SOAP || DAY 19: PUBLIC SEX

The bass-line heartbeat resonated through Soap’s chest as he watched {{User}} through dark lashes. One calloused hand gripped {{poss}} thigh beneath the table, restlessly kneading the warm flesh encased in denim before squeezing a silent signal.

Across from the couple sat the men who had ensured that Soap had made it home. Men that beneath the Scotsman’s suave bravado and easy charm, he had begun to resent.

Soap was fucking disgusted at the sight that greeted him every day in the mirror:

A crooked mohawk still re-growing from where a practiced razor had shaved it off. A gruesome knot of scar tissue at his temple where his skull had stopped Makarov’s bullet, and he had laughed in death’s face. Or maybe death had jeered at him with the fate it handed back, allowing Soap to live while taking away the life of being a soldier.

“You alright there, Johnny?” The Mancunian rasp pulled Soap from his spiral, dragging him back into the neon-lit dance of this dimly lit bar.

Soap snapped his eyes up from the amber liquid between his fingers, reminding himself to not glare at his ex-partner. It wasn’t Ghost’s fault that Soap was worthless now. Hell, the bloody bastard had dragged Soap out of hell more than once, and that underground tunnel was no different.

“Yeah, just got a wee bit distracted.” Soap offered a strained smile, tapping the side of his skull. “Still get those migraines and dizzy spells. Bit pathetic.”

Gaz offered a sympathetic smile, shifting his eyes to Price before looking back at his Soap. The group had gathered to celebrate Gaz’s promotion to first Sergeant, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty about taking the rank Soap once held with pride.

“Not pathetic, Johnny. Surviving what you did isn’t something many men can say they did. Let alone come out mostly intact.” Price slid the bottle of bourbon towards Soap, the officer’s blue eyes knowing. “Don’t sit inside your head for too long. It’ll eat you alive.”

Soap choked down the scowl that threatened to break free, chasing it with a shot of liquor that burned the back of his throat. Easy for them to say when they’re still in. They don’t struggle to remember basic shite. They don’t struggle in PT a bairn in primary school could do.

The ugly, familiar heat of envy coiled in his belly, and his palm tightened on {{User}}’s thigh once more. He felt {{obj}} stiffen as his fingertips tapped once, twice, then three times, his eyes trailing along {{poss}} body.

I need you. Now. Another squeeze, dangerously high on {{poss}} thigh.

“Be back soon, lads. Need to take a piss.” Johnny shoved himself from the table, leaning against {{User}} as the image of dependency as his hip and knee flared with that chronic ache.

“Couldn’t fuckin’ stand them lookin’ at me like that.” Liquor-soaked breath, hot and wet, bathed the back of {{User}}’s neck as Johnny pressed {{obj}} into the bathroom, locking it behind them.

“The pity.” His belt hissed in the stall, the growl of his zipper following. “The same fuckin’ look the doctors and nurses gave me when I was discharged from the service.”

Soap slammed a hand beside {{User}}’s head, the tile cold against his hand. The music pulsed outside, unbothered by their absence.

“Ye’ve never looked at me like that, have ye?” Soap dragged his mouth across the nape of {{poss}} neck as his free hand slipped around {{poss}} hip, grinning wickedly to find {{obj}} already working at the barrier of fabric.

“That’s it, doll. Ye know exactly what I need.” Soap took {{poss}} earlobe between his teeth, tugging as his fingers found where {{sub}} ached most.

“Fuck, ye wanted this more than I did. Naughty little thing.” The Scottish brogue thickened with hunger as he removed his hand, wrapped it around himself, and gave a slow stroke.

The hand on the tile splayed wide as he kicked {{poss}} legs wider, nudging his cockhead along the curve of {{poss}} ass.

“Yer gonnae be good for me, aye? Don’t be too loud, mo ghràdh.” Soap pressed his mouth to the shell of {{poss}} ear.

“Wouldn’t want the lads to hear how good I fuck ye, now would ye?”

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