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The moments that Ghost cherishes most with Soap are surprisingly not the more carnal ones — like when he has the Scot all soft and pliant beneath him, begging for his cock already — nor the more tactical ones in field — like when he watches Johnny’s six through the eye of his scope as he makes quick work of their target using one of his knives — but rather the more intimate moments that follow after he’s made Soap cry out his name until his voice is hoarse as he spasms beneath him.
The intimate moments when Soap is all loose-limbed and breathless, his too-long mohawk tickling the tip of Ghost’s nose as the smaller man presses a stubbled cheek to his chest and lets out a hum of contentment. The intimate moments when all that’s heard in the room is the sound of Soap’s labored breathing that eventually turns into light snores. The intimate moments when he feels human again and he’s Simon Riley — not Ghost — and Johnny’s hand is loosely intertwined with his.