Chapter Text
Almost a week had passed since Ghost watched the video. He couldn’t confront Soap about it. He didn’t know how. Soap thought he was avoiding him since watching it. That was until Soap heard a knock at his door. Almost moments after opening it, Ghost had entered the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
“Came to return the tape?” He questioned, seeing the cartridge in Ghost’s hand.
The lieutenant surged forward, grabbing him by the shirt. He tugged him by the collar and backed himself into the wall, forcing Soap to pin him there.
“You didn’t like it?” He asked, confused.
“Rape me, Johnny.”
“Oh, you did like it.”
Ghost tugged him even closer, lifting his mask up over his nose. “You can’t say you don’t want it. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“Never said I didn’t want it.” He grinned.
“Please, Johnny. This stupid thing-” he held the tape up, “I’ve been worked up for days over it. You and that stupid boy-”
“How many times did you watch it?”
“Almost every day.” He had a needy and almost pathetic look in his eye.
“Are you jealous, Simon?” He laughed softly.
“I’ve never wanted to be a skinny twink until now.”
Soap cackled, instinctively holding onto the man in front of him, drawing a small laugh out of Simon. The two were practically embracing now, Soap leaning onto Ghost, pressing him to the wall behind him.
“Will you do it, Johnny?”
Soap leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the taller man’s lips, smiling against them. Ghost whined softly against him, melting into the kiss. He pulled away, with Simon chasing the kiss.
“No.” He smiled.
Ghost latched onto him, tugging him by the collar of his clothes. “Why not?” He practically grunted out.
“How can I rape you if you want it? That defeats the purpose a little.” He giggled.
“Johnny.” He whined.
Soap cupped his cheek in the palm of his hand, “I’ll do it, Simon. Just not when you’re asking me to.”
Soap backed away, giving Ghost access to the door. Simon held out the tape, offering it back to him.
“Keep it. For cleaning my room.” He clasped Ghost’s shoulder and the two said goodbye.
Two days had passed since Ghost had all but begged Soap to take advantage of him and Soap evilly declined. Ghost had been pent up and needy since then. He had rewatched the videotape multiple times since then, but had held off on actually getting off to them. He didn’t know why. All he knew was that he wanted Soap to be the one to make him cum.
The two had spared knowing glances at each other all throughout the work day. Ghost caught Soap admiring him more often than before. In the gym, he’d catch the smaller man watching him as he’d set up plates, eyes raking across his body as he spotted him, even peeking at him in the showers. At the large tables where they ate lunch, Johnny sat across from him, looking intently into his eyes like a predator staring at his prey, one of his tactical boots sliding up the side of his leg. In meetings, he’d catch small, hidden glances his way, Soap’s eyes narrow and dark.
He didn’t look at him the way he used to. Before, Ghost could see a sense of longing in his eyes, admiration, and sometimes even arousal. Now, he was looking at him in a way he had never seen before, except maybe in the video tape. His eyes were dark and full of something that struck fear and arousal in Simon. He had never felt pinned by someone’s eyes before, until now. The way his sergeant looked at him made him feel like he was being hunted, like the man was looking at him through the scope of his sniper rifle.
Simon settled into his bed. His mask had been discarded shortly after he finished cleaning and disassembling his gun. Most nights, he had trouble sleeping. The warm, comfortable lull of sleep didn’t quite hit him the way it hit others. His sleep was often short, interrupted, and full of nightmares. Lately, however, he would fall asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow. The changing of seasons, the spring air, and the pollen weighing on his eyelids made him much sleepier.
He felt himself drift off, sinking into his mattress and feeling all of his tense muscles relax for the day.
Soap waited until after curfew, when he would surely get in trouble for sneaking around, and snuck out. He made his way down to his superior’s room, luckily just a few doors down, and pried open the door. He had been more than grateful that the rooms on base had no locks—courtesy of drill sergeants and upper ranks checking in on misbehaving recruits.
The lieutenant was sleeping soundly in his bed, lying flat on his back like a true soldier. There was a gentle look on his face, much softer than Soap had ever seen. He didn’t get to see his face often, the two weren’t often in private where he could take the mask off. The few times he had, his face was stern and stoic, roughened from his years in the military. Asleep, he was soft and pliant. His lips sat in a delicious pout and he let out quiet snores that resembled a kitten purring. Soap almost didn’t want to disturb him. Almost.
Soap stripped himself of his clothes before he slowly climbed on top of him, the mattress sinking beneath him. He had to be very careful, Simon was vigilant and highly trained, one wrong move and he might end up with a black eye. The blankets ruffled as he moved them off the man below him. His pajamas were stripped off next, carefully and slowly. Ghost slept in a tee shirt and boxers, strangely casual for the lieutenant. Soap was able to fully remove the boxers, but settled for hitching his shirt up over his chest.
Simon’s nipples were pink and soft, resting on his muscular pecs. As subtle as Johnny wanted to be, he couldn’t resist rubbing a thumb over them. He gently circled them with the pad of his thumb, feeling the plush tits below. It took a great deal of self control not to dig his palms into the man and grope him. He wanted to take full advantage of the man in front of him, but that would have to wait.
Beneath his thumbs, Ghost’s nipples perked up, blushing a slightly darker shade of pink and making Soap’s mouth salivate. He removed his hands while he still had self control and rested them at each side of his superior’s torso.
He reached into the back pocket of his discarded pants and fished out the small bottle of lube he brought. Ghost laid below him, spread out and malleable. His skin was pale and lightly dusted with freckles no one could see unless they were there in the room with them. The man, usually covered head-to-toe in fabric, was now laid bare in front of him. Soap ran slicked up fingers down between his legs, lightly circling his hole before pushing inside.
Ghost stiffened, sucking in air in a small gasp. His eyes remained closed, still lightly snoring. Soap pressed in deeper, careful not to wake the man up. When he felt like one finger wasn’t effective enough, he slipped another in with it. The squeeze was more snug against his fingers and Simon’s face scrunched in his sleep. He stiffened a little, lightly stirring. Soap paused, waiting for him to settle.
A few moments later, Simon’s face once again wore a soft, peaceful expression. . Soap slid his fingers in and out, a sinful slick sound accompanying the movement. Simon’s cock hardened a bit with each pass of his fingers. He ran his other hand up Ghost’s side and around to his midsection, feeling the plush meat of his stomach and the firm abs underneath. His muscles tensed underneath his hand, making his abs more defined and only egging Soap on.
He drug his fingertips across Simon’s skin, trailing up his body until he reached his chest, where he circled his nipple and lightly pinched it. Simon shifted a little underneath him. Soap took hold of his pec and squeezed. It was firm with muscle, but fit perfectly in his hand. He massaged the fat and muscle of his chest, running his fingers over his nipples and squeezing him. He cupped it from underneath, giving his hand a small shake just to see it move. He prodded and squeezed all over Ghost’s chest, getting away with things he’d surely be smacked for if he were awake.
Soap knew he had gotten carried away when he was three fingers deep in his lieutenant, hand groping at one tit, mouth suctioned to the other. His superior had stiffened, his slow breathing picking up in pace, and one of his hands made its way into Soap’s mohawk.
“Johnny?” He spoke slowly, groggily.
Soap pulled off his pec with a pop. “Morning, sunshine.” He winked.
“What… what is this?” He could hardly form sentences, too confused by the sudden lucidity of his mind—the sudden arousal in his gut.
“I’m raping you, Lt. Quit squirming.”
Simon’s back arched involuntarily, the hand in Soap’s hair clenching tight. Soap pinned him in place with his body, forcing him still. Simon fought back, trying to move the man above him, but the constant press of fingers inside him, the hand groping his chest, and Soap forcing him down made it impossible to fight back. His face was blushed a pitiful pink, the soft warmth glowed off his cheek in a pathetic way. His lips fell open into a pouty frown, soft exhales escaping as he breathed heavily. His chest rose and fell harshly underneath Soap’s grip.
Simon felt a harsh pinch. He looked down to see Soap had latched on to his chest again, this time he was biting down on the soft meat of his chest.
“Johnny, that hurts.” He instinctively tried to order the lower-ranked man around.
Soap bit down harder, hand sliding down to grip Ghost’s thigh. He lifted his leg, forcing him into a position that deepened the press of his fingers. Simon groaned, settling into the bed and allowing his sergeant to take control. All the fight had left his body and he was now pliant to whatever Soap planned on doing to him.
Johnny pulled his fingers out and climbed up his superior’s body. He settled on his chest, straddling him with his hands on either side of Ghost’s pecs, before tearing Ghost’s shirt off and tossing it to the floor.
“Johnny?” His voice was higher than Simon himself had ever heard it. He sounded downright pathetic with every minor movement Soap made above him, every second they met eyes. “Aren’t you gonna fuck me?”
“I’m gonna do whatever I want to you. Are you gonna keep complaining the whole time?” He had gripped Simon by the jaw and was forcing him to look up at him as he spoke.
“Probably.” Ghost said blankly.
Soap pulled his hand away and slapped him across the face. The force of it turned Simon’s face to the side and left his cheek red and stinging. Ghost grumbled slightly after the slap. Soap had hit him harder during sparring.
Soap slid himself between Simon’s pecs, poured a small amount of lube on top, and squeezed his tits together. He rocked his hips a few times, smearing the lube across his chest, before pausing.
“Why’d you stop?”
“Squeeze them together for me. There you go, Simon.” He spoke sternly, his voice commanding and steady. “Good boy.” A small smile spread over his face.
He continued rocking his hips, fucking his tits while Simon laid still beneath him, waiting for what he’d be ordered to do next. Leaning forward, he tangled a hand into his lieutenant’s hair and gave it a small tug, just to hear him whine.
The pain and lack of pleasure had made Simon fussy. He began squirming again, the hold he had on his tits loosened. He squeezed his thighs together, an attempt at some sort of friction.
“Sit still.” The sergeant grunted.
Simon continued shifting under him, rubbing his thighs together and arching his back at the faint pressure it gave him. Another much firmer slap rang out against Simon’s cheek. Soap hadn’t held back this time. Simon recoiled in pain, trying to curl in on himself but was pushed back down by Soap. His face stung and his eyes watered uncontrollably. He could feel the harsh slap on his cheek long after his hand had left his face. Soap climbed back down his body, once again settling between his legs. Simon was now cradling his cheek, rubbing over the spot he was hit.
“You need it that bad? Huh?”
Simon clutched his cheek and whimpered.
“Answer me, Simon.” Soap had pulled Ghost’s hand away from his face, pinning it down next to his head.
“Yes. I’m sorry. I do.” He peered up into Soap’s eyes, tears glistening slightly.
Soap brought his hand down to his face, Ghost flinching slightly as he did. He cupped his cheek and softly massaged it, smiling down at him.
The tender moment ended just as quickly as it began. Soap had pinned Ghost’s arms over his head, unbuckled his belt, and tied it around Ghost’s hands before fastening it to the headboard. He reached down and took Simon in hand. Ghost’s hands fought against the makeshift-handcuffs but were entirely useless against them. He gave Ghost a firm squeeze that drug a guttural moan out of him. With his other hand, he pressed it over Simon’s mouth, muffling any noises he tried to make.
“This what you wanted?”
Simon nodded his head, humming an “mhm” from behind his hand.
Soap drug his hand slowly up to the tip before gliding it back down to the base. He repeated this slow, teasing motion a few more times before dragging his hand down below his dick. He settled over Ghost’s balls, lightly squeezing them. A soft whine reverberated through his chest and he settled into the mattress.
The soft hold Soap had on him had shifted to a forceful squeeze that had Simon fighting his restraints. He thrashed, trying to squeeze his thighs together, pull his hands free, and, when all else failed, attempted begging his sergeant for mercy.
“I don’t know why you’re fighting me on this so much,” he rolled his eyes, “you said this was what you wanted.”
“Johnny, please-” his words were interrupted by a groan in pain, “please, it hurts.”
“Did you think it wouldn’t?” He huffed out a laugh, squeezing tighter.
Simon’s entire body curled in on itself. His stomach flipped in pain and he tugged at the belt around his wrists. The pain was unbearable, but his cock leaked all the same.
Suddenly, he felt almost instant relief. Soap had released his balls and was now lightly stroking his dick.
“Thank you, thank you, thank- thank you.” He mumbled over and over again. His stomach still roared in pain, but his sergeant had given him mercy.
“I wouldn’t thank me. I’m not doing this for you.”
Soap hadn’t made eye contact while he spoke. Instead, he toyed with Ghost’s leaking cock. He ran his fingers up and down it, traced each vein with his pointer finger, pressed his thumb into his tip, smearing precum across it.
“It feels good. That's why I thank you.” His voice was soft, slightly hoarse from pain.
“I don’t care.” His eyes flickered up to Simon’s for the first time in this conversation. They were sharp and direct, and Simon felt a punch of arousal in his gut. “I’m not trying to make you feel good,” he pulled his hand away from Simon’s cock, “I’m not having sex with you, Simon. I’m raping you. So, just take it and quit thanking me for shit. ‘M not doing charity work, here.” He scoffed.
Simon whined, bucking his hips into nothing at Johnny’s words.
“Christ, you’re fucked up, Simon.” His words were tough, but he couldn’t hide the little smile peeking through his stern face.
Soap ran his hands up and down his lieutenant’s body, smoothing them over his lube-slicked pecs, his nipples, and up his arms to grope at his biceps. Ghost could see Johnny’s eyes fixate down at his waist, and the sergeant moved his hands to meet his gaze. He glided his hands down from Ghost’s biceps, stopping momentarily at his armpits. Soap’s gaze broke as his eyes flickered between the man’s v-line and his armpits.
With one hand, he pinned Ghost’s arm above his head even higher than the restraints had. He planted the other hand on his waist and leaned down. Simon hadn’t been sure what his sergeant was going to do. He gasped and stiffened as Soap pressed his nose into his armpit and inhaled deeply .
“Johnny?”
“Don’t talk.” He squeezed his thigh in warning.
Ghost hummed, half in response to Soap’s demand, half in surprise at the tongue now laving over the crook of his arm.
Johnny pressed impossibly close to Ghost’s armpit, huffing him the way Price huffs his cigars after a long mission. Each deep breath he took seemed to make its way into his veins. His body melted down into Ghost’s, pressing his weight onto him. He drug his tongue across the smooth skin of his armpit, tasting him.
“Do you shave?” He asked, face still pressed into his skin.
Ghost nodded his head silently. A harsh slap sounded out against his thigh that pulled a surprised yelp from him.
“Answer my question.”
“You said no talkin-” Another firm hit to his thigh had shut him up before he could finish. “Yes- yes, Johnny. I shave.”
Soap hummed and went back to lapping at his armpit. He groaned into the man’s skin, pressing his nose deep into him and lapping at his lieutenant like a starving man eating food for the first time. When he had thoroughly devoured his superior’s armpit, he shifted to the other one and began the same process.
Simon felt confused, impatient, and aroused all at once. He had no idea what his sergeant was doing to him, but he enjoyed it. He loved the idea of being used. The man didn’t care for his pleasure or enjoyment. All he cared about was taking what he wanted from Simon. He attempted bucking up into Soap, but was met with a tight grip on his thigh that pinned his hips down on the bed.
Soap had trailed licks and kisses from his underarm across his collarbone and down to his chest, where he licked and sucked at his nipples again. They were already red and sensitive from his previous assault to them. Now, they were angry and each press of Soap’s tongue over them had Simon flinching away from him.
“It hurts.” He whined softly, almost uncontrollably.
“Stop speaking, Simon.” He bit down on his pec, a dark bruise blossoming where his teeth sank in.
Soap resumed sucking and biting at his chest. Simon’s nipples had turned a dark shade of red, bruises and hickeys painting the skin all around them. Soap latched onto one of his nipples, sucking hard and pinching down on the other with his hand. Ghost’s chest arched up into his mouth and he whined and hissed in pain.
“Please, Johnny.” He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. His voice was high pitched and creaked with pain.
Soap pulled off and sat up on his knees. The relief to his nipples was instant.
“Thank you. Oh, thank you.” He let out small breathy moans.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to speak?”
“Sorry-” he attempted to apologize but was interrupted by a harsh slap to his balls. He cried out in pain, trying to curl into a ball but was stopped by Soap’s firm grip on his hip.
With one hand, Soap lightly pinned Simon’s cock to his stomach. With the other, he slapped Simon's balls again. The man flinched away from him, trying to close his legs, roll over, even trying to sit up—which was prevented by the restraints on his arms. Each time he resisted, Soap pressed harder down on his cock. The pressure felt pleasurable at first, it made the harsh hits to his groin more tolerable, but the more he squirmed the more painful it became until he was groaning in pain.
“Please, Johnny- please stop. It hurts, I can't-” Another much firmer slap shut him up.
Each time Simon pleaded for him to stop, begged for mercy, Soap hit him harder. The pain blossomed in his stomach and drew groans from his throat. Each little slap was accompanied by a pathetic mewl from Simon as he begged him to stop. After a few more whines and pleas that resulted in nothing but pain, Simon was sobbing. He looked absolutely pathetic lying below Soap, hands tied, legs spread, with beet-red nipples and a leaking cock. His face was blotchy and wet and his lips fell into that delicious pout he had when he was asleep.
Soap gently cupped his balls in his hand before leaning over the man below him. “Are you done, Simon?”
The lieutenant nodded his head, small stifled whimpers escaping his lips.
“Look at you.” He paused, raking his eyes over Simon’s body, “Simon, The Ghost, tied up in my bed and crying. You know how pathetic you look right now? Don't hide your face, I wanna see you.” He held his superior by the jaw, “How many years of training do you have? How do you, a man with at least a decade of more experience than me, end up like this?” He wiped a tear off Simon’s cheek. “All that training and you whine and cry like a baby over a little tap to the groin?” He slapped him again, eliciting a long sob from Simon.
Soap let go of Simon’s face and brought his hand down between Simon’s legs. He pushed a finger inside, and then two. The stretch was uncomfortable, but not nearly as bad as the pain in Simon’s stomach.
“All this muscle,” he squeezed at Simon’s pecs, his biceps, abs, whatever he could find, “and you still aren’t strong enough to break out of a belt?” More tears made their way down his face. He sniffled and sobbed below him. “Don’t cry, baby. I know you’re enjoying this. Look how hard you are. It’s leaking all over you.” He ran a finger along the bottom of Ghost’s dick before tracing over the tip, smearing precum around. He watched it drip down from his tip to his stomach, pooling into a small puddle. “I don’t even need lube with all this here. You love this don’t you? You love when I hit you. You like the pain? Huh, Simon? Don’t try to hide your face. Your cock’s leaking without me touching it. You can’t hide that, can ya?”
Soap continued degrading Simon. He called him names, insulted him, slapped him when he cried too loudly. The entire time, he fingered Simon open. The glide was dry and nearly painful. Despite all the precum and lube available to Soap, he never used any.
“You like being fingered, Si?”
The man nodded his head, still trying to hide his face against his arm.
“Like when I spread you open dry like this?”
Another small nod.
“You’re a fucking whore, you know that, Si? I could stick the handle of my knife in you and you’d still leak all over your stomach like a filthy mutt. There you go, keep whining. You sound gorgeous.”
He continued fingering Simon. With his other hand, he poked and prodded at him, touching every part of him. He lightly slapped him a few times, just to humiliate him, just to hear the pathetic sounds he made.
“Want another finger? Yeah?” Simon shook his head no, softly crying into his arm. “You can take it, Simon. There you go.”
He slowly fit a third finger in with the other two. The stretch was painful and had Ghost lifting his hips off the bed, trying to run from it. He was met with a harsh slap to the thigh. He sobbed louder, whining a wordless mess out to the man above him.
“I told you you’d be able to take it. Look at you. Three fingers deep, no lube, and you’re still moaning like a bitch. It’s a wonder you- oh.” He laughed a little, “I cannae believe this. Did you just cum? You’re disgusting, Simon. You really are. I’ve done nothing to make you feel good and you came entirely untouched. You’re a slut, Lt.”
Simon sobbed into his arm, hiding his blushed face. Every word Soap said to him worked him up. He was being degraded and used in ways he had only ever imagined. He wanted nothing more than to be treated like a useless sex toy by his sergeant, and he was getting exactly what he wanted.
“You look like a barracks bunny, Ghost. You’re all bruised and blushed and covered in cum. There’s so much here, I barely wanna believe it’s all yours.”
“Can I speak? Please.” Simon tucked in on himself, bracing for impact.
Soap took him by the jaw and turned Ghost to face him. “Of course you can speak.” He said softly, knowingly, as if he had no idea why Simon would be afraid to talk.
“When are you gonna rape me?” He turned his head to face Soap for the first time in a while.
“Aye, what do you think I’m doing now?”
“Fingering me.” There was a cheeky smirk on his face that Soap wanted to smack off. Unfortunately, Ghost was right.
“Alright, Simon,” Soap pulled his fingers out and lined himself up with Ghost’s hole, “think you’re ready for it?” He began pressing the tip in, just enough to tease, but not enough to actually penetrate.
“Been waiting all night, Johnny.”
The cocky tone in Ghost’s voice was washed away as Soap thrusted his hips, burying the tip inside of him. The dry rub of Soap’s fingers had him trying to climb up the bed to escape. Just Soap’s tip alone was ten times worse. He felt searing pain with each pass of his hips. Soap didn’t have the decency to let him adjust. He fucked his tip in and out of Simon’s hole. Each time he pulled out, Ghost felt himself cinch tight only for his head to force its way back inside.
“Fuck- Johnny, please.”
“Don’t tell me you’re complaining. After you’ve been waiting all night for this?”
“Please- fuck. Some bloody lube would be nice.” He grunted.
“I’m not making love to you here. What- do you expect scented candles and flower petals next?”
“At least spit on the damn thing! Fuck.” He tipped his head back in pain. “Just something- anything to slick it up a little. Please.” He was back to whining.
“I’ll slick you up nice and good, Lt.”
“Thank you, Johnny. Ugh- thank you.” He sighed, relief washing over him as Soap stilled his movements.
He felt warmth spread through him. Soap had leaned over him, pressing a firm and strangely comforting grip over Simon's waist and chest. He was much closer than he had been before, resting the weight of his body over him. Simon felt a brief moment of comfort. Brief.
The warmth he felt inside spread and leaked out of him. He thrashed and tried to fight against his restraints, tried bucking up into the man above him. Soap had effectively pinned him and was now filling him with hot piss. He could hear it dripping onto his bedsheets and could hear the faint sloshing sound inside him as he squirmed under his sergeant.
“Quit fighting me, Lt. You know how hard it is to piss with a boner?”
The force of Soap pinning him had left a helpless feeling in Simon. He couldn’t fight back no matter how hard he tried. He surrendered himself, laying limp under the man as he filled him with piss.
“There you go, good boy.” Simon arched his back and whined.
“Please, Johnny. Ple- please.” He was sobbing again.
Tears ran from his eyes as he begged Soap. For what? He didn't know. He repeated himself over and over, crying out to the man above him, wrapping his legs around him.
“There we go, shhh.” Johnny cradled his face, gently wiping away his tears as they fell. “Just take it all for me. There you go.”
“Johnny-” he hiccupped, a low mewl erupting from him.
“Shhh.” He pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Simon whimpered, sounding possibly the most pathetic he’s ever sounded in his life. Soap cradled his face and turned his head, just slightly, and spoke softly in his ear.
“You’re doing so good, Simon.” He hitched his leg up, a bit of piss leaking out as he did, “Just keep taking it. We’ll lube that cunt of yours up real nice.”
Simon tucked his face into the crook of his sergeant’s neck and let out quiet sobs. He could feel the warmth in his stomach weighing down on him, leaking out all over his thighs and his bed. The two were pressed up against each other, faces buried in each other’s necks and softly moaning. Soap ran his hands up and down his body, lightly grazing over the more sensitive areas. It suddenly felt so intimate. Ghost wondered how the man laying claim to him, the man who pressed every inch of skin he could against him, the man who was currently leaving soft kisses on his neck, could be the same man who had spanked him raw and humiliated him just moments prior. The two were tangled together, nothing between them but the cum Simon leaked onto his stomach earlier.
Soap lightly pushed his hips deeper, piss trickling out with each small movement. Ghost whined at the sensation. It was still too dry for him. He suddenly felt a cold substance pouring over his hole.
“Be grateful, this is the only lube you’re getting.”
He could see Soap reach down and smear the lube across his dick before thrusting his hips again. This time, he pressed in much deeper than he had before. He made it almost halfway before Ghost groaned in pain.
“That hurt?” Soap mumbled against his skin.
“So deep. It hurts.” He groaned
“Good.”
Soap pistoned himself into Ghost, punching deep groans and pathetic whines Simon himself tried—and failed—to stifle. His stomach ached with each thrust, the feeling of Soap pressing deep inside him felt deliciously painful.
“Think you can take the rest?”
Simon’s eyes opened wide, “It’s not all the way in?”
“Im about-” he pushed up, creating more space between their bodies, and his eyes trailed down to where their bodies met, “halfway.” the edges of his lips tugged into a grin.
“Fuck.”
Soap slowed his thrusting down to a much more tolerable pace for Simon. He then pressed his hips forward, slowly sinking in deeper and deeper. Simon felt so full already. He felt pressure in his stomach, each light press of Soap’s hips felt like he was being split open. Despite his groans in pain, Soap still pressed further, uncharacteristically gentle little thrusts into him.
Simon closed his eyes, taking deep breaths in an attempt to focus on anything other than the churning pain in his gut. He had begged for this, he couldn’t bring himself to complain now.
The calming breaths had worked too well, because Soap took it upon himself to drag his cock out all the way to the tip and thrust it back in, almost fully in to the hilt. More piss Simon hadn’t known was still inside him had flooded out. Simon gasped in an arousing mixture of surprise and pain.
“Johnny, too rough.” He groaned out, voice trembling from the deep thrusts abusing his insides.
“You looked like you were getting bored.”
Soap continued harshly thrusting into him, bits of piss lightly sloshing inside his gut. Ghost could feel the warm substance dripping down his thighs and onto his bedsheets. It was disgusting and humiliating. He felt dirty and used and Soap didn’t seem to care. He abused his hole and squeezed his thighs, running fingers through the streaks of piss dripping down them like it wasn’t even there.
“Fuck, how did that twink take you so easily. It hurts.” He groaned out, not thinking much about what he was saying.
“Fuck that guy.” Johnny growled, bending down to bite at Ghost’s neck.
Simon whined. All jealousy held for the ken doll seemed to melt out of him at Soap’s statement. Johnny, his Johnny, seemed angry that he even brought up Sam. He felt more than just used in that moment. He was being claimed. Johnny was biting him all over, fucking into him more intensely than he had the entire night. And as much as Simon loved it, his gut was churning in pain. Each possessive thrust felt like it was tearing his insides apart.
“Johnny, please. It hurts. You’re too deep.”
Soap’s grip on his thigh tightened and bit down on his neck. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Please, Soap, I can’t- fuck, it hurts. Please stop. Please- fuck- it’s too deep.” He whined into Soap’s ear, begging him to stop. He didn’t actually want him to stop. In fact, he wanted the opposite. He knew the more he begged Soap to stop, the more it would encourage him to keep going. He wanted Soap to ignore every pathetic plea of his, every whine and sob. He wanted Johnny to use him.
Soap’s thrusts faltered for a moment, slowing down slightly. Ghost had the false idea that Soap was actually stopping. That was until he felt the slap of Soap’s balls against him and a deep pain in his gut. Soap had finally bottomed out and Ghost had never had something so deep inside him in his life. The sergeant drew himself out to the tip and pushed himself back in. Simon sobbed, embarrassing mewls and cries escaping him as he begged and begged Soap to stop. The pain was excruciating, his stomach felt stuffed full and Soap gave him no time to adjust.
“Fuck, Simon. You’re so tight.” He spoke into Simon’s ear, “gonna fill that pussy of yours to the brim.”
Simon hiccupped and cried. Soap had belittled him into nothing. His face was red and blotchy from crying, tears stained his face and rolled down his cheeks. His usually deep and masculine voice cracked and whimpered. He was both embarrassed and aroused by what he had become.
“Look at that, Simon.” Soap had sat up and was now looking down at him.
Simon followed his gaze down to his stomach and caught what he was looking at. “Fucking hell.” There was a bump on his stomach. When Soap pulled out, it disappeared and when he thrusted back in, it popped back up. Simon practically groaned. Soap had pressed so deep he could see it from the outside.
“Aw, poor thing. You’re hard again, Simon.” he feigned sympathy. “It’s all red, that looks painful.” Soap teased the tip with his finger.
“Stop, Johnny, please. It’s too sensitive. Please- don't.”
Soap gave him a firm squeeze, digging his thumb into the tip. Simon was pathetically sobbing below him, whining as precum leaked out of him.
“Please stop.” He cried, voice wet and shaky.
Soap cooed at him, lightly caressing his skin and shushing him. He gently ran his hand up and down Simon’s cock, drawing hushed sobs and whimpers from him. With his other hand, he glided it over Simon’s chest, lightly rubbing over his nipples and making him squirm.
“Please, Johnny. Please. Please, please-”
“Shhh,” he pressed a thumb into Simon’s nipple, stroking his cock and pressing himself as deep as possible into the man below him.
He pulled out just barely an inch and pushed back inside again, little shallow thrusts that made Ghost feel so full. All of the sensations on Simon’s body had made him overwhelmed. He could barely speak. He laid spread out underneath his sergeant, squirming and bucking his hips with each pass of Soap’s hand on him.
“So full.” He whispered, his voice trembling.
“I know. You take me so well, Si.” He trailed kisses along Simon’s jawline. “Your cunt was made for me.”
Simon sobbed. His whole body was blushed and sensitive and Johnny was so deep in him and he could barely think straight. His abused and red cock was leaking uncontrollably over his stomach. Johnny was toying with it, teasing along the underside and squeezing it tightly.
“Getting close. I’m gonna fill your pretty pussy up nice and deep, okay?”
Simon whined, squirting cum all over his stomach. He could hardly form sentences, too fucked out and bleary to think straight. Johnny pressed a soft kiss to his lips and broke it only to speak again.
“Want me to stuff you full of my cum?”
Simon was too far gone to respond. Even a light nod of his head was beyond him.
“I know you do, baby. I’ll breed you real good.”
He gripped at his thigh subconsciously, hitching it up to press himself even deeper inside, drawing a long moan out of Simon.
“You’re such a good boy, Simon. You’re gonna take all of it, right? You won’t spill a drop?”
Simon let out light, absent whines.
“Answer me, baby.” He whispered against Simon’s lips.
He nodded, eyes half-lidded and teary, legs shaking in Soap’s hold.
“Good boy. You’re my perfect boy, Simon. Let me claim you, let me make you mine.”
Johnny came deep inside him. The pressure felt both painful and amazing to Simon. He felt full, pressed against Johnny and completely owned by him. He clenched tightly around him, using all of his brain-power to focus on keeping Johnny’s cum inside him. He wanted to be a good boy. He wanted to be his good boy.
“You’re all mine, Simon.” He spoke softly against his skin. “I’m all yours.”
Johnny caressed his skin, squeezing and tracing his fingers over Simon’s thighs. The two laid there, chests rising and falling against each other in sync. Johnny brought one hand up to his chest to feel his heartbeat.
Johnny reached up and gently undid the belt tying Simon’s arms to the headboard. He massaged his wrists, running his hands from his forearms up to the meat of his biceps where he pressed into and kneaded the stiff muscles. Simon groaned and wrapped his arms around his sergeant.
“Simon, let me make you mine. Let me mark you.”
Little whines escaped Simon, but he never protested. He laid himself bare for his Johnny.
Johnny pulled away. Simon tightened his hold on the man above him, not letting him get up.
“Easy, Si. I’m not going anywhere.”
He sat up and dug around in Simon’s nightstand. He knew the man kept a small throwing knife nearby his bed at all times. Unfortunately, the paranoid bastard moved the location frequently. After impatiently rummaging through both drawers of his bedside table, he turned back to the man below him.
“Simon, baby. Where’s your blade- the little one.”
Simon hazily reached a hand under his pillow and produced a cute blade. It was one of many; a standard throwing knife. Ghost frequently left them scattered around the field, impaling some poor bastard. The blade was thin and razor sharp, the handle the perfect grip for Johnny’s hand. It was made for him. He had a set of his own in his room, gifted from Simon.
Johnny spread his superior’s thighs and placed a strong hand on the one. He gently rubbed it up and down, just firm enough to soothe the spasming muscle. With his other hand he brought the blade down to his leg. He chanced a look at Simon. The man was sprawled out on his bed, head laid on his pillow, one hand tangled in the blankets and the other idly stroking Johnny’s hip. He seemed content.
Johnny glided the blade across his skin, little pearls of blood beading around the cut. Simon didn’t flinch or make a sound. He laid there, pliant and dazed as he watched Johnny through lidded eyes, relaxing into the pain. He drug the blade across his thigh again, this time slightly deeper than before.
Johnny continued gliding the blade down Simon’s thigh, painting him in droplets of blood and thin red lines. Simon laid still for him the whole time, the perfect canvas. By the time he was done, he had carved out “All yours -J” into his skin. Johnny smiled down at him, admiring his work, admiring his Simon.
He slowly climbed off Simon, fetching his crumpled shirt off the ground. He stepped out into the small attached bathroom—the upper ranks had better quality barracks—and wet his shirt under the tap. He wiped himself off, cleaning the cum and piss off his hands, stomach, and thighs. After rinsing the makeshift rag off under the water, he turned the doorknob to get back to Simon.
After Johnny walked away, Simon felt an emptiness creep up inside him. He felt cold and alone, a sense of abandonment washing over him. He knew it wasn’t rational. The man just laid claim to him in every way he could yet Simon felt cast aside. A rush of emotions had hit him. He felt content in their relationship, excited, in pain, scared, and upset. His body shook, he felt jittery and cold. From the harsh spanks and slaps Johnny had dealt him earlier, he could feel raised welts all across his thighs and cheeks. He traced his fingers over the stained lettering on his inner thigh. It stung and his eyes watered. He felt piss dripping out of him still, pouring down into the cooling puddle below him. His eyes squeezed shut, tears pushed out of them as he whimpered into his pillow. He curled in on himself, lightly sobbing and sniffling as he did. He needed something—he just didn't know what. He felt overwhelmed and had no idea what to do about it.
Johnny opened the door to Simon quietly crying to himself, laid on his side in fetal position, little whimpers escaping him every few seconds.
“Simon?” He approached the man, voice soft and empathetic, “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”
Simon uncurled, allowing Johnny to fit himself in next to him. He couldn’t speak. He was too overwhelmed and upset.
“Come here, baby.”
Johnny pulled Simon in close. He stroked his soft skin, ran fingers through his hair, trailed kisses across his face. He took the wet shirt and lightly grazed it over Simon’s skin, wiping his stomach and thighs clean. He gently ran it over his used cock, drawing an overstimulated whine from Simon. Finally, he lightly pressed the rag to Simon’s inner thigh, soaking up the blood and applying pressure to the wounds.
“Shh, I know, I know. I’m just cleaning you up. It’s okay. Shh.”
He pressed Simon’s face to his chest, cradling the larger man in his arms and whispering praise to him. He stroked up and down his back and played with his hair. Simon’s long whines turned into whimpers which faded into soft sniffles.
“You’re so good, Simon. You took me so well. I’m sorry I was so rough. You were perfect, baby.”
Simon’s vision got hazy and his mind fogged over. He laid limp in Johnny’s hold, feeling him stroke over his skin and hearing the praise whispered out to him and only him.
“Come here, Si. Good boy. Lay on my chest. You’re my perfect boy. Just close your eyes, there you go.”
The encouragement made Simon smile softly against Johnny’s chest. He felt like he was in a trance. He wrapped his arms around the man below him and squeezed tightly.
“Want me to hold you, Simon?”
He lightly nodded his head.
Johnny wrapped his arms tightly around the man and held him close to his chest. The compression soothed him, making his mind even more hazy.
“You’re my good boy. Why are you crying again?”
Simon felt so relaxed. His face felt hot and tears dripped down his cheeks. He wasn’t sad, he was happy. He didn’t know why or how he started crying. Johnny pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and, when Simon chased the kiss, pressed another to his lips.
The two laid there for a long while, holding each other and kissing. Johnny had whispered little praises into Simon’s ear. Simon nuzzled his face into the crook of Johnny’s neck. The pair were latched on to each other, not bearing to have an inch of space between them. After Simon had begun dozing off, Johnny mustered all his willpower to wake him.
“C’mon Si. We gotta get you sleeping in a dry bed. This one’s ruined.”
After much protest from both parties, they got dressed—Johnny borrowing one of Simon’s shirts—and made their way to Johnny’s room. They collapsed onto his bed, stripping once again and laying with bare skin to bare skin. Simon had been floaty the entire time. Johnny took his time to dress him and walk him down. Once they were cuddling again, dry and clean, Johnny himself felt that dazed feeling begin to wash over him as well.
He cradled the man in his arms and whispered against his skin, “Goodnight, my boy.”