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When it came to military life, most countries and units held their alphas to high expectations. The hormones an alpha dealt with could be a powerful advantage on the battlefield, or they could lead them to be overly aggressive with their allies. Without strict regulations, such as suppressants and mandated rut leaves, fights tended to break out between alphas. There wasn’t always an omega involved– sometimes it was just instinctive rage spilling over.
Like many other things, the 141 handled their alphas differently than many other military units. Not everyone in the task force was an alpha; Gaz was a beta, Price was a bonded omega, and Ghost and Soap were both alphas. None have them had expected it when their captain took a few weeks off for his heat. The way he kept them all in line was so reminiscent of a natural-born alpha– he snapped and snarled in their faces the second they acted up, not a hint of omegan submission in him.
Despite their abnormal regulations surrounding secondary designations, the one thing Price never wavered on was letting his boys work during their cycles. Sure, there were certain military benefits. Alphas had accelerated healing on their ruts due to their bodies working overtime, while omegas’ senses were amplified to 100. They could see further, smell deeper, and even hear better. While it could be easily overwhelming, it could also be useful. Some regiments liked forcing synthetic cycles on their soldiers to make them better soldiers– Price refused.
He let Ghost and Soap choose how they wanted to handle their ruts. Before the pair got together, it was often through the standard mandated leave that other members of the SAS got. Soap would head back to Scotland, and Ghost would go to one of his multiple safehouses until his rut was over. Neither talked about their experience, and that was fine with Price. As long as they came back okay, that was all that mattered.
Once they finally pulled their heads out of their asses, things changed. No longer did they spend their cycles apart, but the nature of their relationship did make handling the aggression of rut…unique. Alpha and alpha pairings weren’t frowned upon, but they weren’t common. Most couples used toys or switched, some bringing an omega in during ruts just to get through the hormone surge.
Ghost and Soap had found their own way to handle the extra hormones and adrenaline that came with their ruts.
Wherever the 141 was staying, whether it was in the middle of the woods or somewhere in the desert, the pair would drive a suitable distance from base and hunt. They wouldn’t hunt for game or stray hostiles, no, they’d hunt for a far more aggressive prey. Strapping on their tac vests and some small knives, they’d chase each other down, following their alpha instincts until someone was pinned. Fighting for a fuck got both of their hackles up; the hunts often got violent, but neither minded. With their bodies working to heal them, any injuries that weren’t life-threatening didn’t really matter.
Even with their ruts clouding their minds, both were too skilled to accidentally kill each other. Bones never got broken, internal damage was never dealt. Almost everything else was on the table, and both gave and took the pain with a nearly crazed enjoyment. The intense possessive edge the hunt gave them both amped their ruts up, making them violently desperate for each other. Nothing else would satisfy either of them– just this, just the hunt.
The first signs of Soap’s rut hit in the middle of a stealth mission. He was with Price on overwatch, Gaz and Ghost doing the wetwork for this one. A rush of fire swept up the sergeant’s spine, settling at the base of his neck. He shivered slightly and huffed, the sound instantly capturing Price’s attention.
“Alright, Soap?” he asked cautiously, an eyebrow arched up under his hat.
“Aye, sir, just stiff from layin’ here,” Soap responded, rolling his neck and looking back down through his scope.
Price hummed noncommittally, turning back to his binoculars and looking toward the compound their teammates were in. He pretended not to notice when Soap squirmed slightly again, inhaling through his nose subtly instead. The sharp scent reminiscent of the ocean that was Soap flooded his senses far stronger than it usually did, a rising current of spice underneath the usual refreshing smell. He was going into rut.
The realization washed over Soap not long after, his discomfort increasing until it was painfully obvious what was happening. He wasn’t in the full throes of rut yet, that wouldn’t come for at least several hours, but Ghost and Gaz needed to hurry the fuck up.
Both men on overwatched squirmed through the rest of the assignment, the sergeant taking shots when he needed to but eventually passing the rifle over to Price when his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Trying to repress the animal urges coursing through his brain was making functioning as a soldier difficult. Even as a mated omega, Price was struggling to keep his composure with the surge of hormones flooding the hill they were laid out on.
“Ghost, Gaz, check in,” the captain growled into the radio, leaning his head against the scope tiredly while he waits for the answer.
“Making our last round now,” came the gruff answer from the lieutenant, Ghost instantly picking up on Price’s change in demeanor. “Everything alright, Captain?”
“Just hurry it up, you two,” he replied, letting his finger off the receiver. The sooner Ghost got back, the sooner he could take care of Soap and the overwhelming smell clogging his nose.
“Johnny, switch to channel two,” Ghost hummed into the comms, blindly expecting the sergeant to obey. As soon as he heard the telltale click over the line that indicated he’d followed instructions, Ghost spoke again. “Everything alright, Soap?”
“Yeah, just…my rut hit early,” he grumbled, keeping his voice low, even though Price already knew what was going on.
“Already? Thought we had a few more weeks.”
“So did I, but apparently not,” Soap sighed. “Are you almost done? It’s getting…uncomfortable up here, Si.”
“Hang tight, Johnny, Gaz an’ I will be back soon. Check with Price to see if we can go off base tonight.” The order rang in Soap’s ears as Ghost turned his radio off, clearly going to finish the mission as quickly as he could. The sergeant knew exactly why Simon was asking him to see if they could leave– they were going to hunt. If his rut had hit, Ghost’s wouldn’t be far behind. They often triggered each other, their hormone cycles innately in tune with each other.
Soap turned his radio back to the main channel before turning to Price, barely getting out a “hey Cap-” before Price was sighing and answering him.
“Do what you need to to get your head back on straight. I trust you boys, but I need you clear, understand me?”
The sergeant nodded and focused back on the binoculars Price had given him. He didn’t have to wait long before Ghost and Gaz were jogging back to their position, the mission completed and information secured. They weren’t even halfway up the hill before Soap could see Ghost’s pupils dilate as he zeroed in on Johnny’s scent, a possessive fire lighting in the deep brown of his eyes.
Riding back to base was an awkward affair, Ghost and Soap trying to keep away from each other as much as possible to avoid a full-fledged scene right there on the floor of the truck. Gaz was unbothered, his beta senses diminished to the point of not being able to smell the pair, but he was amused at their discomfort. Price was in the driver’s seat speeding them home, desperate to get out of the tangle of horny alpha he had found himself in.
As soon as the APC was stopped outside the base gates, Soap and Ghost were piling out, leaving their rifles and helmets in the vehicle and stripping some of their heavier gear off. Their vests stayed behind, but the few small knives concealed on their persons stayed, as well as their sidearms and IFAKs. They never used their pistols on the hunt, but it was always better to have them in case of trouble.
“Be safe, boys,” Price called, putting the truck back in drive and pulling into the base. The pair only nodded in response, Soap already beginning to lose himself in the pull of his rut.
Once the gates to the base were firmly closed, the pair of alphas turned to look at each other before surveying their surroundings. The temporary 141 camp was in a wooded area, the base taking up most of a large clearing in the trees with a road leading out toward civilization. Everything else was mainly forest, a few scrub bushes between the old pines. Perfect for a hunt.
They walked from the road to the edge of the trees together, Ghost breathing through his mouth beneath his mask to try to keep a clear head as long as he could. Johnny’s rut always jumpstarted his, especially lately. After only a few months of sleeping together, their ruts had synced almost perfectly. While Soap’s was hitting early, the hormone rush and overwhelming scent flooding Ghost’s nose would ensure his came soon, if it wasn’t already setting in by now.
Neither spoke as they walked into the trees, both too focused on the prospect of the hunt to bother with words. They were intimately in tune with each other, both on and off the field. Even with desire clouding both of their minds, they didn’t need to speak to convey what they wanted. Hunting during their ruts was practically a routine by now– while they never knew who would end up on top, both literally and figuratively, getting ready to chase the other down was habit.
Ghost stopped once they were suitably deep in the woods, taking his balaclava off and putting it in one of the cargo pouches on his tac pants. Inhaling deeply, he let out a soft snarl at the pure smell of his mate, finally allowing himself to indulge in the smell of the ocean right before a storm, the first strikes of lightning beginning to hit the waves. Johnny was his perfect storm, his hair mussed and eyes fiery as he looked up at Ghost.
Another growl escaped the taller alpha as he grabbed a fistful of Soap’s shirt and pulled him into a biting kiss. It was more teeth and tongue than anything else, both desperate to claim and take and break. Neither backed down, not when Ghost’s teeth nicked Soap’s tongue and blood began to drip into their mouths, not when Soap grabbed at Ghost’s throat in response.
Releasing his mate’s throat and mouth simultaneously with a growl, Johnny pushed Ghost away slightly, a freshly lit fire in his eyes. Being given a hint of what he truly wanted didn’t quench the thirst in his system at all– on the contrary, it only made him need more. Soap needed the adrenaline rush of the hunt and a fuck, and he needed it now.
Ghost seemed to get the message, a feral and slightly bloodstained grin splitting his face before he rolled his neck and shoulders.
“Safeword?” he growled out, feeling a couple stray knots in his shoulders already working themselves out.
“Bourbon,” Soap answered, twitching minutely as he stood otherwise stock still. The energy from his rut was running through his limbs like a live current, leaving his fingertips jolting slightly as he stared at Ghost. He wanted to run, wanted to bite and claw and fuck, but they had a routine first.
“If we can’t speak?” Ghost continued.
“Three taps.” Neither of them had needed to safeword in the past, but it was a condition of the hunt on both sides. While the pain was addicting, they each wanted an out to be available, even if they didn’t use it.
“Love you,” he grinned, licking his lips slightly as he looked down at Soap. Their boundaries had been set again, it was time to go.
“Love you too, Simon,” Soap snarled, crouching into a ready position, his hands extended so he could grab at the other. So that’s how it’s going to be, Ghost thought, doing the same.
Both alphas froze in their place for a moment, huffing in deep breaths as they evaluated the other. Ghost could feel his rut creeping up on him as a result of the miasma of hormones swirling through his nose, the fresh and invigorating scent of pure Johnny spiking something possessive and feral in his chest. Across from him, Soap felt his pupils dilating and his teeth sharpening in his mouth, the sudden flush of Simon’s rut-scent spiking his need to bite and claim.
“Run.”
As soon as the word left Johnny’s mouth, Ghost took off, kicking up leaves and sticks as he sprinted into the trees. The smell of rain faded behind him as he ran, only to be carried back on the wind when it shifted and brought the sound of Johnny’s footfalls to his keen ears. Simon knew his way around the woods– they’d hunted each other enough times, and he’d been in the military long enough, that he could track and evade even the best predator. Most people wouldn’t be able to catch Ghost if he didn’t want to be caught.
Soap was the only exception.
The Scot was lighter on his feet than Simon was as a result of his smaller size, the added stealth helping him both avoid being caught and get closer to catching Ghost. With them both being clad in their black tactical gear, it was hard to see anything other than the vague shadow of their bodies in the dimness of the trees. Soap was relying on his other senses: he inhaled deeply through his nose as he ran, tuned his ears for the sound of breaking sticks, and tried to taste blood and tangy sweat on the air at every turn.
Even with his senses being on high alert, Soap’s brain was overwhelmed with stimuli as he chased down Ghost. Where he had a clear trail at first, he was chasing rabbits and chipmunks as he continued running, every breaking stick only a result of his own clumsy feet. He was beginning to get frustrated as he stopped in a small clearing and spun around, trying to force himself to calm down enough to catch any sign of his mate in the darkness.
A snap of a branch and the rustle of leaves several meters away drew his attention, putting him back into a defensive crouch as he prepared to potentially be tackled. When Johnny heard a muffled swear before heavy boots crashed in the opposite direction, he knew Simon hadn’t meant to be detected.
With a throaty snarl, Johnny darted off into the brush, not caring about the trees slashing at his face and drawing blood. The cuts would heal soon enough, likely within a few minutes with how hard his body was working right now. The faint sound of Simon’s footsteps faded away, only making Soap run harder to try and catch up. While the sergeant might be lighter on his feet, Ghost was faster– his legs were a mile long and he could easily outrun the other.
“Simon!” Soap barely recognized his own voice as he shouted for his mate. It was guttural and cracked, more animal than human. He couldn’t hear Ghost anymore, but he continued running toward the last place he’d heard the other alpha. If Simon outran him, he’d catch up eventually, or find another sign of where he went.
Before he could get to where he’d heard the crash of shrubbery, Johnny vaguely noticed a swishing noise approaching him rapidly before a sharp pain buried itself in the back of his thigh. He instantly fell to the ground with a yelp, twisting his torso to see what hit him.
A black-handled knife was buried in his hamstring, blood oozing out from around the wound as Simon ran at him.
Johnny barely registered the sight of his mate charging him as he pulled the blade from his flesh, the deep pain making him growl low in his throat. Before he could bring the knife up to his face in defense, Simon was on top of him, knees bracketing his hips as he attempted to pin his arms to the forest floor.
Every alpha instinct running through Soap’s body rose to the surface at the feeling of being pinned down. He fought the larger man astride him, punching and kicking until the arm holding the knife was freed once more. As soon as he had his hand free, Johnny slashed at his mate’s face with the blade that had sunk deep into his thigh, two shallow cuts crisscrossing the other alpha’s snarling visage.
Blood dripped onto Soap’s face as he fought. If he allowed himself, he could easily get lost in the smell and taste of Simon’s blood smearing across his cheek and into his mouth. It reminded him of the claim he’d bitten into Ghost’s neck, and the matching one permanently set into his own throat. Had he not been in rut, had his instincts not been so dead set on a fight, Soap would’ve surrendered right there to just lap at the cuts he’d left.
Despite the nearly overwhelming desire to let Simon stay over him just so he could keep dripping blood and drool onto his face, Soap bucked his hips hard, putting Ghost off balance before rolling them over. The tactic surprised the taller man just enough to make him freeze, allowing Soap to straddle him and bury the knife in his hood, anchoring him to the ground.
Both of his hands came to wrap around Simon’s throat, squeezing until the larger alpha began to cough, his palms pushing at Soap’s chest. Even though his breath was being cut off and Johnny could easily crush his windpipe with how rabid and feral he was, Ghost never tapped, never even whispered their safeword. Somehow, knowing his life was in Soap’s hands was just as intoxicating as the smell filling his nose– if he was going to die out here, he’d die a happy man.
In the moment before the lack of oxygen would force his mate to pass out, Soap let go. Ghost sucked in a desperate breath, both of his hands coming up reflexively to push Johnny away and attempt to run. Fully expecting the weak retaliation, the Scot grabbed his wrists in one hand and fished for his field cuffs with the other, zipping them tight enough to keep Ghost restrained. The lieutenant would be able to break out if he went fully into rut, but why would he even want to?
With his hands tied above his head, Ghost was unable to fight back as well as he had been with them free, but he was still no less deadly. He thrashed underneath Johnny as the sergeant leaned down to bite at his neck, not stopping his frantic movement until the other alpha bit down at his mating mark. Once his rut-sharpened teeth had sunk into the bond mark scarred into the site of his throat, Ghost went limp underneath his mate, a soft groan dying in his chest as he tilted his head to the side.
“That’s it, knew you’d be my bitch,” Johnny growled, voice barely sounding human through the too-sharp teeth dripping blood and spit from his jaw.
Simon couldn’t stop the instinctive snarl that bubbled in his throat at the words, the sound only growing louder as Soap got off of him and rolled him over. The second he was on his knees, the shorter alpha was releasing one side of the cuffs and relocking them behind his back, before pushing his arms up until his shoulders ached. He was trapped.
Before he had a chance to catalog where Johnny’s other hand was, Ghost shuddered at the feeling of cold steel brushing down his spine through his shirt, the sharp edge of his own knife teasing at his skin even through clothing. Like all of his other blades, it was sharp enough to cut through the fabric and into flesh easily– Simon knew that if his alpha wanted, he could flay the skin from his back without breaking a sweat.
The hitching breaths coming from Ghost only fueled Johnny’s possessive and nearly feral instincts, the knife he was holding trailing down over his mate’s belt and the line of his ass.
“Be still, Simon,” Johnny growled, the blade tracing down further between his thighs. “I’d hate to nick something precious.” With that, Ghost’s soft panting was drowned out by the sound of tearing fabric as Soap pressed the blade in, the black point easily rending the seam of his pants and boxers. In one careful but quick cut, the lieutenant’s hole was exposed, his cock still trapped by his cargos.
Before Soap could begin opening his partner up, Ghost kicked out the knee he was bracing his weight on, sending the sergeant sprawling. As soon as his weight was off balance, the lieutenant swung one of his legs around, catching Johnny’s hips and sending him crashing to the forest floor. When the shorter man sprung to a crouch in response, Simon slammed his head forward, the curve of his forehead meeting the bridge of Johnny’s nose with a sickening crack.
Soap fell back with a grunt for a split second, reaching for his nose reflexively before regaining his senses and snarling at Simon. He lunged forward, hands flexed into an imitation of claws as he grabbed a fistful of blond curls. With his handful of Ghost’s hair, he shoved him back into the leaves, the dropped knife being raised once more and pressed against his cheek.
“I said, be still,” Soap growled, blood dripping from his nose onto Ghost’s back.
He wrenched Ghost’s arms up once more, pushing his shoulders into an uncomfortable enough angle that the lieutenant was pinned with his face in the dirt. Simon still squirmed in his hold, his alpha instincts not letting him go down easy. Even with the larger man fighting his grasp, Soap leaned back and let the blood sliding down his nose fall onto where he’d cut Ghost’s pants.
Drop by drop, the red liquid slid down his crack and covered his hole, Simon flexing and twitching with every drip of heat on him. Pulling back slightly, Soap spat over his entrance as well, not giving Simon a chance to prepare before forcing one of his fingers in. They both needed the sting– any mild injuries would be healed before their coupling was over, but the pain reminded them they were alive. It made the hunt feel real, made it worth every second of the fight.
Simon hissed into the forest floor as Soap fingered him roughly, only giving him a moment to adjust to one finger before spitting again and pushing in a second. Once both fingers were in, he tilted his head down once more, letting the last dregs of the blood falling from his nose slide between where his fingers were scissored. The feeling of Soap’s thick, almost too-hot blood running directly into his hole had Ghost keening, his spine dipping in an attempt to move into the sensation.
“That’s it,” Soap growled, the noise too deep and rough to be truly human. “Knew you needed to be fucked like a bitch.”
Ghost snarled and tried to rear back at the words, but another twist of Soap’s fingers inside him had him writhing back against the ground. The shorter alpha pushed a third finger in, aiming all three directly for Simon’s sweet spot to keep him down permanently. Just as he hoped, the second his prostate was hit, Ghost’s spine was going lax, his arms relaxing in Soap’s hold as he went boneless on the sticks and leaves below him.
“You can’t even fight it, Simon,” Johnny sneered as he hooked his fingers into Ghost’s prostate one last time before pulling his hand back. He chuckled low in his throat when Simon didn’t move an inch, only sagged further toward the ground.
With the newfound assurance that Ghost would stay put, Johnny worked his own pants open, making sure Simon could hear his belt buckle open and his zip slowly drag down. As soon as his cock was fished out, Soap spat into his palm again, slicking his erection along with the pre that was already beginning to drip from the head.
He was fully in rut now, and everything in his body and mind was screaming at him to fuck. Simon was lying beneath him, ass in the air and face pressed to the ground, presenting like a good little omega. Nothing on heaven or earth could keep Soap’s dick from dripping as he stared down at his mate. He spat once more over Ghost’s ass before lining himself up, tapping the head of his cock at Simon’s stretched entrance just to feel him clench reflexively.
Before Ghost could even whine at the teasing, Johnny was pressing in, his pace slow but unyielding. His fingers hadn’t been enough, the combination of spit and blood wasn’t enough, but it was perfect. Simon groaned and arched his back at the stretch, his spine curving back toward Soap as he was slowly and thoroughly filled. The exquisite ache was sending shocks through his body, his fingers and toes curling as Soap pressed continually deeper.
Once Johnny was bottomed out fully, he only paused for a moment to adjust his grip on Simon’s hips before pulling out and driving back in. The sudden thrust forced a cracked groan out of the lieutenant’s chest, his face scraping against the forest floor harshly as Soap fucked forward. Pleased with the noise, Johnny pulled out and pushed in quickly again, letting Simon feel every inch of him the entire way. The roughness got him another little moan as Ghost turned his head to the other side, his cheek red and scuffed.
Already, the cuts were beginning to pale back to Ghost’s regular skin, his own rut starting to set in the longer he was around Soap. With the smell of sex and domination and alpha surrounding their tiny gap in the bushes, Simon couldn’t stop the rush of his own rut hormones clouding his mind. However, having already been pinned and opened up by his mate, his need to claim and breed was being overruled by the sheer need to fuck.
“Jo-Johnny, fuck,” he groaned out, voice muffled by how hard his face was pressed against the ground.
“That’s it, bitch. Knew you just needed to be fucked, huh? All that fight was just for show,” Soap snarled in response, leftover blood left caked on his lips mixing with his saliva and spitting over Simon’s back.
Ghost couldn’t do anything but nod and groan out another pathetic, wounded sound, his body making room for Johnny’s cock with every near-violent thrust. His mate was thick and long even when he wasn’t in rut– taking him fully was always a stretch; for Soap to be fucking him with too little prep in the middle of his cycle was the sweetest type of agony Simon could imagine. He grunted and whined with each rock of Johnny’s hips, the noises only spurring the shorter alpha on.
His hands were still restrained, fingers grasping at air while Soap grabbed at his wrists for leverage. They both knew Ghost wasn’t going anywhere; with how he was melting into the forest floor, not even caring about the rocks and leaf litter digging into his skin, he wasn’t even going to try to escape. Despite knowing full well that he had the upper hand, Johnny still held onto his arms. It was grounding for them both– a reminder they were there, they were still them under the barely-controlled rage.
“Johnny, please,” Ghost sobbed, not even really knowing what he was asking for. His face was scraped raw, small bits of gravel and bark digging into the wounds and making them sting. The burn spreading across his face and neck combined exquisitely with the one radiating up his spine, making him feel like fire was eating him from the inside out.
“Begging already, huh? I’ve barely started Simon,” Soap panted, the exertion of fucking his mate stealing his breath. Ghost was hot and tight and just the perfect side of wet, his own precum slicking the way before every slide. Put together with the leftover adrenaline of the fight and the throbbing in the back of his thigh, Johnny was nearly delirious with sensation.
Ghost just gasped and ground his face further into the dirt, needing to ground himself somehow. With how Johnny’s hands were positioned, he couldn’t quite hold onto him. Soap was hanging onto his wrists, but the field cuffs were making it so his fingertips could only just brush the side of his mate’s hand. He whimpered out another vague plea, hands flexing once more in an effort to grab for Soap.
As soon as he saw Simon’s efforts, Soap slid his hand down from where it was gripping the taller alpha’s wrists and grasped one of his hands fully, letting him curl his fingers around the back of Johnny’s palm.
“I got you, Si, fuck, you’re so good for me,” the sergeant growled, voice rough from exertion and lust.
“Johnny…” Ghost stuttered out, no other thoughts running through him other than the primal and innate need for his mate.
“Hush, baby, you’re alright,” Soap cooed, resuming his quick pace as he clung to Simon’s hand. His voice was softer, but his body was as harsh and unyielding as ever with every movement. The taller alpha’s mouth was dropped open, no effort being made to muffle the noises spilling freely out. Every one of Johnny’s thrusts sent a groan or whine from Ghost, the sounds getting increasingly broken and wet the longer he was fucked.
Soap looked down at how absolutely wrecked Simon was, tears beginning to fall unbidden from his eyes and roll onto the dirt. The desperation and complete surrender sent him hurtling toward his orgasm quicker than he intended. He could feel his knot beginning to swell, his throbbing cock starting to catch on Simon’s rim every time he fucked in. The additional stretch had his mate writhing in place, his spine arching and trembling as he attempted to rock back into the sensation.
“I feel you trying, baby, you need it bad? Need me to fill you up?” Soap panted over Ghost’s back. The hand that wasn’t holding his hand came to support his weight next to Simon’s head, allowing him to bend low over his back.
“Joh-please,” Ghost gasped, instinctively leaning closer to Soap’s face as soon as he leaned down.
“Just need to be bred,” Johnny continued, “need to take everything you’re given like a good little omega?” He buried a kiss into the skin of Ghost’s neck where his shirt was straining, the taller alpha groaning and tilting his head to give him more room.
“Yes, yes- fuck, I’ll kill you if you don’t–” Ghost snarled, one final bout of aggression coming over him as a wave of rut slammed into him. The little bit of fight he lashed out with was quenched the second Johnny bit down on his neck, his teeth piercing the flesh of his mating mark.
Simon howled, his orgasm crashing over him as he felt his own blood soak the blood of his shirt. Soap held on, his teeth burrowing deeper into the soft skin of Ghost’s neck while he pistoned his hips, panting and growling at the clenching of Simon’s body around him. He could vaguely hear the wet sound of cum hitting the leaves below their bodies in thick torrents, Simon’s climax spraying across the ground heavily.
As his mate spasmed and heaved around him, Soap couldn’t stop his own climax from hitting. He had everything he needed to satisfy his rut– a willing mate, a perfect fuck, and the deep-seated satisfaction of knowing he earned it. He clenched his teeth down once again as he pushed his hips forward for a final time, his knot inflating fully and catching on the still-twitching rim of Simon’s ass.
Both of them groaned in tandem as Soap began filling Ghost like he wanted, ropes of cum painting his insides white in hot streaks. His knot ground against Simon’s sweet spot slowly with every pulse, only sending more shivers up the taller alpha’s spine as his own aftershocks hit him.
Soap relaxed his jaw, letting his teeth slip out of the tender flesh of Ghost’s mating mark. Blood dripped slowly onto the ground, the metallic smell mixing with both of their scents and marking the area as theirs. Simon sighed tiredly, flexing his back slightly under Soap’s body weight until the shorter man slid them onto their sides.
The occasional spark of post-orgasm pleasure shot through them both as they relaxed, but their heartbeats began to slow, and Soap slowly began to be able to think clearly again. Instead of possessive and unrestrained bites, he laved tender and loving kisses to the back of Simon’s neck, humming every time his mate shivered.
“You all good, Si?” he cooed, nuzzling his nose into Ghost’s sweaty curls.
“Mmhmm,” he droned. “Face is sore though.”
“Your face?” Soap raised his head to check over the scrapes on Ghost’s face before lying back down, chuckling slightly to himself at how shallow they were. “They’re already half-healed, love. Surprised you even feel them.”
“Still hurt,” Ghost grumped, trying to curl back into Johnny anyway.
“I am very sorry about your pretty face,” Soap mumbled, punctuating ‘very sorry’ with two kisses to Simon’s cheek. Before Ghost could respond, the sergeant got comfortable behind him again and huffed a tiny protest at the movement.
“Now my fuckin’ thigh,” he continued. “If that muscle is torn, Price’ll kill us.”
“Mm, doubt it is from how hard you fucked me,” Ghost murmured, bringing one of his arms up to use as a pillow.
Soap huffed a short laugh at the comment and slung an arm around his mate's waist. Before long, his knot would be down and they’d have just enough time to get back to base before the next wave of his rut hit. The first one was always the worst– now that it was over, he and Simon would actually be able to use their brains.
For now, the pair of them were comfortable enough on a bed of leaf litter and twigs, the quiet noise of the forest resuming now that they’d quieted down. Disregarding how they got there, it was a good way to end the night.