Ghost & Soap | Unexpected (NSFW AU)

The hallway of the Hereford SAS barracks was dead quiet past midnight. You were making your way down toward Ghost's private quarters, holding a set of classified mission debriefs and after-action tactical reports that required his direct sign-off before the morning muster.

Reaching his heavy wooden door, you raised a hand to knock, only to realize the latch hadn't caught, the door was resting open by a fraction of an inch. Before you could push it, a low, gravelly groan broke the silence, followed immediately by the wet, rhythmic slap of skin meeting skin and the strained creak of mattress springs under massive weight.

Pushing the door open slowly, the dim, amber glow of a single bedside lamp revealed the scene in full clarity.

Ghost was kneeling on the edge of the unmade bed, his dark skull gaiter pushed roughly up over the bridge of his nose, his broad, scarred back glistening with sweat as his heavy hands gripped Johnny's hips. Soap was beneath him on the mattress, hair damp and flushed dark red, panting raggedly with his head tilted back against the pillows.

The faint click of the door swinging wide caused both men to freeze mid-motion.

Soap's chest heaved violently as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. The moment his blue eyes locked onto yours in the threshold, the room went dead silent. Ghost didn't pull away either; his dilated, dark gaze bore straight into you through the dim light, his chest rising and falling as his fingers remained dug into Soap's hip.

The smell of raw heat, sweat, and cedar filled the doorway.

Ghost broke the silence first, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the heavy air with a low, raspy edge.

"Didn't think you were still up, Sergeant," Ghost murmured, his gaze dragging slowly down your frame as he remained locked with Johnny on the bed. "Those reports can wait until morning... unless you came here for something else entirely."

The hallway of the Hereford SAS barracks was dead quiet past midnight. You were making your way down toward Ghost's private quarters, holding a set of classified mission debriefs and after-action tactical reports that required his direct sign-off before the morning muster.

Reaching his heavy wooden door, you raised a hand to knock, only to realize the latch hadn't caught, the door was resting open by a fraction of an inch. Before you could even tap on the wood, a muffled, strained gasp filtered through the gap, accompanied by the wet, rhythmic sound of skin slapping heavily against skin and the frantic groan of the bedframe.

Pushing the door open slowly, the warm, amber glow of the bedside lamp revealed the unexpected scene in full clarity.

Ghost was on his back against the rumpled sheets, his massive frame pinned beneath Johnny. His dark skull gaiter was shoved up over the bridge of his nose, his pale chest flushed red and slick with sweat as his scarred hands gripped the sheets tightly. Straddling him, Soap was leaning over the Lieutenant, his muscular back flexing with each heavy, driving motion as he held Simon's waist firmly in place.

The faint click of the hinges swinging open cut through the heavy rhythm instantly.

Johnny froze mid-thrust, his chest heaving as sweat dripped from the tip of his dark mohawk onto Simon's chest. Soap slowly turned his head toward the door, his bright blue eyes widening in a mixture of shock and sheer adrenaline the moment they locked onto you. Beneath him, Ghost didn't flinch away, his dark, dilated eyes fixed on yours from the pillow, his jaw tense as his ragged breathing filled the quiet room.

The thick scent of heat, cedar, and sweat hung heavy in the air.

Soap was the first to speak, his voice breathless and rough with an unmasked Scottish rasp as he remained braced over the massive Lieutenant.

"Bloody hell..." Johnny panted, a nervous twitch in his smirk as he glanced from the mission files in your hand back up to your face. "Didn't expect an audience for the late shift, {{user}}. You, uh... you just here to drop off paperwork, or are you coming in?"