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Twist	By : LisbetAdair Category: +A through F > Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Views: 3305 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Roach's lips pushed against his mouth with a tender, barely perceptible pressure, but it still sent an electric, gut-wrenching shock crackling over his skin. Every idle daydream for the last two weeks had been built around this moment, but the shock of it overwhelmed him. As Roach took Ghost's lip between his own, sucking gently, he froze.
Sensing his fear, Roach softly withdrew to nuzzle at Ghost's cheek. He started to kiss the side of his mouth, working his way up the jawline, his long, delicate eyelashes fluttering against Ghost's rough stubble until he couldn't take it anymore. He twisted his face, responding hungrily, wrenching his arm free from Roach's grasp to press his face closer to his own, kissing him hard with all his pent-up, raging passion.
Roach rolled, allowing Ghost to take more control. They lay side-by-side with their legs entwined, erections straining under their clothes. Ghost gasped as Roach clawed his fingertips down across his shirt, running his nails along Ghost’s ribs. He fumbled at the waist, tugging his shirt free and smoothly sliding his hand beneath the fabric.
At the touch of Roach's fingers on his bare skin, the world suddenly twisted back into sharp, sober focus. Through the fog of the wine, an image of himself snapped into his mind: lying on the floor of the living room, with another man’s tongue in his mouth.
“We can’t” He pushed away from Roach “Stop.”
Roach lay back, resting on his elbows and looked at Ghost thoughtfully.
“What the fuck are we doing?” Ghost snapped, panicked. “Fuck! FUCK! It’ll fuck up everything!” He pushed himself up, stumbling as he tried desperately to get away.
“Ghost!”
He heard Roach's voice from behind him as he staggered to his feet, but he didn't look back.

In his room, Ghost sat on his narrow bunk, his head in his hands, and his thoughts whirling.
“Fuck!” He said it aloud. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He stood up and paced, like a caged wolf. “Fuck! Shit! Fuck!”
He looped his fingers into his hair and pulled down, pressing his fists into his temples. All his life he had kept secrets, and never once slipped up. Until today... A treacherous voice wheedled inside his head. Had Roach guessed? Had he slipped up and been seen? Had someone else guessed, and sent Roach, agent provocateur, to expose the flaming queen of the 141, Sergeant Simon Riley? The last part didn’t bear thinking about.
“Fuck!”
He slumped down on the bed again, his head throbbing. Christ’s cock and balls! Wine, for fuck's sake!
He reached down under the bed and pulled a quarter bottle of vodka from its hiding place jammed between the slats of the bed and the mattress. It burnt his throat as he slugged it back, but he wanted to forget everything that had happened. Fuck...
All his life, Ghost had been careful to keep his work and his sexuality as far apart as possible. Careful, and with simple needs, for years he practised self-restraint: confining himself to a few days in distant cities with the flimsy excuse of the bike and the need for the open road. He cruised in the sleaziest clubs he could find, where he could be assured of a quick fuck and no conversation. And tonight, he’d let himself be seduced.

Ghost bit his lip. He’d not know the word ‘seduced’ was in his own vocabulary. Fuck... He shivered. Seduced… He had barely said ten words to the man since his arrival and he had gone out of his way to make his vague dislike obvious. Was that it? He asked himself Was this Roach’s way of trying to get to him? Yet he’d felt Roach’s erection, mirroring his own. You couldn’t fake that, could you?
“Fuck!” Ghost spat. He wanted Roach, but he couldn’t have him. And... did Roach want him?
Seduced. It scared him, but it aroused him too.
The soft stroke of his lips upon his own. His tongue darting into Ghost’s mouth. Ghost thought about Roach’s hands on his body. He couldn’t stop himself imaging the slender, gentle fingers riding up his back and clawing down. Moments ago, he had pulled away from this very situation, but he was already replaying it in his mind. It must be the wine. Must be the wine that was making him like this... Thoughts of Roach kept intruding, more and more impossible to ignore, and more and more enticing.
Fantasy Roach was kissing Ghost’s neck now and working his way down. Ghost pulled off his shirt and lay down on top of the covers. He knew that it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. A tidal wave of desire had broken when Roach kissed him, and there was no holding it back. He stroked his hands over his own collarbone, imagining Roach’s lips tracing the same path. He circled his fingers across his right nipple and imagined Roach’s tongue lapping across it. He sighed. Sensible Simon inside told him this was wrong, told him to shake the thoughts out and get up, but Ghost was aroused now, and didn’t want to stop.
In his dream, Roach smiled as he carefully unbuckled Ghost’s trousers, and used his teeth to pull down the zip of the jeans. Ghost’s hands mirrored the fantasy, and he freed his tense erection. Every heartbeat pulsed between his legs, unbearably throbbing beneath the skin of his cock. Roach would take the waistband of the jeans and pull them down forcefully, taking the shorts underneath with them. Roach would take Ghost’s cock in his hand and start to play with it, building up a regular stroke. Ghost moaned quietly. And he would wait until Ghost was ready, and without skipping a beat would take him in his mouth. Ghost’s free hand clutched at the sheets. He would suck gently, and firmly. He would wrap his tongue around the head and play with the tip, flicking the point of his tongue around the edge of the tight foreskin and... and... and...
Ghost felt the climax building rapidly, the tension peaking and he came, biting his tongue to keep from screaming.
Fuck...

Ghost woke up. In the pitch black he fumbled and hit the alarm clock, which informed him in a robotic impression of an American accent that it was two-thirty-five-am.
Slowly and carefully he sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and straining to see in the dark. Everything from earlier in the evening seemed like a distant nightmare, howling on the edge of his memory. He tried not to think about it and focused on the immediate problem: he felt like shit.
In the showers, he turned the stream up to the highest, hottest setting that he could handle. The red hot needles of water stung his skin in an act of self-flagellation for the evenings transgressions. He stood, stock still, the shower beating down upon his back until it hurt. When he could stand it no longer, he turned it down and started to think.

There was no way to turn back time, he had kissed Roach, and he had enjoyed it. And, what the hell was wrong with him, he had then wanked himself off to the memory. Fucking hell, Simon! he thought. Already the heady pleasure of climax had faded, leaving a sour taste and a throbbing headache. Tomorrow, Roach would still be here, and there would be no way of getting rid of him. MacTavish had already made it abundantly clear that Roach was part of the team, regardless of Ghost’s feelings on the matter. Roach was a more than competent soldier and an amiable character, whereas Ghost kept himself as far away from intimacy as possible. He was uneasy now: Roach had the leverage to make Ghost’s life difficult, and it was a trap of Ghost’s own making.

A tight knot had slowly been developing in his stomach as he thought this through, looping through the thumping hangover that was building up, and suddenly there was rising tide of nausea. He retched. Sprinting across the bathroom, he made it into the stalls just in time to vomit.

The spasms of his gut were painful enough to bring tears to his eyes and then the emotional rollercoaster of the last twelve hours hit him with the force of a punch to the chest. All his feelings, all balled up together in one massive, overwhelming flood. Shit. He slumped over to rest with his back against the melamine partition between the stalls and curled up, ashamed at himself. He clenched his hands into fists and jammed them against his, fighting for self-control.

In the living room, the television was still on, but tuned to an empty channel, and casting a deep blue glow over the room. His heart leapt when he saw Roach, stretched out on the couch. He stopped to listen to the sounds of breathing, ensuring that Roach was asleep before he cautiously crept further into the room. Roach was lying on his side, his head resting on a cushion he had wedged on the armrest. There was no trace of the earlier struggle. Even with his face part in shadow, Roach was still handsome and his vulnerability as he slept tugged feelings Ghost had been trying to spend the last fifteen minutes suppressing back into the spotlight. Fucking hell, Simon. What the hell are you going to do? he thought

“If you keep staring at me in the dark, I’m going to file you under ‘creepy weirdo’.”
Roach opened his eyes and rolled over onto his back, pulling up one leg in a relaxed fashion and letting it rest against the back of the couch.
Ghost remained frozen. Should he leave? What could he say?
“It’s not getting less creepy, by the way.” said Roach
Ghost shook himself “I just wanted some water” he said and turned back into the kitchen. Trembling, he filled a glass from the tap. The cool air raised gooseflesh over his exposed skin. You’re wearing a fucking towel! he thought. Get out of here! He took a deep breath and turned around. Roach was standing in the space between the kitchen and the lounge, his face in shadow. Ghost waited to see what he would do.

“I’m not stupid.” said Roach “And I’m not blind. It’s really fucking hard not to notice someone’s cock when it’s like a flagpole in front of your face.”
Oh fuck. Thought Ghost. The gym! He did notice. And then he remembered the grunting and The Face.
“You bastard!” Ghost snapped “You did that on purpose!”
“Come on. You’d been making eyes at me since I got here!”
“I have not!”
“Pretending to study and sneaking a glance when you think no one’s looking. Checking me out in the gym mirrors.” Roach sneered.
In the darkness, Ghost flushed with embarrassment. Retrospectively, it sounded ridiculous. He had behaved like a desperate teenager. His face burned. He tried to think of something to say.
“I’m not afraid!” snapped Roach “And I’m not ashamed of what I want and who I am.”
“Well that’s great!” shouted Ghost “In case you hadn’t noticed, we are in the Army! It’s not a... a... gay parade! If anyone finds out, and reports it back to Shepard, I’ll be binned. And I am not going to let that happen. Do you have any idea what it’s been like to hide away all this time? Any idea how fucking difficult it’s been not to be found out?” He spat the last sentence with venom. “Everyone fucking loves you! You’ve not even been here two minutes and you’re everyone’s fucking best mate!”
Roach cocked his head to one side, as if mulling this statement over. Then he gave a derisive snort. “If someone finds out we’re fucking, we’re both, for lack of a better phrase: fucked. Regardless of how people feel about me.”
The original continuing rant died in Ghost’s throat. What? “But.... we’re not... we’ve not been... fucking.”
“Not yet we’ve not.” Roach said, in a matter-of-fact voice that could have contained an inane observation on the weather. “We can stop this, and never speak of it again, but you know that won’t work. If you can’t keep it together now, it’ll never work. You’ll just keep feeling miserable until you make a mistake and screw us both over.” Roach’s voice was quiet now, persuasive and calm. “Don’t think it’s not difficult for me to hide, and don’t think just because I can get along means that it’s easy for me, because it’s not. You think you’re the only person who can’t be who they want to be? Do you think no one else made fucking sacrifices? I’m looking over my shoulder every fucking second I take off my kit and head out with the guys, terrified I’m going to slip up.” He dropped his voice to just above a whisper “Why do we have to live like that? Don’t we deserve some pleasure for ourselves?”
As Roach spoke, he moved closed to Ghost. The dim light filtering through the blind revealed his face, open and honest. Ghost looked away and closed his eyes. He concentrated on his breathing, on the fact that this couldn’t be happening. He could hear Roach breathing, standing so close that Ghost could’ve reached out to touch him. He wanted to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. Every hair on his body was standing up, every muscle poised to flee and the knot in his stomach grew tighter with every passing second. He could feel Roach’s breath on his chest and he started to shiver. Between his legs, the fine muscles of his balls tightened in anticipation. When Roach laid his fingers gently on Ghost’s chest he let out a gasp, his gut clenching. Roach’s breath was on his face, he was standing so close that his erection brushed against Ghost’s leg as he reached up to take Ghost’s face with his hand and turn it towards him.
“Decision time”
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