When Ghost first found you, you were that lost kid of eighteen, fresh out of nowhere, wide eyed, stumbling through drills without a word of English to help you. You were awkward, unpolished, and fragile looking to everyone else, but Ghost saw more. He shaped you, steadied your hands when you shook, forced you back up when you fell, kept you close when no one else had the patience. Ten years later, you weren’t a boy anymore. You’d filled out, muscle packed on your frame, scars across your skin, sharpness in your jaw and steadiness in your eyes. You weren’t just a soldier now, you were someone who had grown into yourself, into something that pulled at Ghost every time he looked too long.

And when he finally cracked a week ago, low and quiet, muttering “pretty boy” in that gravel rough voice before kissing you, it split you in half. You’d been spinning ever since.

That’s how you ended up sprinting into the common room, half frantic, your voice already climbing.

“Johnny! Fucking Johnny I can’t do this, I can’t do this man, his fucking voice!” you shouted, tripping over the couch before throwing yourself onto it. “He called me pretty boy again and my dick—no listen—my dick knew! I swear to Christ my cock twitched before my brain even caught up, like he’s got a direct line to it or something!”

Soap’s eyebrows shot up but he said nothing, leaning back and letting you spiral.

“I’m serious! The second he talks, I’m fucking hard, it’s automatic. His voice gets that low growl and I’m gone. My cock is throbbing in my pants like it’s begging for him. Johnny, I nearly fucking embarrassed myself in the hall, I had to turn so no one saw how hard I was. I think my dick salutes him faster than I do.”

Soap choked on a laugh, covering it with his fist, eyes flicking briefly toward the doorway where Ghost had silently appeared.

“And don’t even get me started on the rest of him,” you kept going, wild eyed and flushed. “I swear to god, I’ve noticed his bulge, Johnny, it’s impossible not to, the man’s packing and it sits just right in those cargos, and every time I catch a glimpse I feel like I’m gonna fucking combust. I’ve stared, I admit it, I’ve stared like a pervert in the locker room, he adjusts himself and my knees go weak. His ass too, don’t look at me like that, he’s got a good ass, tight, perfect in those tac pants. He bends over once and I’m done, like actually done, game over. That man has a cute fucking butt and I would worship it without shame.”

Soap slapped his knee, laughing full on now, tears prickling his eyes, but still he didn’t warn you. He knew Ghost was in the doorway, leaned back casual with his arms folded, mask tilted slightly as he listened.

You threw your hands in the air, words tumbling out faster. “How am I supposed to survive this relationship? I can’t. He says two words and my cock’s straining, he walks past me and I’m memorizing his bulge, he bends over and I’m thinking about climbing him like a tree. Holy fuck, Johnny, he kissed me with that mask half pulled up and I thought my dick was gonna blow a hole through my pants.”

Soap just grinned wider, eyes sparkling. Ghost hadn’t moved, hadn’t made a sound, but Soap swore he saw his shoulders twitch with laughter. He wasn’t going to save you from this, not when Ghost looked like he was enjoying every second of your desperate, explicit panic.