of you are on the dance floor. a slow song is playing, and you smile as his hands find your waist. his grip is gentle, reassuring.

he spins you around and you laugh, throwing your head back as he nearly drops you. by the time the song ends, the two of you are flushed and laughing like newlyweds.

an older woman comes up to you and tells you that you two are the cutest couple she’d ever seen. you play into it, giggling and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek while he slings an arm around your shoulders.

needless to say, he goes home with you that night.

and when you wake up in the morning, he’s still there. standing in his boxers in your tiny apartment kitchen, cooking eggs and brewing coffee.

you swear you fall in love right then and there.

the two of you eat, and the conversation is easy. you almost don’t want him to leave— you have to fight the urge to ask him to stay.

you think it’s a little ridiculous— you don’t know him! but it feels like you do. and you think he feels the same way, because he taps his number into your phone and tells you to call him later to talk about a proper date.

you’re fucking done for.

the first date is perfect. he brings you flowers when he comes to pick you up, and you roll your eyes but can’t hide the blush that rushes to your cheeks.

you swear you’ve never met a man this nice. never gone on a date with someone so kind, so charming. sure, he’s a flirt— but it’s not distasteful. he’s a people person, that’s what he tells you. you believe him.

he pays for dinner, of course, even when you try to pay for your half. he walks you home afterwards, and gives you a kiss goodnight, and you feel like you’re living in a fucking movie.

all your friends think you’re crazy. they start to talk some sense into you— he’s just luring you in! just trying to get in your pants! he’s hiding something!

their words creep into your brain, and the next date you have with him, you’re quieter. more detached, more calculating. and fuck, if your friends weren’t completely wrong.

you go on date after date, and before you know it, you’ve been with him for a year. you’re moving into his flat, and although you know you’ll be home more often than he will, you don’t mind.

when he gets deployed for the first time during your relationship, the honeymoon phase starts to crack. you try to cope with the loneliness; with the boredom that his being away brings. you didn’t realize how much time you spent together until he left.

you call when you can— but it’s not often. he’s somewhere he can’t say, and the cell reception isn’t exactly spectacular. you send letters, and receive a few back, but communication is few and far between.

and then he surprises you one day by bursting through the door, nearly giving you a heart attack as you jumped off the couch.

you scold him as you jump into his arms, complaining “I thought you were a robber! I was prepared to kill you!”

and he just laughed and gave you a kiss.

your life together isn’t perfect. you have fights and disagreements. you refuse to let him meet your friends for the longest time because “they still think you’re playing the long game of deception.”

but you make up because you can never stay mad at each other for long. you finally get your friends to come around to the idea of him, and they instantly hit it off with him once you force them into the same room.

he wrangles his squad into meeting you, and they make sure to embarrass him. (they also love you, and when you excuse yourself to the bathroom, they tell him how happy they are for him.)

“so, you’re the one he never shuts up about, aye?”

he proposes after three years. it seems short to some, but you don’t care. you’ve loved him three summers now, and you sure as hell want all the rest of them, too.

so you get married and it’s nothing huge. an intimate ceremony with family and close friends. his teammates are his groomsmen. they each takes turns spinning you around the dance floor later that night, and they tell you that if he ever breaks your heart, they’ll kick his ass. you throw your head back and laugh.

at the end of the night, after all the guests have gone, he asks you for one last dance.

it’s to the slow song you’d danced to the first night you met so long ago, in that dingy little bar. he spins you around, and you step on his toes because of all the wine, but neither of you care. all you care about is each other.

he’s deployed a week after your wedding, and you hate to see him go, but you’d never put yourself between him and his work. his team promises you they’ll get him back to you safely. you trust them with all your heart.

when he returns months later, he’s sporting new scars and stitches. he’s the most beat up you’d ever seen him, and you hold back tears as you patch him up. only when he’s soundly asleep do you let the tears fall.

but life continues. you make the most of his time on leave, and anxiously await his return on deployment.

and although you would never dare utter the words, you know that the day he doesn’t come back to you is the day a piece of you dies, too.

“This better be a fucking joke, LT.” Soap’s fury over the comms made you wince. If it weren’t clear that you’d been having relations before, it sure as hell was now. The rope around your torso thankfully had enough room to allow you a deep breath. Steady. That was what you had to be right now, steady and somber. Your life and all of 141’s depended on your acting ability. And the man who now stood at your side with a gun, waiting for Ghost to begin recording. 

“It’s all fake, Johnny. Pull it together.” Ghost scolded, but took a shuddering breath himself. He didn’t like risks, especially not where a squadmate was concerned. He handed the stranger the gun.

Price’s plan seemed the only believable way to draw out the enemy. It didn’t mean you were any less nervous for the inevitable encounter with them, though. 

The video recording would be sent to a dummy receiver by Soap at a vantage point on a cliffside. intended for the enemy to intercept, a local ‘volunteer’ of the area with an empty gun was to make demands from 141, the script Price wrote sounded convincing enough while you half listened. Your eyes had been glued to the way Ghost and Soap were playing cards, bantering together in the corner while Price scribbled different threats and demands for your scene. 

Your staged captor - a man at least four inches shorter than Ghost - was more than happy to help with the money price had presented. You only hoped he’d make everything look convincing. 

“Right, let’s keep it quick. Johnny be ready for DL.”

And the scene played out. The man shouted and you let a few tears fall, flinching when he raised his voice or came close. Less than a minute total, you couldn’t imagine anything looked amiss in such a short time.

“Box office worthy, now let’s get out of here.” Price praised, handing the man the rest of the money and thanking him in his language. 

Ghost began untying you with adept hands, his gloved fingers brushing over your heated skin at times, making goosebumps rise there. 

“May have to keep this, eh?” Ghost held up the sodden gag that you’d drooled all over while the lines were read. You looked from him, to the outstretched hand.

You cocked your head to the side, and stepped closer to him. He straightened, but didn’t budge. The smirk that appears on your lips has his chest fluttering. Before he can protest, you’ve pushed the piece of cloth to his chest, winked and turned back to cleaning up the camera gear.

The hardon in his pants is painfully uncomfortable, but he was thankful that the material hid it well.

The scent of Soap’s jacket had you longing for him on the short ride away from the trailer you’d filmed inside of. You leaned back against it, hoping to agitate the smell of him from it. Beside you, behind Price, Ghost shifted while eyeing you. His hands were still on his gun but he seemed distracted. The moment Price swore and lights flashed ahead, Ghost’s head whipped to the dirt road in front of you. 

There was a bright flash a second before your face slammed into the headrest in front of you. Things went dark, your vision doubled when you finally opened your eyes again. A pounding headache set fire to your nerves, nausea overwhelming your senses. Voices were shouting, yelling something in a tongue you didn’t know, and there was Price, being hauled away. You fought against the arms that dragged you from the wreckage of the burning car, but your weakened body was already overwhelmed with the splitting pain in your head. 

“It’s alright-” A familiar accent commanded more than soothed. Ghost. He’d gotten you out, away from the enemies somehow. And he’d left Price. 

Rage simmered deep in your gut, but instead of shouting at him once he let you go, you could only vomit onto the ground, then promptly pass out. 

+

Voices prattled quickly, hushed tones and words spoken sharply through teeth. Both hard to hear, but two distinct accents. Ghost, and Soap. Both doing their apparent best to quiet their growing argument. You rise from the stained bed, gripping on to the giant hoodie that had been covering you. The smell is different from Soaps, it’s a harsher, darker smell that makes shivers crawl along your spine.

You lean against the peeling wallpaper, afraid you may fall through for a moment as you listen to the conversation.

“Then one of us leaves, the other stays with her.”

“I’m not fuckin’ lettin’ ya Simon.”

A long, long silence falls after that. You can feel the tension through the thin wall. Your head pounds, waiting for more, straining to hear if either of them have even moved. A chair creaks, and someone sighs. 

“You get to wake’r up then, have fun with that one, Johnny.” 

You rush back to the bed, making your head swim in the process, Your heart roars and an aches all over your body and between your along the bridge of your nose beings drumming in time with it. You pull the blanket over you and pretend as if you’re just waking when Soap opens the door. 

“Jobs done for me then. Good morning, beauty.” He grins wide and it melts you. You can’t help the tears that prick your eyes, the flush of heat that creeps from your throat to your cheeks at the sight of him. You couldn’t remember what exactly had happened, other than the crash and Price being dragged away. 

“Where is he?”

“Cap is halfway across the country, interrogations already in process.” Ghost appears at the door behind Soap and the latter nods slightly when your eyes dart to him, seeking reassurance. “We need t’ move, Rook.” You cringed at the nickname he’d given you when he actually started talking to you after your first year as a part of 141. Rookie. When you’d asked him why he’d not spoken to you before, he’d only shrugged and said something along the lines of wanting ot make sure you’d make it through that first year. 

“Give’r a damn minute.” Soap scolds. The lieutenant gives him a long look, the eyes shrouded by smeared eyeblack boring into the back of Johnny’s head. When Ghost drags his eyes to you, they’re just as intense but less seething. 

“You can stay, go back to a safehouse, come with us,  whatever you’d like. I wouldn’t blame you after what happened to Price. We don’t know the threats as well as we thought we did. You need to make the choice for yourself, though. We won’t order you, we can’t.”

“You can’t.” Ghost corrects. 

Your eyes narrow on him. It’s clearly a challenge, and you want to give him the same burning look he gives you. but with the pain in your nose that stretches to between your brows it makes it hard to glare.

“You-” Soap begins his counterargument, likely the same one they’d been having in the other room.

“I’ll go wherever you both go. I am not leaving Price.” You say firmly. They both look to you, and a small smile spreads across Johnny’s face. Ghost’s eyes reveal a relieved smile beneath his mask, but truthfully he’d preferred to handle the op on his own. He is competent alone, he can kill unguarded alone. When he needs to account for Soap and you… it changes him. He’s noticed it before. The hesitation, the twinge of shakiness he gets whenever he hears a grunt or shout that he recognizes. 

It makes him fucking insane. 

“Let’s load up then.” Lieutenant's orders. 

+

An icepack rests on your face for easily half the drive. Soap holds it there, then Ghost when they switch driving. They’d both argued against your insisting upon taking a turn, citing the slight swelling of your eye and what happened the last time you’d been allowed to drive in a foreign country. 

“It wasn’t that bad.” You mutter into the clip. The road goes on endlessly, the sun casting square patches of pale light from one side of the car’s interior to the other, until it ceases completely and Soap groans, rolling his neck. 

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but your small patch of drool is cold against Ghost’s shoulder. You bolt upright, scooting back onto your side of the bench seat as the masked man stretches beside you. Embarrassment licks at your cheeks when Soap glances back at you in the rearview. He’d surely seen you lying on the other man’s shoulder, and had politely not said a word. You only hoped that Ghost wouldn’t receive the bitter end of Soap’s jealousy later. 

“We have a room with two Queen beds, will-”

“We’ll take it.” Ghost agrees and hands over a thin stack of money before the receptionist can offer anything else.

+

Streetlights painted the inside of the bathroom in a shade of orange that had Soap’s rippling muscles seeming ever more lickable. Your hand caressed his chest while you took him deep into your mouth, reveling in the weight of him there. His head tilted back and he swore obscenities in his mother tongue. 

He returned the favor, ordering you over the edge of the tub while his tongue prodded at your hungry pussy. It’d been so long since you’d had him. With back to back missions he’d only been around for a few days max, and it was always at a safehouse where he’d only have time to clean himself, eat properly and sleep.

With Ghost being the only other operator on mission, it was a rare chance to be almost alone with Soap. You couldn't resist when his hands began their journey over your body in bed. Sure he’d woken you, but he’d done it in a way that you couldn’t complain about. You’d been grinding back against him, forcing yourself not to gasp or pant too loudly when he rubbed you in the wicked ways he knew best. When you’d had enough of his teasing, you’d dragged him to the bathroom only a door away from where Ghost slept 

He slapped your ass, and it left you hissing at him. “Are you trying to wake him up?” You whispered as he lined his cock up with your entrance. 

An animalistic moan escaped both of you when he slid in, your wet cunt stretching around his length perfectly. He muttered something in Scottish again, and you grinned. He always did this whenever he was absolutely losing himself in the experience. 

“English, MacTavish-” You gasped out, as he slid his length out, then slammed back in. He leaned down, his the weight and warmth of his chest against your back. 

“I said-” He gripped your hip hard, his nails digging in slightly to your soft skin as he thrust forward, hilting himself inside you and making your eyes roll back. “Maybe I would.”

His words leave you confused, but you’re so lost in the pleasure of his cock remaking you that the subject isn’t brought up again once you return to bed after a shower. 

+

“Let’s get fuckin’ movin’.” Ghost barks when you appear in the doorway, squinting into the blistering daylight. It’s already much too warm out, and the car’s lack of air conditioning is bound to make the final part of the drive brutal. 

“Bit grumpy today are we LT?” Soap walks with you down the few steps to the street, handing you a coffee from the lobby.

“You’d be the same if two bunnies been wakin’ you up all night.” Ghost’s reply is surly, but you see the way he glances up at you, and the way his eyes crinkle when they drag over your figure. Your heart kicks into another gear at that gaze. 

Soap huffs a laugh, and a very familiar hand pinches your ass as he walks past you, around the car. You react too slow to catch him with a smack to the chest. 

You took the backseat beside Ghost, who’d already stripped off his tac gear in favor of just a worn out T-shirt and his vest. You were all dressed quite similar, the only difference being Ghost’s lack of skull mask today, only the balaclava hiding his features, revealing his browline and impeccable brows. His hood always managed to say up somehow, like the grim reaper himself couldn’t rip it away from him. 

Since the accident, it was an unspoken rule that no one other than the driver sat in the front. Honestly, you debated doing it anyway. You were not looking forward to sitting right beside the man who’d surely heard you begging Soap for his cock the night before. You leaned your head back and sighed as the car began rolling.

Tension laced the car with each mile. Ghost hadn’t said a word, and only stared out his window the entire ride. Noon came, and it was finally his turn to drive. Soap rested against the same window, snoring softly as the sun began falling, painting the landscape in hues of orange and pink. You tried your damndest to ignore the way Ghost’s eyes seemed to always catch yours in the rearview when you tried spying on him for a change. 

“What is it that you want to say?” You demand of him when you spot a wooded area in the distance. You’re sure he’ll stop at for a break, your own legs growing restless in the back seat. You glance to Soap, making sure he’s still asleep before looking back into the rearview, at Ghost’s piercing brown eyed gaze. 

“What’d you like me to say, Rook?” There it is again, you can hear the smirk behind the nickname and it makes your temper flash. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking. You’ve been weird all day, I can practically feel the irritation on you.” It’s hard not to raise your voice at him, to shout when you’ve been so tense for the last eight hours at least. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, and you hear the leather creak beneath his grasp. “Oh is that right?” His voice is gravely, unchanged in tone but you can hear the slight irritation there in his word choice anyway. Perhaps you know him better than you thought you did. 

“Let me fix whatever the fuck-”

Soap’s snoring spikes, then he adjusts his position and he settles back against the window. The ferocity in your eyes has Ghost ready to pull the car over and really, genuinely show you exactly what he was thinking. 

“You can’t fix anything ‘bout it Rook. I don’t think Johnny’d let ‘ya anyway.” He grins, and it eases his irritation a bit. If he can joke, he can let this pass. He can get through this damn car ride without staking his claim upon you, no matter how much he’d love to. 

“What does that even mean, Ghost?”

He pulls the car off to the side of the road, dust kicking up and painting the breeze in golden light. Soap sits up quickly, his brows pulling together as he collects himself, rubbing his eyes of sleep. You watch as Ghost moves, tossing the keys to the back seat before getting out.

“Gotta piss.” He mutters. 

He’s to the opposite side of the car and into the trees before you can even get the door open. “Me too.” You say, not looking back to Soap as you exit and follow the Lieutenant. 

His footsteps are silent but his tracks are easy to follow into the pale shrub brush and trees. “Ghost tell me what the hell you’re talking about.” You call out, eyes following each of his booted steps deeper into the shrubs. How had a man so big gotten away so quickly? You cursed under your breath, scanning the small archway of thorned trees where his tracks disappeared into. 

There’s a hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist and you’re being crushed in the next instant. Your panicked heart leaps and you thrash against the body pulling you backwards. Your legs find their mark on something, but the thick arms don’t release their hold. You’re grunting and shouting obscenities, flinging your head backwards hoping to catch a nose, but your body is still sore from the crash. 

“Relax.” The low voice isn’t a strangers. “Tell me why you left the damn car without your knife.” You nearly collapse with relief, then you’re falling, being let down by the massive man who’d already had you irritated before, but now you were furious. 

Ghost holds out his hand to help you back up from the dusty, cracked earth but you slap him away. “Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you!” You shout, panic and adrenaline still lacing your system. 

“You really want to know? You really think you can handle what's wrong with me?” He steps close, his chest heaving though you doubted lifting you took much effort for him. His eyes are searching yours, as if he can tell you whatever it is without actually saying it. God he wished he could. If it were left unspoken then maybe he’d be spared. Then maybe he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt.

“Just talk. It doesn’t matter if I can handle it or not-”

He’s moving then, catching your waist in his arm, leaning you back and supporting your neck with his other hand. His mask hasn’t moved, but when it collides with your lips the intent is clear. A kiss, hot and wet and packed with every unspoken want and desire that he’d had since the moment he’d met you. 

You melt to him, hands gripping his biceps, your body unintentionally responding to him with eagerness and an equal want. Your head swims. The mask tastes the same way he smells, the cool metallic, and wild scent of whatever deodorant he wears. The unmistakable hint of firearms is practically a piece of him, and he has you wanting more of it two seconds into the embrace. His lips are skilled, even though the thick cloth, he’s lining himself between your lips with ease. You could only imagine what it’d be like without the damn thing on.

There’s a snap of branches and you both stiffen. Your hooded eyes track his gaze, to where Soap stands frozen, his brows high and mouth slightly agape. 

+

Ghost supports you while you right yourself dizzily, then steps away. 

“Johnny I-” He begins to explain what, you don’t know. 

“D’ya tell him?” Soap is staring at you, and the question has you searching your memory for what he’s talking about. 

Ghost is deathly silent, you’re not sure if he’s even breathing beside you. 

“Tell him what?” You say, and clear your throat. The heat in your cheeks is nearly painful. 

Soap’s gaze darkens, and he lowers his chin. You know that look. You know exactly what that look leads to, and it makes your throat dry out instantly. “English?” He hints, his rounded accent making the simplest words sound exquisite.

Your mind spins, recalling the night before.

“Are you trying to wake him up?”

“Maybe I would.” 

Your pulse skyrockets. “I-” You stammer, glancing between the two men. “I didn’t.” You admit, shame lacing the words. 

Soap’s hand falls to his pocket, his thumb hooking there and resting. Ghost tenses, but he doesn’t move otherwise. 

“Johnny-” Ghost tries again to salvage something from the interaction, but you cut him off. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed, though.” You lower your gaze on Soap, scanning over him, how his muscles look so damn good in what he’s wearing, how sexy he is freshly woken. 

His tongue flicks over his lower lip and the mix of adrenaline and arousal nearly has your knees buckling at the sight. The hand in his pocket palms his cock and adjusts his pants as he slowly walks over, glancing to Ghost as he does. “LT, I’m not opposed to sharing.” He says, voice low in the way you only know when you’re alone together. Your body shudders at the tone, but you keep yourself in check, your muscles tensing and heart galloping as you glance between the two men. 

Ghost eyes him for a long while, then glances to you, his hands going to rest on his vest. “Y’cant make that choice for her, though Johnny. Ain’t no fun sharing a toy then.” Just the way Ghost says it has your body heating, readying itself to be just that, a toy for them both. 

“Did I seem opposed to your kiss, Simon?” You narrow your eyes at him, challenging him just as he had to you this morning ago about coming on this mission at all.

His massive figure is all you can see when he steps closer, craning his head down to look at you. “Wasn’t long enough for me to tell.” 

“Let’s see it then, LT.” Soap is grinning, you can hear it in his voice. “The mask-”

“Stays on, Johnny.” Ghost’s answer is gruff, then he’s upon you again. This time though, you take it in thoroughly, no longer overwhelmed with the adrenaline you’d had before. Now, all that fueled you was the desire that they both had injected into your veins. 

It’s heated and needy and wet. You can feel the heat and pulsing of his cock against your stomach when he pulls you flush to his body. His hands tangle in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. The sound of his sharp inhale only drives your need further. He pulls away to nibble at your neck, then down, pulling your shirt aside as he moves.

“Don’t think it’ll be when you get a sight of her pussy.” Soap’s words are accompanied by him sliding up behind you, his hands placed just where he’d mentioned. Ghost groans into the kiss he places atop your breast, and it leaves you wanting more, more, more.

You can feel Soap’s cock as well, slotted between your cheeks as he watches Ghost work you from over your shoulder. You catch his lips with yours and he rolls his hips forward, groaning into your mouth. “This is what you wanted?” You ask, hooking your arms around his neck and giving Ghost full access to your body. 

“Fuckin-” He garbles something in Scottish again, and before you can correct him Ghost has your pants around your thighs, exposing your thin panties to the cooling air. He breathes out a long sigh and begins worshiping you there, soaking your underwear with his saliva. Soap’s hands twist your nipples, squeezing the weight of your breasts while he grinds into you from behind. 

“Smell fuckin’ amazing sweetheart-” Ghost’s voice is somehow even more gravelly than normal, and Soap steps away for a moment before returning to you. He’s stripped off his pants, and slides himself between your thighs. The sight of him on his knees before you is something of a sick pleasure, knowing just how deadly, just how powerful he is and he’s here before you so vulnerable. Any final pieces of your inhibition melt away at the sight of him.

“Get’er up Johnny-” Ghost is hooking your legs over his shoulders, and the man somehow delicately rips your panties apart with his two hands. The only pain a snap of elastic against your hip before he’s got his mouth buried into you, lapping and sucking at you with a hunger you’d only experienced when Soap returned after long weeks away. The shock of his tongue darting at you instead of the dull sensation of the mask pulls heady gasps from your lips while your thighs lock together around his head. He loses himself in the sensation of it, the crushing against his head makes his efforts double. He’s consumed by you, everything he sees, smells, wants in this life right now is you. His breathing gets thin for a moment, and he truly, fully wishes for this moment to be how he dies, if he ever could. 

The only damn reason he holds your damned thighs away from his head is so he can hear the sweet song you’re making for him while he drowns himself in your pussy. He flattens his tongue out, reveling in your taste. He holds you steady for a few wicked moments so he can play with you, make your hips buck and roll, then lets you fuck his face while he watches, starting at your flushed cheeks and reddened lips while you bounce on him. Christ, he hardly needs to do any work, he just supports your rear while you grind down on to him and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever fucking seen - that he’s ever tasted.

He has to stop himself though, not wanting to be the man stealing all the pussy worship, he pulls away though it feels like pulling himself from the heavenly embrace of a god. He allows your shaky legs down slowly, taking pride in the work he’s done thus far. Your legs quake and you lean back against Soap for support. Ghost- god, he heaves his middle finger inside you, rocking it softly while he grinds the palm of his hand against your clit, allowing you to desperately flex on it for the friction you desperately crave. 

“You weren’t fuckin’ kiddin’ Johnny.” He says, planting rough, wet kisses with his sodden mask along your stomach and up to your breasts until he reaches your lips, and catches your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “She’s got the sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted.” He eyes you, his pupils enormous from what you can see in the growing darkness. His eyeblack has worn off slightly, making his eyes stand out more where his skin shines though. 

When he rubs his thumb over your lower lip, you jerk your head and catch it between your teeth, and watch his expression change. His tongue flicks over his lip, and his brows narrow. He can see the challenge you’re presenting, daring him to go further with you. To what, to punish you? He could only hope that was what this was. He could only pray that this would ever happen again and he would have a chance to. But he won’t - not until Soap encourages him to. 

He eyes you for a moment, observing the cocky grin upon your lips. He’s not one to be shown up, and for a moment his competitive self takes over. He takes a breath, then lifts the mask just enough to uncover his lips. He ignores the widening of both you and Soap, focusing on the idea that now he could fully taste you and the man whos cock has been rubbing against the back of his hand while he finger-fucks you.

He smiles, and flicks his tongue out over his lower lip. That wipes the grin right off your face, but he’s not satisfied yet.

So he catches the back of Johnny’s neck and pulls him forward, forcing their lips together in a hungry kiss full of tongues and teeth. The thumb between your teeth flexes down, meeting your tongue with further competition. Soap groans when he tastes you on Ghost’s mouth, a bead of precome sliding over the thick head of his cock.

Your mouth opens at the sight of them fully enjoying each other, setting Ghost’s finger free from your teeth. Ghost grins wide when he pulls away, knowing exactly what he’s done to you based off how much you’re squeezing the digit filling your aching pussy. Strings of his and Soap’s saliva dribble from his chin and then he brings his beautifully even lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth and thrusting his fingers rhythmically inside you.

There’s an unspoken war going on between you and Simon, but you’re not sure what it is. Your only thought is that you need to win. So you grab his cock through his pants and pump it once, twice before his hand slips from your pussy and he’d captured your wrist in his enormous, capable hands that you can’t stop staring at. The thick digits that were just making your core a living fire. You shudder at the thought of them entering you again. 

Soap laughs at the interaction and pulls his cock free from between your thighs, turning you to face him instead. “My lovely, filthy girl with m’ best mate.. It’d infuriate most men but I can’ stop watchin’ you touch ‘im.” He says between kisses all across your face and neck and ears. 

You hear laces being ripped free from their boots, then the click of a belt and rustling of clothes. Ghost returns, the delicious warmth of his cock pressing against your back. There’s still the friction of his tac vest and shirt, something you desperately wished to rip off of him. Soap’s is still on as well, and you can’t help but pout a little. Another unspoken rule of the moment, apparently. 

Simon caresses your hip with a hand and when you arch back to meet his touch, Johnny thrusts his tongue in your mouth and guides you forward, then down to the ground. Simon follows, hissing when he gets to see you fully on display for him. Johnny guides you to his cock, pulling your hair out of your face while he watches Simon admire you.

“Fuckin’ perfect ‘int she?” Simon praises, his fingers sliding over your soaked folds, then pumping the wetness along his cock. God he can’t believe how close he is already. He bites the inside of his cheek when he slides himself gingerly forward, hissing when he finally fully feels you. The tightness, the heat of your arousal - all of it makes his head swim.

He feels incredible. The stretch of Simon’s cock as he slowly enters you is absolute. It’s final, it’s fucking everything you’d wanted and needed from the moment he’d kissed you. He takes the first few thrusts slow, leisuring in the sight and sounds you made, muffled by Johnny’s cock in your mouth. And god, he tasted amazing. Sweat and salt and the essence of him, the safety net in the back of your mind that told you this was all okay. 

The safety of both of them. The bliss of only pleasure without giving orders. They were both here for you, to use you. To be with you. Being desired by Johnny was more than enough, but having both of them made your mind catapult into bliss as Simon started pulling you back into him, his fingers digging into your hips in a remarkable balance of pain-pleasure that had you squeezing his cock and drooling on Johnny’s. 

Thankfully the man before you held you up by the hair and jaw, thrusting in time with Simon, biting his lip when you swirled your tongue over the underside ridge of his member. A hand left your hip, jarring the rhythm for a few strokes before Johnny’s cock twitched inside your mouth, renewing the salty mix of him.  “Do it, Simon.” He encouraged. 

With the Lieutenant's next thrust, his hand cracked against your asscheek, and you moaned too much to keep Johnny’s cock in your mouth. Drool fell to the ground and you went to your elbows, arms shaking too badly to hold yourself up any longer. Your pussy clenched around him, drawing a low grown from Simon, along with muttered curses through his teeth. His thrusts becoming more erratic as you raised your ass higher in the air, giving him a new angle. The keening deep inside you was growing impatient, desperate. The next thrust was deeper, more deliberate with where he angled himself, and with the next he was rutting himself against the spot inside you that made your mind go blank.

Simon was hardly a help while Johnny moved, sliding over to be at your side and rub at your clit. He took in the sight of Simon fucking you, watching your lips grip the other man’s cock. He nearly came from the knowledge alone that he knew just how Simon’s cock felt at this moment. He pulled at his own member, flicking his fingers over your clit in a more determined pattern.

 “John-” Your words were a plea, and when your hand went to his wrist to stop him, it was instead caught by Simon’s. 

“You’re gonna fuckin’ come sweetheart, don’t stop him.” Ghost’s voice was nearly unrecognizable. And that wasn’t a request for you to stop. It was an order, it was the leader that you followed into the darkness and beyond. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the exquisite, quick approaching orgasm that loomed just a few touches - a few thrusts away. He released your wrist and adjusted his position, his foot going beside your knee so he was propped up higher, pounding into you at a downward angle and making your eyes roll back at the feeling of being so fucking full.

“I-” You could hardly make the words work, but Johnny was right at your ear a second later. “I don’t want this to be over.” You whined.

A sweet smile pulled over his lips, then he was at the cusp of your ear, making shivers dance along your arms and base of your neck. “Don’t think we’ll ever be done with ‘ya.” He promised, then returned his hand to your clit. 

You weren’t sure if you’d even need it. Simon’s thrusts quickened and with every one of them he was pushing against that soft spot inside your walls, every one of them making you see stars. “That’s it-” Johnny’s fingers dipped to the wetness that both you and Simon were making, drawing the mix up and to your clit where he played over you with flattened fingers darting back and forth. The heat inside you wasn’t just that any longer, it was molten need that had Simon’s cock coated. That had Johnny’s hand sliding easily against you.

The two of them were too much. The situation was too much, yet you wanted more. Your breathing nearly stopped as you reached the next level of pleasure, the wanton need nearly cresting now.

Simon’s wet thumb grazed against your asshole and you were convulsing a moment later. The sensitive touch of him making your waves of ecstasy crash upon you like a tsunami. Your legs shook, your scream ripping into the night as the white-hot pleasure tore through you. Your walls milked his cock greedily, drawing Simon’s own orgasm nearly to the brink. Johnny held you up with one arm while Ghost snapped his hips forward once, then again before pulling free from your cunt.

Before you could stop shaking he’d come across your back, and was trembling himself. To your surprise, Johnny hadn’t finished yet. You were sure watching something he’d openly spoken of fantasizing about would make him reach his orgasm, but-

“Don’t gimme that look.” He scolded, going to his trousers and flapping them free of sand. “You made me come last night, remember?” He grabbed your clothes next, and brushed them off as well. 

“No excuses, soldier.” Ghost harped, then shot you an amused look. His gaze darted to your thighs, then back up. He got up and found his own clothes, then helped Johnny get you dressed. Your body was shaken, worn and tired by the time you reached the car.

“I’ll drive. You two get some rest.” Soap offered, patting his vest pocket for the keys. 

Though Ghost’s mask was pulled back down, it didn’t stop you from looking to where you knew his lips were. IT didn’t stop your body from very actively responding to the knowledge that the mask was very much coated in your wetness, still. 

“Ahh, Ghost?” Soap’s tone was different now, and your eyes whipped to him. 

“Don’t tell me-” Ghost’s voice was a mix of amused and dread as he searched his own pockets. 

+

With the passenger side window smashed, you were pressed tight up against Ghost to hide from the cold of the night air whipping inside the car. 

“Fucking minx, you.” He purrs, slipping his hands into your back pockets, squeezing your ass as he pulls you closer. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“When have I ever?” You give a sly grin, walking him backwards into the apartment towards the bedroom. “Try to keep up, sergeant.”

…...................

The sound of clippers wakes you up on Johnny’s last day home.

He’s not beside you in bed and it takes you a moment to identify the sound, but once you do you slip out of the warmth of the bed, pulling on his old Nirvana shirt to cover up some, and walk towards the guest bathroom where the buzzing is coming from.

He’s in his underwear, the rest of his body on full display as he twists and turns in front of the mirror, clippers in hand and a stripe shaved into the side of his head, the look of concentration on his face downright adorable.

“You’re gonna strain something like that.” You quip, watching him jump at the sound, thankfully the clippers are nowhere near his face.

“Fuck, bonnie, don’t creep up on me like that.” He pouts, turning towards you and you can see his eyes linger on where his shirt stops in the middle of your thighs, before they go up to your face. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but it’s all right.” You shrug, eyes going to the somewhat lopsided shaved stripe on the side of his head. “The mohawk is back then?”

“Yeah, sorry. I know you want the ‘normal’ hair, but it doesn’t feel right going back out there without it.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, Johnny.” You say, pushing off the doorway to walk up to him, threading your fingers through his hair as you press a kiss to his lips. “I met you with the mohawk, I like it just fine. I just think you’re a thousand times more handsome without it.”

You’ve known from the moment you met the man that the cocky exterior he puts on isn’t as natural as he likes to make it seem, and that his Mohawk is likely his defence mechanism. If people stare at him, he can tell himself it’s because of his hair and that they can go fuck themselves, so when you see the blush dusting his cheeks you know it’s because you’ve hit the nail that is his insecurity on the head.

“Bottom line is this, Johnny, you’re ridiculously hot. With or without the mohawk, and I’m lucky to have you.”

For once the man is speechless and you can’t help but giggle at the adoration on his face as you move to take the clippers from him.

“Now let me help you before you cut your ear off.”

“Seriously?” He asks, adoration melting into shocked giddiness as he gives you the machine, watching as you gesture for him to sit down on the side of the tub.

“It’s a stupid hairstyle, but it’s you, and I’d never send you into battle without your armour.”

He doesn’t verbally respond but you catch the misty eyed look he sends you in the mirror, and you’re sure you’ve never loved someone as much as you do in this moment.

“How high do you want it?” You ask, lowering your gaze to not embarrass the man, raking your nails across his scalp as you take in the perfect length hair one last time.

“About yay high.” He shows with his hand, it’s a bit lower than usual but you guess that might be where he usually goes only to end up going higher and higher by accident.

The buzzing starting up once more soon lulls you both into a comfortable silence, the sound of hairs being cut strangely soothing as you run the clippers up the sides of his head, hand gentle as it manoeuvres him into the angles you need, the Johnny before you slowly melting into Soap once again.

….................

“You’re grinning like an idiot.”  

Soap is in fact grinning like an idiot when he turns to Ghost, who’s looking as stoic as ever though slightly more inquisitive than usual.

“What’s up?”