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Surprisingly slender.
That was Soap’s first thought when he saw the Ghost’s fingers for the first time, as he’d bit the end of his glove yanking it off with sharp teeth so he could keep one hand on his gun.
They were strong hands. Capable. Large, in perfect proportion to his body, with knuckles scarred a lighter shade than the rest of his already pale flesh. Raised keloids criss-crossed the soft pads of his fingers, accidents with sharp knives, self defense wounds from grabbing blades as they went for his jugular. Rough hands, he could tell, even from that distance, but still. Almost delicate in comparison to the rest of him.
He’d dreamed of kissing those hands, in what he’d considered his weaker moments at the time. Let the fantasy build in his minds eye, as his lips would caress each scar, making sure to run his tongue over each one, thinking that if he concentrated enough, he could still taste the acrid gunpowder and hot metallic tang of blood etched into the marred flesh.
Never had he dreamed he’d actually be allowed to one day.
But things change. One mission goes south and the adrenaline wears off in the helo as you’re ten thousand feet above a frost bitten wasteland, and things change. He’d never forget the sight of the frost clinging to Ghost’s eyelashes melting down his cheeks from their hot breaths, smearing his eye black like tears.
However today they were down on solid ground, and the rhythmic whirring of the helos blades was replaced by the squeak from Simon’s metal bed frame, making itself known when Soap shifted his weight on the bed as his fingers scissored inside of his lovers ass.
Simon huffed out a deep sigh and his head fell back on the mattress, the pillows having at some point been thrown across the room. His eyes fluttered closed and his pale blond eyebrows furrowed almost as if in concentration as Soap’s fingers did their work. Soap could watch him like this for hours if Ghost would let him, just fingering him open, drenched in lube as he tried to commit every facial expression, every moan, every twitch of his pierced cock against his stomach to memory.
Ghost had only let him do it once before, saying that Johnny was ‘too obsessive’ about it. And that time he’d worked him on just his fingers until he’d been squirming on the sheets in his Glasgow flat, his name coming like a mantra in-between the sweetest cries he’d ever heard come from the larger man’s throat. He’d only lasted a few strokes of his own hand after watching Ghost come undone, crying out his name and nearly blacking out from the force of his orgasm.
And maybe it was an obsession of his. But once he’d had a taste of Simon falling apart at his doing, who could blame him?
“Fuckin’ enough Johnny… ‘m loose enough.” Ghost’s rough voice broke through his daydreaming and he was reminded of the man laid out before him.
He smiled and placed a kiss on his thigh “Aye, ye are love.” He pushed his fingers in further, fucking into his hole watching as an obscene amount of lube squished out around the digits “Fuckin’ wet for me Si…”
Ghost moaned at his words and reached up, grabbing the back of his neck and yanking him closer so that Soap fell into him, his hips snapping into place between Ghost’s thighs. He could feel his own dick pressed along side his hand, leaking next to where his fingers disappeared into his lover and it made him groan in anticipation.
“Where you at love? You’re a million miles off.” Ghost cooed, stroking his cheek, letting a scarred thumb caress his lower lip, tracing the scar that hid in his beard just on his chin before tilting his face up to meet his gaze.
Soap moaned again and ground his hips against Ghost’s entrance “Thinkin’ ‘bout you. Thinkin’ ‘bout how I’d like to make ye fall apart.”
Ghost hummed and pressed his thumb against Soap’s mouth, asking for entry, which Johnny was only so happy to give him.
“Could be doing that right now, if you got your cock out.” He teased, pressing his finger inwards, tracing each of Soap’s teeth with slow reverence. Soap whimpered.
“Could be inside me right now… could feel yourself right here.” He laid his free hand on his stomach, almost casually pushing his cock out of the way so as to press down on his belly, right where Soap knew he could reach when he had Ghost wrapped around his waist. His cock twitched again and he shuddered.
Ghost sat up on his elbow, dislodging his fingers from his ass as he pulled Johnny closer to him, hooking his thumb gently behind his teeth to do so. He cocked his head to the side slightly and his eyelids lowered seductively as he watched Soap’s reaction to being led by the tongue.
“You wanna fill me up pretty boy?” he purred “Make me cum on your cock?”
Soap tried to respond, but the intrusive finger had made its way back further into his mouth so all that came out was a gurgling moan.
Ghost smiled, the action stretching the scars that covered both cheeks in a way that should have been grotesque, but Soap had only ever loved since the moment he saw the man’s face. He hooked his legs around Johnny’s waist and using his free hand shoved his boxers down his thighs, freeing his leaking cock, encircling the base with his slender fingers to hold him steady as he guided Johnny to his slick hole.
“So good for me Johnny.” He whispered as Soap braced himself on shaking arms as his cock head finally slipped past that tight ring of muscles and into the welcoming heat of Simon’s body.
Once fully seated inside him, he began rocking his hips forward, barely thrusting at all, just grinding deep into his lover, as Ghost once again ran his thumb over his mouth, spreading the saliva that had pooled in his mouth on lips,
creating a mesmerizing shine, eyes shuttering closed as the duel sensation began to overwhelm him.
When he finally pulled back and thrust back in, hard, Ghost moaned, loud and gasping, tightening reflexively around the intrusion.
“Fuck Johnny…! Please…!”
The pace he set now was merciless, pounding into Simon quick and sharp, barely drawing out before he was slamming back home again, each thrust aiming for that bundle of nerves to drive him over the edge as quickly as possible. Because he knew he couldn’t last long. The moment Ghost had dipped those long slender fingers into his mouth he knew there’d be no controlling how fast his orgasm came tonight. He could already feel it building, his balls tightening, the familiar heat starting to tingle low in his stomach as Ghost cried out his name and clenched around him.
“Si please – ! I can’t – “ he nearly sobbed the words, his thrusting starting to lose rhythm.
Ghost’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed, but he opened them at Soap’s begging “’m close Johnny, just a little more, please. I wanna cum on your cock, wanna feel it.”
Soap whined and stretched out a hand, clumsily grabbing Simon’s in his, lacing their fingers together, trying to ground himself and hold off the inevitable.
He ground his hips into Simon, pushing hard against his inner walls sitting up on his knees to get a deeper angle, trying to hit that spot, make him see stars.
It must have been right, because he felt Ghost’s entire body tense and his legs drew up tight around his waist, heels pushing into his backside forcing him to press in further as he threw his head back, letting out a choked cry, and Soap watched his cock throb against his belly, shooting thick stripes of cum up his torso. As he came he tightened around Soap and he moaned grinding his hips as that’s all the vice of Simon’s legs would allow, fucking into him in shallow thrusts as his own orgasm overtook him, before he collapsed against him.
They lay there, panting, Soap still buried to the hilt inside of him, riding out the high. Soap brought their tangled hands to his mouth and kissed Ghost’s knuckles, eyes still closed. He felt Ghost let out a slight breath, it may have been laughter or a contented sigh. It didn’t matter which to Soap.
“Wanna stay here forever like this.” He mumbled into their conjoined hands.
“Covered in sweat and cum? And sticky lube sheets?” it was definitely a laugh this time as Ghost slowly let his legs drop from around Soap’s waist “I’d rather be six feet under again.”
Soap chuckled and let Simon push him off gently so his germophobe boyfriend could go get the damp cloth he was obviously dying for.
He rolled over to watch Ghost fetch the cloth in the reflection of the bathroom mirror and murmured softly into the sheets. Sheets that smelled like himself, and Simon’s aftershave. The detergent they picked out together after arguing over both of them using different brands. Sheets that were high count cotton because Simon liked a bit of luxury when away from the base. Sheets that covered a mattress they’d had to beg Gaz in his pickup truck to lug all the way to Bristol when they’d realized there was no way they were getting a mattress large enough for the two of them onto the metro. On a metal bed frame that had nearly broken his toe when he’d tried to carry it up the stairs by himself because Simon was at the shops buying dinner.
Buying take-away on the first night they’d moved in together.
“Ye better not go under ‘til your grave reads MacTavish ye bastard…” he murmured and smiled, meeting Ghost’s whiskey colored eyes in the reflection.
