#sodawrite

Soap finally has Ghost under him, shirtless. His lips are kiss-swollen, his breath comes hot and heavy, and all Soap can do is stare gormlessly.

Because Ghost has stretch marks.

Silvery lines snaking along the edge of his huge pecs, where the muscle had grown too fast for his skin to keep up.

Moreso than just redirecting all of Soap’s blood flow straight down to his dick, they’re proof. Proof of every growth spurt that put him half a foot above his mates. Proof of years spent hauling kit, weapons, weights, people. Proof of survival. His body couldn’t keep up with what was being demanded of it, and it left a record right here under Soap’s hands.

“…You gonna stare all night, Sergeant? Or was there a plan?” Ghost says dryly, though with his mask pushed above his nose like that Soap can see him smirking. Cocky bastard.

“Can I touch ‘em?”

Ghost’s brow raises.

“The stretch marks.”

“I knew which bit you were on about.” He shrugs one broad shoulder, looking decently bemused. “Go on, then.”

Soap traces one of the faint lines with his thumb, feeling the slight ridge of raised skin give under his fingers. He follows it absentmindedly until it disappears into the hollow of Ghost’s underarm. There’s more than he realised on first glance - thin pale stripes along his lats, and several more curving over the swell of his biceps.

“Johnny,” Ghost snaps eventually, but there’s absolutely no heat in it, never is. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re practically droolin’. Get a move on.”

“MacTavish.”

“This is goin’ nowhere,” Johnny sighs, staring down at the Deed Poll they’re meant to be filling in. Simon doesn’t budge.

“Your mam will kill you if you drop MacTavish.”

“I dinnae care what my mam thinks!”

“You should! I do. She’s lovely.”

“Right, well I’ll be sure to tell her how ye bravely fought to preserve the MacTavish name for two whole hours.”

Now it’s Simon’s turn to sigh. He drops heavily into the seat next to Johnny, resting an arm across his newly-wed husband’s shoulders.

“I just don’t want you to be a Riley, love. That name’s got far too much shit attached to it. Nothin’ there to be proud of.”

“It’s got you.” And Johnny looks up at him with such hope edging his baby-blue eyes, that Simon can’t help the way his expression softens.

“Yeah. It does. Tell you what-“

He reaches for the pen, filling the box marked ‘last name’ with his concise, blocky handwriting before the other can stop him.

“Of course,” Johnny groans when he sees it, dropping his head into his hands. “Why didn’t we think o’ that two fuckin’ hours ago?

MacTavish-Riley. It seems so obvious, in hindsight.

“Stubborn bastard,” Simon murmurs fondly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Happy now?”

He woke up from a brutal nightmare long before his alarm went off, and spent the rest of the morning in the gym trying to distract himself. Then Price sent him to go help reorganise the armoury, which meant hauling around heavy boxes of weapons and gear for the better part of 4 hours, and then Soap had tracked him down and practically dragged him to the sparring mats under the promise of a ‘blowie actually longer than 5 minutes’ to the winner. He hasn’t eaten all day. He’s had maybe an hour of sleep.

So, needless to say, he’s not at his peak form.

He hits the mat hard enough to knock the air clean out of him, and before he can even think about getting back up, Soap’s weight is already settling over his lap, knees bracketing his hips, one hand pinning his wrist to the mat above his head.

“Oi,” Soap says, grinning down at him, breathless and visibly delighted with himself. “Oi, that’s - that’s a first, that is.”

Ghost bucks. Or he tries to. His hips come up as he twists his weight sideways, his free hand shoving at Soap’s ribs, and it should work, it’s always worked, Ghost’s got 6 inches and 30 pounds on him- except he doesn’t have anything left in him. He can feel his forearms shaking with exertion of it, spreading up into his shoulders, a tremor he can’t push through no matter how hard he grits his teeth and tries.

He shoves again. Soap barely moves.

“…Si?”

He tries once more. Real effort this time, hips snapping up, twisting, trying to get a knee between them and buy himself the inch he needs to flip the position the way he’s flipped it on Soap a hundred times before. His body answers with nothing. A shudder, a burn in his muscles, his wrist trembling uselessly under Soap’s grip. He can’t move Soap at all.

The realization hits him hard, stealing what little air he’d managed to regain from his lungs. He can’t. Not won’t, can’t. There’s no strength left to push with, no reserves to draw on, and Soap is still there, warm and heavy and very much not going anywhere, watching him with barely-concealed glee.

“Interestin’,” Soap murmurs, looking down at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Didnae think I’d ever see the day.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Ghost tries and fails to channel his usual deadpan. Instead the words come out breathy and quiet, and Soap’s grin widens in response.

He should say something else. Something to put the usual distance back between them, some flat remark to remind Soap this is still just sparring, still just Tuesday, still just the two of them being idiots on the mat like always.

What comes out instead is a low, mumbled, “…get off.”

It doesn’t have any teeth behind it, they can both tell. Soap’s grin shifts into something sly. “Say please.”

“MacTavish.”

“I mean it. Ye’re at my mercy, Lt.” He leans forward, hovering, just enough that Ghost has to tip his head back to keep looking at him.

Ghost’s free hand is still resting against Soap’s ribs from his last failed shove, and he’s abruptly, painfully aware of it. The heat coming off Soap through his shirt, the rise and fall of his breathing, quick from the fight and not slowing down.

“You’re enjoying this,” Ghost says. “Get off.”

helloo i am soda and i write cod fics!! i’m currently only on tumblr and ao3 (creamsodalite)

🫐 9teen

🍨 she/her

🍒 gmt/bst

🍨 askbox is always open for requests!! i do mainly write ghoap but i’m a filthy filthy multishipper, so

🍋 don’t use any of my work for ai chatbots and the like

🍨 ok thatsit feel free to scroll and stay a while :)