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Ghost stood in Price’s office, watching as he blew his nose several times. When he finally spoke it sounded as though a toad was lodged in his larynx, voice cracking and rasping.
‘Good to see you Simon. How was Brecon?’
Ghost threw him a look that managed to convey every ounce of hatred for reservist training and then some, even from behind a wool balaclava and black paint. He was sore, he was damp, and he stunk like stale sweat and wet sheep. It was however completed wasted on Price as he was already looking down and opening his laptop.
‘Fine,’ Ghost said rigidly.
Price squinted down his nose at his laptop screen, pushing it further away so he could read it.
‘Says here one reservist quit and went home crying and another fell down a ravine and broke both legs.’
‘As I said,’ said Ghost through an increasingly stiffening jaw. ‘It was fine.’
‘Well I’m glad you enjoyed the trip,’ said Price, a grin splitting his face below his moustache. ‘Because it was our most successful one yet. Captain Walker suggested you for the next one.’
Ghost said nothing, standing stock still. Another month in the damp hills? He’d throw himself down a ravine just to end the torture.
‘If you think it’s appropriate sir,’ he finally said.
He shouldn’t keep declining his promotion. This was punishment surely for not signing his name at the bottom of that form and continuing to be a lieutenant and not a captain. If they made him captain, Johnny wouldn’t be able to call him LT anymore, and that was a fate worse than leading reservist training. He’d endure. Wet socks weren’t that bad.
‘Good job it’s not for another six months, aye?’ said Price, still grinning. He seemed unusually chirpy. Perhaps he’d made up with his wife. ‘In the meantime I have another little task for you.’
Ghost hoped it involved shouting at new intake. He could do with something to take the edge off. He watched as Price swung the laptop around.
‘The brass at Fort Knox are very interested in how we took down Makarov. They’ve invited us over there to put on a presentation, explain a little about infiltration and the like. No state secrets just the cliff notes. Laswell officially wasn’t involved so it’s down to us but-‘ here he gestured ruefully to his red nose. ‘I’m not exactly tip top and I’ve got Gaz and Keegan on ops. I’ve written all the notes, you’d only have to present.’
‘I-‘ Ghost wasn’t shy. Not in the slightest. But barking orders on a battlefield was something very different to standing alone and unarmed, in a staid meeting room full of strangers.
Price seemed to sense what he was thinking.
‘Soap can accompany you. After all, he was instrumental in his demise. He can be your glamorous assistant.’
Ghost had a sudden, unbidden vision of Johnny in a spangled leotard. Now there was an image he wasn’t going to forget in a hurry.
‘As long as I don’t have to pull any rabbits out of hats sir,’ he finally said after recovering from momentary speechlessness.
Price stood up. ‘Not this time. Card tricks only. I’ll email you the PowerPoint. Feel free to add to it.’
Ghost nodded and turned, heading for the door.
‘Oh Simon-‘
He paused.
‘Go easy on ‘em, hm? Be a good boy for me.’
‘I’m always good sir,’ replied Ghost, and ducked through the door.
Ghost let himself into his onsite house and was hit by a strong waft of paint. The living room was leaf green. It was as though he were stepping into an acrid smelling jungle. Johnny was outstretched on the sofa, in his gym gear, fast asleep.
‘Oi,’ he said loudly in his lieutenant’s voice. ‘What colour do you call this Sergeant?’
Johnny sat up, panic flashing across his face, phone thudding to the floor. He was already on his feet as Ghost doubled over in laughter.
‘You prick!’ he exclaimed, eyes narrowed as he watched Ghost sniggering. ‘I thought I was back in fucking basic!’ He punched him on the chest, none too lightly and then swung his arms around him, burying his face in the underside of his neck. Ghost closed his eyes, leaning into him.
‘Anyway it’s Celtic colours,’ said Johnny, speaking into his skin. He pulled back, wrinkling his nose. ‘You smell fucking ripe. When’s the last time you showered?’
‘Does rain count?’ said Ghost, not letting him pull away, holding him tighter. I miss you, he wanted to say, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. He moved his head back so he could look into Johnny’s eyes. He knew. He always knew.
‘No LT, rain disnae fucking count.’ He already had hold of his hands, fingers stroking his rough palms. ‘Come on, I’ll scrub your back.’
Ghost let himself be tugged from the obnoxiously green living room and up the stairs to the bathroom. He sighed. Finally he was home.
Two days reprieve was all they had before they were ushered across the base and into a waiting Voyager. Price, nose red as a Christmas reindeers, was waiting to hand him extra notes as he boarded. He saw them off with a cheery wave.
‘Hm. Fancy,’ said Johnny as he sat down on the blue plush seat. ‘Lots o’ leg room for you.’
Ghost didn’t reply. A plane was a plane as far as he was concerned. They were all bastards.
‘Do you want my complementary nuts?’ asked Johnny as the plane took off.
Ghost swallowed down his lunch as the plane lunged into the air. He glanced at him.
‘Always,’ he managed, before he went back to gripping the seat. He was rewarded with a lopsided smile.
‘Can’t believe we’re in Fort Knox,’ said Johnny, peering about him as they walked behind an aide. ‘I mean my granny used to say locked up tighter than Fort Knox when she locked up the back door.’
He continued wittering, looking all about them at paintings and peering through the long windows. This part of the base was free of soldiers and smelt like air freshener. Ghost was barely listening, going through the stupid presentation in his head. Infiltration. Penetration. That wasn’t right. Damn Price and his bloody cold. He wasn’t a fucking lecturer.
‘Ghost?’
Ghost jumped. Ahead, the aide had paused at the end of a long corridor, waiting for them. Ghost looked about him and saw they were standing next to a marble bust of a frowning colonel.
‘What?’ he snapped.
Johnny smiled, moving in front of him and blocking the aide. He caught hold of one of his hands.
‘You don’t need to be nervous,’ he said.
Ghost stared into his eyes. Johnny had a horrible trick of capturing his attention with a glance, like a snake hypnotising its prey. Ghost felt pinned in place. His body responded automatically; his cock giving an interested little twitch, his stomach tightening. It was a great effort to pull away. Fucking hell they should give out medals for it.
‘M’not nervous,’ he protested.
‘You’re gonna do a great job, sir,’ said Johnny and leaned in to kiss his masked cheek.
Ghost stepped back. ‘Hey,’ he protested. ‘You’re gonna ruin my reputation.’
Johnny moved away, still grinning, completely undaunted. ‘Oh I am sorry I’ve ruined the illusion that you are in fact solid and nae a ghost.’ He winked and turned back to the aide restlessly shifting. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’
‘Fucking hell,’ muttered Ghost. The laptop in his hand gave a protesting creak and he loosened his grip. He swallowed, gathered all his feelings for the man, stuffed them into a tiny box, and shoved them to the back of his mind. There. That was better.
Apart from a hairy moment where Johnny tripped over the power cord, the presentation went well. At least Ghost thought so. In truth he couldn’t remember. Standing stiffly in front of thirty men glittering with gold braid, his brain shut off and his mouth opened, words pouring out. They were all the correct ones. He didn’t speak too slowly or quickly. But he was rigid, his spine so straight it felt like it might snap.
Johnny took over the last half and it was as though everyone in the room relaxed. He said something that made everyone laugh, something about being faster than a speeding bullet. Ghost didn’t remember. He was staring very hard at a blank spot on the wall.
A couple of the men came up to them after. He nodded and shook hands. Johnny smiled. Someone clapped him on the back. Another called him a lucky son of a gun. Johnny slung a casual arm around Ghost’s waist.
‘Aye I am.’
More talking. His arm felt like a branding iron. Ghost could see the generals staring. It shouldn’t bother him, but it did. It made him look approachable. Human. He impatiently pulled away from Johnny, shoving his mask back on. This was work. He couldn’t be Simon here. He stared down at the laptop, busying himself with closing windows. His hands were trembling. He shoved them into his pockets as Johnny extracted himself and came over. He was too nice for the military. Price should have sent him alone.
‘You should be a teacher or something,’ he remarked, and was relieved his voice sounded how it normally did as it felt as though there was a lump in his throat slowly asphyxiating him.
Johnny frowned. ‘You alright LT?’
‘Solid,’ replied Ghost, feeling his right eye start to twitch. He needed to be alone, just for a few minutes, so he could breathe.
Johnny moved closer. ‘You can talk to me, we are married.’
Ghost shut the laptop with a snap. ‘Had enough of talking.’
Johnny held up his hands. ‘Alright. Your choice. You coming out?’
Ghost stared blankly at him. ‘What?’ he finally said.
‘Some of the guys invited us out to a bar in town. Sandy’s.’
Ghost looked back at the table and started to gather the notes. Where had that Hooters pencil come from?
‘Nah I’m gonna-‘ well he didn’t know what he was going to do. He’d find that spot that existed between sleep and wakefulness and curl up there.
Johnny clapped his shoulder. ‘Alright. I’ll see you later then.’
Was he disappointed? Even now it was hard to tell. Ghost could read him like a book in bed but at other times-
‘Do you want me to come?’ he asked.
‘No, no it’s fine,’ said Johnny but there was an edge to his voice.
‘Are there wings?’ asked Ghost.
‘What?’ said Johnny, frowning.
‘I’ll come if there’s chicken wings.’
‘What part of the buffalo are these from then?’ said Ghost, picking through the wings.
The bar was as rowdy as he expected, rammed with men in uniform, the floor sticky underfoot. Bluegrass blared from an ancient speaker. The men not in uniform seemed surprisingly fond of cowboy hats. Perhaps they had escaped from a bachelor party.
‘Obviously the back of the buffalo,’ replied Johnny, stretching out his legs, his battered trainers knocking against his boots. ‘How else could they fly?’
Ghost ate another wing. ‘Unless they have wings on their ankles like Hermes.’
‘The people that make scarves?’ said Johnny, taking a sip of his beer.
‘No you twat the Greek God,’ replied Ghost. He wiped at the sauce on his chin. A young soldier, laughing, bumped into his elbow and made him spill his beer. Ghost’s glare made him scuttle away.
‘I was always an Achilles man myself,’ replied Johnny. He held up his beer bottle, peering into it. ‘Another beer LT? Or something stronger?’
Oh how easy it would be to seek solace in alcohol. To fake that easiness that seemed to come naturally to everyone else. But to deliberately hamper himself in public, to let himself be easy, to feel light. He hadn’t earnt it. He had to stay sharp.
‘Just a beer then?’ said Johnny, getting up.
Ghost nodded. He watched Johnny weaving through the crowd, and let himself think of what he was planning to do later, just for a few seconds. The box in his mind moved to the front of the shelf. He felt eyes on him and turned. A group of marines across the bar were eyeing him and nudging each other. He shrugged and turned back to his wings. A glass appeared in front of him.
‘This isn’t beer,’ said Ghost.
‘No, it’s bourbon. C’mon lighten up a little. I thought you liked Kentucky.’
Light. There was enough light. Johnny was radiant with it. So was the glass. Ghost sighed and wrapped a hand around it, watching the liquid inside glug like a tiny amber sea.
‘Not this part,’ he replied. He picked up the glass before he lost his nerve and drained it. Warmth uncurled across his tongue and down his throat. His anxiety was immediately smothered, like someone had dropped a fire blanket over every insecurity. The music, the crowds, it all wasn’t so bad anymore. And Johnny-
Johnny was here. With him. He found himself smiling at him as he sat down opposite, letting his eyes wander over his stupidly tight t-shirt. He always wore blue. Vain bastard probably thought it brought out his eyes. He was right though, it did.
On his way to get the fifth round Johnny disappeared. Ghost stood up, scanning the room, and finally spied him flanked by the same marines he’d noticed earlier. Pity they hadn’t brought Keegan. He could have translated. Ghost prowled over, feeling the floor lurch under him, like he was standing on a rocking boat. He’d drunk too much, but that was okay too. Johnny looked back as he appeared over his shoulder.
‘You know my great, great grandmother was related to King James,’ one of the soldiers was saying.
Ghost heard Johnny sigh. Before he could reply Ghost found himself opening his mouth.
‘Which one?’ he asked. The words in his mouth felt heavy.
‘What?’ said the soldier blankly. His eyes flicked over his face, eyes lingering on his scars.
‘Which King James? There were two. James the 6th of Scotland who became James the first of England after they united or James the 2nd?’
The soldier frowned. There was a pause and Ghost smelt the tension in the air beneath the peaty tang of cheap whiskey.
‘Who the fuck asked you Freddie Kruger?’
His friend burst out laughing. Ghost bristled because who the fuck was some twenty something crewcut to say that to him? Before he could react Johnny swung at him. The soldier’s face crumpled beneath his thrown fist and 6’.2’’ of corn fed Kentucky soldier was felled like a redwood, crashing to the stained floor.
‘You should take up boxing,’ Ghost heard himself saying, swaying slightly as he stood there. He wondered if he could get another whiskey.
‘You asshole!’ spat his friend. He lunged at Johnny and was brought up short by Ghost grabbing his jacket.
He got right into his space, bullying him with sheer height and size, strangling him with his own collar.
‘You usually carry on like this in uniform?’ he said, tilting his head to one side. ‘I wonder what your CO would think.’
‘Fuck you,’ wheezed the soldier. ‘Get off me.’
‘Depends, you gonna cause trouble?’ His hand tightened.
The soldier shook his head, eyes flicking to the long scar that started at the corner of his mouth. Ghost released his collar and he tripped over his own feet trying to get away. He looked at the other soldier, now stirring slightly and moaning, a thin scarlet line dribbling from his nose. One of the bachelor cowboys offered him a hand.
‘Hey!’ An irate woman with dice tattooed on her neck popped out from behind the bar. ‘You two get out of here before I call the cops!’
Ghost and Johnny looked at each other, and headed for the exit.
‘You’re gonna get me in the shit again,’ he remarked as they staggered out and into the muggy night, swallowed by air thick and sticky as syrup. He felt in his pocket for his mask and pulled it back on. ‘You’re always getting me in trouble.’
‘Bollocks,’ replied Johnny. ‘You love trouble.’
‘I don’t love the paperwork that comes with it,’ Ghost replied.
Johnny’s hand found his and gave it a brief squeeze. ‘Where to now?’
Ghost thought longingly of soft pillows and starched sheets. He thought of Johnny under him. Or on top of him, he wasn’t that fussed really.
‘Bed,’ he said. He possibly leered but Johnny was looking away, down the road.
‘Killjoy,’ huffed Johnny, clearly misinterpreting. ‘C’mon Simon. The nights still young and so are we.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ replied Ghost. ‘I found a grey chest hair the other day.’ He watched Johnny pull out his phone and check google maps.
‘There’s a few more bars down this road,’ he said.
Ghost felt a little unscrewing of his head, like it was going to float right up into the blank, black sky. He reached for a wall to stop stumbling.
‘Oh come on, let’s just go back to the room,’ he sighed. ‘We can get a kebab on the way.’
Johnny snorted. ‘This isn’t Glasgow, you’re not gonna find a kebab.’
Ghost gave a weary groan as Johnny walked over to a cluster of men standing around a pickup truck.
‘Alright pal,’ he said to the closest. ‘Whur’s good to get a wee dram around here?’
Ghost was sure he was exaggerating his accent on purpose. The men looked baffled.
‘He means a drink,’ Ghost clarified for him.
‘Bourbon Barrel is that way,’ drawled one eventually and pointed.
‘Ta,’ replied Johnny and headed somewhat unsteadily down the street. ‘C’mon auld boy.’
‘Steaming Jesus,’ breathed Johnny as they pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.
It was like walking into a pulsating heart, two floors thrumming with pounding music, lit up in neon. Ghost spied a cluster of people at one end all watching something. As they slipped through the crowd, drawing nearer, he spotted a mechanical bull.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he muttered. Johnny was going to want to have a go. He just knew it. The man never backed down from a challenge, no matter how ridiculous. He turned, trying to block his view.
‘Let’s go back to the room,’ he suggested, having to shout to be heard about the noise. ‘I’ll order an uber. Or the pony express,’ he added as another man in a cowboy hat pushed past them.
‘Aw c’mon LT,’ said Johnny, peering past him. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’
‘Left it in Wales,’ replied Ghost thinking how young he looked highlighted in fluorescent lights. He also noticed the glances he was getting from young women and a couple of men too. Johnny was always everyone’s type.
He finally stepped aside and Johnny made a beeline for the bull, joining in with the whooping and cheering. Ghost hated when he was right. He stood behind him, looking around for the bar.
‘I bet I could stay on,’ said Johnny, bumping him with his shoulder.
Ghost eyed the bull, a woman in a short dress currently clinging to its back, like a barnacle on a whale. The bull gave a violent buck and she spun off completely, shrieking, landing with a thud on the padded floor. Ghost averted his eyes as her dress flew up.
‘You’ll throw your back out,’ he warned.
‘You sound like my mother,’ huffed Johnny. Ghost could smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘Why don’t we both try?’
‘Absolutely not,’ he said tightly.
Johnny nudged closer, a hand reached around to slide into his back pocket.
‘Oh come on,’ he said.
Ghost didn’t dare look at him. He was likely making that pout he always did to get his way, the expression he swore blind he didn’t realise he was doing.
‘Please?’ tried Johnny.
Ghost sighed, closing his eyes. He could see his planned evening drifting further and further away. He flinched, his eyes flying open as he felt a wet tongue drift over his ear lobe.
‘I’ll make a bet with you,’ continued Johnny, now standing on tiptoes so he could speak into his ear.
Ghost glanced sidelong at him. He was making the face. ‘We have shared finances.’
The hand resting against his backside tightened. Ghost heavily swallowed.
‘Not that sort of bet,’ said Johnny, a smirk creeping across his face. ‘How about whoever loses has to ride the other, to completion. No stops. No breaks.’
Ghost had a sudden, wonderful vision of Johnny above him, tan skin glistening with sweat. He glanced back at the bull. How hard could it be really?
‘Alright,’ he finally said.
He firmly removed Johnny’s hand and prowled around the side of the arena, watching the bull’s movements, trying to see a pattern. He watched someone else fly off like a frisbee and winced. Oh he was definitely going to fuck his back up.
He looked back to see Johnny talking to the member of staff manning the controls. He flashed him a smile, teeth impossibly white in the blue light and Ghost missed a step and stumbled. He pushed back through the crowd, the rest of the evening clear. They’d make out behind the bar or in the toilets and he’d call them a cab. He’d pull this man under him and take him apart piece by piece…
His plans were dashed as Johnny grabbed his arm.
‘Age before beauty,’ he said, grinning.
Ghost eyed the bull. He looked back at Johnny, at his eager expression. With a long sigh he swung one leg over the side and stepped into the padded arena. He bounced over to it, feeling dozens of pairs of eyes on him. At least Gaz wasn’t here. He’d never live it down.
He climbed up and onto the bull, feeling solid metal through his worn jeans. He looked for somewhere to put his hands and finally rested them on his thighs. The contraption started to move. The bar blurred into colours and shapes, a melting neon smudge of pink and blue. And Ghost knew with certainty that he was going to throw up. He stumbled off the bull, retching, one hand to his mouth.
‘LT?’
Ghost didn’t reply. If he did he’d spew everywhere. Johnny on one side and a concerned staff member on the other he staggered from the padded arena and was hustled through a side door. He barely made it two steps before he ripped off his mask and vomited all over the pavement. He heard sounds of disgust from a huddle of people vaping, the hot air fragrant with wafting, bubble gum scented clouds. This made me retch again, leaning against a rough brick wall. He was vaguely aware of Johnny rubbing his back. Someone handed him a bottle of water. He leaned back, and took a swig.
‘Ghost?’ Johnny moved in front of him. He sounded vaguely guilty. ‘You solid?’
‘I’d murder for a cigarette,’ he finally said, voice rasping. He took another pull of water and swilled it around his mouth, turning to spit.
‘I’ve seen you murder for a lot less,’ said Johnny smirking. He turned his head and called over to the vapers. ‘Any of yous lot have a smoke?’ They looked back at him like he was a zoo exhibition. Johnny shrugged. ‘Guess not,’ he said as he turned back. ‘Maybe there’s a shop around here, or a gas station.’
‘I won,’ said Ghost, staring at him.
‘What? No you fucking didn’t!’ said Johnny indignantly. ‘I didn’t get a chance to have a go!’
Ghost smiled at the heat in his voice. He reached out a hand and ran it down his face, fingers drifting through five days’ worth of stubble.
‘You’re hammered,’ said Johnny, staring up at him.
‘You bought me all those drinks, love, I don’t know what you expected.’ His hand continued its journey down, curling around his throat. He leaned in. ‘You want me to ride you that badly you don’t have to make a bet. Just ask nicely.’
He thought for a moment that the pink spotlights had followed them outside, had illuminated Johnny just for him, but no, the other man had turned scarlet. Still holding him in place Ghost took another sip of water, spat again, and finally drained the bottle.
‘Do you want your mask back?’ asked Johnny, sounding slightly faint. Maybe he was too hot.
‘Not yet,’ said Ghost, and leaned in and kissed him.
Johnny pushed him away. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Let me just order an uber-‘
Ghost kissed him again, hand tightening, and felt the other man melt against him, going slack. He slammed Johnny into the wall, so hard he felt his head thud against the brickwork. He eased off a little but Johnny grabbed for him, fingers encircling his hand and holding it against his neck. Ghost crushed him between his body and the wall, mouth grinding into him. His other hand slipped under his t-shirt and palmed warm skin.
They kissed for long minutes, lips hard and urgent, breathing heavy. The music of the bar reverberated through the wall and through Ghost’s bones. The hard edged street behind them changed to a hazy stage back drop. Ghost’s lips felt raw, his jaw aching, his cock hard and rubbed raw by rough cotton. Johnny whined into his mouth, finally pushing him away to suck down panting lungful’s of humid air. His bright eyes gleamed in the street lights.
‘Now can I call a cab?’ he asked breathlessly.
Ghost finally removed his hand and cupped his jaw.
‘Five more minutes,’ he rumbled.
They were all over each other in the taxi, Ghost too fuzzy to care that the driver was eyeing them through the rear view mirror, could see Johnny’s hands pulling up his t-shirt and tracing his scars like snakes and ladders. Didn’t even care that he was moaning and gasping as Johnny stuck his tongue in his ear and palmed his cock through his jeans until he was pushing into his hand. Ghost hoped he gave the driver a tip. He couldn’t remember.
The hotel room had been chosen by locality rather than recommendation. Ghost had a dim impression of dingy cream walls as he flicked on a light and shoved Johnny over to a white bed, the other man nipping at his neck, finding one nipple and pinching. Ghost stalled, panting. Johnny took that moment to fall backwards, pulling him with him, Ghost taking his weight on elbows and knees so as not to flatten him. He kissed him again, stroking him with his tongue, hands reaching down to squeeze, hearing the metal slide of a zip. He shuddered as Johnny reached into his jeans like he was unwrapping a present and eased out his fat cock.
‘Wish I had taken a photo of you on that bull,’ said Johnny, looking up at him as he worked him up and down.
Ghost stared at him. He thought of all the lingering looks and felt a sudden surge of possessiveness. He leaned in and seized his lip with his teeth, biting down until he yelped. The hand holding his cock tightened. Johnny’s thumb swiped over his cockhead and made him buck into his grasp. He bit harder and tasted copper. Johnny finally pried him off, gasping. Fuck he was pretty, even more so with blood smeared on his mouth. And he belonged to him.
He sat back on his haunches, his cock throbbing in Johnny’s hand, undoing his jeans. He dragged off his t-shirt. The awestruck look on Johnny’s face made his blood pound in his ears. He didn’t know why he had this effect on the man, couldn’t understand it, but he was thankful all the same.
‘You gonna fuck me or what?’ Johnny’s voice was throaty with lust. He gave his cock a little twist, making Ghost grunt.
Typical Johnny. Always wanting to rush to the main event, the explosion.
‘Careful what you wish for, sergeant,’ said Ghost, feeling a smirk creeping over his face. If he wanted to get fucked then he was going to get fucked.
He hooked his thumbs in Johnny’s jeans and pulled them off, watching his cock spring to attention. He leaned in and dragged a tongue down his length, making Johnny swear and his hips stutter. He hollowed his checks and sucked, tasting salt on his tongue, thumbs digging into his hips hard enough to bruise. Johnny whined. Ghost pulled back and climbed off the bed, stepping out of boots and jeans.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, voice a needy whimper.
‘Lube,’ replied Ghost shortly, reaching for one of the bags. He threw it onto the bed.
‘What are you-?’ Johnny began as he loomed above him, pulling him down the bed so he wouldn’t slam into the headboard.
Ghost couldn’t help but smile. He picked up the lube and coated his fingers. ‘Thought I was riding?’
Several expressions flickered across Johnny’s face, the seven stages of lust perhaps. His face and chest bloomed red. Ghost leaned in and gave his straining cock several hard pumps and his head fell back onto the duvet. He let go to admire the effect, Johnny’s dark cock leaking onto his belly, the tip flushed deep pink, a delicate contrast to hard edged muscle and the dark hair furring his groin and thighs.
‘You’re fucking gorgeous,’ Ghost murmured, unable to stop himself, and Johnny’s cock gave a little twitch.
‘Not so bad yourself,’ said Johnny, shivering as Ghost ran a hand down one solid thigh. He cupped himself, tugging at his balls, trying to focus.
He went still as Ghost reached back to work himself open with lube slick fingers, eyes tracking his every move. Ghost swung a leg over his hips and felt the blunt head of Johnny’s cock nudge against his entrance. Johnny’s hips gave a little twitch and Ghost leaned in.
‘Don’t fucking move,’ he breathed.
Johnny nodded, digging his hands into the sheets, staring up at him from beneath dark lashes. Too fucking pretty. He didn’t deserve him.
They both gasped as he slowly sunk down on his length. Ghost grunted. He felt like he was being speared, stretched open, impossibly full. His cock ached for attention. He ignored it, balancing with a hand splayed on Johnny’s stomach, and began to ride him with a roll of his hips. It was a lot easier than the bull.
He leaned back and felt Johnny’s cock press against his prostate. His vision stuttered, turning silver. Pleasure pulsed through him with every rock of his hips, his cock jolting. He shifted his weight, grinding down. Johnny cried out, a constant needy babble, words turning into drawn out moans. His hands grabbed for him, gripping the fat either side of his hips. He squirmed, trying not to thrust. Ghost rose back up and he did anyway, chasing stimulation, pushing up into him.
‘Fuck Simon,’ he groaned, voice a garbled mess. He grabbed for his arse, pulling him back down, bucking into him, their bodies meeting with a sweaty smack of skin.
Muscles aching, Ghost almost overbalanced. He slammed Johnny back down and started to ride him anew, his abs protesting. He thought of nothing except how good he felt; of Johnny’s thick cock splitting him open, of the sharp electric pleasure making his hole clench.
‘Fuck I’m gonna come,’ grunted Johnny and his hands tightened, fingers grinding into bone, nails digging into skin and leaving behind livid red marks.
Johnny cried out as he fell over the edge. Ghost felt him pulse inside him, cock throbbing as he spilled. His own hips stammered at the sudden bloom of heat. He wrapped a hand around his twitching cock and climaxed in half a stroke, spurting over his hand, his nerves lighting up from the inside out, his thighs trembling. He caught himself on one hand as his legs gave out, slumping forward. He felt cum slowly trickling down his inner thigh.
‘Guess I won again,’ he mumbled into the crook of Johnny’s neck.
‘Oh fuck off,’ growled Johnny, but his lips were soft as he leaned in and kissed first his cheek and then his mouth. He ran a soothing hand through his hair.
Ghost finally rolled off, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. He could hear his racing heart and fancied he could hear Johnny’s too, drumming in unison. Finally, all the tension oozed out of him. There were no more boxes, just open space. He felt something unwind in his chest.
‘I should shower,’ said Johnny, but he didn’t move.
‘They want to make me captain,’ said Ghost, deciding it was now or never. He glanced at Johnny, trying to gauge his expression but he was still looking up at the ceiling.
‘Again?’ said Johnny. ‘How many times are you gonna refuse ‘em?’
‘I said yes,’ said Ghost.
Johnny finally turned his head. ‘Oh,’ he said in a small voice.
Ghost for once knew what that oh meant. Becoming captain meant he couldn’t serve in the taskforce anymore. He sat up.
‘Price wants me to lead my own unit. I agreed, but only if you could come with me. They were a bit iffy on that. I mean we’re the bloody poster boys for fraternisation but I managed to convince him.’
Johnny frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You’re gonna be my LT,’ said Ghost. ‘I didn’t want it at first.’ Here he ducked his head, breaking eye contact. ‘I like it when you call me LT. But maybe we can get used to calling each other something else.’
Ghost wondered for a horrifying second if Johnny was having some sort of fit and then realised he was laughing.
‘You turned down a promotion because you want me to carry on calling you LT?’ he said. ‘That’s the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard.’
Ghost shrugged. ‘Just…like hearing you say it is all.’
LT and sergeant was how they had started out. Before they’d become Simon and Johnny. He still thought of that first meeting in Price’s office. When Johnny had looked up at him with those big stupid eyes, not at all intimidated but intrigued.
Johnny got up, sitting with his legs folded under him. He leaned in. ‘Whatever you say Captain Riley.’
Ghost felt an unexpected shiver pass over his skin. He looked back at him. ‘I like the sound of that,’ he finally said.
Johnny leaned in to press his lips against his. ‘And what are you gonna call me, Captain Riley?’
Ghost returned his smile. ‘Lieutenant.’
‘Say that again,’ murmured Johnny.
‘How about LT?’ replied Ghost, sliding down the bed and dragging Johnny with him.
‘Sounds grand,’ replied Johnny, skimming a hand down his side. He blurred as Ghost closed the space between them.
He called him all sorts of things for the rest of the night.