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Ghost fucking hated meeting people. Old or new.
Lights overhead, music blaring from all corners, tables scattered all over the hall, people milling around... yeah.
Ghost wanted to go home.
Alumni reunions were something he’d been avoiding for about 15 years, thinking them unnecessary and stupid and had kept himself firm for that, even as he stood by the bar of the hall where his alumni reunion was held and right then and there, he made a vow for this to be the last time he listened to his... well it didn’t matter anymore.
It wasn’t like his high school experience had been bad, he’d definitely not peak at it and to say he didn’t have fun or that he’d been a reject would be a lie.
Back then, 15 years ago, he’d been involved in every fucking extracurricular activity he could find just to not go back to his house.
He’d played football, tennis and even rugby. He’d joined the literally club, the music one and also a few STEM clubs.
He’d rotate them weekly to be able to stay in them and whenever he had time off, he’d be at the library studying.
He’d gone so far to even getting himself a boyfriend that had been out of his fantasies.
So yeah, he’d had an stellar experience, only eclipsed by the beatings he’d get at his house by his drunk, good for nothing excuse of a father, just for existing.
Back then he didn’t like people either but he was good at pretending that he did and he only had to pretend whenever he played in teams... unless he counted that girl at his chemistry club that seemed to have gotten a liking to him and wouldn’t leave him alone.
Though maybe he wasn’t pretending with the last one.
Yeah, he remembered Soap, she had a long mohawk and big blue eyes.
She was short and mouthy with thin lips, thick thighs, and with massive tits that more often than not ended up pressed to his side or back whenever she’d, literally, cling to Ghost.
He’d never wanted to admit it, what with the boyfriend he had throughout school, but he’d always found the girl pretty.
Even in all his queerness.
He remembered her a couple years or so younger than him.
Ghost had not gone to school for a couple years which meant he was always the oldest. Even his boyfriend was younger than him but he remembered Soap because the girl was pretty smart, liked to make things explode to the point of almost getting kicked out of the club more than once and of course, because they all called her Soap.
Ghost shook his head remembering, a chuckle in his mouth as he downed his third shot of the evening.
The alumni association had paid for an open bar and that was partly the reason why he’d not turned back as soon as he got there.
“Simon?” Someone said behind him and he turned around to find John Price, his old English professor, though back then he’d been a kid almost straight out of uni, even younger than Ghost’s current age.
“Price!” He accepted a hug from the man. Even young and fresh as he was, Price had been a shelter for Ghost, more than once ending up at his small, shitty flat whenever Ghost’s dad kicked him for the night.
“It’s been too long, lad,” Price said, patting him on the back, he was probably in his mid to late forties now and it was noticeable on his face, mutton chops not included.
“It has,” he said, “properly looking like a professor, now.”
Price laughed putting a hand on his shoulder, “I’d say you look like an adult now but you’ve always looked like one.”
He said it with a softness in his voice that made Ghost’s heart constrict.
It had never been his decision to have to grow up faster than others, something Price himself had reminded him once or twice back then.
“Surprising to see you here,” he said to break the silence and Ghost was grateful for that, Price was more than just his professor back then and he was glad that his radio silence had not tarnished that.
“Someone convinced me,” he called the bartender with his hand just to not look at Price.
“Could it be there’s finally a Mr. Riley?”
He laughed, sometimes he wished but, “no... none of that.”
“Ah, well...” Price took a sip of his drink, “you’re still young.”
They shared a comfortable silence as they drank, scanning the crowd if only for the lack of something better to do, until Price talked again.
“I’m surprised to see you alone,” he said, and when Ghost only looked at him, head tilted, he continued, “every year both MacTavish and Sanderson ask for you, thought they be slobbering all over your trainers.”
He looked at Ghost from the corner of his eyes, as if waiting for a particular reaction but there was none.
“Yeah?” he said instead.
“Aye,” Price looked at him, “like clockwork, not like the other knows, but they always ask me at least once. Remember how those two used to fight for you?”
Ghost chuckled, almost choking on his drink, “why?” he asked, “I dated Roach for years.”
“Aye,” Price repeated, “but I don’t think it escaped anyone’s notice how MacTavish looked at you, all pressed up and stuck to your side.”
He scoffed, he’d really liked Gary back then, plus the fact he’d always been gay so he told Price as much.
“I’m just saying,” Price continued, “the way you looked back... well, if I were Roach, I would’ve been worried, too. Guess you also had it right the first time.”
He looked at Price as he felt his whole face contort in confusion and redness in equal measure.
“What are you on about?” he choked out.
Price looked at him and little by little it started downing on him, Ghost’s confusion.
“Simon,” he said, “don’t tell me...?”
“What?” he asked again, “I’m gay.”
Price stared and then started laughing. He laughed so hard that he almost dropped his drink, several sets of eyes looking at them from the dance floor and the tables.
“What?”
“Are you telling me you never liked MacTavish?”
“I mean,” he cleared his throat, “I liked her just fine but there was nothing behind it.”
Price laughed, “her?” he parroted confused and then shook his head, “so you never noticed the ongoing rivalry between them over you?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Price didn’t say more, instead he patted his shoulder, “they’re both here,” he called as he left, “please keep them from seeing each other.”
And then he was left standing by the bar, confused and surprised the same.
Well.
Maybe he’d liked to have Soap’s attention on him and maybe he attended his chemistry club more than the other clubs he was part of because of her, but he genuinely liked chemistry, too.
And yes, maybe he hated when people touched him but never said anything to Soap about it, but it was always friendly, she knew they were friends... right?
He downed his drink and decided he’d had enough and made for the door of the hall.
Or tried, but someone stopped him on his way there.
“Hey, handsome,” the man said, big blue eyes, brown hair and short with powerful looking arms and legs clad in jeans that left very little to the imagination, so did the black shirt seemingly painted to his body, jewellery protruding from his chest area under the shirt.
“Hi,” he said carefully. Fuck, but he was his type alright. He was sure he could throw the man around easily.
“I’m John,” he said extending his hand.
“Ghost,” he shook it back.
“Oh, I know,” the man said, a crooked smile on his face, eyes half lidded, “want a drink?”
“Think I’ve had enough for the night,” he said, retrieving his hand.
The man pouted and Ghost wanted to apologise or maybe spank him, he hadn’t decided what that pout made him feel yet... and then.
“Do I know you?” he asked because he looked familiar, very much so.
“I don’t know,” John said, “do you?”
He accepted the drink at the end, only because he hated not knowing why John looked so familiar.
“So, Simon...” John started but he stopped him at once.
“It’s Ghost,” he said rather defensively.
He let few people called him Simon, Price included but only out of the love he used to have the man back then.
John hummed, “you used to let me call you Simon before.”
That made him stop as the bartender put a bottle in front of him and then he looked at John, really looked.
The same blue eyes, the same thin lips, he was missing the mohawk and the massive rack but he was sure who it was.
“Soap?” he asked flabbergasted, “MacTavish?”
Soap laughed throwing his head all the way back, the same as he laughed 15 years ago.
“Took you long enough, Ghostie!”
He patted Ghost’s back so hard he almost spilled the drink in his hands and then he understood why Price had said he’d gotten it right the first time when he mentioned not liking Soap because he was gay.
“You’re a man, now,” he said as if it weren’t obvious.
“I’ve always been a man,” Soap drank from the bottle he’d been carrying since Ghost saw him first, “I just look like one now.”
“Sorry,” he said quickly, “should’ve come to more to these things...”
“Would’ve been nice,” Soap smiled, “been driving Price insane asking for you every damn year.”
“So I’ve heard,” he chuckled, “don’t know why, though...”
“Thought maybe now that I look like a man you’ve give me a chance...”
He almost choked on his drink, making Soap chuckle and pat his back.
“Bold, are we,” he said between coughs.
Soap looked around suspiciously, eyes landing on something or somewhere or someone that made him get up from the seat.
“I want to show you something, come with me!” He grabbed Ghost’s hand and didn’t give him a chance to say no, pulling him along, beers forgotten on the bar.
Ghost expected Soap to let go after they’d gotten out of the hall but he didn’t, if only, he grabbed him harder.
“I’m sure you remember the way,” Soap said, “but I’ve wanted to walk with you like this for 15 years so don’t mind me, please.”
It was dark in the hallway but Ghost could still see the blush on Soap’s cheeks.
He had been rather bold before but now he was acting all bashful.
It was a nice change.
He gripped Soap’s hand and brought him to his side, raising his arm for Soap to put himself under it, just like he used to do with Roach back then.
“This what you wanted?” he whispered, turning his head to the side until his lips were touching Soap’s ear.
Ghost felt him shiver and a chuckle escaped his lips.
“I’ve wanted this since I was 15 years old,” Soap said, “can’t believe I finally got you here.”
He chuckled again, “I’m the one who’s got you,” he said, “but I’ve to admit I don’t know where it is that I’ve got you.”
“You don’t remember?” Soap asked him to what he shook his head.
They walked in silence a little more, hallways he’d walked for so many years and never paid attention to.
They’d changed, a lot.
Whilst back then the walls had been mostly barren, the school priding itself in education rather than extracurricular activities, now there were posters and trophies in the walls, years of student love and hardship.
And yet, he didn’t wish to go back to those times. Not when it always reminded him of his family, the one he’d left behind as soon as he was able to.
Even Tommy—the younger brother he’d loved so much and just because Ghost didn’t want him to suffer by seeing how his parents treated him.
Fuck.
“What do you remember?” Soap suddenly asked him, one of his hands coming to grab the one draped around his shoulder, “about back then.”
“You,” he lied, though it was partly true.
And because he wanted Soap to at least suck his cock.
It worked.
Well... not immediately but when he blushed all prettily, Ghost knew it was a sure thing.
“I remember you,” he clarified unnecessarily, “following me around, not leaving me alone for a second as soon as you saw me, your tits pressed to my back...”
Soap stopped annoyed, stomping one foot on the floor, hand still possessively grabbing Ghost’s wrist on his shoulder.
Ghost remembered something else. He remembered how he loved to annoy Soap.
“I wasn’t like that!” he stomped again, separating himself from Ghost.
This man is in his 30s, he thought to himself as the word cute crossed his mind.
“Don’t worry,” Ghost continued walking, leaving Soap behind as he started to remember the way, “you had a nice rack.”
Soap made a face as he reached Ghost, it was between anger and hurt but he couldn’t care less.
Not when he was there for one reason and one reason only and reassuring Soap was definitely not it.
“You miss my tits?” Soap said as they rounded the last corner, “you liked them?”
He felt Soap collide against him as he stopped abruptly in front of a door, “Chemistry Lab” written in bolt letters on a sign above the door.
“I’m more of an arse man,” he said but just because he was starting to realise maybe he had something for pouty mouths.
And he also figured that annoying the hole he was bound to be offered would be more enjoyable if they were both happy.
Happy-ish anyway.
He tried the door, finding it suspiciously unlocked but before he could enter, he felt a pair of arms cling to his neck.
“I’ve got plenty of arse,” Soap murmured against his ear. How he was reaching that high, Ghost had not idea.
“That you do,” he replied ushering Soap in before he went right after, an audible click of the door the only thing that could be heard in the room.
He didn’t bother with looking around, the room was the same as years ago, maybe newer chemistry benches and lights and shelves but it was essentially the same.
He leaned against the desk closer to the window and opposite from the door, which happened to be the professor’s desk, as Soap started reading the spines of the books on some of the shelves in the back of the room and checking the glasses, flasks and beakers without a word.
He sighed annoyed as he noticed Soap’s hands shaking slightly and before he could start travelling memory lane—because it was a miracle the man was silent—he unbuttoned his jeans and got his cock out, startling Soap who looked at him at once.
“What?” Soap stared at the chubbed up cock in his hand, “you expected me to put out that easy?”
Ghost laughed, of course he did, but he didn’t need to say that, not when Soap looked just about to drool as he prowled closer.
“That why you brought me here, innit?” he smirked, “should I leave? Maybe I should go find Gar—”
“No!” Soap interrupted him, voice filled with petulance and the perpetual pout of his lips in place.
Ghost grinned and looked down to his prick, swinging it from side to side as his eyes went back to Soap, “get on with it.”
Soap walked towards him and got on his knees, eyebrows frowned as if he was offended but even like that, he couldn’t mask the lust in his eyes, the blush that spread from his cheeks to his forehead and down his neck.
It was a sight.
“I knew you were still a bastard,” Soap murmured and before he could grab Ghost’s cock he moved it out of grasp.
“What you mean?” He asked, hating that Soap had caused that reaction in him when he always made sure to keep everything in check, especially his emotions.
“Oh,” Soap said all coyly, looking up at him with a grin that made Ghost very uncomfortable.
“What?” he fell for Soap’s trap, only making him grin wider.
“You were plenty good, I’ll give you that,” he swiped Ghost’s cock from his hands and started pumping it slowly, the precum at the tip helping the torturous slide, “but I always saw through you, knew you were a damn bastard.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tsked annoyed, trying his hardest to not flinch or moan at the way Soap was working his prick, hands grabbing for dear life the edge of the desk he was leaning against as Soap gave his cockhead a kitten lick.
“Always looking at the others as if they were beneath you,” Soap rasped, “as if you were better.”
Ghost hummed in pleasure, throwing his head back as Soap swallowed half of him slowly, tongue working his underside, teasing three of the six barbells there, bobbing his head to a torturous rhythm that Ghost enjoyed a little too much.
“But none of them noticed,” Soap continued after pulling out, which annoyed Ghost immensely, “they all loved you.”
Tired of his antics, Ghost grabbed him by the hair and pulled away before Soap could swallow him again.
“You’re talking a lot of shit.” he lowered himself to be face to face with Soap, spit and precum dripping down his chin, “for someone who is here just to please me.”
Soap grinned wide and happy, eyes glazed over and face flushed.
“And you don’t like that?” he asked cheekily and Ghost decided he’d had enough.
“No,” he replied, pulling Soap up by the hair and pushing him against the desk face down and then he positioned himself behind the man, “but I get the feeling you knew that.”
He grabbed Soap’s arse, one finger teasing the crack over the jeans.
“Ghost,” Soap looked back but then found himself being shoved against the desk once more, a moan ripping from his throat.
The little shit was enjoying it.
But Ghost was not there for Soap, but he sure was there for himself.
“I wonder,” he said, moving the hand on Soap’s arse to the waistband of his jeans, only to find them loose already.
He chuckled. The brat had managed to unbutton his jeans.
“Gh...Ghost,” Soap moaned weakly.
He pulled at the waistband, making Soap grab the other side of the desk harder, shaking the whole thing.
“Wonder if you have a brand new cock,” he continued as Soap’s hips stuttered, “or a pretty, pink pussy.”
As an answer, Soap pushed back against him, presenting his arse.
He lowered himself over Soap’s shoulder, “like a bitch in heat,” he murmured to what Soap nodded frantically.
“Yes, ye-es!” He stammered out, “yes, please! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!”
He laughed at the cheesy line, as if they were in a porno, but even he had to admit that it got him going, cock harder than ever.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he bit the shell of Soap’s ear before he straightened, grabbing the waistband of his jeans again and yanking them to Soap’s knees.
Fuck.
He stopped and stared, saliva pooling in his mouth as his cock throbbed—lust invading every single one of his brain cells as all thought left his head.
All but one.
Eat, eat, EAT.
“You like it?” Soap asked shyly, but Ghost barely heard it when he continued transfixed watching what was before him.
It was pink and pretty.
Soap’s pussy.
“Ghost?” Soap tried to look back but he didn’t let him get too far as he surged forward to taste the cunt in front of him, puffy lips wet with so much slick that when he caught a glance of Soap’s jeans, they were wet, too.
Because of course he wasn’t wearing anything under.
“Ahh!” He screamed, grabbing the desk for dear life as Ghost ate him out.
He was sure that if he was quiet enough, which he wasn’t, he could almost hear Ghost gulping down his slick.
The madman.
“Soap,” Ghost murmured against him, and never in all his years in love with the monster currently attached to his cunt, did he ever imagine himself in that position.
“J-John,” he moaned his own name for Ghost. He’d never managed to have Ghost call him by his old name, but now that he was his true self, maybe Ghost would.
Of course he was wrong.
Half of him thought Ghost was too far gone to listen to him, he used to do that, used to get so focused in whatever he was doing that it was like the world stopped existing for him.
Soap loved to see him like that. Focused.
It was a shame he couldn’t see the man though, not as he licked a strip from his cock to his arse, making him buck so hard, he could almost feel his hips bruising against the edge of the desk with the force.
“Taste so good, Johnny,” Ghost murmured and embarrassing as it was he felt his orgasm get to him before he even noticed, whole body going tight as a bowstring as he tried to unattach himself from Ghost as the overstimulation was too much.
“Gh... Simon,” he begged, “stop, please, I—I can’t!”
Ghost chuckled cruelly as he grabbed one of Soap’s legs and threw it over the desk to reach him better, jeans stuck to his ankles, the material stretching to its limit while Ghost had his other hand with one finger prodding at his hole.
“Simon!” He tried again, “please, please, please!”
But every word that came out of his mouth only seemed to spur Ghost more and more as his tongue got more frantic, more savage.
“S-stop, ple-ah-se!” he said on the verge of tears, the pleasure was too much, he felt like he was dying.
And it was with one last effort that he managed to throw his hand back to push Ghost away.
He breathed heavily, trying to get as much air in his lungs as possible, but it wasn’t working, he felt like he was suffocating, never having felt such pleasure.
“Wanted to see if you’d cum on my face,” Ghost finally said. He was out of breath, too.
“I... I did,” he retorted, leg hurting as he put it back down on the floor.
“No,” Ghost got closer to him, grabbing the leg he’d just put down and put it back up on the desk, “I wanted you to cum all over my face.”
And then it dawned on Soap, what Ghost had wanted.
“I can’t do that, you oaf!” He said scandalised, trying to look back but not being able to in his current position.
Ghost hummed disappointed and as twisted as it sounded, Soap felt truly sorry he couldn’t squirt all over his face.
God. He was fucked for the man. Had been for so long, Soap had no idea how he hadn’t just kidnapped the man from Roach to keep him all for himself all those years back.
Not many people knew, but Soap and Roach had known each other since they were toddlers and had always competed for first place.
Being born neighbours, only a few days difference between the other. Their mum’s had tried to make them friends and even joked about them getting married, truth was they always hated each other.
Whenever Roach would parade himself clinging to Ghost’s arm, it had never been a coincidence that Soap was in the vicinity, but it had neither been a coincidence that Roach had not been accepted in the Chemistry club Soap was a member of.
And since then, like with every single toy the other had had in the past, both Roach and Soap had fought for Ghost, but, well... even with Roach showing himself off like a bitch in an obedience contest, Soap had refused defeat and it had paid off.
Mind you, 15 years later.
Give or take.
“Hey, hey,” Ghost snapped his fingers in front of him, “I didnt let you bring me here for you to start daydreaming,” he said cruelly.
“You didn’t?” he retorted because he liked to be a brat and Ghost seemed like the type of man who liked that, even if he said no.
“I didn’t,” he bit the shell of his ear again and grabbed him by his hair to pull his head back, a jolt of pain traveling through his body that made his cunt clench.
“Why did you come, then?” he stared back, the hold on his hair not relenting, if only, he seemed to grab Soap harder as he teased him with a smile.
Ghost grabbed his arse and spread his cheeks, settling himself back.
“Well, to fuck you, of course,” he rubbed his jeans and cock against Soap’s wet, naked cunt, the movement painful but welcomed.
“Yeah?” he replied looking back, “just give me a minute and I’ll be good to g—”
“No,” Ghost said simply as Soap heard him unbutton his jeans, “I meant now.”
He didn’t give Soap time to react before he was shoving his massive cock into his cunt, pain and pleasure making him tremble and buck as a moan was ripped from his throat.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Ghost murmured, both hands on Soap’s hips holding him still or maybe holding himself steady because for a second none of them move which Soap was grateful for as his cunt tried to accommodate Ghost’s prick. “Feel so good...”
Soap breathed heavily as his cunt clenched, pain pleasure clouding his thoughts.
“Warn a guy,” he retorted through gritted teeth, “would you?”
“No,” Ghost lowered himself to whisper in his ear, the movement making them both moan, “not when you get so tight.”
“You’re a fucking bastard,” he rolled his hips, feeling Ghost’s cock in his throat.
“And you love it,” Ghost replied moving back and really, Soap couldn’t say more.
Not when he was right, not when he already felt fucked out after one orgasm. Not when he felt so full and not when he rolled his hips again to encourage Ghost.
“Yeah, just like that,” the man said, grabbing Soap’s hips harder as he started to pull out almost all the way out just to ram his way in, the desk taking the brunt of the force by sliding back with every push.
“Gh-Ghost...” he moaned meeting him halfway as much as he could with how hard Ghost was grabbing him, not like he was complaining.
“Fuck, Johnny,” he called him again and it took everything in Soap to not come right there and then, but he couldn’t mask the way the nickname made him feel when he heard Ghost laughing.
“You like it when I call you Johnny?” he asked, hips sawing in an out of him hard and fast, it was too much and not enough at the same time.
“Simon...” he returned, hoping to affect the man just as much as he did Soap, but it had been futile when Ghost kept the pace.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Ghost teased again, another endearment that sent shivers down his spine, “I asked you a question.”
He pushed in hard and then out, keeping just the tip in.
“D-don’t stop,” he reached back with his hand only managing to grab Ghost’s arm for a second before the man shook him off.
“I asked you a question,” he bent at the waist to talk into his ear again, “answer.”
“Please,” he begged, “don’t stop, please, please, please!”
Ghost laughed, seemingly enjoying his begging and suffering.
“Answer the question,” he drawled, one hand coming up to grab him by the hair again, “and maybe I’ll continue.”
But unbeknownst to Ghost, Soap had never been one to shy away from pain, especially when he loved getting his hair pulled so hard.
Though not like he’d say that to Ghost, least the mean would stop “punishing” him with that.
“I don’t care for it,” he lied, cunt clenching on nothing—the way Ghost had him not allowing for him to be inside, though Soap could still feel him between his cheeks.
“A brat and a liar,” Ghost replied, fully detaching from Soap, except for the hold in his hair.
He threw his forehead against the desk and realised that maybe he’d gone too far.
Until he felt a finger enter him softly, making him groan in pleasure.
“But if you insist,” Ghost said behind him, “then I will, too.”
One finger turned into two and two into three.
“Si-Simon...” he breathed heavily, the pleasure not enough to get him off, “please! Fuck me, please, please!”
“I am,” Ghost replied.
“I want your cock,” he tried to look back, “please!”
Ghost hummed as if thinking about it and then Soap saw him disappear from the limited view he had of the man.
“Have you ever been fucked in the arse?” Ghost asked and before Soap could reply, he felt a tongue licking a strip from his hole to his... other hole.
“Fuck! Simon!” He bucked wildly, a scream in his throat that he was too choked up to let go.
Ghost didn’t reply, of course, too busy fucking Soap’s cunt with his fingers and eating his arse, tip of his tongue teasing inside, lighting a path up his spine, toes curling in pleasure.
“S-Simon...” he moaned, head back down on the desk, “please!”
He stopped, finally. Movements halting slowly as if he didn’t want to let go, as letting go was actually painful.
“Johnny,” he called, making him clench with both holes, feeling spit and slick dripping down his legs, hair probably matted with how much he was dripping. He wasn’t even aware he could get so wet.
He managed to look back and for the first time, with the lights outside as the only source of it, he could see he wasn’t the only one affected by the whole thing.
Ghost... Simon, who had always been pale and with his blonde curls cut aggressively short back then, was beautifully flushed, his curls falling to his forehead and sticking to it.
God.
Soap knew he was in love with the man, crush spiralling out of control and the years only making him long for him more, but God.
There was really no way to describe what he felt.
“Yes,” he said breathlessly but clear, making even Simon stop altogether, “I love it when you call me Johnny.”
An exhale was the only answer he got back as Simon let him move to turn around.
“I loved it when you called me Soap back then, too.”
He sat on the desk with Simon’s help and stared at the man.
His cock, hard and heavy was leaking between his legs, jeans uncomfortably sat under his balls, Soap wanted to lick and taste again, a shiver going through his body but he wanted Simon to know it was not mere lust, what he felt.
“I loved it when you called me Soap," he repeated, "how you let me cling to you, how you didn’t look at me when you were with Roach...”
“Johnny,” Simon looked at his eyes and then down to his lips, his neck, his covered chest and his lap where his cunt was still drooling, jeans stuck to his ankles.
“I’ve been in l—”
“Don’t.” Simon interrupted him, a frown between his eyebrows, “not here...”
Any other person would be hurt by that, but Soap had been waiting for this man for over a decade and his life had not stopped and it wouldn’t, not even if he had to wait another decade for a quick fuck, especially when they were anything but that—his first orgasm still fresh.
“Okay,” he said then, a smile on his face because despite it all, he could notice something else bugging Simon, something more than just him being a bastard, because he was and Soap loved that, too.
A silence filled the room then, thick and heavy, dread climbing up Soap throat as he noticed Simon going limp and he just couldn’t have that.
Without a word, he took his jeans off and got fully on the desk, knees on the surface as he lowered himself to his chest, pierced nipples pebbling with how cold the desk had gotten, even through his shirt.
It didn’t take long for Simon to respond then as he raised his arse to the air, presenting his holes to the man who was face to face with them.
“No talking then,” he said, moving his hips from side to side, “think I can manage that for a minute.”
Simon didn’t say anything, didn’t need to when Soap felt his tongue on him once more, probing at his cunt and then all the way up to his hole.
“Shite, Simon!” He bucked against the desk, never been eaten so good before, didn’t even know he liked it that much.
“You like that sweetheart?” Simon said, blowing cold wind against him, making him shiver enough that he was scared the desk might break.
“Y-yes!” he replied, thinking that if he didn’t, Simon would punish him again.
“That’s good,” he continued, “but it’s not what I want.”
Without a warning, Soap felt himself being pulled back by the hips and for the second time that night, Simon jammed his cock into him, pain-pleasure igniting his vertebrae.
“Fuuuck,” he screamed once again, feet in the air as his legs were held in place by each of Simon’s side, the position uncomfortable enough to heighten then pleasure, “j-ust like tha-at!”
Simon laughed as he continued to push in and out of him, the desk clattering against the floor as he finally let Soap put his feet down without stopping.
“You feel so good, Johnny,” Simon grunted, hands bruising his hips as his movement picked up speed, Soap unable to say anything as he just took what Simon gave him, open mouthed and drooling all over the desk.
It didn’t take him long to feel his second orgasm though he felt it as he’d never done before.
It started with what felt like ants crawling up his calves and hamstring, muscles going tight as a bow.
“S-Simon...” he moaned, not even able to raise his head, be it because of how hard Simon was fucking him or because of the pleasure induced haze in his head, he wasn’t even sure.
Luckily the man heard him the first time, unluckily for him, Simon took that as permission to lower himself on Soap, covered chest to covered back and started teasing his clit, rubbing circles on it with his palm whilst his fingers joined the cock inside him.
“Wait... no!” he tried moving but with Simon on top of him he couldn’t and then he felt it. “Simon, stop!”
“Sure,” Simon whispered, voice strained and a laugh at the tip of his tongue, and one last push was all Soap needed for the pressure to release.
He moaned so hard his vocal cords hurt but he didn’t care, not as he drenched them both with his release and felt Simon coming inside him, ropes of cum thick and heady and so, so much of it Soap felt himself overflow, grateful he didn’t have his jeans on or around his ankles anymore with how much they both came.
“I thought—”Ghost said breathing heavily as he tried to talk, tremors wrecking his body every so often, “I thought y-you said you couldn’t... couldn’t do that.”
Soap pushed him back softly, if only to give his lungs space to get air into them.
“I can’t,” he said as Ghost took a step back, missing his weight on top of him, “I couldn’t.”
“Flattered,” Ghost replied as Soap heard him put on his jeans and decided to do the same with one last lungful of air.
“For a gay man...” he started, looking for his jeans under the desk, after cleaning himself with the napkin for spills close to the desk, “you sure know your way around a cunt.”
Ghost shrugged, bending down to pick Soap’s jeans and that was when he noticed Ghost had a chain around his neck, it slipping out from under his shirt as he bent over.
There was a gold band attached to it.
“Got a wife,” he said, handing him his jeans.
Soap looked at him flabbergasted, stomach dropping to his feet in excitement.
“You have a wife?” he echoed, finally grabbing his jeans and putting them on quickly.
“A wife and a son.”
If Soap thought his jaw couldn’t drop more, he was wrong as it fell lower and lower.
“It’s all business,” he shrugged, and after that cryptic sentence, little by little Soap started to notice things.
How fancy Ghost’s shirt was, his shoes, the silver watch around his wrist, his gold, as in gold chain...
“At least I’m not the only one,” he deadpanned and when Ghost looked at him with his head tilted, he got his hands in his front pocket and got his engagement ring out.
“Would you look at that,” Ghost smirked, getting closer to admire the rock on it and then looked at him with what looked like wildfire in his eyes, “naughty.”
As embarrassing as it was and still with the leftover mess between his legs, Soap felt himself clenching. Cunt and arsehole.
“Are you living here?” he asked before he could lose his courage.
For all his years longing for Ghost, he didn’t think he’d actually be able to get the man to rail him and now a taste wasn’t enough, he needed more.
“I’ve always lived here,” Ghost replied, surprising him. Soap didn’t think he would let go of that information so easily. “Are you?”
He shook his head regretfully, “not me, no...” he said and Ghost hummed, “close but no.”
“Well, Johnny,” Ghost continued, straightening his clothes, “it was a pleasure.”
He stood in front of Soap and extended his hand.
Soap looked at him and then at his hand and just when he was about to shake it back, Ghost moved the hand out of reach to grab him by the cunt, over his jeans and all.
“Keep in touch,” he smirked letting go, and turning around, he left.
Soap stood there, only the desk behind him keeping him upright, napkins still in his hands and a puddle of cum next to him.
He breathed in and out slowly, a smile almost splitting his face in two.
He’d fucked Simon Riley.
He had Simon Riley inside of him. Still had him, though he was slowly seeping down his legs.
Fuck, he thought and then got to work.
He always made sure to keep a mop and rags around, besides the napkins, because his students tended to make messes all the time and it was whilst he was cleaning under his desk that the door of his classroom opened suddenly.
“Where is he?” Roach asked, looking around the room, eyes falling on Soap mopping the floor.
“Who?” he asked innocently, hands on top of the wooden handle, chin on top of his hands.
“Don’t play dumb, MacTavish!” Roach seethed but Soap couldn’t care less, not after he was still on cloud 9.
He touched his lower back, pretending it to be in pain... though maybe he didn’t have to pretend that much, even if it was between his legs what hurt the most. Enjoyably so.
“He left...” Soap replied stretching his back.
Roach laughed and he instantly knew venom was going to pour from his mouth.
“At least when he fucked me,” Roach started, looking down to the already cleaned floor and then directly into his eyes “he helped me clean and took care of me.”
It was Soap’s turn to seethe.
“At least he fucked me,” he returned the words and it seemed the right thing to say as Roach stomped annoyed and left.
He sat on one of the student’s chair and sighed, throwing himself against the desk, careful of the plumbing in the middle and the beakers around it.
It might not have been what he expected the night to go, but the ending had been quite spectacular.
Now he only needed Ghost’s information and maybe without Roach around, Price would be much more forthcoming.
He wasn’t quite done with Simon Riley, after all.