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Soap has been taking suppressants long enough that when he enters the task force under the guise of a beta, no one questions it. Price knows, of course, he’s the Captain of the team, he was the one who hand picked Soap to be apart of it.
It’s not necessary for them to keep it under wraps, but it’s frowned upon to have omegas in such high stress careers, so they decide it’s best.
And they hide it perfectly, until Soap fucks up.
With the long assignment the team is put on, the lack of sleep or the fact that they’re all worn the fuck out, maybe a combination of all three, Soap forgot about his last dosage before shipping out again.
He only realizes it when he starts to feel ill, but he’s comforted by the fact that the mission is finally finished and they’re on their way to home base. He’ll be able to deal with the side effects in private and on his own.
It’s just a momentary lapse, as if the medication is wearing off as he falls further into unconsciousness. Ghost is the first to realize it. Which makes sense in hindsight.
They’re on the helo back, complete silence has fallen over the entire team. Ghost lulls his head back against the cool metal, his eyes are heavy and falling closed without his consent. He isn’t comfortable by all means, the chopper isn’t made for relaxing, but he’s exhausted and could definitely shut his eyes and fall asleep.
His mind drifts and drifts, he’s just about there, and then a weight drops onto his shoulder and alerts him.
It’s Soap. His eyes are closed and his features are soft, steady breaths coming from parted lips. Ghost can’t tear his eyes away, he trails his gaze over every scar, every freckle. He’s already memorized their placement.
The Lieutenant has always been drawn to his Sergeant, the helo ride home is no different. They’d crowded together immediately, sitting side by side in silence and enjoying each other’s company.
Ghost has never given much thought to bonding with another, he’s always been pleased to give his life to the military, but he yearns for Soap in a way that terrifies him. That longing feeling ignites low in his belly, especially now, with Soap so close to him.
He’s only ever caught brief whiffs of his scent, Soap keeps it on lock, but the Sergeant is still addicting in every other way; it’s like a magnetic pull that he can’t fight against. Not that he would want to anyways.
They’re both drifting when he catches it, something sweet mixed into the grime and sweat that radiates off of their bodies. His eyes flutter at the first whiff of it and he searches for it again, but it’s lost among the smell of the battlefield.
Ghost tries not to move much as his eyes travel toward Soap, he wants to shove his face into his Sergeant’s neck and nestle in.
Soap hums and he does curl in closer, as if he saw into his mind just now, he noses around Ghost’s shoulder and breathes in deep. Ghost feels woozy as he watches Soap scent him, as his lips curl into a lazy smile and he settles back in. The softest sound comes from the very back of his throat, low and fluttery.
It gives Ghost pause. He stiffens at the sound of Soap purring, and he catches that smell again. His senses feel overloaded.
He isn’t as careful as he nudges against at Soap’s head. The sergeant’s eyes reluctantly open, just enough for Ghost to see those bright blues, and he looks miffed.
“Wha’ was that for?” The sound of the chopper blades are loud in his ear as he states the obvious, “we’re not even back on base yet,” Soap mumbles under his breath, accent thick from being rudely roused.
The alpha doesn’t have it in him to voice his reasoning, he’s got his sights elsewhere.
Ghost drops his head to Soap’s shoulder and Soap startles. Ghost hooks his mask over his nose and moves, the closer Ghost gets to his scent gland the more hazy he feels.
His movements are slow, nuzzling around the area before breathing him in completely. Soap smells euphoric.
The aftermath of the mission is still there, but it’s faint now, Soap smells flowery and almost sickeningly sweet, like various fruits, the incredibly sugary ones. If he bit into his neck Soap’s blood would flow down his chin like the juice of a pomegranate, red, sticky, delicious, all consuming. But there’s more than that, Soap smells like a rainforest. The way the air gets when it’s nearing a downpour; fresh and earthy, calming and relaxing. Ghost could snuggle in and fall into a deep, peaceful slumber, happy to never wake again.
He’s drunk on his scent, he can feel his pupils blowing and his mind is spinning. He craves more, he wants to be enveloped by the smell of him. He wants.. God, he wants..
The realization doesn’t hit him like a truck, but he’s certainly not a fool, and his natural instincts don’t lie.
Ghost pulls back, because he’s still in his right mind and pressing his lips to Soap’s shoulder and mouthing along the sensitive skin would not be in good form.
Distantly he hears Soap’s voice again, quieter as he says, “Simon?”
Ghost lifts his head and tries to focus his vision to meet the other’s eyes. He must look intoxicated, Soap swallows hard.
The Sergeant’s eyes go wide as if he’s the one coming to a realization. Neither of them say anything, they stare at one another until Soap blinks turns his head, a blush running across his cheeks.
The rest of the ride back they keep to themselves, Soap doesn’t seem so tired anymore. Ghost sits up straight and keeps his hands to himself, he pulls his mask back over his face and longs for the helo to touch ground.
When they do finally make it back to base, Soap is gone before Ghost can mutter one word to him.
The Lieutenant does catch Price’s eyes though, the other alpha shakes his head as if he’s all knowing, tells Ghost silently not to follow after the sergeant.
That’s fine. He obeys. But he does stalk off to the Captain’s office for some sort of explanation.
The Captain offers Ghost nothing when he retreats to his office straight after the mission. In fact, he’s never heard the word ‘classified’ so many times in his entire fucking military career.
But that’s fine, he’ll seek out the man himself. Go straight to the source.
As if Price reads his mind he says, “leave the boy alone,” and as Ghost steps over the threshold to leave he adds, “that’s an order, Simon.”
Ghost doesn’t hear the last bit, at least that’s what he’ll say later when he’s asking for forgiveness for disobeying him.
The sweet side of Soap’s scent still lingers around his senses and Ghost yearns for it, he wants to be enveloped in it. The desire acts like a pull and Ghost has no interest in ignoring it.
When he’s at the Sergeant’s door, he freezes. Finally pausing to think.
He hasn’t come up with an excuse as to why he’s so intent on knowing if Soap is an omega or not. It doesn’t change anything. It’s not as if Ghost would have to keep a better eye on him in the field.
He’s simply curious, is that so wrong? And he’s Soap’s commanding officer, it would make sense for him to know. It has nothing to do with the fact that he’s thought about bonding with him, nor the fact that he’s an omega —-
Ghost’s thoughts take a turn when he goes down the path of Soap actually being an omega. He thinks about how long they’ve been hiding it and how well he’s kept this secret. The look Price shot him in the helo makes sense, the Captain knows how close they are.
Ghost thinks about the times Soap has disappeared and how long he was away. And then the pieces start to fall into place; Soap must being going into his heat.
For a moment he wonders if it’s a bad idea to be here, at Soap’s door, longing to be inside and in his space while he’s right at the start of it.
Not one moment later Ghost is going against his own better judgement and knocking twice.
“Johnny,” he says, hand on the doorknob, waiting for his invitation, “are you alright?”
There’s a bit of shuffling on the other side before a muffled, “Ghost,” he pauses, “I’m fine. Can you come back later?”
His voice wavers like he’s in pain, it makes Ghost feel uneasy. His stomach tightens into knots and he rattles the doorknob, but Soap has it locked.
Ghost tries to keep his voice steady as he asks again, “can you open the door for me now, Johnny?”
“No,” Soap says louder this time, his voice more firm with the one word.
To say Ghost is taken aback by his tone would be an understatement, he pauses and raises a brow. He feels ridiculous talking to a plaque on his door that reads ‘Sergeant MacTavish’. He needs to see Soap and he doesn’t want to walk away until then.
“Please,” he tries, “I can help,” and then Ghost wants to crack himself on the skull for sounding like a desperate alpha.
There’s no addition from Soap and Ghost nearly gives in, but the sound of a lock disengaging brings him right back to the present.
The door only opens a crack, just enough for Soap to peek an eye at him, “what do you mean?”
“I uh,” he stumbles around his words, his head going hazy as soon as the door opens. Soap’s scent is much stronger now, it hits him like a wall and makes his head spin and eyes go blurry.
Ghost takes a breath in through his mouth, “I was worried, Johnny. Wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
“That’s all,” he asks, opening the door enough for Ghost to see both of his dull blue eyes, “that’s all you came for?”
The Sergeant looks exhausted, his eyes are sunken in slightly, strands of hair are matted to his head. Ghost can sense the distress on his sweet scent, the anxiety that’s rolling through his stomach.
Ghost’s stomach turns into knots, he wasn’t lying, he is worried about Soap. He looks like hell. But the fire burns low in his belly, his instincts are telling him to help the omega in the way he knows how. Ghost isn’t standing there with ulterior motives, his goal wasn’t to barge into Soap’s room and fuck him through his heat, but mind does wander.
The two of them have always been glued to each other’s side, they work together well and Soap is the only person Ghost allows to stay so close to him. He trusts the man, he would give his life for him. But it’s much more than that, Ghost wants him in ways he’s never wanted anyone else.
Beta, omega, whatever his secondary gender, Ghost wants him, has wanted him for quite some time now.
He yearns to hold Soap close and memorize the taste of him, to run his hands along the curve of his hips and press his lips to every inch of his skin.
“That’s all,” he tells him.
Soap narrows his eyes at him, like he’s trying to figure him out, and then his lips quick upwards, “I think you’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, Lt.”
The door opens further and Soap steps to the side, his smile fades just as quickly as it appeared but a bit of the distress on his scent goes with it.
Ghost steps in and immediately feels surrounded by Soap, the warmth in his room and his scent coming off of everything. From the looks of the various sheets, pillow cases, and articles of clothing surrounding the edges of his mattress, it looks like Soap’s started nesting to make himself more comfortable.
“So,” Soap starts, “now you know.”
The door closes behind Ghost, shutting him in with Soap.
“Had a feeling,” Soap doesn’t meet his gaze, “Price kept his mouth shut, wouldn’t say a damn thing, but —” Ghost trails off, doesn’t saw how obvious it all started to get; instead he says, “are you alright?”
For a moment Soap watches him, as if he’s still trying to figure out the alpha’s intentions, eventually he crawls back into his nest and sits his back against the headboard, bringing his knees up to his chest.
“I’m fine, really,” he says with a shrug, as he continues Soap’s eyes dart away from Ghost’s, “Pride has been helping me keep it from everyone else, been on suppressants and scent blockers for a while now.” He curses himself, spits something that Ghost can’t quite understand with his thick accent, “forgot my injection before we left on assignment and according to medical, these are the side effects of that.”
Ghost takes his place in Soap’s desk chair, he purposely keeps space between them as he tries to ignore the delicious scent circling around the room.
Soap continues, “feel like shit. It doesn’t feel like a full on heat, but fuck,” he nearly growls, “stomach hurts like hell and i’m fucking exhausted. Too hot and then too cold. Feels like I got knocked out during the mission and my body refuses to recover.”
The Sergeant does look sickly, despite the worn out look in his features, Ghost can spot beads of sweat dripping down his temple.
“Don’t know how long it’ll last,” Soap says, “I’ve never forgotten the medications before.”
Ghost notices how Soap sighs and he wonders if he’s internally beating himself up over it. He’s silent for a long moment, watching as a chill runs through Soap’s body and he reaches for the comforter on his small bed.
The Lieutenant doesn’t know how Soap feels about him, they spend their time together throwing quips between themselves, their banter teeters on the line of teammates and actual flirting. Ghost watches Soap sometimes, and he’s always a bit shell shocked when Soap glances his way and holds his gaze.
He’s holding himself back from crawling into Soap’s nest and coating it in his scent. Soap looks up at him, and there’s something in his eyes, like he’s pleading with Ghost to make the choice, to step over that line; however, it doesn’t feel that easy. Price would kick his ass if he found out, Ghost is Soap’s commanding officer, it’s against the regulations. But he’s sitting there, watching the omega go through the symptoms of heat, he’s miserable and looks sick, and Ghost knows he could help.
The silence spreads between them long enough for Soap to look uncomfortable under his gaze. Finally, fucking finally, Ghost opens his mouth to say something.
“I can help,” he repeats his earlier words, “can at least keep you warm while your body adjusts.”
Ghost watches his adam’s apple bob, those blue eyes trail over his body like he’s trying to make a decision.
He nods his head slowly and Ghost doesn’t waste anymore fucking time. He’s been sat there, watching Soap shift around in his bed, he’s sat enveloped in the delicious scent that’s circulating around the bedroom. Ghost should win awards for his self control.
He stands from the chair and slowly steps towards Soap’s bed, he’s careful not to disrupt the walls of his nest as he scoots in.
Ghost pauses in front of him, “what do you want, Johnny?”
He knows what he wants, and the closer he gets to Soap the heavier that desire grows.
Soap swallows hard, “will you hold me,” his voice is low, “please.”
And who is Ghost to deny such a request, he’ll take what he can get and suppress what he desperately desires.
They both adjust in the twin sized bed, Ghost wraps an arm around his middle and pulls Soap’s back flush to his back. he smells heavenly like this, with his gland so deliciously close. Ghost shoves his face into the back of Soap’s neck and nuzzles there, holds Soap desperately close.
His body is warm but the Sergeant shivers under his touch. He’s silent like this, just the sound of his breath coming more evenly.
“Better?”
Ghost’s breath grazes across his neck and he can see the small hairs stand up there. With this new proximity he can feel his own eyes blow wide, his throat closes up, if he breathes it’s going to be a full breath of Soap’s sugary sweet scent. Ghost desperately tries to keep himself from moving too much.
Soap nods his head, “yeah.”
They stay like that for a long while, both quiet. It’s a comfortable silence, Ghost has never needed to fill the emptiness with conversation. But at some point Soap starts to get restless and he’s trying to move, wiggling against Ghost’s hold.
His hips grind back against Ghost’s as he tries to change his position and its fucking euphoric, the pressure has his cock twitching and he wills himself not to get hard while quite literally pressed up against Soap’s ass. He tightens his arm and drops one large hand to Soap’s hip to stop him from moving.
Soap must put two and two together, “shit,” he breathes, “sorry, sir. I just - can I just,” he tries to move again.
Ghost swallows hard and lets up on his grip, Soap takes it as an acceptance and he wriggles his hips a bit, cheeky fucking bastard, before turning in his arms and facing him. His blue eyes are still dull, but there’s a spark there, a promise to fill with vivid color again.
“You’re sweating,” Ghost whispers between them, he runs two fingers across his brow bone and at the droplets.
“It’s hot,” he quips, “but I’ve also got the chills,” Soap sighs, “my body doesn’t know what the fuck it wants to do.”
“You and Price hid it,” Ghost says suddenly, “why?”
“Easier this way. Didn’t want to be treated differently,” his voice stays low, but Soap’s making full eye contact with him now, “I’m good at what I do, and I wanted to be seen for that. Not for being an omega.”
As much as it pains him to think it, Ghost understands. Omegas are treasured, but they’re looked down upon, expected to stay home and be bred. They’re seen more as objects than anything else and having an omega as such an important part of the task force would have brought questions that, Ghost is sure, Price wouldn’t have wanted to deal with. Soap is right, he’s a damn good soldier, truly that’s all that should matter.
“I wouldn’t have looked at you differently, Johnny,” he feels compelled to say it out loud; ghost drags his finger lightly over his cheek bone and along his jaw.
Soap’s breathing picks up, Ghost can feel the warmth of it against his skin and it sends chills running down his spine. He craves the man in his arms, he wants to spread Soap out on the mattress and worship his body, open him up feel every bit of him. God, Ghost wants to put his mouth around his scent gland and taste him, dig his teeth in deep and claim him for the rest of time. Ghost has belonged to Soap since beginning, having a claim on one another would only be fair.
Before his face can tint too darkly, Soap shoves himself closer to Ghost, but Ghost doesn’t want him to hide the color on his cheeks, he wants to see it. He’s gorgeous.
Ghost moves himself to reposition on himself on his back and Soap follows, the Sergeant curls in close and noses around the junction of his shoulder and neck, humming as he breathes in the alpha’s scent.
“I know,” he finally says, continuing to scent Ghost and curl impossibly closer.
“Johnny,” Ghost says, his voice more firm than it has been, a warning.
He’s half fucking hard, lying in Soap’s bed while the omega scents scents him and molds into his side. Ghost’s head starts to feel hazy and his eyes white out around the edges. He breathes in through his mouth and put through his nose.
“Johnny,” he says again, “are you feeling better?” Soap hums, and Ghost swears he feels a light press of lips on his shoulder; “I should go, then.”
He’s trying. Ghost is trying to get out of this situation before either of them do something they might regret. He tries to remove Soap’s hand off of his chest and pull away but he doesn’t get far before Soap’s whining and yanking on his wrist.
“Don’t leave,” he frets, tightening his hold, “please, please . I want you, Ghost. Please.”
Soap pulls on his wrist again and oh, this time Ghost goes. Those three words circulating around his head on repeat: I want you. I want you. I. Want. You.
He props one knee on the mattress and pushes Soap on his back, he crawls over him and fists one hand into the sheets beside Soap’s head, dark eyes meeting what’s left of the blue in his iris. His pupils are massive, cheeks a hot red, lips slicked from licking at them. Soap looks absolutely debauched, and because he’s a greedy man, Ghost pulls his mask off, dips his head and fits two fingers under the collar of Soap’s shirt; he drags the fabric over until Soap’s gland is exposed and he mouths around it. He nudges his nose into flesh and floats onto a cloud as soon as he catches his scent again. Ghost could get lost there, drowning as he indulges himself, with the desire to never be found again.
“Okay,” his lips graze against warm skin, “okay Johnny. I’m not going anywhere.”
Soap wraps his arms around his neck in a vice grip, as if he’s afraid Ghost will leave anyway. He’s held close enough that he can nearly taste Soap on his tongue, he can smell the desire on his scent and see it in his eyes. Ghost runs his hand up Soap’s arms and pulls apart the hold he’s got around his neck.
“Look,” he says as he takes some of his weight off Soap, “I’m right here. What do you need?”
“You’re still willing to help?”
“‘Course,” Ghost hand is on his hip, fingers sipping under his shirt to touch skin, “how can I help?”
His Sergeant looks up at him with those wide blue eyes, combing over every inch of his face, jutting his bottom lip out and pleads, “fuck me,” he swallows hard, the reasoning already on his tongue, “you know it’ll help, please, Simon. Wanna feel you.”
Ghost feels the omega’s fingers running up and down his sides, he smells the sweet scent of lust and longing and Ghost wants him, too. He can’t properly string together a sentence that would portray how long he’s wanted Soap. But he’s still in his right mind and Ghost knows he pleading for him because of the heat, or the lack of his medications, his body adjusting, whatever this is. If he gives into his own desires the alpha knows he would want more. Helping Soap through a heat is one thing, being able to hold him during the night and wake to him in the mornings is an entire different thing.
He would be ruined for anyone else.
Ghost drops his head against Soap’s shoulder, battling with himself, “I want to,” he breathes, “but not like this.”
His voice is quiet enough that Ghost doesn’t think Soap heard him, but then Soap’s breath catches in his throat and he curls his fingers into Ghost’s hair, pulling just enough to get him to lift his head.
“Like what?” Soap raises a brow at him but doesn’t give enough time for an answer, “because I fucked up and now I’m living through the consequences.”
It’s obvious in the way he slows his breathing and stops touching Ghost’s side that he’s trying to focus, Soap takes a breath and starts again, “fuck, Simon, I’ve wanted you from the start. Flirtin’ with me over the comms every fuckin’ mission. You’re in my head all the time. It just took this long for something to happen.”
For a moment after he finishes, Ghost feels like he can’t breathe. He stares down at Soap while he processes his words and with each second that passes without oxygen to his brain, the more difficult it becomes to find a proper response.
He stops trying to think and settles for closing the space between them and pressing their lips together. Soap hums low in his throat and his hands begin to roam around bare flesh again. The first perfect, easy slide of their lips has him desperate for more. Ghost bites at Soap’s bottom lip and kisses him again, exploring the taste of him and drawing out soft whines and breathy moans. It’s soft, a new experience, they’re both savoring it, until Soap rolls his hips and whimpers at the first bit of contact. From there the kiss turns filthy, all teeth and tongue and muffles noises as they rut against one another.
“Please,” Soap whines, “please. Need you inside of me, Simon, I wanna feel you.”
A fire ignites low in his belly and licks up his spine, the way Soap begs is something of his dreams, he’s mind spins with it.
Ghost nips at his jaw before reluctantly removing himself from Soap and crawling off of the bed.
“Strip,” he tells Soap, and the Sergeant gets right to it.
Their eyes roam with every article of clothing that comes off, Soap pulls his shirt off and shoves it into the nest he’s put together, the jeans go next; he arches his back and yanks them down and off, his boxers disappear just as quickly. And then Soap’s laid out on the bed, feet up on the mattress and spread wide open for his alpha.
Ghost is just as quick to undress, his clothes coming off in a pile on the floor. He’s nearly salivating at the sight of his omega on, achingly hard and already leaking from his tip.
“Fuck, Johnny, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he doesn’t move for a moment, watching Soap until he gets restless.
Ghost reaches down to grab his mask and his shirt before shifting over the makeshift walls and crawling over Soap again. He stuffs his own belongings beside the sheets and Soap’s clothing, close enough that Soap will be able to catch a whiff of it as he fucks into him. The thought causes his stomach to swoop, his room will be filled with the alpha’s scent, mixed deliciously with Soap’s.
“Want you to smell like me,” Ghost says, “want everyone else to know that you’re off limits.”
Soap moans, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him down for a sloppy kiss. The movement causes Ghost to drop a bit of his weight onto Soap, skin meet skin and it lights Ghost up. Their cocks rub together and the alpha catches his breath, he’s starved, he craves more; Soap looks the same with his half lidded eyes and parted lips, his skin is burning to the touch and his hands roam around Ghost’s back as if he’s not sure where he wants to touch.
The omega looks up at him likes he’s going to crack and second, there’s more begging on the tip of his tongue, his nails drag down Ghost’s sides and his back and he nips at Ghost’s lip when they kiss. He’s going to have marks from Soap for weeks and it’s fucking thrilling to think about.
“Please,” Soap says again, “want your knot, Simon, come on.”
“On your stomach,” Ghost whispers against his lips, “I wanna see you.”
He moves to sit back on his heels and Soap rolls onto his belly and props his ass up for Ghost, Soap’s head hits the pillow but his eyes track the alpha as he takes in the sight. Soap’s knees are parted, his back arched, presenting himself perfectly for Ghost and, fuck, he’s fucking dripping for him. Slick runs down his thigh and Ghost sits back for a moment to watch him quite literally drip with need.
“Simon,” he whines, holding onto the vowel and snapping Ghost out of his trance.
Ghost moves, then. His large hand runs down Soap’s spine, pushing him further against the mattress, and then he’s lining himself up and sinking into his soaked hole.
They moan together, Soap grabs handfuls of the sheets and drops his head against the pillow, whimpering and moaning and trying to shiver his hips back.
“Fuck, Johnny,” Ghost spits, hands on his ass to stop his movements.
“Move, please,” Soap begs, peeking one eye at Ghost and jutting out his bottom lip.
“Just give me one moment.”
Ghost breathes in deep and adjusts to feeling Soap closed around him, if either of them move even an inch Ghost worries that he’ll cum just like this. He can hear Soap’s ragged breaths and after his moment, Ghost slides himself deeper into Soap, until he bottoms out and he’s panting.
“Feels so good,” Ghost says, “taking me so well.”
Ghost has thought about this time and time again, holing up in Soap’s room and fucking him through the night. He’s wanted him for so long that this feels like one of those dreams, like he could wake up and this would all be gone. But Soap’s wriggling his hips and calling his name and pleading for more, Ghost never thought he’d be here, and he’s already dreading when it ends.
“Harder, Simon, please.”
His voice is wrecked already and Ghost wonders truly how long this will last. He finally does what Soap has been begging for and pulls out to the head of his cock before slamming back in, Soap swallows him up each time, the slide is easy, he sinks right in. Ghost sets a brutal pace, fucking Soap the way he’s been begging. Skin slaps against skin and it’s obscene the way the sound bounces off the walls, nails bite into flesh and blood beads on the small wound. Ghost’s hands run along the curve of his ass and he watches himself pull out and slide back in, he can’t take his eyes off of where they’re connected. Ghost isn’t going to last long.
Soap’s doing what he can to push his hips back and meet each thrust, but he looks fucked out and in a state of bliss, he moans with each slap and whispers Ghost’s name like a mantra.
With each thrust Ghost scratches closer and closer to the edge. He pulls Soap’s hips back and buries himself deep inside of him before pulling out and repeating the motion, he feels Soap’s body tighten under his touch. He whimpers and Ghost can tell he’s close. He wraps his hand around Soap’s achingly hard cock, slicks his fingers up with the precum leaking from his tip and strokes him three full times before the omega’s body fully confuses and he’s cumming over Ghost’s fingers and his bed. Soap’s loud as he hits his release, crying out and trying to fall against the mattress.
“Simon, please,” he begs, “fill me up, come on, breed me.”
Ghost loses his fucking mind, holding Soap’s hips up and slamming into him.
“Want your knot, fuck, please alpha.”
Ghost leans over Soap and wraps his arm around his middle and puts his weight on Soap’s back, his thrusts are shallow like this, bent over Soap, but he’s able to get his lips on his neck and his shoulder blade, he mouths are his gland and marks up the area next to him, Soap is moaning so loud that he’s sure the entire base can hear it.
He thrusts into Soap a few more times, nosing around his scent gland and wanting so desperately to sink his teeth into flesh and stake his claim on his Sergeant, claim the omega for himself. Fuck, they already belong to one another anyways.
“Do it,” he says, like he’s reading his mind, “bite me, Simon, wanna belong to you.”
He shivers at the words and his pace becomes erratic, hips stuttering, he feels his knot growing at the base of his cock groans the first time it catches on Soap’s rim. Soap cries out, moaning for him to fill him. It’s overwhelming, Ghost’s head spins; he wants to bite down on Soap’s shoulder and mark him, take him and never let him out of his sight. But he refrains, this time. Teeth nip around his gland, tongue flattening against the mark to soothe it.
Ghost thrusts into him twice more before his knot fully slips past his rim and connects the two of them together. Soap moans, panting and drooling onto the pillow as Ghost buries himself inside of him and paints his insides white. Large hands pull Soap’s ass tight against his hips, rolling against him pumping him full until there nothing left to give.
They both still, breathing heavily and working on coming down. Ghost kisses his shoulder and repositions them into something more comfortable. He wishes he could see his face.
“Fuck, Johnny,” he breathes, pressing his lips to every inch of skin possible.
“You didn’t do it,” Soap says, his voice is quiet, a tinge of shame there.
Ghost pulls him closer and drops his forehead to his shoulder, “not tonight,” he tells him, “if you still want me to when your mind clears, we can talk about it.”
As much as he wants Soap, he doesn’t want to claim him while Soap’s rolling on side effects of missing his medications, while his body is adjusting and his head is spinning. Ghost worries about regrets, he wants to make sure Soap wants it.
It’s quiet between them for a moment, and then Soap turns his head as much as he can, “I’m still going to want you. Even after you leave my room, when I wake in the morning, when I see you in passing.” He whimpers as he moves his hips and Ghost’s cock moves inside him, “fuck, I want you all the fucking time.”
Ghost kisses him before he has time to fully finish the statement, it’s an awkward position but he presses their lips together soft and slow.
“You have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted you, Johnny,” he says against his lips.”
For a while they lay there, kissing lazily and exchanging promises. Soap falls asleep at some point, tucked into Ghost, until his cock softens and the knot goes down. Ghost pulls out of him gently and cleans the omega, Soap shoots him a look with those soft blue eyes and Ghost crawls right back into bed with him. They sleep in Soap’s room that night, crammed together in the twin bed with their scents mingling around the nest, around his room. Ghost hopes he smells like Soap in the morning.