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What a fuckin’ mess…
Drunk, with a half empty bottle of bourbon clutched in one hand and a full glass in the other, Ghost aimlessly shambled his way down the hall in HQ. Led by the last ounce of sense he had left in him, Ghost found himself seeking out the only thing he knew that could put a stop to the burning pyre of unrest that had settled within him.
Rubbing his face under his balaclava, gloved hand dragging lazily over his eyes and the bridge of his nose, Ghost eyed Price’s door. In the back of his mind, he knew it was unlikely Price was still in his office, but he’d been known to burn the midnight oil on more than one occasion.
If the shaft of light peeking from below the doorframe was any indication, this was one of those nights.
Hesitating for only a moment, Ghost rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open without waiting for an answer.
“Did I say you could come in—...” Price grumbled as he glanced up from his paperwork and leaned back in his chair. Dark bags clung under his tired eyes. Eyes that held a subtle, kind spark when he saw his tipsy lieutenant force his way into his office.
“Simon, I thought you were drinking with the sergeants tonight.”
Not even trying to hide his sorry state, Ghost slammed the door closed behind him and locked it. Nobody would be looking for the captain this late at night, aside from himself, but Ghost wasn’t taking any chances. Couldn’t have someone walking in on him while having an existential crisis in Price’s office. Ghost would simply have to kill them…
“I was…” Ghost grunted as he plopped down in the chair across from Price’s desk, legs hanging open as he slumped into the cushions. “Just… Needed to get away for a minute.”
Price cocked an eyebrow and placed his pen down, taking up his cigar instead and relighting it. The tip glowed to life, bright in the dull light of the single lamp on Price’s desk. The office felt more like an interrogation room, if it hadn’t been for the relaxed postures of the two men within.
“That so?” Caution in Price’s words, a man who knew he was dealing with an unpredictable force.
Ghost ignored the pointed question. Instead of answering, he tilted back his glass, sloppy as some of the alcohol spilled down the corners of his mouth and soaked into the collar of his hoodie. He wrinkled his nose as the tepid liquor, now watered down by long melted ice, burned down his throat.
Ghost tutted and swiped his hand over his mouth and chin, slowly sinking his glove over his throat to gather the mess he’d made. Fuckin’ hell, making a damn show of himself, wasn’t he?
He should slow down. Put the bottle away before he went and did something he truly regretted. Not like he already hadn’t…
Trying to avoid Price’s unwavering gaze, Ghost balled his hand into a fist and pressed it to his lips, nearly biting his knuckles off as he wrestled with his thoughts. All jumbled up, none making any sense, clouded in the dizzying fog that had overtaken his mind.
“Yeah…”
Another beat of silence — expectant.
“I fucked up, is what I did…” Ghost finally growled around his fist. The words spilled out of him, too late to reclaim.
“What did you do, son?”
Ghost flinched at the pet name, his lips pursing.
Too familiar.
Too tender.
Too intimate.
Ghost felt like a disappointment, even though he’d barely said a word. Like he’d let down the only father figure in his life, now staring at him, concerned, from across the desk.
It wasn’t like he owed Price an explanation… He could pretend like he’d never said anything, and go on his way. To bed, where he should be in order to sleep this embarrassment off instead of opening the wound further.
Ghost sighed, shook his head, and opened his damn mouth again anyway.
“Drank too much. Told Soap how I felt abou’ ‘im…” Ghost became one with the chair, trying to disappear. He rested his knuckles on his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut at the much too recent memory.
It wasn’t like Price didn’t know about Ghost’s infatuation with their sergeant. Ghost wasn’t necessarily subtle about it, practically attached to Soap’s hip wherever the operator led him. A pathetic puppy too lovestruck to do anything else.
Ghost and Soap, the duo for the ages. Deadly in combat together. Obnoxious with their constant flirting and terrible jokes over Coms. Where one was, the other was sure to be close behind.
Tonight in particular, Ghost thought Soap had been coming onto him. How couldn’t he? Ghost knew he wasn’t always the best with reading signals, but he thought, for sure, he had them right with Soap.
Soap had been all over him, his arm around Ghost’s shoulders, laughing at his jokes, sitting way too close to be just friends.
It warmed Ghost to his core, unable to take his eyes off Soap’s mouth as he grinned and laughed — took another sip of his beer. The way his throat bobbed around the gulp had been sinful… Deliberately slow, as if to tempt Ghost into leaning in to kiss him.
But, clearly, that’s all they were — just friends.
When Gaz left to take a piss, Ghost, fueled by liquid courage, admitted how much he liked Soap, and that he’d wanted to tell him for so long now. A moment of weakness, lulled into Soap’s entrancing snare; his open invitation for Ghost to confess.
In a cruel twist of fate, Soap nearly ripped himself away, being polite not to move too fast, but his body language was very clear that he was uncomfortable.
“I, uh, don’t swing that way, Lt… Sorry… I’m flattered though, really!” He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled nervously. He shuffled along the couch, creating some distance between them.
Betrayal never felt so brutal… All just a torturous game of gay chicken, broken by Ghost who couldn’t tell the difference between playful teasing and actual affection.
Soap had tried to reassure Ghost that it was okay and he didn’t hold it against him and that he still wanted to be friends and didn’t care if Ghost liked men. He apologized for leading him on, but Soap’s words did nothing to make Ghost feel better, only worse.
All the typical coddling bullshite to try to cut away the awkward tension that had settled between them.
Stupid, stupid, fuckin’ stupid!
Couldn’t just leave it well enough alone, could he? Had to go and open himself up like that, a moment of vulnerability that Ghost swore would never happen again. Should have known that his feelings were one sided, drawn too far in by a pretty face and beaming personality. How could he let himself slip so far?
Ghost had excused himself once Gaz returned, and drifted his way to Price’s office, not sure of where else to go.
It was a subconscious draw, seeking his captain out, able to claim asylum in his office.
A safe haven. Always a pull away from the cliff’s edge. A firm, but gentle, hand to guide him back to reality. A silent ear, or sagely offers of advice — whatever Ghost needed at the moment, Price seemed to have in abundance.
“Oh, Simon…” Price sympathized, about ready to say something else, but Ghost shot his hand up and vehemently shook his head.
“Don’t even wanna hear it right now… Just — need to be here, if tha’s alrigh’...”
“Whatever you need.”
They settled into silence, awkward on any other occasion, but comfortable in the smoky, dim atmosphere.
The rustle of papers helped settle Ghost as Price got back to finishing up the last of his work.
Ghost let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and threw back more of his drink.
Without a word, Price picked up the glass that he kept on the corner of his desk and didn’t even look up from his paperwork.
Ghost took the hint and poured him a drink as well.
Price took a small sip and thumbed through the papers, eyes narrowing on occasion, crow’s feet gathering at the corners in his concentration.
Ghost watched, eyebrows pinched together, frowning around his next gulp, more careful this time to not spill it all over himself like a drunkard. He looked more miserable by the minute, stewing in his rejection.
Sighing, Price cracked open the window behind him and set his ashtray on the sill, tapping off the ash from the tip of his cigar. A habit, knowing he shouldn’t be smoking inside, but too caught up to go outside for a couple minutes to smoke. The smoke detector on the ceiling had a permanent place inside his desk drawer, pulled off years ago to avoid setting it off.
Frigid, winter air permeated the hazy warmth of the room, sending a violent shiver down Ghost’s spine.
Holding out the cigar across his desk, Price offered Simon a drag. “Looks like you could use it. Here.”
With slight hesitation, Ghost took it, locked eyes with Price, and touched the damp tip against his dry lips. Drawing it just barely into his mouth, lightly touching the tip of his tongue to the earthy tobacco, Ghost took a moment to taste Price. Expensive, sparing no penny on quality cigars. Always strong, enough to give you a high if you smoked it all in one go.
The bittersweet wrapper, nutty with a hint of pepper, settled against the inner skin of his lips as he took a couple appraising puffs. The smoke snaked out from his nose, lingering around his eyes, lazily drifting toward the ceiling.
His mouth slowly cracked open for another, the remaining wisps dancing out with his light exhale.
They observed each other, ascertaining the situation, drawing upon the unspoken questions that lingered with the smoke.
Ghost leaned across the desk and handed the cigar back, only releasing his last drag when Price met him halfway.
They paused, stuck in limbo with their hands outstretched for the other.
Their fingers brushed, Price deliberately encompassing Ghost’s before pulling away.
Clenching his hand, Ghost shoved it into his pocket and thudded back against the chair. Wished he hadn’t handed it back so soon… Wanted to take another hit of his captain to help chase away the pain.
Ghost poured another drink.
Took another deep sip.
The burn of the room temperature bourbon was getting easier to tolerate, not so much like knives against his tongue and throat any longer, now soothing as it settled in his belly like a subtle fire.
Price never stopped watching him, his concern not showing, but palpable in the way he took his hat off and placed it to the side with a soft sigh.
“Come here, son…” Price pushed himself away from his desk, spread his legs, and pointed at the floor between his feet.
A gentle, but firm command, issued in a way Ghost knew he couldn’t deny. His eyes flicked between the floor and Price’s face, searching in vain for an answer he already knew.
Ghost blinked, placed his empty glass on the desk, and took a couple unstable steps toward Price. He fell to his knees between Price’s feet, landing a touch too hard, and stared down at the carpet.
A tap under his chin, urging him to look up.
Ghost obediently listened to the silent demand.
“Rest, boy…” Price patted his knee and helped guide Ghost’s head down.
And there Ghost laid his cheek, hands between his splayed knees, fingertips crushing into the carpet as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes closed.
Calloused fingers pet his head over his bunched up balaclava, gentle and soothing, more kind than Price had any right to be to a sulking, grown man on the verge of a drunken breakdown.
Tears started to well in Ghost’s eyes, threatening to fall, but stubbornly bitten back in his refusal to allow himself to look that weak. His next breath came out in a pathetic shudder, lips parted and teeth bared in a woeful grimace.
“Shh, I’ve got you, lad… You came here for a reason. Relax.”
So he did. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, collecting in the folds of his mask. Damn alcohol, once again making an utter fool of Ghost in front of yet another man he respected. His fucking captain, watching him cry, little as it was, over being rejected.
A warm thumb brushed them away.
“Atta boy. Lift your head for me.”
Ghost let out a soft, wet mumble when Price’s hand left his head, but did as he was told. He watched as Price unzipped his fly and coaxed his cock out from his trousers.
Half erect, already stirred up from simply having his lieutenant seeking his comfort between his legs.
“Price…” Ghost murmured, eyelids heavy as he expectantly licked his lips.
“I’ll help you get your mind off, Soap. Be a good boy and open up for me.”
“Yes, sir…”
A thumb pressed into his lower lip, still wet from his tears. Ghost opened his mouth obediently, tongue sticking out on instinct.
He wished he could say this was the first time he’d done this, but time and again, Ghost would find himself on his knees in front of Price, always saying to himself that this would be the last time — this time for sure.
But here he was again, his captain’s cock sliding past his lips, into the inviting, wet warmth of his mouth.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen, weak at the feet of their gods…
Ghost hated how much he enjoyed the weight of it as it slid past his teeth, over his tongue, tasting salty precum as it smeared into the back of his throat.
But it was a comfort, familiarity in the way Price cradled his face in both his hands and guided him closer. So tender, but not leaving Ghost with the doubt that Price would break him down, only to build him back up again.
And Ghost needed that right now, with every fiber of his being.
Needed Price to guide him back to solid ground, and help him forget that nasty misstep.
Ghost’s hands trailed up Price’s thighs, coming to rest on his hips as he settled more comfortably in front of him.
For a moment, he let his focus waver on the dark trail of pubic hair on Price’s lower belly and fantasized that he was doing this to Soap instead. Taking Soap’s cock in his mouth, to pull sweet, deep moans from the fiery sergeant. Fuck, he would give anything for that right now…
“Come on, Simon, I know you can take it all.”
Image broken, Ghost gagged as Price pressed him deeper, barely suppressing the urge to vomit. But, the alcohol helped him relax, muscles loosening as his throat was stretched around the ample heft of his captain’s shaft. He swallowed, jaw lax and tongue pressing up into the silky, firm flesh. So hot inside him, the taste of Price subduing him.
“Good boy, Simon. You always take me so well. Such an obedient, little soldier. Soap doesn’t deserve you.”
Ghost squeezed his eyes closed, trying to concentrate on breathing through his nose as Price started slowly rocking back and forth in his mouth. He gagged a couple times, saliva bubbling from the corners of his mouth as he fought to swallow it down.
“Don’t close those eyes. Keep looking at me — good boy. I’m the only one who knows how to take care of you, huh? That’s why you always come running back to me, isn’t it?”
Ghost nodded, a little uh-huh humming around Price’s cock.
“That’s what I thought, sweet thing.”
His balaclava was peeled off, and Ghost thought for a moment to protest, but Price’s palm replaced it on the top of his head, rubbing his blond, buzzed hair in soothing circles.
“There you are, Simon… My pretty boy.”
A wrecked sob sputtered around Price’s cock. Ghost didn’t try to bite back the tears this time. They dripped down his face, mingling with the spit that dribbled to the tip of his chin and down his throat.
Another loving stroke to his hair before Price cupped his face. His thumbs traced over gnarled scars, taking in every bit of Simon, leaving nothing untouched or abandoned.
Why did Ghost let himself get into these situations, seeking out words and touches that he didn’t deserve, yet craved? It was a compulsion, unable to be stopped.
Ghost choked and gasped for air as Price pulled him off his cock. His tongue darted out in a feeble attempt at cleaning himself up, breaths heaving in deep hiccups as he tried to catch his breath.
But Price pushed past his lips again, leaving Ghost without.
Ghost let himself fall into it, seduced into the depths that called for him. A desire to settle into the structure that Price offered him. A chance to let go, and let Price control him and whatever happened around them.
There was a comfort in the relinquishing of power. Comfort that Ghost clung to so deeply he felt numb.
Allowing Price to guide him, Ghost let his jaw hang loose and vision zone out.
“Feeling good, are you boy?” Price purred, seeing the glossy sheen over his eyes.
Ghost could only hum in response and squeezed Price’s hips.
So good… There was the drift he was searching for. Held up by spectral hands, cradling him into the weightless space between the physical and unseen, only brought on harder by the alcohol that muddled his head.
Spit slicked curls met his nose and mouth with each thrust, his head held in place as Price started selfishly working his throat. Despite the harsh rhythm, Price’s hands kept him steady — offered him the delicate touches that kept Ghost firmly entrenched in his space.
“Good boy. Perfect boy, Simon…” Price breathed. “Keep going, I’ve got you. Just me, nobody else. I will always take care of you, right son?”
Ghost nodded, more tears spilling down his flushed cheeks.
Yes, yes, Price took such good care of him. Cared for him when nobody else would. Knew exactly what he needed, when he needed it, even if Ghost didn’t know what it was.
Price let go with one hand to take another sip of bourbon, another drag of his dying cigar, just enough of a hit to keep it from burning out. The hand on Ghost’s head never stopped, all calm caresses to his short cropped hair, worrying over the line of his split eyebrow, down the long, silvered scar that marred his cheek.
His jaw ached and throat burned something fierce, but it was a good pain, like the sting of his bourbon. One that he would gladly endure for his captain. He would suffer more, if that’s what Price wanted for him, but he never did. Always respected Ghost’s boundaries, never pushing him past what Price knew he could tolerate.
Price’s hips raised from his chair, shoving quick and deep into Ghost’s mouth, a low moan finally slipping past his shroud of control. He grabbed Ghost’s skull between his large hands and held him still as he fucked into his mouth, now chasing his pleasure as he got close.
Ghost held tight to Price’s trousers, khaki folds gathering in his fists as he struggled to breath around the onslaught.
“Open for me, Simon,” Price rumbled.
A deep gasp came with Price’s pullout. Ghost kept his mouth open as asked, eyes clenched closed when Price grabbed at the back of his neck and squeezed. Like scruffing a dog to make sure he couldn’t move. Wouldn’t even dream of it…
Hot spend graced the side of Ghost’s face, pearlescent and thick as it dripped down his jaw and between his lips. A gift, reminding him of who truly cared for him, always willing to give Ghost everything. And Ghost would take it, never turning Price away.
With hungry laps, he chased Price, wrapped his lips around his glistening cockhead, and swirled his tongue around it, catching under his foreskin and greedily gleaning whatever remainder he could.
Price flinched, his entire body tightening with the shock. He gently tapped Ghost’s face to get him to ease up and smirked down at him.
“That’s a good look on you… All fucked out, just from sucking me off.”
He swiped his thumb under Ghost’s lower lip and pushed what he collected into his mouth, forcing him to clean up what was left. Price admired the sight, before petting Ghost’s head one last time and straightening himself up. The rest of the aftermath, all the way from Ghost’s cheek to the column of his neck, was wiped away with his discarded balaclava and set back to the desk.
Ghost nuzzled into Price’s hands, eyes fluttering closed as he kissed at the heels of his palms, worshiping the hands that shepherded him. He was dragged up, raised high on his knees as Price dipped his head down to kiss him.
So sweet, as if he hadn’t just been fucking Ghost’s throat raw.
But Price’s hands were rough, squeezing his face, fingertips possessive as they scraped over the light stubble on Ghost’s jaw. His tongue pushed past Ghost’s lips, licking into his mouth until Ghost was sucking on his tongue, desperate for his touch, however he would give it.
Reaching up, Ghost grasped at Price’s wrists like he was his lifeline, afraid that he would slip away if he let go. Needed him. Didn’t want Price to stop doting on him. Not yet. Ghost needed more, until his head was void of anything but pleasure. Had to forget…
“Come here, son.” Price tapped his thigh. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”
Still reeling, Ghost stumbled to his feet, numb from the thighs down, pins and needles taking over as proper blood flow returned to his legs.
“Steady there, lad,” Price chuckled. “Like a newborn fawn… That’s it, careful now.”
Ghost could only grunt as he slung himself onto Price’s lap, only to be turned around and pulled back against his captain’s chest. Humming at the solid warmth pooling against his back, Ghost sunk against Price without hesitation. Ghost was bigger than Price, but felt like a child the way he held and moved him around.
Strong, commanding arms settled around Ghost, hands wandering over his lower abdomen and the bulging tent in his jeans. Price tucked his head under Ghost’s arm and leaned against the pronounced line of his pec.
“You’ve been such a good boy for me. Let me take care of you now.”
“Price…”
“Shh… Lean back. There you go.”
Price kicked Ghost’s legs apart and tilted him further back, leaving him exposed with his boots hooked around Price’s ankles for support.
Ghost’s jeans fell open, the rough zip of his fly mingling with his excited inhale. Swollen, red lips parted, only to be bitten between his teeth.
Slowly, Price dipped his fingers beneath Ghost’s black briefs and fondled his prick, reaching under the cramped confines to cup his balls.
“Poor thing, so worked up already… No squirming now, you know how this goes.”
With every ounce of willpower, Ghost gripped at the arms of Price’s chair, knuckles straining against his gloves as he kept himself from moving, when all he wanted to do was thrust up into Price’s hand to get a whisper of friction.
A thumb hooked through the back belt loop of his jeans, tugging until Ghost took the hint and lifted his hips enough for Price to pull the denim just under the curve of his ass. Cruelly, his cock remained pinned down by the pressure from the elastic of his briefs, still stubbornly clinging to him in a tight restraint across his crotch and upper thighs.
Price’s fingers sunk into the tempting flesh of his ass, digging deep, squeezing until his skin was pink and marked with scratches.
His cock was freed with a final tug, leaping up and hitting his belly with a wet smack. Already weeping in need, it left a thin strand of precum clinging from his skin to the tip of his aching cock.
“Price — please…” Ghost begged, his cock now abandoned as Price’s other hand traced the line of his crotch and thigh, ignoring how the lieutenant’s cock twitched at the light touch.
“What do you want? Tell me so I can help you.”
“Touch me. Jerk me off… Ple—Ahh!” His voice trailed off into a pathetic whine, eyes wide and shoulders raised as Price wrapped his hand around his cock and gave him a few loose strokes. “Mmh, Price… Fuck!”
“Noisy… Someone might hear if you keep that up.”
The worn leather on Price’s chair creaked under the pressure of Ghost’s fingers. His gloves stuttered over the surface, trying to find purchase. He grit his teeth and let his head fall back on another moan, lower this time, trying to be quiet, but failing miserably.
Price teased his fingers over the crown of Ghost’s cock, pushing his foreskin up over the tip, massaging it against his sensitive head before smoothing it back with his slick precum now coating his hand.
“Feeling good, son?”
Ghost could only nod as he leaned heavily back against Price, mouth hanging open and gasping around a deep groan.
“Such a pretty cock. You always make such a mess for me, don’t you, Simon?”
“Yes, sir…” Ghost gasped as Price thumbed his slit, swirling it around and pushing in gently, rewarded with a fresh bead of precum for his efforts. It dripped down his thumb, settling into the crease of his palm.
Featherlight strokes, hardly any pressure in the tunnel formed around his cock, started working Ghost root to tip, taking great care to give him just enough to be driven crazy.
The obscene squelch of their skin gliding together marked one more notch in the bone. The heady scent of sex and cigar smoke — bourbon on their breath — all too familiar. It was all just another filthy chapter in this tumultuous loop they found themselves locked in, destined over and over to repeat their same mistakes. Crossing that forbidden line time and again, unable to keep from crawling back to each other.
Yet neither of them cared, too focused on easing Ghost’s hurt. Not his first, and certainly not his last. Petty — sure. A moment of weakness they wouldn’t pass up on — absolutely not. A perfect excuse to lock themselves away in Price’s office to fuck it out.
“More,” Ghost pleaded. He felt like he was going insane with only these gentle, teasing strokes. “Finger me. Want you inside me.”
Ghost murmured, unable to contain the pleased whine when Price raised his left hand and pressed two of his fingers to Ghost’s lips.
“Get them nice and wet.”
Hips and head worked in time with each other, Ghost testing his luck to see if Price would let him fuck himself in his hand. Price did, and tightened his fist enough for Ghost to get a good rhythm going.
He sucked on Price’s fingers, coating them until they were drenched with spit, dripping down his knuckles. As Price pulled away, Ghost spat the remainder in his mouth over the tips of his fingers and panted as they were pressed to his hole.
No gently easing him into it. Both fingers circled a couple times before pressing past his rim, one on the heel of the other, giving Ghost no time to adjust.
He shouted at the intrusion, shocked, but relieved to have the pressure bullying its way inside him. Hips bucked into the air, forcing Price’s fist to hit his crotch with a wet slap.
The aching burn eased as Price worked him open, murmuring sweet words to him. About how good he was being, and how tight and warm he was. How badly he wanted to fuck Ghost, but would save that for next time. Something to look forward to, when the next crisis inevitably hit.
Right now, it was about Ghost, and making him forget — something... Could he even remember by this point why he came in here? All Ghost knew were the incredible delights flooding every sense of his being. Losing himself in the cascade.
He repeated Price’s name, losing track of how many times he’d said it, sobbing on the taste of it on his tongue.
One hand left the chair, now grabbing onto the arm jerking him off, sliding down to rest on top of Price’s hand. He whined when Price stopped.
“Hush, just trust me, son…”
Price plucked off Ghost’s glove, slowly pulling on each finger until it fell away to the floor. Taking Ghost’s hand, Price wrapped it around his cock and intertwined their fingers.
“However you like, sweet thing. Go ahead.”
Ghost’s hips bucked into their hands, a broken moan meeting the wet slick of their palms working in tandem to bring him to blissful completion.
Between the fingers inside him, curling, searching, filling him up just right, and the tight fists pumping along his shaft, Ghost lost himself.
Wrecked moans and whimpers spilled from him, body wound up like a coil, just waiting to snap at the slightest touch.
Knowing Ghost was slipping, Price helped guide his hand, holding firm on the back of Ghost’s scarred knuckles, leading him through the motions, whispering words of encouragement into his ear..
“That’s it, Simon. Come for me. Let yourself go. Good boy.”
“Fuuuck! — Price, ahh! G-gonna…” His words trailed off into a strangled groan, body convulsing and hips raising from Price’s lap.
Ghost’s gloved hand hit the desk and he lurched up, thrusting once — twice more into their fists before spilling over the polished wood, just barely missing the paperwork stacked in a neat pile next to him.
Price followed, fingers pushing deeper into Ghost and nailing him right in the prostate as he came, sending him careening over the edge into blinding euphoria.
Ghost slipped down, guided by Price so he didn’t land in his own spend. He could only gasp out strangled little noises, a chorus of reedy ah’s and quivering breaths. His hips rolled back into Price’s hand, sending himself into a fit of overstimulation as he moved in tight circles to keep the sick need for more going.
A couple firm passes around that unfairly sensitive bundle of nerves, and Price withdrew, leaving Ghost gasping and raising his hips for him to continue.
“No, that’s enough. You’re alright, son. Deep breaths.”
Ghost allowed himself to be pulled back into Price’s lap again. He sank into the arms holding him tight and buried his face against his captain’s neck, twisting into his comforting warmth.
Calming kisses were shared, more words of praise uttered softly in the light of the mellow glow of the desk lamp.
Price stroked Ghost’s head as the lieutenant nuzzled at his pulse point, lips closing around the heightened beat of his heart to drink in every little aspect of him.
Only once Ghost had leveled out, did Price clean him up. Taking his time, Price made sure Ghost wasn’t jolted from his altered state, slowly tucking him back into his jeans, and getting their clothes back in presentable order.
Ghost knew once Price tapped his waist that it was over. With a heavy sigh, Ghost pushed himself up and stood, swaying enough that he had to grab onto the corner of the desk.
“All good, son?”
“Yeah… Beh’er get to bed. ‘M pissed…”
Pretending like nothing had happened.
Like Ghost hadn’t just had his world turned inside out, all at the hands of his captain.
His savior in the darkness, always there to bring him back from the brink — their eternal waltz of denial and shame never ending.
“I’ll bring your glass and the rest of your bourbon to your room in the morning. Good night, Simon…”
“Night, Price…”
Heavy-hearted, Ghost slipped out the door without another word, no pining glance back over his shoulder, and went on his way.
Ghost clutched his filthy balaclava in his hand and leaned against the wall outside of Price’s office. His thumb sunk into the cold, wet stain on the side, before he pulled it over his head, feeling the remnants of his captain on his temple and cheekbone as he made his sorry way back to his room, feeling better and worse at the same time.
Same as it ever was — a fleeting moment of clarity, left with nothing but weighty questions on its heels.
Until next time.