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“Yer serious…” Johnny smug gleam turned to abject horror, “Nae orgasms? Yer gonnae be across tae globe and ah cannae wank? Nae even once?"
“You can wank anytime you want,” Simon corrects, “But if you come, you won’t have the homecoming you prefer.”
Johnny spluttered as Simon turned back to the mirror to adjust his eyeblack one last time.
“B-but ye donnae have an exfil date!” Johnny’s huffed, “It culd be MONTHS, LT!"
“Your concern for my safety is touching,” Simon’s raised brow disappeared under the mask, “Who knows… if you’re lucky I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Johnny threw his head back against the tile with a groan that started in his rib cage and filled the room with agony.
Because Ghost would know when he got back. He always knew when Johnny came without permission.
No amount of begging would change the man’s mind once he made a decision. Especially when it came to Johnny’s eventual pleasure. While Ghost was being shot at or stalking through darkened facilities, his Johnny would be home thinking of him every time his pants rubbed in the just wrong right way.
So without further ado, Johnny was given a pat on the ass and a kiss to the forehead. Ghost left Johnny behind to stew on eventual relief from torture versus a worse punishment upon his man’s return.
“Fuckin’ bastard.”
Johnny lost track of time after day eight. Everyone saw the change. Usually, he was tough on recruits, laser focused on missions, and on leave, he was the man who could bring a bright energy to any group. Maybe his mood dipped when Ghost was away, but not enough to disrupt his life.
Not so much this time around. He spent countless hours in the gym, ran trails until his lungs gave out, and snapped at anyone who looked at him for too long. Only partially to make sure no one saw the half-stiffy he had at all times.
Day 12? He was palming himself in the stalls every hour, a single bit of relaxation that ended in an aching loss and Ghost wasn’t helping. His mission was low-stakes, comms stayed online the entire time they were scouting the area.
Johnny received three photos from unknown numbers, each one featured the girthy cock he was absolutely desperate to feel again. Pressed through the fabric of his tac pants, the second one was the tent in his boxers, and the third one, the one where Simon was fisting his cock lubed in precum, that one made Johnny throw his phone across the room.
Finally, Price reported that Ghost would be returning tomorrow and Johnny damn near creamed his trousers. He didn’t sleep in his bunk; he didn’t trust himself to be alone in a bed without giving in to desire. He could do this. He was so close.
Johnny met Ghost on the tarmac, gave him a bracing hug, and relaxed for the first time in weeks when Ghost guided him towards their shared quarters.
“Ah missed ye so much, Si…” Johnny muttered into Ghost’s arm; his fingers squeezed against the muscles, “Ahm so glad yer home.”
“I missed you too, Johnny,” Ghost rumbled, placing a quick kiss onto the mohawk, “I’ll always come back to you.”
Ghost led them to their door and placed a hand on Johnny’s chest.
“Price is tied up with Laswell, so you’ll be taking my initial debrief. I’m going to wash up and meet you in my office. Be there in twenty.”
The door closed in Johnny’s face, but the lock didn’t click— a deliberate temptation.
“Steamin’ Jesus…”
His chest burned and it rushed up to his face, a terrifying tomato bullying his way through the trek to his superior’s office. His cock twitched painfully as he reached the door and pulled it open. The scent of him was everywhere— the couch, the desk, all of it carried a sense of the man who was currently torturing him.
Ghost walked into the room, once again leaving the door unlocked as if he didn't intend on doing anything that would require privacy. He sat down across from Johnny with nothing but casual professionalism. The silence stretched with one-sided tension, but then Ghost nodded towards the papers in Johnny’s hands.
“Well? Are you going to start the debrief or not, sergeant?"
Johnny stifled a whine, eyes scanning that damned mask. Simon was under there and he wasn’t going to go another minute without those lips pressed to his.
“My heid’s mince, Si- please- I cannae take it.”
“Are you telling me you’re unfit to take my debrief?”
“Ye fuckin’ ken ahm not!”
Ghost sat back, fingers laced behind his head.
“Christ alive, Si, ah need you. Fingers, tongue, ah’ll dae it myself if ye want,” Johnny begged with glossy blue eyes, “Ah didnae touch myself, ah swear, ah was good. Please–"
Ghost leaned forward, elbows on the desk and continued to wait.
“Ye want tae go first? Ah’ll be on my knees in a second. Please, ah was good. Ah need– please, Si- yer killing me. Please fuck me. Please, sir...”
Before Johnny could take a breath and continue his spiraling, Ghost stood, crossed the room, and clicked the lock shut. Johnny swallowed as Ghost towered above him now, itching to touch. Ghost drew his fingers up under his mask to toss it to the side, grabbing Johnny's chin with a smirk,
“That’s all you needed to say.”
Simon pulled Johnny to his mouth; the break of their heated tension flooded the room; teeth clashed and tongues tangled. Johnny’s hips pressed against Simon’s crotch, humping like a dog. Simon was rock hard, but Johnny was the one whose balls were so tight he felt like they might explode, only made worse by the gunpowder scent that didn't completely mask Simon's personal scent.
“Thank ye, fuck–” Johnny whispered between mouthing at his exposed neck, “Missed ye so much, need ye inside me. Please!”
“How can I deny such a good boy?”
Simon pushed him backward to maneuver him to the far side. He yanked open the bottom drawer, a bottle of lube appeared in his hand after a moment of fishing.
“Pants off.”
Johnny’s belt clinked and he made quick work of his pants and boxers. His cock gleamed with precum, leaving a wet smear across Simon’s abdomen. Simon rolled his boxers over Johnny’s erection, mouth parting when the smaller man moaned.
“You beg so pretty, Johnny,” Simon cooed as he lifted Johnny’s thighs onto the desk, pushed his knees back to give Simon more access, “Let me hear it again. Tell me how badly you want my cock in your ass.”
“Ah need it mor than air. Ah’ve been burnin’ up for ye this whole time. Ah could nae think of anythin’ else. Ah need yer cock—”
Johnny cut himself off when Simon slid a lubed finger into his hole, straight to the bottom knuckle. He knew the game now and picked up his panting pleads, “Yes! More, please,” Johnny writhed against him, the desk under his ass warned with slick lube, but Simon kept a strong hold on his body. He grasped the back of Simon’s head with his nails, “Ah can take it. Ahm ready– please, Si, need ye to bury yer cock in me.”
Simon honest to god smirked, before he ripped down his boxers and lubed up his length. Johnny’s cock was left unattended and Simon could swear it was visibly throbbing to his own heartbeat.
“Touch yourself, be a good boy.”
Johnny complied before the final word was out and then choked on a whine. His hand squeezed the base, right above his aching balls. He only got one slow drag up and down before Simon’s tip is catching on his hole.
With a growl too primal to be a grunt, Simon bottomed out in two swings of his hips. His eyes shut, the way Johnny’s ass clenched around his cock edged him towards his own unraveling.
Then, when the stars cleared, he rocked in and out of Johnny. The Scot’s face contorted with pleasure, pants turning into groans and gratitude, and blue eyes locked onto Simon’s face. Simon leaned down to get deeper, rolling his pelvis close enough to graze Soap’s balls.
“Tight little ass. Hasn’t been touched in weeks, aye?”
“Nae- nae once,” Johnny moaned as he worked his fist over his cock, “Shite– Ahm close, please lemme come, Si.”
Simon picked up the pace to watch Johnny’s face beg for his release more than his words.
“Go on then,” Simon grunted as he lifted Johnny’s leg over his shoulder to fist his hand in Johnny’s hair, “Come for me.”
Pleasure stuttered through Johnny at the command and for a singular terrifying moment, he wondered if this level of denial was going to end in a ruined orgasm. The fear was forgotten when the pleasure crashed into him like a hurricane. It started in his head, blacking out his vision and wiping his mind clean. Then it moved down through his chest, heat forcing his muscles to clench over and over again, until it reached his groin and exploded. Hot ropes of come shot up against Simon’s pecs, other drops spilled over Johnny's frantic fist.
Simon fucked him through it, swallowed the cries with his mouth with enough hunger to suffocate. His own release barreled towards him, the thrusts turned into shallow grinds of his hips before tucking himself up into Johnny’s ass and flooding it with come.
“Fuck– Johnny…” Simon panted and pressed his forehead against Johnny’s. Once they caught their breath, Simon dipped his head down to kiss him. Soft and sweet. He took in the eye black smeared across Johnny’s fucked-out face. “You always feel better than I remember.”
Johnny hummed smugly and leaned up to kiss Simon’s throat. The larger man pulled out gently, settling Johnny on the edge of the desk. He wiped them both off with bath wipes and kissed Johnny’s temple, cheek, neck… then sat down on his chair and pulled him into his lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around his middle, tucking Johnny’s head under his chin.
“Did so well for me, pretty boy. Waited all that time for me?”
“Aye,” Johnny replied smugly, melting into Simon’s hold for as long as he could, “Hell on earth.”
“Was it worth it?”
“Barely."