Archive of Our Own ^beta

It wasn’t a secret, really. Ghost had at least tried to keep it under wraps when they’d first started this… whatever it was. He’d worked hard for his promotions, damnit! He earned those LT pips with blood, sweat and tears, both his and other people’s. He’d fought his way back from his own grave and sent hundreds of enemies to their own. He was solid in positions of command, handling the sergeants with ease. He was a good hacker, a great shot, and sometimes even a half-decent pilot. He didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, that he’d somehow fucked his way to his officer’s position. (Even if the Captain would occasionally tease that his head was good enough to have earned it that way regardless.)

And honestly, for the most part, it wasn’t a big deal. No one really thought that of him, beyond some mild ribbing that may or may not have come from a place of jealousy. Garrick and Roach would poke fun whenever they noticed a little limp during morning PT, or spot the hint of a bruise on his collar bone in between the fabric of his balaclava and casual shirt in the mess. But it was friendly banter between brothers in arms, nothing truly mean-spirited. Everyone got a little bored and horny on base sometimes, and frankly the Captain fucking his Lieutenant was a lot better than taking one of the enlisted into his private quarters. The worst he’d get with a fellow officer was a slap on the wrist, maybe a threat of demotion if someone threw a fit about it or it affected how they worked in the field. Fucking a corporal though, for instance, would be grounds for court martial. The brass were real sticklers about fraternization and abuse of power. But Ghost? Who was fully capable of consenting, had no desire to promote higher anyways, and would absolutely never say a word to whatever lazy overpaid MPs and psych evaluators they brought in? Oh, he was free game. 

So no, it wasn’t a secret that Captain MacTavish would sometimes request a private meeting in his office with a sly grin, or that sometimes Ghost’s paperwork was a little crumpled, like it’d been shoved off his desk in a hurry and then sorted back out later, or that every now and then Ghost would take just a little too long to respond over comms and when he did finally pipe back up his voice was much rougher than it had been before he’d gone quiet. What absolutely was kept tightly under wraps though? How absolutely, thoroughly, completely wrecked he was when the Captain was done with him. 

It wasn’t usually ever ‘soft’ between the two of them. MacTavish wasn’t a gentle man by any means, and with Ghost’s own personal demons it was hard for him to give up control more often than not. Foreplay could sometimes look more like sparring, and occasionally it came down to the Captain truly pulling rank to finally get Ghost onto his knees and out of his head. They knew what they had wasn’t the kind of dynamic for any sort of “love making”, and neither of them had any ill-conceived notion of retiring to a cottage by the sea together someday. But sometimes it was what could only be described as ‘reverent’, where the Captain was awed by just how much Ghost would give him, how far he could push, what glorious depravity they could enjoy together. 

See, sometimes Ghost would just get frustratingly hung up on something. Usually it was nothing major in the grand scheme, a few too many missed shots on the practice range, a conversation that had left him flustered, even something truly stupid like forgetting he still had his mask on and accidentally waterboarding himself with a mug of tea. And it would leave him absolutely pissy for the rest of the day, sometimes the whole week, which meant he’d take it out on his underlings and act out against the chain of command, which left everyone in a bad mood, which led to more mistakes, more awkward conversations, more stupid slip-ups. It could quickly devolve into a vicious cycle that left everyone tense and exhausted, which is no way for an elite unit hunting dangerous criminals to be. Frankly, the Captain felt he deserved some chest candy for his grave sacrifice in being the one to hit their LT’s reset button so effectively.

That reset button, of course, being getting Ghost so absolutely cum-drunk and exhausted that he couldn’t do much more than squirm and whimper. Those were the ‘reverent’ nights, when Ghost would finally, completely relinquish control, taking anything his Captain would give him, be it degradation or praise, pain or pleasure, release or denial, whatever it took to quell that streak of insubordinate, disrespectful behavior. 

Tonight was one of those nights. 

It wasn’t entirely Ghost’s fault, in his defense. It was hot and humid as shit, and the overworked AC for the main campus of their temporary base had finally given out, so everyone was on a short fuse, not just Ghost. No one wanted to be out in the blistering sun, but indoors was sticky and cramped too, so there was no reprieve anywhere. Which meant everyone was miserable after drills, tense in the mess hall at meal time from the added body heat fogging up with room, and having to be in their heavy canvas uniforms was a special hell. Ghost especially with his preference for dark colors and his signature mask was struggling. He had trouble staying hydrated on a normal day since it meant exposing part of his face, and the headache he was developing from a combination of the blistering heat, not drinking enough and getting back-talk from everyone else also suffering from the weather conditions finally made him snap. 

He put the absolute fear of god into a handful of privates who fumbled through a knife throwing drill. They hadn’t learned how to overcompensate for their sweaty hands when adjusting their grip, and a rogue throw almost hit someone standing off to the side of the lanes in what was supposed to be a safe zone. It was the kind of mistake that could get good men killed, and they should know better than to take their gloves off regardless of the heat. And while he wasn’t wrong, making the newbies cry made it really hard to keep them around past placement testing, so the Captain knew he had to put an end to it quickly. 

He rarely scolded Ghost in front of anyone else (but even he wasn’t immune to the effect the heat was having on everyone else), so him grabbing the Lieutenant’s arm and dragging him off the field alone was enough for Ghost to realize he had fucked up, regardless of the verbal reaming he knew was coming. And then some other asshole with a stupid French accent neither of them recognized had to go and make a comment about being ‘happy to see MacTavish finally put his dog on a shorter leash’. The mountain of paperwork he’d have to do if he let go of Ghost’s arm was the only thing that kept him from letting his pet really show his teeth. Incident reports were always a bitch and a half to file, and the thought of being stuck in his stuffy office on a day like this was what saved the guy from being a file number and a stain on the concrete in the end. 

Blessedly, with nightfall came a steady breeze and much cooler air. Open windows and cold showers settled most of the lingering tension, and by the time curfew was rolling around things were starting to feel normal again. Which meant it was time to fix their little problem. Right on time, Ghost knocked on the door, their little special knock that they’d know anywhere. “SR” in morse for Ghost, “JM” for the Captain. 

Opening the door for these nights was always a fun treat for MacTavish. Sometimes Ghost would barge in, still irate from whatever had set him off earlier, ready to blow off steam and get it out of his system. Sometimes he was indignant, downright bratty about the whole thing, having to be yanked in by his shirt collar or belt loops. Sometimes he was already remorseful, head down and eager to atone. Tonight, though, was one of the more rare ones. There was just a bare hint of a flush visible under his eyes where the balaclava didn’t quite go all the way up, and he couldn’t stand perfectly still he waited for permission to enter. When he pulled his sunglasses off and stepped out of his boots, the look the Captain got was full of nothing but pure hunger and need. 

“Strip and present. Quickly .” And Ghost obeyed with no hesitation. He was out of his clothes and socks in record time, folding them neatly into a little pile on the edge of the Captain’s desk, where he bent at the waist, palms settling on the firm wood, legs shoulder-width apart as he’d been trained so well to do. MacTavish let him squirm for a bit in nothing but his mask and dog tags, watching the way his back twitched and his weight shifted, nervous energy thrumming in his veins but wanting very much so to behave. Finally, he approached, bracketing Ghost’s body in against the desk with his own, one hand steadying his hips and the other reaching around to grip the front of the mask, waiting for permission. It was the one little bit of control he wouldn’t take without asking, and he was usually rewarded with a ‘yes’ anyways. Tonight was not an exception. As soon as he saw the little nod, the balaclava was off, added to the stack of garments. His hand immediately carded through the newly exposed short crop of dark hair in praise before sliding down to inbetween Ghost’s shoulder blades, a faded scar over his spine a perfect target to press firmly onto, forcing the Lieutenant into a deep arch, face and chest flat against the desk. He kicked Ghost’s legs open wider in the same motion and brought his other hand down in a firm smack on the side of his thigh. “Now would you look at that. You can be a good boy. Could’ve fooled me earlier.” 

He got a soft whine in apology and grinned wickedly. Oh, it was going to be so easy to break him down tonight. He let his hand slide back up, digging in with calloused fingertips, until it settled against the back of Ghost’s neck, holding him firm, while the other continued to leave hearty smacks across his ass and thighs, sometimes just a quick stinging slap, others he’d dig his nails in on, gripping firmly before releasing in random intervals, knowing the unpredictability would drive the poor man insane. “Fuck, Simon look at you. Dripping for me already? Such a slag.”

Another little whine, and a visible flush on the tips of his ears and the back of his neck sent blood rushing straight to the Captain’s cock. Either that, or seeing Ghost get even wetter, a glistening trail on his inner thigh and a perfect little dew droplet hanging down from his cunt like something straight out of a porno. 

“Needed this today, hm? Got all worked up and need me to get you out of that pretty head of yours?" A real moan in response that time, a breathy little thing as Ghost’s thighs visibly trembled. “I asked you a question, soldier.” The hand cupping the back of his neck shot up and gripped the short hairs at the nape of his neck tightly, no remorse until Ghost managed to bark out a “yes Sir”. The capitalization of the S was heavily emphasized, clear in Ghost’s pitchy response. This wasn’t just a subordinate yielding to his superior officer anymore, it was something deeper. A quiet request, that the Captain was more than happy to oblige. 

“Hmmm… you were awful mouthy today. Not sure if you’ve earned it. Made me correct you in public even.” His right hand, the one that had been smacking Ghost’s ass, made its way to his lower back, massaging a little firmer than would actually feel good, just enjoying the feel of skin and taught muscle giving way under his ministrations, testing Ghost’s resolve. “That why you’re so worked up already?” 

Ghost winced a little and a low keen caught in his throat, an answer he was too embarrassed to give in words, but he held his position otherwise. His blush was significantly worse though, creeping along his upper back and cheekbones, surely down the front of his neck and chest as well, hidden by the cool surface of the desk. 

“What was it that’s got you so desperate, hm? Me grabbing your arm like that? Scolding you with an audience?” His hand migrated again, fingertips teasing along the cleft of Ghost’s ass. 

He was a little surprised when he got a shy little “no”. 

“What was it then?” Genuine curiosity bled into his question, the seductive mirth taking a backseat for just a moment, fingers stopping their slow journey downwards. 

“When he called me your dog…”  The Captain’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. He’d have to reward Ghost using his words without being reminded again. 

“Yeah? You wanna be my good little pup? You’re already spread out for me like a bitch in heat, wouldn’t be that hard. Could mount and breed you just like this.” His hand moved again as he spoke, coming to rest with fingers on either side of his cunt, light pressure gently spreading him open but offering no friction, just putting him on display. A full body shudder rolls down Ghost’s back in response, another little moan slipping from his mouth and his eyes falling closed as his holes clenched on nothing. 

“Please, Sir?” God, the lanky British bastard was going to be the death of him. 

“Well, let's see if you can earn it. Knees, now. ” His voice was a low, dangerous hum, all the gravitas of both his rank and his role in the scene dripping like honey and making Ghost’s head swim. The Captain took a few steps back to give him room to maneuver, taking a comfortable stance closer to the middle of the room with his arms crossed loose across his chest, waiting expectantly. Ghost steadied himself enough to push up off the desk and went to take a step to rejoin the Captain’s space, but was quickly stopped with a harsh noise and a snap. 

“Do dogs walk on two legs?” 

There was that pretty blush again, practically glowing on pale cheeks, showing off a smattering of light freckles and highlighting a thin scar across the crooked bridge of Ghost’s nose, dark blue eyes blown wide with arousal and embarrassment, the two emotions feeding into each other heavily. Being a Captain in the SAS came with a lot of perks. Seeing arguably one of the most dangerous men in England pink and trembling like this, dropping to all fours with an audible ‘thump’, outweighed them all. 

Ghost crawled forward across the thin, scratchy carpet and sat up prettily on his knees when he reached the Captain’s feet, swallowing hard as he looked up, hands folding obediently in his lap. Always happy to reward good behavior, MacTavish ruffled Ghost’s hair, scratching behind his ears affectionately, laughing a little to himself as the Lieutenant leaned into his hand, eyes slipping closed happily. 

“Make yourself useful, pup. Suck my cock well enough and maybe I’ll give you what you want as a reward. Gotta convince me to forgive your behavior earlier.” MacTavish undid his belt buckle then leaned against his dresser, putting his weight on one arm and leaving the other dangling at his side, poised and ready to praise or correct as needed. Ghost’s hands came up immediately to start working at the zipper of the Captain’s fatigues but a quick pop against his cheek had him frozen, wide eyes looking up for correction. The Captain only raised an eyebrow, forcing Ghost to try to figure it out for himself first. 

It only took him a moment. Ghost’s hands settled against the Captain’s thighs instead, just enough to get a little leverage, and he pressed his face into MacTavish’s crotch firmly, using his nose to fuss with the button loop and gripping the zipper with his teeth. A hum of “much better” and the hand that had just smacked his face going back to playing with his hair was his reward, and it warmed him from the inside out. The back and forth between praise and degradation was making him a little dizzy. It was perfect. Careful teeth grabbed the waistband of MacTavish’s boxers, pulling them down just enough for his already engorged cock to spring free, and Ghost wasted no time before getting his mouth on it. He started with worshiping licks and wet open-mouth kisses, letting himself get sloppy and needy the way he knew the Captain liked to see him, before expectant eyes and his own oral fixation won out and he swallowed the length down expertly, burying his nose in dark, musky curls and using the flat of his tongue to apply firm pressure. 

The hand in his hair tensed, catching a fistful and tugging harshly, keeping his head locked there for a moment. Tears pricked at his eyes and he had to fight his urge to gag, but he held fast, knowing this was a test. Finally, the grip eased, giving him permission to bob properly and catch his breath. The hand didn’t leave his hair, but also didn’t pull him around or hold him down again, letting him set his own pace. It was just an ever present reminder of ownership, and served to keep him grounded. 

Ghost pulled all his favorite tricks, all the little things he knew his Captain liked, desperately wanting to prove he was good, despite his outburst earlier, and that he was grateful for the discipline, especially when it felt this good. Used the tip of his tongue just under the ridge of the head, digging into the sensitive glans. Traced the thick vein along the underside slowly. Let out his own little moans and whines when he took it all the way to the base so the vibrations hit just right. Swallowed around the base but made no effort to keep himself from drooling, feeling sweat and slick spit smearing across his face whenever he bottomed out and nuzzled into the Captain’s pelvis. Occasionally let himself gag, tightening down but keeping his teeth in check. 

“God, if your cunt wasn’t so perfect this would be my favorite hole of yours.” The Captain’s voice was husky, accent getting thicker every time he spoke, little Scottish curses Ghost didn’t understand anything more than the tone of slipping out every time he made it all the way to the base. The hand in his hair tightened again and pulled him off completely, and the little broken whine he let out earned him a laugh at his expense, only serving to make the fog in his mind and the heat in his belly worse. 

MacTavish gave Ghost a moment to catch his breath before taking ahold of his own cock and tapping it against the Lieutenant’s lower lip, catching just the tip of his tongue as he panted. Ghost looked back up, pupils nearly completely taking over the color in his irises, tears of exertion welling along his waterline, little beads of sweat on his temples. Without question, his mouth opened all the way again, letting the Captain start fucking into his throat properly. His eyes fluttered closed again and he adjusted his angle just a bit to ease the glide, but made no effort to pull away or choke, just letting himself be used. 

The Captain was always a “be given an inch, take a mile” kind of guy. He set a harsh pace almost immediately, feeling his balls slap against Ghost’s chin through his clothes which were rapidly getting soaked from his spit. The little tears finally worked their way loose despite his tightly closed eyelids, and there was a deep crease in Ghost’s forehead as he strained to hold still, to take it, to be good. MacTavish could hear himself grunting like a wild animal, growling out praises as he brutalized Ghost’s throat. Broken off whimpers worked their way out around his cock whenever he pulled back enough for Ghost to catch a breath, every exhale coming out as a pitiful, needy little noise. 

A very mean idea suddenly presented itself. 

“Fucking hell you feel good, pup. Want you to cum for me just like this.” 

The noise he got in response was more of a choked out moan than anything, but he could hear the confusion in it. Saw the tension in Ghost’s forehead shift to something less about the exhaustion in his jaw and more about the phrase, something a little bit like hope in his eyes, like the Captain might offer to let him grind against his boot or something for relief. He absolutely was not going to do that. 

Instead, he just kept pounding into the poor Lieutenant’s tenderized throat. And Ghost, god bless him, did his best to keep taking it without complaint, wanting to please his Captain. But he was getting squirmy, starting to feel the effects of oxygen deprivation and the concrete under his knees. The desire to behave and self preservation were starting to go to war in his head, pulling him out of his happy floaty headspace and putting him somewhere in the territory of desperation. His little noises started to sound more like protests, like pleas for the Captain to hurry up and bloody fucking finish already . 

He was exactly where MacTavish wanted him. The grip on Ghost’s hair kept his head steady when the Captain pulled out again, uncomfortable pin-pricks lighting up his scalp as he heaved in breaths. 

“What’s wrong sweetheart? I thought you wanted to get off.” 

The “Sir?” that Ghost managed to squeak out in between gasping breaths and coughs was downright pitiful. 

“I just don’t get it. When I fuck your ass like that, you cum for me beautifully . When I fuck your cunt like that you can hardly stop yourself from squirting all over me. So why isn’t it working tonight? Either I’m not fucking you hard enough, or you don’t really want it. So which is it, Simon?” The glint in his eye was downright evil, but he kept his tone mock-sincere, like he really was confused, even a little hurt that he wasn’t providing well enough. 

With how endorphin-high and floaty he was, there was truly no good answer he could provide. Under any rational headspace, he’d realize he was being teased, that it was an impossible question, that the correct answer was “oh come off it, quit being daft and fuck me properly already, you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.” But there was absolutely nothing rational left under the fog of arousal and submissive headspace, just a desperate need to please and obey. 

And god did he want to get off. 

With a full body shiver and a quiet little sob, Ghost resigned himself to another round of punishment. “I want it, Sir. Please, try again?” 

“Well, only since you asked so politely.” The Captain hoisted him up off his knees, which made their own little noises of protest, and man-handled him onto the bed flat on his back, legs spread wide and hands trapped under his own weight, head hanging off the side. Ghost had the brief moment where the Captain stripped himself fully to get situated into his new position, just long enough to take a few deep breaths and get his jaw to pop before hands were on him again. 

MacTavish’s thumb traced his lips softly, just a moment of tender reprieve, before slipping into his mouth and prying it open, and his other hand guided his cock in slowly, one inch at a time, watching a faint bulge develop in Ghost’s throat as he bottomed out, smothering him for a moment with his balls, testing his resolve again. Once again, Ghost passed the little test with flying colors, and was rewarded with a teasing pinch at his nipple. The Captain didn’t waste any time after that, pulling out until just the tip was still in Ghost’s hot, wet mouth before pressing in deep again. He started slow this time, building up momentum with each thrust. One hand gripped the base of Ghost’s throat with deft fingers, his palm flat along the pale column of skin to feel his own movements through the layers of muscle and sinew. The other hand had a death grip on Ghost’s thigh, hiking it up and to the side, leaving him completely exposed. 

Ghost squirmed under him, arching and tensing, chest stuttering any time he had a pause in between thrusts to catch a breath. He was coming undone beautifully, but it only made that little fire in the Captain’s mind that wanted to completely destroy him burn hotter. Keeping up his rhythm, he slid his hand on Ghost’s throat down to the center of his chest, splayed out wide, thumb and pinkie resting on the edges of the pale scars under his pecs in a possessive, all encompassing grip that also served to immobilize him. 

“Keep your legs open, pup. You hear me?” 

Ghost grunted out something that sounded mostly affirmative, a little worried, and the Captain watched as he adjusted his hips, tensing visibly in anticipation of something. ‘ Smart lad. ’ In tandem with a particularly deep thrust, hard enough to get Ghost to gag despite his best efforts, MacTavish brought his hand down directly on Ghost’s swollen clit. It was just a quick, sharp pop with rigidly held finger-tips, no different than the quick smack to his cheek earlier, but the sudden pain had Ghost’s entire body locked up and a pained whine forced its way out of his throat. But, he kept perfect form. No teeth clamped down, and while his thighs trembled and clenched, they stayed spread apart. 

“Fuck, that’s a good boy. So good for me. Keep still just like that, yeah? I’ll give you what you need.” 

The little desperate noises Ghost kept making, how visibly drenched he was becoming, how much he was struggling to stay still and pliant, it was all going to the Captain’s head. He slowed his thrusts down a bit, focusing more on depth than speed, and alternated between teasing, barely-there touches and firm smacks on Ghost’s dripping cunt, both holes currently in use making obscene wet noises that were absolute music to MacTavish’s ears. 

When he started to feel himself getting close to the edge, he decided that Ghost had indeed earned a little reward for taking everything so beautifully. (As if he ever would have denied him in the first place.) After one last harsh thrust, he slowly pulled out of Ghost’s throat, observant eyes watching a long, tacky string of saliva follow the movement and slowly break, smearing across the Lieutenant’s face. His eyes were wet and glassy and his blush had only gotten worse with exertion, face completely flushed and damp from a mix of fluids. His chest heaved as he sucked in air, coughing a little and grimacing as he worked his jaw. But, he kept his legs spread as he’d been told, and made no effort to get his hands out from underneath himself. 

The Captain gave him a second to compose himself, using the time to shoo his own building orgasm away, wanting to draw this out as long as possible. Once he felt steady on his own feet and it looked like Ghost was starting to come back into his own body, he got up onto the bed, worming his way inbetween still-twitching thighs and pulling Ghost closer by the hips to get his head back onto the bed fully. 

“Hold yourself open for me, pup. Show me what’s mine.” 

Ghost slid his shaky hands under his knees, pulling his legs up and apart, biting his lip hard and suddenly very interested in the ceiling.” 

“Nuh uh, don’t get shy on me now prettyboy. Look at me.” Ghost obeyed with a whimper, and the Captain rewarded him by thrusting into his cunt with a smooth roll of his hips, holding eye contact until he bottomed out and closed his own eyes to focus on the tight heat suddenly enveloping him, grunting under his breath. Ghost clenched down on him hard, a broken-off moan from deep in his chest coming out from behind clenched teeth. 

MacTavish set the same pace he’d had before, snapping his hips hard and keeping a tight grip on Ghost’s hips, hard enough there’d undoubtedly be little bruises in the morning. Ghost was lost to it almost immediately, sloppy wet sounds audible even over his constant stream of moans. His fingernails dug into the meat of his thighs as he held his legs open and his lip was back in between his teeth. The Captain adjusted his position a bit to be more comfortable on his own knees and the change in angle got a yelp that morphed into something between and moan and a sob as Ghost’s eyes rolled back. 

“Right there baby?” 

Frantic nodding and whispers of “please” and “fuck”. 

The Captain hammered into that spot repeatedly, feeling Ghost get impossibly tighter and wetter around him with each thrust, orgasm just on the horizon. The Scot wasn’t going to keep it from him, but he also wasn’t quite done being mean. One of his hands left Ghost’s hips to press down firmly on his lower abdomen instead, and recognition lit up across the Lieutenant’s face. 

“Sir, please, it’s too much!” The Captain rolled his eyes. Always the same protest, never with any real conviction behind it, born out of shyness rather than dislike. 

“You want to cum, right?” A pause, a look of bashful resignation, and then a fervent nod. “Then fucking give it to me. Just let go Simon, I’ve got you.” 

Two more hard thrusts and The Captain’s other hand dropping to stroke Ghost’s clit firmly was all it took. Ghost seized up and came hard with a jerk, absolutely drenching them both and the blanket underneath them, crying out at the overwhelming sensation loud enough for MacTavish to throw a hand over his mouth. The cinderblock walls were pretty good at keeping noise from traveling, but they weren’t completely soundproof. The Captain fucked him through his orgasm, wringing sweet little noises out of Ghost’s mouth, easing up for just a moment to let him remember how to breathe again. When his eyes re-opened, a little unfocused still, the Captain knocked his hands out of the way, replacing them with his own arms, folding Ghost up into a mating press, knees resting on his shoulders. 

The new position brought their faces closer together, breathing each other’s air. They met for a kiss that was more teeth and spit than actual kissing, but they were both so far gone it didn’t matter. Ghost gripped the blankets under him, unable to stop any of the noises leaving his mouth regardless of how desperate they sounded, and his Captain wasn’t faring much better, grunts and moans of his own punctuating each thrust. 

In the end, it was Ghost’s turn to give an order. His voice was breathy and full of gravel, but the words were all it took. “Breed your bitch, Sir. Fill me up, please…” The ‘please’ broke off into a high pitched keen as an aftershock from his orgasm shook him again, and that was it. With one last hard grind, the Captain’s resolve snapped and his own release overtook him like a flood, spilling into Ghost in several hot spurts, leaving his vision spotty and his mind blank for a few long moments. 

Slowly, they both came back down together, catching their breath and letting hands wander soothingly, seeking familiar contact. MacTavish let Ghost’s legs down carefully, massaging the junction at his hips apologetically. Ghost was boneless, letting himself be cleaned up and re-arranged on the bed to make room for both of them with neither protest or assistance, refusing to lift his hips for MacTavish to get to the soaked blanket. Instead he let himself be rolled with the motion of having it pulled out from under him with an obstinate giggle that felt a little out of place coming from someone so violent’s mouth. 

“You good, Si?” 

A little hum. “A bit dick-dumb, Captain.” 

A snort. “You were dumb when we started, don’t blame me.” 

A bark of a laugh and a half-assed smack against the Captain’s side. 

MacTavish went to make another smart remark, but soft snoring against his shoulder told him it wouldn’t be heard regardless. He rolled his eyes instead, chest a little warm with fondness. They’d go back to normal rank and file in the morning. Ghost would be in a slightly better mood during morning drills, no thanks to anyone but the Captain. But for now, they could be a little selfish, a little indulgent. A little reverent. And if they both wake up with soft smiles and tender hands, only for each other, well, that part at least can stay their little secret.