Chapter Text
•Ghost•
"Please, Ghost.." The words left the man's lips on a soft sigh that echoed between the rough brick walls to either side as the darkness of the evening crept in around them.
He grit his teeth against the want to give in, "No. We can't and you know that."
"Why, because you're my superior?" Soap was breathing heavily, his hands now pinned to the wall by his sides by the skeletal gloves that sheathed Ghost's hands, captured when they began grabbing, pulling, kneading his chest, his waist, his shoulders.
He closed his eyes for a second, trying desperately to collect himself, the close air of the alley making it hard to focus, the smell of Johnny's blood beneath his skin whispering urgently to him.
Fuck, this hadn't been a problem until Soap.
He'd been fighting for how long, shed how much enemy blood, enough to bathe in, and resisted for years and yet.. This man.
This man did something new to him. Stirred that craving that he hadn't felt this strongly in years. The craving for the wet rush of heat on his lips, sliding down his throat, slaking a primitive need.
"We can't because I don't want to hurt you, Johnny." His voice was soft and strained.
He kept his hold on Soap's wrists against the brick, knowing if he let him go, those fingers would find his body again, dance across his chest, his shoulders. Knowing he couldn't resist the burning touch any more than he already had since Soap pulled him into the shadows between the gym and the administrative building, pressing his lips along Ghost's jaw and neck through the fabric of his mask.
The man flashed a smile at him, eyes dark and lascivious, "C'mon, LT.. You know I'm not that easy to break."
Ghost growled low in his throat, he could feel the last vestiges of self control slipping as the heat from Soap's wrists burned through his gloves, could almost hear his pulse beating under the soft skin of his neck..
He bit his own tongue, now, tasting copper that didn't satisfy the urge, the demand in his head.
"Johnny.." He wanted the word to be stronger, harsh. Instead, it came out a breathless plea.
Soap twisted a hand out of his grasp in his moment of weakness, bringing it immediately to Ghost's face, pushing up onto his toes to kiss his mask once more.
Ghost snapped out of the fog, momentarily regaining his thoughts as he recaptured the wrist and forced Soap to face away from him, pressing him flush against the wall, holding his wrists together behind his back. He cried out with a huff of breath at the sudden movement.
"What do you want, Johnny?" He lips next to Johnny's ear now, rasping out the question on short breath.
His new found grasp on his control was tenuous at best, he was doing all he could to keep from squeezing tighter on the man's wrists, not wanting to hurt him. Desperate not to hurt him.
"Fuck me. Please, Ghost." Soap was rocking his hips back in the limited space between their hips, grinding against him with each motion.
He blew out a breath, "Can't do that, Johnny. Don't have anything with me." A godsend and a curse all rolled into one.
"Front pocket of my jeans." Soap stilled, cocking his hip to the side to free up access to his pocket.
Ghost reached in with his free hand, feeling the slip of two foil packets, one square, one rectangular. He removed both and scrutinized them.
"Planning on getting fucked in an alley tonight, Sergeant?" He couldn't help the amusement in his tone where it cracked the surface of the tension held there.
Soap chuckled, "Chalk it up to wishful thinking."
Ghost hesitated for a second, closing his eyes again, breathing deeply. Could he do this?
He could. For Johnny he could be careful. He wouldn't hurt him. Hell, he had fed earlier today in anticipation of spending some time in the rec room with everyone so the burn wasn't as urgent. The fucking smell of him, though.. That sent sparks through his brain, lighting up all over with each inhale in the close quarters. The scent weaving teasing tendrils around him.
Ghost leaned in again, "Hands on the wall. They don't move until I say so or we stop. Understood?"
Soap hesitated, but nodded at last and Ghost released his wrists. Soap placed his hands palm down on the wall before him, waiting.
Ghost reached around him to work his pants free, tugging them just clear enough to work his now slick fingers into him one at a time.
At the first intrusion, Soap sucked in a breath and released it with a soft sound, relaxing back toward Ghost's hand, closing his eyes.
A few short stokes later, he was asking for more. Ghost continued to loosen him up slowly, biting his own lip, his cheek, anything to distract him from the heat, the push of his pulse against his fingertips until finally-
"I'm ready. Christ, I'm ready, please!" Soap was whining now, the whisper scraping out of his throat, urgent.
Ghost pulled free to roll the condom on, slicking himself with the last of the liquid from the packet before pressing against Soap. He moved slowly, but with an insistence as he pushed forward.
Soap held his breath and let it out in turns until Ghost was buried fully inside of him, a quiet, muffled groan punctuating the achievement as his head tipped forward to press to the brick.
Ghost waited until he felt him shift back onto him to start to move in slow, short strokes, tipping his own head back as he tried to keep his thoughts coherent. The heat wrapping so tightly around him was making him light headed, knowing that the man's blood was just in reach, all he had to do was lean forward, his neck was so close, so-
"Fuck me, already!" Soap moaned out the words, pressing harder against him, snapping him out of the thought.
He planted his own hands on the wall just above Soap's and obliged the request, snapping his hips forward harshly, a rapid pace that was making Soap huff out quiet noises with each thrust.
Ah! Ah! Ah!
The rustle of their clothes brushing against each other with each thrust sounded loud in the narrow alley, the quiet, repetitive clink of Ghost's belt buckle dangling where he had only barely freed himself was beginning to speed up with Ghost's increasing rhythm.
"Ghost! P-please.. Please touch me, I'm so close!" Soap whimpered the words out, sounding near tears.
Ghost looked at his hands where he had told him to keep them to the wall, his fingertips were pressed hard into the mortar between the bricks, nail beds white with the force.
He reached a gloved hand down, wrapping a firm fist around Soap's length. The cool leather was now slick with his arousal, gliding the way as he matched the pattern of his hips.
It didn't take long before Soap turned his head, biting into his own bicep to muffle his cry as he spilled over onto the pavement beneath their feet, shuddering with the intensity.
The feeling of him clenching and releasing again and again with the waves of his orgasm pushed Ghost over the edge.
He bit his already sore tongue, hard, trying not to chase the dizzying, intoxicating feeling swarming his body right now that was telling him to lean forward, pull his mask up, trace his teeth across the soft spot just below Soap's ear an-
He pulled away abruptly, gripping himself for the last pulses of his own release with the glove still covered with Soap's own spend.
"Fuck, Ghost.. Why the hell haven't we done this sooner?" Soap panted the words out, hands still on the wall, head hanging heavy.
Ghost tied the condom off, slipping it back into the wrapper in his pocket before answering.
"It never happened in the first place, MacTavish. Is that clear?" He had dropped his tone, using what Soap called his Lieutenant voice.
Soap's shoulders dropped slightly, a whisper of a hurt noise slipping past his lips that cut like a blade into Ghost's chest.
This was a mistake.
"Clean up. Get to bed. It's getting late." With that, he turned on his heel and slipped through the shadows of the alley and back to his own room, leaving his Sergeant to handle himself.
---
He slammed the door of his room a little harder than was necessary when he returned to the space, admittedly taking his anger with himself out on his surroundings.
It wasn't like him to lose control like that. To be swayed so easily, especially by some good looking guy asking for a quick fuck. Ghost had been feeding regularly from his stash, keeping it at bay the same way he had for many, many years now. Soap shouldn't have had that power over him.
Sex was a close second to the feeling of feeding from a warm body; the hot, wet rush of someone's life force flowing freely to bathe the tongue in ecstasy itself.
He shivered thinking about it, a delicious brush up his spine, before he caught himself and froze.
No.
He couldn't do this, couldn't go down this path. It had been years since he'd fed from a living, breathing person. Hell, since he'd fed from a body directly at all. He kept a small supply of donated bags in a small refrigerator that remained locked inside of his locked room. The chemicals they used as an anticoagulant to preserve it left a bad aftertaste in his mouth, but he'd grown used to it, choosing to chase it with bourbon if the day allowed. It beat the alternative. It beat losing his careful control that he had worked hard to achieve.
He stormed to the bathroom and cranked the water, ripping his mask off and tossing it to the side, refusing to look at his face in the mirror. Not wanting to see the ruin that lay there, the mark of his.. condition. The thing that made him a walking nightmare in more ways than most would guess.
Before he stepped into the shower, he went back to the bedroom and reached for another bag from the fridge. It wasn't normal for him to burn through two so quickly, but the scene in the alley had cranked his instincts up, tightened them to a point of nearly snapping before he had rushed away from Soap.
He downed half the bag with a series of back to back, deep pulls, the chilled temperature making his face screw up for a second as it always did if he took it straight from the fridge. By the time half was gone, he was starting to feel a sort of calm settle over him once more.
Ghost leaned against the wall, tipping his head back until it there was a soft thump of it hitting the drywall and he closed his eyes. The steam from the shower filled the room, condensing into droplets on the cold, half empty bag hanging from his fingertips.