+18 and up only. Here's the AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soft_Potato/pseuds/Soft_Potato If you're a minor I will fucking block your ass. Dis blog be for my latest obsessions.
Just saw your post about Period!ghostsoap and Canon!ghostsoap meeting and was wondering if we could maybe have a one-shot/Drabble about how that meeting would go and what they think of the other individual+ghostsoap relationship.
Up to you, no pressure!
Hello!! I'm... too embarrassed to write something like this... but here’s them just fraternizing I hope it suffices
STILL not the drabble you wanted but due to very mild demand for elaboration and bc I can't draw rn, here's a bit more of this and this stupid scenario where the two Ghosts swap universes….:
—
"It's not him."
Price eyes him suspiciously across the desk, as if Soap is trying to con him out of the precious time in his day, "He's not himself?"
"He is himself, just different." Soap licks his lip, leaning forward on his knees, deathly serious. Tries to word it out: "He feels- rich."
"Right," Price squints, not getting it.
"He's, slower. More leisurely," Soap explains, "Talks different, barely slurs any words. Doesn't slouch, y'know where he bends his neck-"
Price raises a hand to stop him, not interested, "I think you've made him angry, Soap. You should talk it out-"
Soap feels indignance rise in him like bile, "Price, I haven't done this." For once he is not the anomaly in Ghost's life, hasn't fucked it up, he swears down, "He got up at 11AM this morning wearing a dress shirt, had a lamb in his bed."
Price gives a blank stare, pitying. Soap snaps shut his mouth, realizing how it sounds, "A literal baby sheep-"
"Don't have time for your lovers' quarrel, Soap," Price admonishes, stands as a sign for Soap to leave him and to leave him out of this. "Come see me when you've filled your reports."
"Christ, it's not-" Soap hisses, gets up too, itchy with the injustice. He snipes back, following Price to the door, "This is your problem too y'kno - your best man on the ground doesn't know his WPs from his wooly-pullys overnight-"
"If you're worried about him send him to medical," Price suggests, like that's possible, "Until I get a diagnosis from someone who's not fucking him on the regular, it's not my problem."
Soap throws up his arms, honestly a little hurt by the callousness; it wasn't fucking, they were making love. "That's very nice, captain - bleeding heart you are-"
"I said scram."
Soap sighs so loud it rattles the windows, scrams.
The truth is that it was serious, Price's indifference notwithstanding - this sudden change in Ghost's behavior was unprecedented, groundbreaking. You couldn't make that man change his shampoo on pain of death.
Then suddenly over the course of one night he was walking around, play-acting as an old-timey gentleman, or something. Besides that he was being uncharacteristically affectionate with Soap, even clingy - wanting him around all the time, demanding he stay home from his work. Ghost was being cute, of all things, which unsettled Soap as much as it compelled him.
Soap stands in front of the door of his Lt's quarters, decides that this man was not the Ghost he knew — despite looking identical to him — but an impostor.
"Are you back, then."
Soap has entered the room expecting him to be out, maybe roleplaying somewhere - finds him sitting at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking exactly like a house pet who's been left alone for too long.
Soap hesitates at the doorway, can't help but feel a pang of guilt having left behind this- oddly helpless version of Ghost to fend for his own. His now-bare face too smooth, too clean, his hair too tousled and soft-looking compared to the short, ragged spikes of its usual state - for him to fit in very well here on the base, with the rough.
"Yes, I'm back," Soap says, proceeding carefully. He toes off his shoes, pulling his body glove out of his belt, over his head. He eyes Ghost a little warily, who reddens along the edges at the show of skin, like he's never seen a man shirtless before.
He looks a bit more disheveled than when Soap left him that morning, shirt open to the chest and eyes drawn in like he's been nervous. Soap nudges an elbow at him vaguely, "and you're still..."
"Are you going to be more amenable now?" Ghost asks, blushing and petulant - which is unbelievable on countless levels.
"When was I-" Soap gusts out a breath, cuts his eyes to the ceiling, bloody hell. He changes course, before he loses his fucking mind at everyone on this wretched earth pointing fingers at HIM for this madness. Rubs his face, pushes a hand through his hair, "Were ye waiting here this whole time? Did you eat at least?"
Ghost shrugs haplessly, almost childish - it stuns Soap to stillness more than anything else from this upside-down day - "Where would I go, we have to figure this out."
Soap blinks himself out of it. He can't get mired in this... facade, this punishment - or whatever it is Ghost's doing to him.
"WE don't hafta figure anything out, Lt. You just gotta stop fucking with me," Soap grits, unwrapping and throwing his brace on the chair. He kneels properly while he's down there, scans under the desk, "Where's the lamb? (whistle) C'mere lass-"
"Why won't you look at me."
Soap nearly hits his head as he jerks up, "What?"
"Are you done with me?" Ghost's fist clenches in his periphery, then loosens with dejection, "You left earlier without even a glance back."
"No," Soap swallows, denial bright in his mind — he's not done with Ghost, Soap has barely even started with Ghost. Ghost is just, confusing him, which he's never done before.
Ghost's palm opens revealing nail marks, flesh otherwise unmarred and fair. He looks frustrated but also willingly laid open, vulnerable to attack — It's a look rarely seen on his Lt, who usually pushes his soft parts so deep within the castle there's no need to guard the gate. "Do you not want this anymore? Should I stop touching you?"
It lands like a brick in Soap's chest, and he's up on his feet quick, "No, Ghost," Soap chokes, scrambling for ground. "You're just, not what I'm used to."
"Why d'you call me that," Ghost grimaces, like Soap's the insane one, "feel like a spooked horse."
"It's your bloody name," Soap insists, widening eyes, like he's trying to jog Ghost's memory — as if it wasn't near-perfect already. As if the very fact of Ghost's callsign wasn't a foundational part of who he was. "The other you never complained-"
"There's no 'other' me," Ghost huffs, stepping close, leaning in like a dream. He reaches out to touch Soap's head, pushing at the crease between his brows with his thumb. He slides his fingers up to his widow's peak, through Soap's mohawk, caressing, "No 'other' you. We just need to get home."
Soap clears his throat, a false start, kind of overwhelmed. His eyes feel too big for his surely overheating face, as he looks up at this man so sure of what Soap means to him. A man who is definitely not his Ghost, but also is fundamentally, on an atomic level, still Ghost. "Where's home?"
Ghost grins then, boyish, slipping his hand down Soap's neck to rest on the side of his throat. "That's a fair point. Could be here," he shrugs, looking around appraisingly at the barren room like it's some grand mansion.
Soap loses breath for a half second, stutters it out through a rough pipe. He shakes Ghost off, a ridiculous man, nudges past him to get to the wardrobe, "You're off your head."
Ghost chuckles, following behind like a sheep to shepherd, "There you are, Johnny."
Soap later lies in bed, Ghost's face cradled in his chest, thinks it through properly: So what if Ghost has lost his mind — in the "wrong" way, in another way than the rest of them — and can't fight anymore? Was it so terrible? What if he were to just live, lay about in this springy cot all day, waiting for Soap to get home like some civilian spouse? Would Price allow it? Could Soap?
He is pulled into sleep like that, thoughts wild with possibilities, Ghost's breath warm and steady at his collar.
—
Ghost knows immediately that it is not his Soap.
It perhaps helps that he is the one transported, eyes falling open at the usual 5:58AM in an unusually soft bed, reaching over to turn off his alarm, only to find an ancient Webley and a rusty knife where his clock should be.
He has a valet here, a butler, and at least four maids he's seen - all of whom ran off terrified when they saw him walking about, casing the many floors of what is apparently his house. He thinks it may have been his mask which caused the distress, which he refused to take off to replace with his 'normal one', as his valet begged.
He ends up back at what seems to be his own office when Soap finds him.
"Sir?" and Ghost's spine warms only to quickly chill, both with familiarity and an unsettling difference. "May I enter?"
"Since when do you ask," Ghost says, turning slightly from observing a massive portrait of his teenage brother on the wall, who's sat demurely, obedient, in a three piece suit.
Soap looks lost at this remark, glancing at the corner, tapping a finger on the door jamb - the first visible sign that this Soap wasn't his, who never gets lost. "I heard talk downstairs saying you were not yourself."
Ghost nods him close and Soap shuts the door behind him, approaches with caution - though his voice has gone softer now, more knowing, "Is something wrong? What's with this mask? This.. jumper."
Ghost turns fully to take him in: Soap in all ways but the most critical — an easiness with which he'd handle Ghost in this situation, replaced with a more tentative hand, as if he was made of something fragile, brittle.
It is damning, this difference, but Ghost must admit he likes to see Johnny’s buzz all grown-out. "How am I usually?"
"Well you don't wear this, for one," Soap gestures pointedly at Ghost’s outfit, flapping the leather gloves in his hand - though even this strange version of him can't pass a chance to chat Ghost up, an impish grin filling half his face, "It's a good look though, sir."
Ghost tilts his head at the word, already done with this invisible line on the ground, "Who are you to me, here?"
Soap glances around, thinking Ghost means this room, and not here - another period in time. He looks suddenly uncertain of everything, eyes darting down and hands twisting leather, a rare look on him — Ghost would quite like it off his face.
"I'm, I. I don't know," Soap sighs, almost frustrated, glares a little at Ghost like he's not liking this game very much. "I like to think, that I'm not just your employee here, but something else."
"Employee? You work for me?"
Soap frowns then, really worried now, as if the skull mask wasn't flag enough, "…Yes- Do you feel ill, Simon?"
Ghost hums, "No. But i'm not your Simon. Come here,"
Ghost sits Soap down across him on the settee and explains what happened. How he woke up this morning more than a century before his own. How he knows nothing of this place, this house, his relationship to this Soap - though he'd guess that it wasn't too different to the one with his own.
"D'ye-" Soap starts, a little eager, "Are you with him? Then?"
Ghost takes a beat to process the fact that Soap believed his story far too readily, "Yes. We fuck, if that's what you're asking."
"Oh," Soap nods, growing gradually pink. And oh, Ghost could get used to that. "You just- fuck? Nothing more?"
"There's more. I fuck him, he fucks me- I suck him off, he rims me out," At Soap's aghast look Ghost kindly demonstrates, making a hole with his thumb and forefinger, "That's where you lick-"
"Jesus, Simon-" Soap cuts him off, head hanging in embarrassment and definitely something else. His hand is a claw as it drags up his own dampening nape, "That's enough."
Ghost drops his hand, is fascinated by the heated curl of this Soap's back, how his thin tanktop stretches as his breaths come quick and quicker still. "Never done it before, have you. You an innocent here, Johnny?"
"Not an innocent," Soap promises the floor, laughing a little ruefully, "certainly not more than the other you."
"Then you better show him a thing or two," Ghost says, keeping his voice gruff and casual while his eyes scan Soap for reaction like a hawk — rewarded swiftly with a full-body shudder, "..you're missing out."
Soap is near-panting when he looks up, eyes an electric blue, "Maybe ye show me what we're missing"
Ghost is taken aback, if he's honest, at the readiness of this Soap to come on to what, he imagines, is a very foreign version of his own lover. There was no vigilance to this Soap, no defenses.
"Maybe," Ghost says, watches as Soap immediately takes a knee, puts his hand around Ghost's ankle like he's been waiting on the word for centuries.
Ghost opens his legs for Soap to crouch between, presses the back of his foot against Soap's rear, feels the heated weight - "Same where it counts, it seems,"
And of course this Soap wouldn't take that kind of talk, either,
His next move is basically an attack — breath a growl — as he seats himself across Ghost's hips, buries his mouth in the sliver of skin between Ghost's jacket and mask. Warm lips and expert tongue finding Ghost's pulse point with ease, this at least seeming to be well-treaded ground.
Ghost allows it for a minute, or a dozen — Soap necking him, pushing his mask up to mark him behind his ear, while rubbing off on his thigh. His voice gone raspy with confused desire and a hunger for new touch, groaning low with every friction — Ghost getting off on it too, despite this Soap feeling very different in his arms, more desperate and less sure. Less knowing.
Ghost comes to with his hands buried deep beneath Soap's top, roaming and clutching at his ribs to keep him still as Soap fights to effectively consume him whole. They've both turned on from nothing to eleven real fast, teenage in speed, and something in Ghost wants them to slow down, reassess. He is taken after all, in his own timeline, and they are strangers of a sort here. All of these differences he's finding must mean something.
Ghost must use all his strength to nudge Soap back so that he can pull off his mask fully - as a reminder to both of them that there's something under there, and it may be unexpected.
Soap makes a caught noise at the revealed sight, like he's torn between worry and something else. Ghost expects another kind of surprise — maybe he looks different here, or he's less cut up — "Why've ye got grease all over your pretty face?"
"'Pretty'?" Ghost smirks, the scar on his lip pulling.
His mind blanks, then, blissfully, to make room to hold only this vision, of Soap, Soap, Soap - sitting atop him in every possible universe, his rightful seat.
"Does that usually work on me?"
"Aye," Soap grins back, flushed and quite a looker himself, leans down to kiss him all-teeth, "Always."
Hey there! I discovered you on AO3 and I couldn't find you on bsky or twt so I made a tumblr account just to say, wow you draw just like how you write!!! Your ghostsoap First Time comic on AO3 felt really realistic too and made me wonder, when and how do you think ghostsoap would say that they love each other for the first time?
💀💀💀💀❤️❤️❤️ thank you @lazyelegant... and I'm sorry you're here..
I am... in the cringe school of they never NEED to say it out loud/they're ALWAYS saying it with every thought breath and action - but here's Ghost saying it, and here's Soap:
Captain John Price x fem!reader x Commander Phillip Graves
["With the Lights Out" boxset by Nirvana]
[18+]
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
• summary - price and graves don't have anything in common. except, of course, their attraction to you lol.
• rating - 18+
• wordcount - 4.3k
• warnings - fem!reader, all porn literally zero plot, this is nasty guys fr, threesome, reader goes to paris, possessive!price, possessive!graves, oral [f!&m!receiving], fingering, unprotected piv, cumplay idk, double penetration [2 in 1 *wink wink*], creampies, a competitive breeding kink from both men lmao, price has a sir kink, graves has a corruption kink, both men are whipped, praise, degradation, strong language, their last names are used because i find it hot ok? don't judge me 😭
i'm going to hell
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
Price and Graves had virtually nothing in common. They butted heads on the scale of authority, and both had very different ideas on how to run successful missions.
But there was one thing they agreed on.
You.
And for some reason, by the grace of the universe, they ended up agreeing on that one thing very well.
One moment, you were in your bedroom, both your captain and commander entering to talk you through certain topics they said had been playing on their minds as of late. It turns out that those certain topics involved you being shared by both of them.
Completely naked, you lay on your bed with a thin sheen of sweat across your skin. Your upper body was propped up against Price's lap, who had one hand groping your breasts, twisting your nipples between his calloused fingers. His other hand cupped your jaw, his forefinger and middle finger in your mouth. Saliva dribbled from the corners, down your chin in glistening streams, as Price's fingers pressed down against your tongue. You murmured moans around his digits while your legs twitched, hiked over Graves' shoulders.
Graves was between your legs, two hands gripping the fat of your thighs, kneading the flesh as his tongue worked in and out of your sopping cunt. He grunted with each thrust of his tongue, his nose bumping against your puffy clit, the vibrations of his grunting making your legs tremble more.
Price shushed you gently. He was still in his boxers, but you could feel the outline of his hardened cock against your upper back. You arched your back at the feeling, and he squeezed at your tits harder, making you mewl around his fingers.
The reason Price had his fingers in your mouth was so that Graves couldn't hear how good he was making you feel. Jealously stirred inside his chest when you moaned loudly when the commander sucked your clit, his tongue between your folds making you babble his name so beautifully. Price used his position to his advantage and gagged you with his fingers, continuing to grope at your pretty tits.
That didn't deter Graves though– who continued lapping at your wet cunt, maintaining as much eye contact as he could. He held your gaze as he fucked his tongue in and out, dragging your orgasm closer and closer. You whined around Price's fingers, hips bucking, nudging Graves' face further into you. Graves moaned, the vibrations sending you over the edge.
You came, eyes rolling back in your head, thighs clamping around Graves' head. He licked you through it, tongue not leaving you until you were whimpering, thighs trembling in his hold. Price praised you gently, rubbing the mounds of your breasts gently as Graves pulled his face away from you.
The American, face glistening with your arousal, locked eyes with Price and licked his lips, a triumphant smirk on his face. Price grunted, removing his fingers from your mouth, before leaning over and kissing you.
You whimpered into the kiss as Price shoved his tongue past the seam of your lips, coaxing more and more little noises from your throat. He held your face to his, angling it so Graves could get a good look. Price opened his eyes, looking to the side and directly at Graves as he smoothed his tongue against yours, drawing more light moans from you.
"That's how you want to do it, huh?" Graves grunted at Price, gently removing your legs from his shoulders.
He rubbed his hands up and down your legs, massaging the muscles of your calves and thighs, then moving up to squeeze the flesh of your arse. You hummed contentedly into Price's mouth at the feeling of Graves' hands on you, pushing and pulling at your warm skin.
"S'that feel good, baby?" Graves asked, his hands beneath the curve of your arse, gripping the backs of your thighs. He leaned forward to press kisses to your tummy, sucking at the soft skin just below your navel.
Graves watched you try to pull out of the kiss to reply, but Price grumbled low in his throat, holding your jaw tightly and sliding your mouth back to his. You moaned into the kiss, but it was muffled, and Graves couldn't help but grow annoyed.
He sat back on his heels as Price kissed you, kneaded your breasts– that, for the record, were covered in Graves' spit from about ten minutes earlier. The American slowly spread your legs once more, moaning under his breath at the sight of your glistening cunt, all pretty and puffy after he'd made you come in his mouth. He licked his lips, still tasting you.
Graves pulled his boxers down, managing to kick them away while still kneeling on the bed. He gripped his hard cock, the tip red and beading with pre-cum. He hissed lowly, pumping himself, more pre-cum dribbling from his slit and down his length. He was so fucking hard it almost hurt.
Gently, he crawled back between your legs as you and Price made out. He had to admit, it was a pretty sight, but it'd be a whole lot prettier if he could just hear you.
So, of course, he had a plan.
Graves gripped his cock and guided the head to your cunt. He dragged the tip up through your slick folds, tapping it against your clit and smearing his pre over it.
His plan worked– you ripped yourself away from Price's eager mouth and moaned loudly, followed by whimpered mewls of Graves as the commander continued to rub his cock up and down your folds. Price tried to chase your mouth again, but you turned your head so you could watch Graves rut himself against your core.
"You're so wet, aren't you, baby? Yeah? You feel that?" Graves asked with a coy smile, circling the head of his cock against your swollen clit. Wet sounds elicited from your core, and it made you whimper out for him again. He hummed, pleased, dragging his cock down to press the head to your hole, circling that as well. You moaned, and Price had had enough of that.
"And who said you get to fuck her first, eh?" He challenged, threading his arms beneath your armpits and hoisting you further up the bed. You gasped out as he pulled you against him until you were sitting in his lap.
Graves grit his teeth, the warmth of your cunt literally dragged away from him. His cock, still fisted in his hand, glistened wet with your arousal. The sight made you wriggle in Price's lap, grinding his own erection against your arse. He hissed, dipping his head to attach his lips to your shoulder.
"I think the pretty girl can decide that for herself, can't she?" Graves quipped, and began moving up the bed again. He closed in on you where you sat all pretty and desperate in Price's lap. "Can't you, baby?" He whispered, then kissed you gently, lips moving slowly against yours. You could taste yourself when the tip of his tongue swiped along your lips.
You nodded carefully as Graves' kissed your mouth and Price kissed along the curve of your bare shoulder. Graves pulled back, eyes taking in every inch of your face.
"I want both." You whined out as Price sucked at the hot skin beneath your ear. He chuckled, and so did Graves, who leaned back towards you to brush his lips against yours, featherlight.
"Can't have both yet, pretty girl," he said. "Just gotta have one cock to stretch you out first, okay? An' you want me to do that? Want me to stretch out this pretty pussy, hm?"
Price removed his mouth from your neck. "She didn't say that, Graves, you fucking prick. Let her speak."
You all but ignored Price, moaning out at Graves' words. You leaned forward to kiss him, just as you felt two fingers weasel beneath your legs and prod at your dripping hole.
Price pushed two fingers inside you from where he had you sat in his lap. He grunted, the tight heat of your cunt sucking his fingers in as he sunk all the way to the knuckle. He placed kisses along your neck as he dragged his fingers in and out as Graves kissed you. Price could see him gripping tightly at the base of his cock.
"Mmmygodddd–" You whined into Graves' mouth as Price fucked you with his fingers, adding a third. His other hand moved over your leg this time, his middle finger collecting your arousal from your inner thighs and circling your clit.
He pinched it gently, and you sobbed into Graves' mouth, your lips going lax. Graves pulled back to see Price's fingers thrusting in and out of you. His jaw clenched.
"Who do you want first, sweetheart?" Price asked you, eyes flicking up to Graves, who was now fisting his cock, watching Price finger you.
"Mmm..." You hummed out, about to make an answer. Price curled his fingers inside you, pressing into your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure to have you crying out, head falling back against his shoulder. "Fuck, fuck– you, Price, please–"
Price smiled at Graves. Graves rolled his eyes.
Price kissed you one last time on the neck. "Want you to come 'round my fingers first."
You did– your orgasm rippling through you like static, making your whole body tremble against him. You came around his fingers, milking the digits tight and making Price groan out.
"Good girl, there you go..." He muttered, removing his fingers with a slick squelch, shining wet.
Cocky, he looked over at Graves and then held his three fingers towards him, crooking them in a come here motion. Graves bared his teeth in disapproval.
"Don't fucking push it." Graves hissed, but Price persisted, keeping his fingers held out towards the American's face. Graves sneered, but knowing just how good your pussy tasted on his tongue made his cock jump in his hand. He groaned, Price's glistening fingers directly in line with his mouth, tempting. Then, he gave in, opening his mouth for Price to shove his fingers in.
On any other day, it would have been absolutely demoralising for the commander. But, not only was the taste of you on Price's fingers enough for his stomach to twist with his looming orgasm, you released the prettiest sound he'd ever heard. You moaned, so breathy and desperate, as you watched Graves suck your arousal from Price's fingers.
Your core throbbed, the veil of overstimulation lifting. Your clit pulsed in time with your rapid heartbeat, and you found yourself grinding into Price's lap. Price nodded, pleased, at Graves, a subtle smile on his lips. Then, he yanked his fingers free and pet Graves on the cheek, saliva smearing across the scar on the Americans cheek. Graves sneered and slapped Price's hand away, but his pupils were blown wide, his cock leaking pearl after pearl of precum.
"Fuck you." Graves grit out, but Price ignored it. Instead, he shifted the scene– instructing Graves to the head of the bed and positioning you on your hands and knees. You sunk slightly into the mattress, but Price held you up, his hands on your hips as he positioned himself behind you.
He rid himself of his boxers as Graves settled you between his legs. The commander placed one hand on the back of your neck, the other guiding his cock to your lips. He smeared pre across your closed lips, and you stuck out your tongue to press it into his slit. Graves grumbled some praise before you were wrapping your lips around the reddened tip.
"Oh, fuck, there you go, good girl, baby," Graves praised, squeezing the back of your neck gently. "That's it, wrap that pretty mouth 'round my cock."
Meanwhile, Price was lining his cock up with your cunt, wet with your two orgasms, arousal dripping down your inner thighs. The sight made his brain short-circuit, and he found himself beginning to push into you with no warning. Your slick walls sucked him in so perfectly, making him groan lowly the entire time he pushed inside you.
You moaned around Graves' cock, eyes fluttering closed, your arse backing up in an attempt to make Price hurry up. But the captain continued his slow push in– dropping half of his body across yours, pressing warm kisses to your spine. Finally, with a leisurely snap of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, cock settled up against your cervix.
Again, you moaned around Graves' cock, whose hand on the back of your neck tightened further. That made you moan, too.
Price panted against your spine. "God, y'taking my cock so well, sweetheart."
You whimpered. Graves pressed you further down onto his cock until your nose pressed up against the light-coloured hair at the base. His tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Graves pulled you back, and then repeated the action a few more times, each time groaning your name for just the two of you to hear.
"Yeah, that's it, baby, suck your commander's cock," Graves whispered to you, other hand stroking the side of your face– so tender, so loving. Maybe that was the corruption kink talking. "You like gagging on your commander's cock, don't you? Naughty fucking thing."
For emphasis, his hips bucked again. You gagged, tears springing to your eyes. One fell, rolling down your cheek, but Graves caught it and wiped it away with his thumb. He continued to hold the back of your neck, guiding you up and down as you sucked his cock.
Price wasn't fucking you as slow anymore. Once he had passed the initial threshold of stretching you around him, he had simply pulled back out and then thrusted all the way back in. His hips slapped against you arse, forcing you forward and making you take more of the commander's cock down your throat. You gagged. Graves groaned.
You could hardly breathe, the pleasure coursing through you rendering you breathless.
Price fucked into you, deep and rough, abusing your cervix and making your eyes roll as light degradation fell from his lips. "Needy fucking whore, taking two cocks, eh? Needs her mouth and her tight cunt fucking stuffed to be happy. Dirty girl... fucking needy."
Graves guided you to suck his cock, gentle but firm, rubbing the tears from your cheeks with soft coos of praise. "You're doin' so well, baby, an' you look so fucking gorgeous, you know that? Lookin' so pretty takin' both our cocks, an' you're doin' so good, too. Fuck–"
God, the drawl of his accent was driving you insane. Price's gruff voice was doing much the same, and it had your cunt fluttering around his cock as your orgasm brewed heavy and rich in the base of your tummy.
Price groaned, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Can feel you fucking squeezing me. You wanna come?"
You hummed your reply with Graves' cock down your throat. Graves hissed out, the hand on your neck tightening again.
Price grumbled, happy and blissed-out. "Yeah, 'course you do. So fucking needy for it. Go on then. Come 'round my cock."
You tried to moan his name, but it was forced back down your throat by the head of Graves' cock. Instead, you just whined, mumbled and hoarse, as you came around Price. Your cunt squeezed him tight as you came, your thighs shaking– you would have probably collapsed onto the bed if he wasn't holding you up against him. Your arousal dripped down your thighs, fucked out of you by the girth of Price's cock, and you could feel the tiny streams reach the sides of your bent knees.
"So messy..." Price tutted, leaning back and admiring your backside as he fucked into your cunt.
Price's words made Graves grit his teeth, balls tightening and cock twitching deep in your mouth. He held you down against his pelvis, drool threatening to leak out past the corner of your lips again, as he whimpered above you.
"Gonna come, gonna come," he whispered, his whiny tone making your clit pulse. "Oh fucking hell, m'coming, baby–"
He pulled back just enough to release properly inside your mouth, rather than right down the back of your throat. His cum filled your mouth and you rounded your cheeks to take more as you felt him twitching against your tongue. He kept his semi-hard length inside your mouth and pressed a thumb to the corner of your lips.
"Don't swallow yet." He said, pushing a dribble of his spend back into your mouth.
Price wasn't far behind, either– with a guttural moan of your name, it took everything in him to pull out in time. He came across your arsecheeks and lower back, painting your skin white. Mouth full, you whimpered at the warm splatter across your backside.
"Fucking hell..." Price collapsed beside you on the bed, one arm resting across your lower back. He ran his fingers through his cum, smearing it against the fat of your arse and thighs.
But Graves wasn't close to being done. Quickly but gently, he pulled his cock out of your mouth and you kept your mouth closed as he manhandled you into a sitting position. He twisted you around so your back was pressed to his front, and he could tuck his chin against your shoulder, his cock already hardening against you.
"Don't tell me you're tired already, Price." Graves quipped as he slowly ground you down onto his lap, much like Price had done before. Except this time, you could feel his cock against your bare arse, and it made you shudder, cunt dripping against him.
Price grunted, then sat up. "Not a fucking chance." He positioned himself in front of you, and you felt hot with the way both men looked down at you, sandwiching you between them.
Just as you were wondering why you still had a mouth full of Graves' cum, you got your answer. Graves' cupped your jaw, thumb on one cheek, four fingers on the other cheek. He angled your face up to look Price in the eyes, and then he slowly, slowly applied pressure to your cheeks. You whined out quietly as your lips were pushed just slightly open and strings of his cum began leaking out.
Price's mouth dropped open as he watched, dribbles of white mixed in with your saliva pooling down your chin and dripping down your tits. He groaned, his cock twitching again. He gripped it and began pumping himself.
"Lick it off." Graves said simply, his dark tone making your eyelids droop and your stomach flutter. What made it even better was that he wasn't talking to you.
Price eyed Graves with dark, calculating eyes. You imagined Graves was giving him a similar challenging look.
Graves pressed his fingers harder into your cheeks, pushing more of his cum out of your mouth. As he did so, he was smoothly rubbing his cock through your sensitive folds.
Price didn't say anything, and didn't move.
Graves lifted you slightly and lined his cock up with your hole. Without breaking eye contact with the captain, he began placing wet, messy kisses along your neck.
"Lick it off while I stuff her with my cock." He whispered, then nipped at your earlobe, making you whine again.
Price conceded without more than a growl, leaning forward to run his tongue along the tops of your breasts. You moaned at the feeling. Graves removed his hand from your face, instead holding– not choking– your neck as he bucked his hips and shoved his cock inside you in one solid thrust.
You choked on a moan when the head of his cock hit the same place as Price's, knocking up against the plug of your womb. Price dragged his tongue away from your breasts and over your chin, his facial hair tickling your face. He licked up the mess on your lower face, before kissing you roughly. It was all teeth, tongue and spit. You could taste Graves and yourself still on Price's tongue.
"You think you can take two now, sweetheart?" Price asked you calmly once he pulled out of the kiss. He was spreading your legs further, getting a clear view of the way Graves rutted up into your hole. "You think this tight hole can take two cocks?"
You nodded deliriously, desperately. Price chuckled at your eagerness, then lined himself up alongside Graves. The American stopped, balls deep inside you as the head of Price's cock pressed to your entrance.
"Fuck, please, please, I need you, sir." You begged, and Price moaned loudly, ducking to kiss you again. He ran his hand along your inner thighs, collecting your arousal in his palm, before fisting his cock and spreading it. Cock slick, he slowly began easing into you.
"That's a good girl, call me sir when I'm filling this tight cunt." Price whispered, one hand on your thigh, the other on his cock as he fed more into your tight hole. Pushed up against Graves', his cock reached your womb.
You moaned loudly, probably the loudest of the night. You felt so full. They were both so deep inside you.
Both Graves and Price responded with their own grunts and groans of pleasure as everyone paused for a moment, adjusting to the fit.
"Fucking Christ you're tight." Price muttered. Graves didn't say anything. He just nosed at your pulse beneath your ear, breathing hard against your skin.
You were growing hot. And impatient.
You squirmed in their holds. "Please move."
They moved. It took a tense, testosterone-laced moment to get the rhythm right, but both men got it. Each time Price moved out, Graves was thrusting in and each time Graves moved out, Price was rutting into you. They worked like a well-oiled machine, never leaving your hole empty.
You were in heaven– dizzy off the pleasure, mind fuzzy and vision blurry. Your body was on fire, but in the best way possible, nerve-endings tingling as you were fucked by both men. You could feel them in your stomach.
Graves had one hand around your neck still, the other now on one of your breasts, rolling a peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He continued to kiss and lick at your sweat-slick skin, up and down your neck, whimpering against you with each thrust.
"You feel good, baby?" He asked.
You whined out a “yesssss–!”
"Mhm, yeah, feels good getting fucked by your commander and captain, don't it? Feels good getting this pretty pussy fucked by your bosses..." He finished his sentence with a moan into the curve of your neck, skimming his teeth against you.
Price, with both hands on your hips, moved one hand to press against the mound of your tummy, pressing deep enough to make you moan.
"Fucking you so deep, sweetheart," Price whispered, panting. "You feel that? You feel us both in this pretty tummy?"
Your answer was a high-pitched moan. You were already so close–
"Aw, you wanna come, pretty girl?" Graves asked the question, a whisper in your ear.
You nodded, one of each of your arms scrambling to hold onto them and keep yourself grounded.
“That’s it, ‘atta girl.” Graves said, with Price adding a deep, “Come ‘round our cocks, sweetheart.”
You came around their cocks with moans of both of their names, followed by babbling whimpers as the pleasure rolled over you in deep waves. You felt your own release gush out around them, drenching the bed covers, your body trembling unbearably hot.
Both Price and Graves groaned.
"Fuck, fuck, m'close..." Graves whimpered into your neck, rutting into you desperately.
Price was much the same, each of his thrusts becoming sloppier, his hands gripping your hips for balance, as to not topple over his orgasm too soon– not before Graves, anyway.
But Graves had other ideas.
"Fuck, m'gonna come first, fill you up first. How's that sound, baby?" He asked you, words slurred around his impending orgasm. "You want me to stuff this pretty pussy full'a my babies? Hm? Wanna make me proud? Wanna make me a daddy, baby?"
You mewled, biting your lip. "Graves, oh my god–"
Fuck that, Price thought.
"No, no, you want me, don't you, sweetheart? You want your captain to come deep in your tight cunt. Want your captain's babies in this pretty tummy."
You were so dizzy. "P-Price, fuck–"
Graves growled into your neck, and then came with a guttural groan of your name. He stuffed his cock deep inside you and came right up against your cervix, flooding your womb with his seed. He groaned and grunted against your neck, whispering your name over and over as he came.
Price, too high on pleasure to feel annoyed, thrust deeply once, twice more, then came inside you too. He shoved his cock in beside Graves, stretching you out and spilling into you. His head fell forward, onto the opposite shoulder to Graves, and he grunted your name through gritted teeth as he filled your womb.
You stuttered, whimpering at the sensation, feeling so warm and full. Your eyes closed, and you slumped against them, their cum trapped inside you. Neither of them made any attempt to move, just breathing hard against you.
"You alright, sweetheart?" Price asked as Graves pressed kisses to your neck, jaw and cheek.
"Yeah..." You breathed, heart calming. "Really good..."
"Good girl," Graves whispered, massaging your now sore breasts with tentative fingers. "Let me run you a bath. How's that sound?"
"Good..." You hummed. "After... after one more round."
Graves just groaned and Price chuckled against your shoulder. "Christ, sweetheart, you'll be the death of us, won't you?"
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