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They're probably quite the sight to the poor night audit on duty when she buzzes them in a little after midnight. Two massive men, one in a fucking black balaclava, caked with mud and dust and reeking of gunpowder with heavy duty duffels slung along their shoulders hunched over the pristine white granite desk. Soap still has his plate carrier on, albeit empty of the various magazine clips, assortments of chemicals for making bombs (and the occasional actual bomb), and all the other random shit he's usually got stuffed into the pouches. Ghost's plate carrier is strapped to his backpack, mostly empty outside of the fourteen hidden knives and his medkit. At least they aren't visibly covered in blood, even though Ghost knows its caked under his fingernails still.
"Hi there," the lass squeaks out, clearing her throat before her thick American accent takes over. Midwestern, maybe? "Do y'all have a reservation?"
"Aye, for Price? Or Laswell," Soap says, visibly delighting in the way she startles at his Scottish accent. The woman regains her composure once again as quick as the first time, clicking away at her computer to find their reservation.
"Looks like they booked it under Laswell, but the notes have a MacTavish for check in too. Can I get your IDs?" As they fish for their passports, she continues to read through the notes, mumbling aloud as she makes changes. "No deposit, direct bill, government rate, two beds..."
The mouse clicking back and forth settles under Ghost's skin in a way that makes him want to slam a fist on the thing, and he has to mentally restrain himself from throwing his well worn passport at the poor woman. She doesn't deserve it, I'm just pissy about not being on a base, he reminds himself as he slides the passport over and pulls his mask off. Soap makes a small, barely audible noise next to him, but blessedly says nothing.
She looks between the foreign passports and their faces for a brief couple seconds, before offering them both a grin and sliding them back.
"Perfect, I'll add you into the accompanying guest list as well, Mr. Riley." Two more clicks and the printer starts grumbling to life. As it spits out a page and Ghost pulls back on his mask, she busies herself with grabbing two keycards out of a drawer. Before she goes to code their keys, she grabs the paper, highlights a handful of spots, and slides it across the counter towards Soap. "I'll need two initials, a signature, and if you can put both of your names and a phone number on the 'Accompanying Guests' line, that'd be great."
Soap handles the paperwork while the desk agent prattles on about their room, the elevators, checkout time, the whole nine yards. For it being midnight, Ghost is irrationally angry at how bubbly she sounds. He chalks it up to stress and the last few weeks, and swipes the keys from the counter with a huffed "Thanks" the moment she sets them down. Soap scrambles to apologize for his behavior as he stalks away towards the elevators, jogging to catch up before the doors can open.
"The fuck was that, LT.?"
"You had it handled, I want to go to bed. So I'm going to bed."
"Ye didn't have to be a ripe arsehole to the poor lass though," Soap grumbles, tucking his thumbs under the chest straps of his carrier.
"Yanks 'round here won't let you leave without hearing your life story, I was being considerate of my time."
The elevator dings as it lands on the ground floor, and Ghost steps in to press the button for the fifth floor. Soap scrambles in behind him before the doors can close, grumbling under his breath. Ghost hears the words "don't" and "bastard" and his anger flares.
"Care to speak up, Sergeant?" he snips, staring straight ahead at the doors.
"No, sir."
"Wasn't a suggestion."
"Just don't know what crawled up your ass today, with how you're bein' a bastard 'n all."
"Soap..." The threatening tone in Ghost's voice speaks volumes. Says 'if you don't shut up, I'll make you and you won't like how I do it' or 'I know how to effortlessly kill, skin, and debone a human body and you will not be my first victim.'
Soap, finally getting the message, shuts the fuck up. The elevator shudders to a stop a few moments later, and spits them out on the fifth floor. Their room sits at the very end of one of the halls on the right.
When Ghost swipes the key over the lock, his brain switches into SpecOp mode and his bags barely have time to leave his hands before he's sweeping the room. Distantly, he hears Soap snort behind him as he starts poking around all the places one can bug a room.
As far as rooms go, it's certainly not the worst hotel room they've been in. The door opens straight into a small hall, consisting of a kitchenette along the right side of the wall, and a small alcove next to a door on the left. That doorway leads to the spacious bathroom, stocked to the brim with fluffy white towels. The garden tub sits to the left of the door, a rack of large bottles full of the usual offerings of shampoo and conditioner locked in place over the opposite end of the shower head.
The main area is decorated tastefully, two queen size beds tucked back behind where the wall of the bathroom protrudes, a small nightstand pressed between them. On the wall that the kitchenette runs along, there's a long corporate desk and chair, some shelving, and a flat screen TV mounted in the corner. Ghost eyes the small section between the wall of the bathroom and the left queen bed, the perfect place to dump their tac gear out of sight of both the window and the door.
Once deeming the room free of bugs or cameras, Ghost does just that, swiping Soap's vest from where he's pulled it off and left it on the desk to tuck away in the little crevice. Soap makes an indignant noise as he does, only to thankfully shut up again when Ghost levels him with a withering glare. Next to hit the desk is Soap's sidearm, carefully tucked into the back of his pants and concealed with his shirt and the bulk of the vest. Ghost's sidearm joins his a moment later, and once mostly disarmed, Soap chooses his opportunity to start being a prick again.
Ghost is bent over his duffel on the left queen, rooting his toiletries out from the bottom when the firm body of one John "Soap" MacTavish is plastered across his back, one arm locked around his chest and the other trailing fingertips over his belt and waistband. With the way he's leaned against the bed, Soap's hips slot firmly against his ass and thighs. "Think I know why y've been so pissy today," he practically purrs where his chin digs into the meat of Ghost's shoulder.
"Why's that, Sergeant?" Ghost keeps his voice flat, barely even flinches at the entire display and temptation Soap presents.
"You're wound up tighter than a top told to wait, Lt." Soap has the audacity to laugh at his own shitty joke. Ghost doesn't grace him with a reaction, Soap carries on like he did anyways. "I think you need a little stress relief, need to find a release..."
The unspoken but definitely present thing between them starts to crackle like a live wire, every pump of blood through Ghost's body ticking up in temperature. Soap knows what he's offering, that moment of bliss that Ghost usually orders him to bring to the surface. It's fine, Soap's into it, said so himself after the first time, something something, "-would spend the rest of my life as yer cocksleeve, let you fuck me whenever you pleased." So far, that's rang true; every time he'd demand Soap either drop his pants or drop to his knees, the Scot had done so with uncontained glee no matter the time or place.
Only makes sense he'd offer it up now that it's been a few weeks and they've got a hotel room all to themselves to defile.
Ghost pretends to consider the offer, rolling the shoulder that Soap's chin is starting to leave a divot in and pointedly ignoring the fact that the fingertips at his pants have now dipped in between where his shirt's tucked into his jeans. Really, he's tired and ready to sleep for a week after boiling the grime off his skin with a shower, but, the idea of fucking out all that pent up aggression and making Soap just take it is appealing. Incredibly so. Soap shifts his face to press little kisses and the occasional nuzzle into his nape, teasing the tip of his tongue between his lips as he does.
Well... they do have the room for a couple days until their flight back home. Might as well break in the beds and enjoy the privacy.
"You're going to go shower and clean yourself. Take as much time as you need because when I'm done eating you out, I'm going to fuck you into the mattress and stuff you so full of cum that you aren't going to be able to move. Am I clear, Soap?" The moment his voice takes on that bored, uninterested tone despite the absolute filth he's saying, Soap's hands freeze and he stiffens. There's a noticeable twitch against his ass, along with the pressure of Soap's cock starting to fill out as the words register.
"Yes sir," comes Soap's reply, reedy and barely above a whisper. Just behind his ear, that sinful voice is like a thunderclap.
"Good boy. Now scram."
Soap complies all too quickly, practically ransacking his bag to get his toiletries out. He doesn't even bother with a change of clothes, just looks between Ghost, the bathroom, and Ghost again before grabbing him by the shirt, dragging his tongue across where Ghost's lips are under the mask, and escaping behind the lockable bathroom door before he can process what just happened. The moment Ghost realizes what the fuck he just did, the shower is turning on and he can feel himself twitching in his jeans.
It's settled then. He's going to positively destroy Soap tonight, sleep and neighboring rooms be damned.
First though. First he needs a few supplies.
"Going to the store across the street. I'll be back in fifteen," he warns Soap, cracking the door to the shower so he knows the man can hear him over the water. He hears Soap startle and swear, but the bathroom door is closed and he's grabbing the keycards off the kitchen counter before he hears what the man says. The door slams shut behind him.
Returning from his little tryst to the big 24hr box store across the street from the hotel, Ghost slips back inside with his bounty to hear the shower still running, and soft, muffled moans coming from the bathroom. Ghost knocks this time so he doesn't take Soap entirely by surprise, but still snarls a warning at the man.
"I said clean yourself, not fuck yourself, slut. Hurry up if you're done."
Ghost tucks the four large bottles of Gatorade in the full size fridge once the door is closed again, as well as putting the small box of protein bars on the counter beside it and the keycards. The second, lighter bag gets tossed on the bed closest to the window. He'd honestly been pleasantly surprised by the selection the big blue store had to offer, not every day he could walk into a Tesco-equivalent and have his pick between half an aisle worth of condoms, lube, and even a selection of toys. Not that he's complaining either, especially with the added anonymity of self checkout. No need to scar a poor cashier with his purchases at quarter to one in the morning.
By the time the shower finally shuts off, he's just about impatient enough to start tearing into his goodies to get them sanitized in the kitchen sink. He tucks the two boxes back into the bag before Soap can exit the bathroom, and gathers up his own toiletry bag to take his own shower. Soap's hair is still wet when he comes out, towel around his waist, and he's got that sharp, dangerous look in his eye like he knows he's about to be torn to pieces and is gonna thank Ghost for doing it.
Ghost snaps a hand around his bicep as they pass each other, ducking down to growl, "You'd better be on that far bed, stripped and presenting yourself when I get out."
Soap stills, smirks. "And if 'm not?"
"Then I won't let you cum until we get back to England."
"Jesus fuck alright," Soap breathes, then noticing the extra bag in his hands, asks, "wha' kind of goodies ye bring me?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out, Sergeant." As he says the title, the grip on Soap's arm goes from tight to bruising. It lingers long enough to hear the stuttered breath escape the Scot's chest, and then Ghost is stalking away and into the steamy bathroom alone.
His own shower is efficient, no corners cut but at the same time, no time spent idle. He washes the two toys under the spray with him, clicking the first on to test the vibrational patterns one at time. The vibrator has a few different patterns that buzz both the main body of the toy and the larger rabbit dongle either together or independently. Sure, he knows it's marketed towards women, but the way it's a bit thicker in the middle of the insertable portion makes him immediately thrilled about torturing Soap with it pressed against his prostate, both inside and out thanks to the dongle being the perfect shape and flexible enough to rest just behind his balls.
The other toy is more simple and for... later in the night, a decent size vibrating plug that'll hopefully give Soap something to clench around so he doesn't waste a drop of Ghost's cum.
Toys clean, body clean, fingernails and hands especially cleaned with alcohol sanitizer and a wash on top of that, Ghost towels himself off, slips the toys back into bag to knock around with the bottle of lube, and exits the bathroom. Soap is exactly where he wants him, on his forearms and knees with his legs spread to show himself off. His face is buried with his forehead pressed against his wrists. At the click of the door, Soap looks up slightly, a feral smile pulling at his lips. Ghost barely bothers to make eye contact, just gives a disinterested huff and sets the plastic bag down on the desk and turns to go grab one of the drinks from the fridge.
Soap makes a confused noise, whining, "Ghost, c'mon, I did what ye asked..."
Ghost looks up from cracking the cap open. "Did you?"
The moment Soap meets his eyes again, he can see the thoughts racing behind them. Slowly, he shifts to rest on his shoulders and neck, face half buried in the plush comforter and pillows as he reaches back and spreads himself open. Ghost leaves the bottle of Gatorade on the counter, doesn't even bother to take a sip.
Why would he? There's a full course meal spread out for him on the bed.
Soap's thighs tremble as Ghost approaches him, ducking around out of his line of sight to come at him from the rear. He can feel his body start to react under his own towel cinched around his waist at the feast laid out before him. Soap's cock hangs heavy between his legs, thickening up visibly. It's one of Ghost's favorite things about the man's body; he's a grower, not a shower. That cock visibly twitches along with Soap's hips when Ghost drops the towel and clambers onto the bed, settling onto his haunches to get level with Soap's fluttering rim. His hands slot into the backs of Soap's knees, both for balance and to keep him locked in place.
"Much better," he murmurs, lust curling hot in his chest at the way Soap full body trembles at his hot breath wreathing over his most sensitive places. His nails sink into the meat of his own ass, pulling the skin just that bit more that his hole winks at Ghost from the stretch.
Ghost takes a deep breath, rolls his tongue around to gather the saliva pooling in his mouth, and descends on him like a man starved.
The first jolt he gets out of Soap comes from the glob of spit meeting his hole, expert aim ensuring it hits right on target. The second comes when he drags his tongue back up the same path the spit dribbles down, earning him a dragged out, muffled moan when he licks a broad stripe across his hole. Soap tries to rock back, chasing Ghost's mouth, and gets a harsh bite to where muscle and fat bulges around where the fingers of his left hand hold his cheek open.
"F- fuck."
Ghost answers with a rumbling hum, admiring the way the bite mark is already starting to swell before going back to his actual objective. Another flat stripe, another jerk of Soap's hips, another breathy exhale at the wet shock of pleasure. Ghost spits against his hole again, close enough that the force he puts behind it speckles his lips with miniscule droplets. Soap whines against the sheets, arching his back and pressing his ass against Ghost's tongue just as he starts to flick at his rim, sinking in ever so slightly. He tastes clean, just the barest twinge of musk and water left from washing himself in the shower. Ghost grumbles with approval low in his throat as his tongue sinks deeper.
He stays there for what feels like hours, days, alternating between lapping lines up Soap's taint and fucking his tongue in as far as it can go once the muscles soften. His jaw aches and his cheeks are covered in drool, and yet, Ghost can barely stand to part with the slick skin and muscle. He takes over holding Soap's ass when the man's arms tremble from exertion and numbness, leaving Soap to sob his moans into his forearms on the particularly hard sucks and nibbles. For all his noises however, he stays blessedly upright, keeps his ass perked in the air despite how much he probably wants to be rutting his poor neglected cock against the sheets.
Ghost pulls away from a round of pushing and pulling Soap along his tongue, admiring the way the reddened ring glistens with saliva in the lamplight, and realizes that little moans and whines Soap's been making for the past five minutes have been him begging, pleading for something with more substance than just Ghost's tongue.
"Ungrateful," he sneers, reaching back to bring his palm down on Soap's left cheek, right over where the bite mark is starting to purple.
Soap makes a choked little " Ahn-", the noise sounding like it claws its way out of his chest as his whole body jerks from the force. He lets go of the other cheek, and smirks when Soap starts to whine as he pulls away and off the bed completely.
"You want something else, don't you?" he mentions sarcastically, swiping the bag of toys and lube from the desk. The rustle of plastic catches Soap's attention, has him looking up from where he's buried his face in the pillows to peer over his shoulder at Ghost. He pulls out the lube first, dropping it next to Soap's calf and settling back behind the man. "Turn back around, ya slag. Never said you could peek."
Soap groans, but complies after a heartbeat. When it's evident that Ghost is dragging out the loss of contact on purpose, he starts to wiggle his ass enticingly. It earns him another stinging hit.
"Stay still."
"Yessir," Soap slurs around the pillows, muffled and defeated.
Ghost admires his work on the poor man's hole, still slick with spit dripping down his balls and onto the sheets to join the few drops of precum pooling there. Such a shame he didn't get to enjoy this more, that Soap had to be so impatient to get onto the main course that now they're both going to have to wait. He slicks two fingers up with the lube, and drizzles a generous amount onto Soap's hole.
Immediately Soap flinches from the cold liquid running down his taint, an unabashed moan escaping when Ghost drags his middle and ring finger through the mess to start pressing inside him. Despite the few weeks since the last time they'd had the opportunity to fool around like this, Ghost's time taken with his rimming pays off, and it only takes a few shallow thrusts before both fingers are slipping inside down to the last knuckle. He curls them immediately against Soap's prostate, and that gets him an even headier moan of his name and full body shudder.
He spends as little time prepping Soap as possible, if only to deny him the pleasure of Ghost's flesh after so rudely interrupting his fun. Once Soap's rim is pliant enough to sink a third finger in with the barest bit of resistance, he grabs the first toy out of the shopping bag and slicks it up. Soap, understandably, startles as the press of soft, cool and wet silicone and not the blunt head of Ghost's cock.
"Si-sir? Oh-" Soap doesn't get the chance to ask why, the moment the tip of the toy slips in, Ghost presses it in completely in a single, smooth push. The rabbit dongle settles into place perfectly against Soap's perineum. He looks so good like this, everything from the cleft of his ass to the underside of his cock drenched and shiny in the lamp light. The dark fuschia of the toy complements his tan skin beautifully. Ghost can't resist the urge to grind the thick shaft of the toy against Soap's prostate further than it already presses, ripping a keen from his throat.
"Good boy," Ghost coos, pulling the toy just far enough that Soap's rim starts to stretch around the widening taper. "Taking it so well. This big enough for you to feel now?"
"Mmh.. yes, please, fuck-"
"Thought you were gonna get my cock, didn'tcha? 'S a shame too, to think I was gonna let you ride me until your legs gave out." Ghost thrusts the toy in and out a few times, then shoves it in as far as it'll go and holds the power button to bring the vibrator to life. Soap's head shoots up at the sudden overwhelming buzz, and oh, the poor thing has tears gathering in the corners of his eyes when he looks back at Ghost. "Insatiable, little, brat."
Every word is punctuated with a bruising thrust of the toy, Soap's answering, wordless shout cracking in pitch when he presses the angle on the vibrator ruthlessly against his prostate. If they don't end up with a noise complaint slipped under the door by morning, Ghost is going to be shocked. He knows the man could cum from this, has done so untouched on his cock several times since their little arrangement started. From the twitching and flexing of his abdomen, he's already visibly starting to creep up on that edge.
"I think you need a lesson in patience, Sergeant," he says once the man drops his head again to whine a dragged out ahh against his forearms as he shifts to shallow grinding. "You'd better behave. You're not allowed to cum until I say so, is that clear?"
Slowly, his free hand comes down to brush at the slicked skin of Soap's balls, a wicked smile overtaking his expression when he hears a litany of swearing and feels the tremors radiating from Soap's muscles clenching down around the toy desperately. When Soap still inevitably doesn't answer, too fucked out and close on the vibrations assaulting him from the inside and out, Ghost takes it all away. He slips the toy out, turning it off and tossing it to the side on the bed.
"I said," Ghost mutters once he gets a hand around Soap's cock now, fingers encircling him around the base and his balls. Every word is once again punctuated with a vicious squeeze that has Soap keening. "Is. That. Clear?"
Soap mutters something from where he's buried his face in the crook of his elbow, deepening the sinful curve to his waist as if in effort to tempt Ghost back to fucking him with something, anything. Ghost just raises a brow, leaning forward to trade his grip on his dick for a handful of Soap's damp mohawk to rip his head back with.
"I'm sorry! 'm sorry, I'm sorry please, Ghost I'll be good, yer clear, promise I'll be good yeah, yes-!" Soap cries out, unconsciously pushing himself back to lessen the pressure on his scalp and into the warmth of Ghost hovering over him. The movement shoves his slick ass straight against Ghost's ignored, aching cock, making them both gasp and swear. Ghost recoils like he's been burned and fuck, Soap's lucky he's still got his wits about him enough to start groveling.
"I didn't mean to, sir, I'm sorry, I'm sorry please let me be your good boy, please please- oh fuck!"
He manhandles Soap onto his back mid-begging. That single sweet glide of warm skin on his neglected prick is all Ghost needs to ditch his plans to punish Soap for all he's done to misbehave tonight, overwritten by the desperate urge to fuck the man silly and stuff him full to the point he's overflowing.
The man squawks in protest as his back meets the cold puddle of spit, lube and precum.
"Be glad I'm not making you lick your fucking mess off the sheets," Ghost snarls, shoving his Soap's knees apart and pitching forward to cage him in. Those tears from being ruthlessly edged with the vibrator have finally spilled over, tracking pretty lines down the apples of his cheeks. Ghost drags the flat of his tongue up the left side of his face, humming in approval at the taste of salt on Soap's skin.
"Yessir, thank ye sir," Soap whimpers in his ear, trailing off into wordless whines and gasps as Ghost starts suckling a trail of bruises down his neck. He nibbles at the line of Soap's collarbone, thoroughly enjoying every tremble and twitch of the cock pressed alongside his own as he abuses his favorite one of Soap's sweet spots. Soap's hands come up to scrabble helplessly against his shoulders, shuddery little breaths and whines high in his throat escaping at every suck and bite to the spot.
Ghost leans back after a few minutes of abuse to the skin. It's gone almost black from the harsh sucking and bites, just big enough the edge of it is sure to peek out from the collar of Soap's t-shirts for the next week. It's lovely, but the pleading look on Soap's face when they lock eyes is even more so.
"Hold this," Ghost says as he shoves Soap's knee almost to his ear, practically folding the man in half. Soap's other leg is pressed up to hook over Ghost's shoulder, and he teases a kiss to the side of his shin as he braces Soap's back against the tops of his thighs. His cock slips against the warm mess of lube between Soap's legs, taking everything in him to restrain his voice to a single breathy "Fuck..." at the contact.
Bent in half like this, Soap winces as Ghost pushes himself up onto his knees and finally feeds his cock into that sopping velvet warmth. The slide tears a moan from both of their chests, and as he bottoms out, Ghost realizes with a sick sense of pleasure that he's jammed right against Soap's prostate thanks to the slight upward curve to his prick. He grinds his hips in as deep as he can manage, watching Soap's teary eyes roll back as the pleasure overwhelms him. Soap's free hand, the one not holding his knee to his ear, comes up to scrabble at the outside and back of Ghost's thigh.
"Fuck, bent in half like this, bet a whore like you could suck yourself off.." Ghost grumbles, admiring the way Soap's thick cock hovers a scant few inches from his face. He shifts forward, folding Soap more and more in half, until the drooling tip finally brushes against the stubble on Soap's chin.
"Prob- mm shit! Probably," Soap whines, then sticks his tongue out like a fucking dog to lap up the precum smeared all over the scar beneath his lip. A dreamy, hazy look takes over his face when a shallow thrust nudges the head of his cock against his tongue.
"Yes, look at you," Ghost coos, absolutely mesmerized. It takes everything he has to pause his grinding long enough to brace the hand not holding the leg at his shoulder against the bed, if only to keep his weight from snapping Soap's spine. Soap gives him a beautiful set of bedroom eyes as he drops his mouth open wide enough to fit the tip of his own dick, even straining his neck just enough to lock his lips just past the crown. His eyelids flutter as he suckles gently at first, then squeeze shut with a harsh breath through his nose as his mouth works the tender flesh harder.
Ghost lets go of the leg against his shoulder, reaching down to brush his thumb against Soap's hollowed cheek. "Enjoying that, are you?"
Soap gives himself one more miniscule bob of his head, releasing his cock with a slick pop! "Yessir," he slurs when he looks up, cherry red lips shiny with spit and precum where his tip still nudges against them.
The warmth of his body is starting to get to Ghost, the little clenches around him dick and shifts of Soap's hips to try and get back at blowing himself slowly driving him mad in his restraint. He sets back to shallowly rocking his hips, grinding the head of his cock directly against Soap's prostate until he earns a sob of pleasure. His own voice is pitched rough, strained at the effort to hold back his responding groan. God, Ghost wants to see Soap ruin himself. "Think you could cum like this?"
"Yes, yes please," Soap begs between lazy grinds and laps of his tongue. One particular draw and thrust has his mouth falling wide, humid breath filling the space between them. "F-uh-uck, yer so deep, Ghost please..."
"Gonna make you cum all over yourself, then fuck you through the aftershocks. You like the sound o' that, Johnny?" Maybe he's being a bit cruel. Soap never had a choice to begin with, not that it seems he cares. The man moans loudly in agreement, and sets back to sucking himself off in earnest.
Every harsh drag has him clenching down around where Ghost is buried deep in that slick heat. The rolls of his abdomen twitch and flex like mad every time Soap makes a show of digging the tip of his tongue into his slit, chasing the precum blooming there. Ghost swipes away a tear threatening spill over his blush stained cheek, and resolves to pull more sobs from Soap's chest as he wraps the same thumb and his forefinger around the base of Soap's cock.
It takes a few moments to fall into a rhythm, what with the way Soap immediately bucks in his grip and cinches tight around him, but eventually the man gets the memo to keep going. Sure, Ghost's small jerks of the base don't quite line up to the sloppy suckles and kisses Soap lavishes the head of his cock with, but the added sensation certainly helps him along.
He can tell the moment Soap crosses the line of too close to stop his release. Soap desperately tries to curl in on himself, thighs trembling where his knees hook over thick shoulders and his calves cross to press down around the back of Ghost's head. The pressure around his neck makes Ghost's stance falter, forces him to grind deeper than he thought possible into the breathless man below him. He sees the barest flash of teeth closing around the ridge just under the crown of Soap's dick as his lip curls with a muffled sob, the man's brows pinching together harder than ever as the edge looms in front of him.
"Open your mouth," Ghost orders, practically snarls before Soap can fall into his orgasm and injure himself by biting the tip of his dick off. "Stick out your tongue."
Soap obeys immediately, watery blue eyes fluttering open to look up at Ghost pleadingly, only to scrunch them back closed as his pleasure finally crests.
Despite the mess that's always left over, he's always loved the fact that Soap cums like he's pissing, usually coating the sheets or walls or his entire torso in the cloudy fluid. It's usually too much for Ghost to even try to drink down on the scant few occasions he's sunk to his knees, but he's rather content to listen to it splatter across the floor the rare time he does.
The result this time is everything he ever could have wished for; Ghost relishes in the telltale flexes and jerks of Soap's cock as he spills all over himself, striping cum across his slack jaw and open mouth with a keening moan. It takes everything to keep his eyes on the scene Soap paints below him, flinches and shuddering little " ah, ah, ah "s dragged from his throat with every hot splatter that coats his skin. If Ghost uses his hold on the man's cock to 'encourage' a couple streaks from Soap's lips to his hairline? No one needs to know.
He starts to jerk the man off with purpose as the fountain slows to a thick dribble, milking his orgasm until Soap is begging him to stop, face and neck and the pillows underneath dripping and drenched in his cum. The fluttering contractions of his rim around Ghost's cock frays at his carefully crafted control, molten velvet sucking him in impossibly deeper.
Ghost admires the picture below him for as long as it takes to stave off his own orgasm, only then gingerly leaning back and settling to where Soap's back is propped against his thighs and his hamstrings no longer burn from the wicked stretch. Soap pulls a few heaving breaths, swallowing hard around the cum pooled in his mouth and reaching up to make a feeble attempt at wiping his eyes. Once he's sure that Soap isn't going to choke on his own spend, Ghost sets to doing exactly what he'd promised to do once Soap came, shifting his grip into the back of Soap's knees to brutally fuck him through the afterglow.
Immediately Soap starts to keen, every "Ah!" and "Oh!" sounding like it's being torn from his chest with every harsh thrust. The glide after spending so long being warmed by Soap's hole is divine, and Ghost can't help his own groans from spilling over either. Soap's legs tremble and fall to the side in his grasp, toes curled tight thanks to the assault of pleasure-pain from overstimulation.
Those pretty, teary blue eyes stay clamped shut, whether from the pitiful failed attempt to wipe the cum from his face, or the onslaught on his senses, Ghost doesn't care enough to guess. Really, by this point, Soap is nothing more than a warm hole to use as he sees fit. And use him he does, chasing his own pleasure until the tension in his gut starts to burn bright.
"Take it, Soap, know you can, c'mon now," he growls, pausing to catch his breath a moment and grind deep. Soap all but thrashes below him as he drags the head of his cock over and over Soap's abused prostate, softened prick giving a valiant twitch between them.
"Gh-oh-ost please, I can't, fuck fuck!" Soap can barely get the words out as his pace is resumed. His hands switch from knotting in the ruined pillows to bracing against the headboard to keep himself from sliding further up the bed.
"Yes you can, Johnny," Ghost bites out between thrusts, his grip on Soap's knees turned bruising. The slap of their skin echoes between the punched out moans and panting between them. "Good fuckin' boy, shit, oh fuuuck..."
No matter how long he would've loved to drag this out, Ghost is only a man, and his inevitable orgasm still manages to blindside him. He fucks in as deep as he can possibly go as his balls tighten and the pleasure flashes over him, painting Soap's insides white. His vision tunnels down to the single point of the blissed out man spread out below him, face still glittering where the fluids there catch the light, the bruise– so dark it'll ache for days– a stark contrast to the milky white dribbles down his neck.
He's a fucking dream.
Slowly, the feeling starts to come back into Ghost's limbs as he surrenders to the afterglow, panting heavily to catch his breath after having held it through the strongest waves. Soap all but collapses into a blissed out puddle below him, despite having not managed to get hard again. His voice is wrecked from all the borderline screaming when he finally cracks open an eye to level Ghost's staring. "Fuck sir, mmnh, tha's fucking hot.."
"Yeah?" Ghost lifts his hips, rubbing his softening cock along Soap's walls as he finally slides out with a wince, "Enjoy that, did ya Johnny?"
Soap just nods his head and lets go of the headboard to swipe the cool remnants of his spend into his mouth, humming lightly with every swipe of his tongue across his fingers.
"Messy slut," Ghost admonishes, "acting like your own spunk'll be your last meal."
Still, he reaches back far enough to grab the shopping bag from where it's been tangled in the sheets. He retrieves the plug, sliding it home in Soap's hole before the man can realize, or protest, what's happening. Without the threat of any of Ghost's cum being able to escape before the next round, he finally relaxes a bit onto his haunches between Soap's legs.
"Fucker," Soap still spits at him anyways as he clenches around the silicone, "don' see you making any attempt to clean me up."
"'s supposed to be good for your skin," Ghost teases, voice a low grumble as he reaches forward and thumbs a bit of wetness around Soap's cheek. It earns him a single-eyed glare and a snap of Soap's teeth.
In the end, he rolls his eyes and makes a break for the bathroom on shaky legs, turning the faucet to hot and soaking two of the fluffy wash cloths under the warming water. He returns with the two dry ones as well, settling on the bed near where Soap has sat up and shuffled away from the damp spots. His fingers massage at his bum knee carefully.
"Alright?" Ghost asks, setting the dry cloths on the nightstand and grabbing Soap's chin to tilt his face up. Soap relaxes into the gentle swipes over his eyes, humming something close to a yes.
"Can't do much about this," Ghost mumbles as he works his way towards the flaking in Soap's hairline. "Might need another shower to get it all out."
"Just te get ruined again?" Soap scoffs. Those pretty blue eyes fix Ghost to the spot, get his body warming when Soap visibly looks his naked form up and down. Not that he or Soap could really get going again so soon anyways; even after all the fucking and stimulation after his first orgasm, Soap is still regretfully soft between the spread of his legs.
"Who says I'd make a mess of your face?" Ghost asks, false boredom coloring his tone. He pinches Soap's jaw lightly when the man scowls at him, releasing him a heartbeat later and tossing him the cooling cloth. The other he takes to wipe himself down, cursory scrubs to clean where the copious mess of lube had coated his pelvis.
He doesn't get the chance to clean himself much further than that. Soap hooks an ankle around his leg, tugging until Ghost loses his balance and almost smothers the man under his weight when they both hit the bed. Teeth in his neck and a clever tongue curling around his earlobe stoke the warmth under his skin to a rolling simmer, and Soap's voice is all the more fuel.
"Would ye if I asked nicely?"