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lemonwrap · 1 year

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Come Into The Water - Oneshot

A part of the Tongues & Teeth AU, but the previous fics aren't required to understand this. Please be advised that this contains NSFW content. Don't read it in public, lol.

Read it on Ao3!

Soap is leaving tomorrow.

That’s a simple fact of their situation. It’s the end of Soap’s three month leave, and he’s departing tomorrow.

Ghost has landed a job, so he won’t be completely helpless with Soap gone. It’s a simple job, one that doesn’t require much, if any talking. Just stocking shelves in the back of the local drug store. His employer had accepted the excuse of being born a mute surprisingly easily, even without any documentation, and didn’t seem to give a damn about Ghost not having any references or previously listed jobs. Maybe it’s just that small town kindness.

Soap had been pleased. He had encouraged Ghost to do what he wanted, and if he wanted a job, to get one. Ghost doesn’t want to be a burden. Not after everything Soap has done for him. So he had applied for a couple of jobs, wanting to be able to support himself, too, and not rely on Soap for everything, especially after he had taken Ghost to see his family’s graves with no complaint.

Soap pads into the living room where Ghost is idly reading a book. He reads often now. Soap’s eyes find his face, and there’s something soft in his eyes. Ghost isn’t wearing his mask today. Some days are hard, and he can’t stand the idea of someone, even Soap seeing his face, so he dons either the face mask or the balaclava. But today is a good day. He still wears the face mask out in public, and usually a hat and sunglasses, too, but the locals didn’t seem to mind much, and rarely commented on his appearance when he managed to bring himself to be out in public.

He’s still adjusting to being a civilian, but he likes the mundane, in a strange way. He likes it because he’s never had it before.

Ghost looks up and gives Soap an acknowledging dip of his head. It’s nearly four in the afternoon, late enough to be considering dinner.

Are you making dinner tonight? Ghost asks Soap. Ghost cooks sometimes, although Soap definitely has some critiques about his cooking.

“Aye. I’m gonnae do something I haven’t cooked for you before.”

What is it?

“You’re going to laugh,” Soap protests as he sits down on the couch next to Ghost.

I won’t, Ghost insists.

“Fine. It’s called rumbledethumps.”

Ghost bursts out laughing, unable to help himself.

“God, I knew you’d fucking laugh,” Soap complains, but he’s smiling, his eyes bright and lovely. Ghost calms enough to breathe properly, his laughter subsiding.

Ridiculous name, he says.

“I didnae name it,” Soap says, not quite indignant, obviously still in a jesting mood. He gets a little closer and leans his head on Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost sets his book down on the rickety coffee table and settles in with Soap, linking their hands together as they cuddle on the couch. Ghost still isn’t one hundred percent used to the affection, but he likes it nonetheless.

Ghost ends up dozing on the couch for a while with his partner, vaguely watching whatever channel Soap had been watching the previous night. It’s set to some terrible romcom that he isn’t particularly interested in. He’s slowly learning what he likes, and he’s learned that he doesn’t really care for romcoms.

Eventually, Soap sighs and gets up, leaving Ghost with a cold spot on his side where he had been leaning up against him.

“I’m gonnae make dinner,” he says, and disappears into the kitchen. Ghost listens to the quiet sounds of Soap cooking, just barely heard over the TV’s low volume.

He must’ve fallen asleep, because he’s being shaken awake.

“It’s dinnertime,” Soap says. “C’mon. I made it good, since it’s my last day. The food on base is gonnae be shitty compared to this.”

Ghost gets up, stretching out his limbs before ambling into the kitchen and dishing some food onto a plate. He smiles a little at the name. Rumbledethumps. Absolutely absurd. He plops down at the table with Soap, right across from him. They dig in. Ghost still can’t taste the food, but it’s pleasantly hot and doesn’t have a weird texture, so he decides it’s alright.

“Is it good? I haven’t cooked this dish in ages,” Soap chats. “My ma used to make it a lot when I was a kid, though.”

Ghost nods his head, taking another bite of his food. Soap finishes his meal first, as always. Ghost can barely finish his plate, having a meager appetite as usual, but he appreciates Soap’s cooking greatly. Soap gets up and puts their plates in the sink. Ghost is about to get up and leave when Soap speaks.

“I’ve got a surprise, by the way,” Soap says, and Ghost perks up, curious. “Hold on.”

Soap opens up a cabinet and pulls out a bottle.

“Tada! Scotch,” he says, showing off the bottle. Ghost smiles.

“You up for a drink?”

Ghost nods his head. A drink sounds nice. He doesn’t drink or smoke, too used to not being allowed luxuries of any sort. It’s strange to be able to do what he wants, when he wants, and to enjoy himself. Ghost is still getting used to his freedom.

Soap grabs two glasses from the cabinet and ambles into the living room, setting their glasses down on the coffee table next to Ghost’s book.

“Drink up,” Soap says, cheerfully pouring him a glass. They sit down on the couch and clink their glasses together, and Ghost feels a small ache in his heart. It’d be a while before he could enjoy himself with Soap again after this. He’ll be gone for who knows how long. He scootches a little closer to Soap, so close that their thighs are touching.

They lounge on the couch next to each other, sipping and enjoying their drinks. The scotch burns nicely as it goes down Ghost’s throat and he finishes the glass off.

After a few minutes, Soap’s hand creeps onto his thigh, and Ghost swallows, maybe a little nervously. He gathers his bravery and puts his empty glass to the side, runs his hand up Soap’s arm and up to his neck, threading his fingers through Soap’s grown-out mohawk. They’re so close that they’re breathing each other’s air. Soap stills, as if waiting for something, so Ghost just closes the gap and kisses him. Soap kisses back, his lips gentle against Ghost’s. His hand strays further up his thigh and plays with the button on Ghost’s jeans, making him flush slightly. He hasn’t thought much about being with Soap in that capacity. He isn’t against it, but he also isn’t sure if Soap would really want him like that. He’s not exactly a model.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Soap says, voice low.

Don’t, Ghost signs, and Soap seems to take this to heart. He begins to grab at Ghost’s shirt, helping him pull it off, but Ghost stills, his previously aroused mood mostly vanishing as he becomes self-conscious. He feels every scar on his body, from the burns to the lashes, and a burning sensation of shame courses through him as he avoids Soap’s gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Soap asks, noticing.

My scars, Ghost says. He knows there’s too many of them, and he knows that they’re not pretty. The scars on his body are much worse than the minimal ones on his face, the ones he’s been brave enough to show Soap. He wants to put his shirt back on. He knows Soap has at least seen glimpses of his body before, but Ghost has never shown him explicitly.

“I dinnae care about them,” Soap says. “I care about you.”

Ghost hunches in on himself as Soap’s eyes rake over his body before settling on his face, sympathetic.

“Can I touch you?”

Ghost nods his head slowly.

“I’ll show you,” Soap says. “Fuck. You’re right bonnie, you know that?”

Translation? Ghost asks, smiling somewhat, the shame fading. Soap still wants him.

“You’re gorgeous.”

This time, their kiss is full of hunger as they meet, hands tangling in each other’s hair. Soap reaches down and unbuttons Ghost’s jeans, his hand finding Ghost’s boxer-clad erection. Ghost stiffens a little, but tries to relax into it.

“We should probably take this somewhere else,” Soap says, his eyes full of mischief and lust. “The bed’s more comfortable.”

Ghost nods and follows him into Soap’s room. It’s more like their room at this point, as Ghost rarely sleeps in his own bed. Soap pushes him down onto the bed, and Ghost lets him pull his jeans and boxers off. Ghost feels a little shy, if he’s honest, which is laughable. A man like him shouldn’t be shy. Soap hovers over him, kissing him.

Your clothes, Ghost says, and tugs at his shirt. Soap chuckles and pulls it off, before unceremoniously taking off his pants, too. His cock strains against his boxers, and Ghost eyes it, a mixture of nervousness and arousal. Ghost runs his hand along the waistband of Soap’s boxers, meeting his eyes, and when Soap nods, he pulls them down. His cock springs forth, thick and standing up proudly.

Ghost hesitates for a second before he runs his hands up Soap’s body, ghosting over his skin, near his cock but not touching it. Soap allows it for a moment, but then he eagerly presses Ghost back against the bed, leaning over him, caging him with his arms. He runs his lips over Ghost’s scarred skin, placing kisses here and there, moving downwards. By the time Soap is pressing a kiss to Ghost’s inner thigh, purposefully avoiding his half-hard cock, Ghost is quivering slightly.

“Still good?” Soap asks, mouthing along his thigh, scraping so close to his cock. Ghost wants more. He wants Soap. He nods his head.

“How far do you want to take this?” Soap asks him. “I’m fine if—“

I want it all, Ghost says, flushing hotly.

Soap’s eyes almost visibly darken at this, his pupils wide and blown.

This seems to ignite a fire in Soap. He strokes Ghost’s cock in his hand, before he abruptly takes it in his mouth. Ghost makes an embarrassing noise, his muscles flexing as he tries not to squirm under the pleasure. Soap only keeps it up for a few blissful minutes before he pulls back, his lips glossy and his cheeks flushed red.

“Wannae finger you,” Soap utters, and Ghost doesn’t think he can blush any further. “That okay?”

Ghost nods his head yes. He stares up at the ceiling as Soap’s hands run up his body and cup his ass, before they disappear for a long moment. Ghost is left hard and anticipating, until he hears a click and something cool touches him. He jumps, but Soap soothes him with a hand against his thigh. The finger circles around his hole before gently breaching him. The stretch is strange, but not painful. He gasps, his thighs quivering even harder as Soap’s finger pumps in and out slowly. It’s not long before Soap adds a second finger, scissoring him open, leaving Ghost to try and stifle his whimpers.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” Soap says, before diving back in and taking Ghost’s cock in his mouth again as he fucks him open with his fingers. Ghost can’t help but gasp, muscles twitching. Then, Soap’s fingers brush over something that makes pleasure shoot straight up his spine. Ghost lets out a sudden, sharp cry, and Soap immediately pulls off and stills his fingers.

“Should I stop?” Soap asks. Ghost raises his head to shake it.

It felt good, Ghost tells him. Do it again.

Soap obeys. He does it again, and again, and again. Ghost can’t stop his whimpering, thighs threatening to close, hands clutching the sheets as he lays on his back and takes it. He wants to call out Soap’s name, his real name, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. But it’s not one of fear or pain. The heat keeps building in his gut, frighteningly fast as Soap swallows him down and adds a third finger. Ghost whines. He taps Soap frantically a few times, and Soap pulls out and off immediately, looking up at him anxiously.

“Too much?”

No, I just don’t want to come yet, Ghost admits, embarrassed.

Soap grins, running a finger up his cock and making Ghost shudder lightly. “Glad to know you liked it.”

Soap gets up and fumbles around for something, and Ghost hears the sound of a wrapper. Soap leans over him, spreading Ghost’s legs around his waist as Ghost lays on his back, Soap’s cock hard and huge against his backside.

“You ready?” Soap asks. Ghost nods and shyly grinds against Soap’s cock, making him suck in a sharp breath.

“Just tell me if you wannae stop,” Soap tells him. Ghost simply grabs his hand and leads it down to his ass.

“Wannae treat you good, make you miss me,” Soap says, hushed. Ghost will miss him either way, no matter what.

Soap takes his cock in hand and slowly inches it into Ghost’s hole. He’s at Soap’s mercy as he works him open, and it’s a little scary. Ghost holds on tight, breathing through the intense stretch, Soap so hot and thick inside him that it makes him sweat. It’s on the verge of being painful, but not quite.

“Doin’ great, Si,” Soap moans out, stroking Ghost’s slightly flagging cock and getting it to harden again as he pushes the last inch inside. He gives Ghost a long moment to adjust, waiting until Ghost himself rocks back onto Soap’s cock, shivering. Ghost’s legs tremble as he bashfully covers his face with one arm.

“C’mon, lemme see you,” Soap says, pulling his hips back and then thrusting in. Ghost lets out a strangled gasp, but uncovers his face. Only for Soap.

“Doin’ so amazin’,” Soap compliments. “Feels so, ah, good.”

He moves a bit faster, rolling his hips slowly but deeply. Ghost’s body jolts at the pleasurable assault, and suddenly his back is uncontrollably arching as Soap hits something absolutely electric. He scrambles to tighten his grip on Soap’s arms, shaking, ankles locking together behind Soap’s back.

“That your spot?” Soap asks breathily, beginning to focus his thrusts. All Ghost can do is nod, unable to sign a single word. His nails dig crescent shapes into Soap’s skin as he holds on for dear life, gasping and sobbing out his pleasure. He probably isn’t a virgin, but he can’t remember ever feeling like this before.

Johnny, more, please, please, please, he manages to let go to sign quickly, but he grabs Soap’s arms again, overwhelmed, when his cock continuously brushes up against his prostate, unrelenting. All Ghost can do is watch Soap’s face, all knitted brows, flushed skin, and bitten lips. The pleasure is becoming nearly unbearable, and he lets out a loud sound and clutches at Soap’s hand as a warning. He can’t hold it anymore. But Soap doesn’t stop, just keeps up that relentless pace that makes Ghost moan. Throwing his head back, Ghost shudders and shakes as he cums untouched all over his stomach in hot, thick ropes.

“There you go, Si, so perfect, so beautiful,” Soap says, still thrusting in and in, making Ghost cry out in overwhelmed ecstasy. It’s not long before Soap cums into the condom with a loud, unabashed moan. He pulls out slowly, and Ghost winds down from his orgasm, panting heavily, still laying on his back as Soap untangles their limbs.

He hears Soap shuffling around and leaving the room, and a small bolt of panic runs up his spine. He sits up, still weak in the knees. Is he leaving? He relaxes when Soap comes back and climbs into bed, running a cool washcloth over his heated skin, cleaning him up. Suddenly overcome with something, Ghost grabs him and presses a tender kiss to Soap’s lips.

He pulls back to look at Soap, and their eyes meet, soul searching. Fuck, he doesn’t want to let him go. He can’t let him go. Not after everything.

Don’t go, Ghost signs, no, begs, grasping Soap’s hand in his own.

“Okay,” Soap says after a long moment. “I’m yours, Simon.”

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