man's best friend.
dog owner!simon + dog owner!reader
thinking about the time I was out for drinks and there was a dude with the biggest fucking dog Iâve ever seen just chilling at the bar. surrounded by ladies.
simon taking riley out for an afternoon walk, but ending up at the pub cuz a man needs pint every now and then.
he's finishing his beer while watching the match on the pub telly when he feels a tug on the leash. he looks down, and finds you petting and cooing at riley. the bugger is all in for the attention, ears perked and tail wagging against his boots.
pretty little thing, you.
he doesn't move, content with watching you like this. maybe a minute later is when you finally notice him staring.
"oh! sorry," your voice is as sweet as you look; too tempting for a man like him. "your dog is so cute! what's its name?"
"riley." he grunts out. wouldn't mind indulging you, just for a while.
"cute name, it suits him," you say. riley nudges your hand with a wet nose begging for scratches. it makes you laugh. the sound is enough to make simon shift in his seat.
would suit you too, he thinks.
"got one of your own?" he asks instead.
you smile. "yes! i have a doberman. she's in her terrible twos right now, though. not as well behaved as riley."
"lots of energy, those ones," he grumbles. "better get a playmate before she rips your couch up."
simon ends up leaving the bar with a new number on his phone and a marked date on his calendar.
wasn't looking; wasn't hunting for anything, but riley sniffed you out for him. fell right into his lap anyway. he spoils the pup with some treats once they get home.
.ăoâ [ simon riley au as the barbarian chieftain ]
the barbarian tribe and elven race had been in bad blood for decades, and during the raid, the chieftain managed to kidnap you...
MDNI 18+
cw: eventual smut, porn with plot, oral sex (both receive), a hint of enemies to lovers, dirty sex, deepthroat, slight overstim, heavy size kink, breeding kink, headlock, creampie, cervix breach(?), leaning to rough sex, subtle possessiveness
word count: 3k
â
What's the use of a prisoner like you, all pretty, littered in gems and gold with the finest silk adorned your body? You can't go into battles or build new tentâyou're practically useless for barbarians who basically uphold power over everything. Honestly, kidnapping you wasn't even Simon's idea in the beginning, but he just couldn't let the opportunity slip from his grasp when he discovered you hiding in the worst place possible during the raid.
"It's the elven princess, Chieftain. She's highly prized by the elders of the elven," said the right-hand man of the barbarian tribe. "They said... she has the most beautiful voice, a voice that could call any mythical creature alone."
Well, that's enough to interest the barbaric leader before you, the way his scarred lips curled upwards, eyes looking down on your kneeling form with pride. Something like chills running down your spine, at the thought of what he might do with your mouthâ
"I believe it is wise to break her voice chord, no? A payment of what those elven bastards have done to our tribe."
Simon's idea wasn't so terrible, he genuinely looked very satisfied at the thought alone. However, the right-hand man was thinking of something else differently. "Yes, well... yes, it is something we can do, of course, but..." He glanced at you, gown shredded just enough to expose any skin from the deep cleavage on your chest, from your thigh up to your hip, leaving a faint color of red from.
"What are you suggesting?" Simon raised an eyebrow, before the right-hand man whispered into his ear...
You know that the barbarian is just a mere disgusting creature who never gets their hands on something fragile like you. Of course, you've been taught how shameless, uncivilized these people are, and you know what's in the head of these dirty barbariansâthey just can't wait to tie you up and make use of you like their toy. The thought disgusts you so much it nearly makes you vomitâ
"WHAT?"
Simon's voice was sharp, heavy enough to echo inside the massive tent that belonged only to the chieftain, whereas he glanced at his right-hand man with utter disbelief. Almost like... betrayed? It made you frown, just then he suddenly points at you, with no respect at all, leaving you in the dark as to what was going on.
"You dare to suggest to me, the chieftain of this tribe, being touched by a flimsy, slimy creature like her?"
Slimyâ
Your eyes twitched at the lack of a better word Simon could've chosen to describe you. Slimy? What part of youâugh, these barbarians are the worst. Is he saying he doesn't want to be touched by you? You scoffed internally, as if you even want to touch him.
"What makes you think I want to touch a disgusting beast like you?" Finally, you uttered a word without so much restraint, asserting dominance within the conversation as the matter involved you as well. "You think you are even worthy of my time, you bastard?"
Simon leaned down immediately, eyes glowing with intrigue and annoyance when he gripped your jaw tightly. "Don't talk as if you're the one with power, princess."
His words were low and heavy, full of threat and asserting dominance towards you who was literally beneath him. But you didn't back down, still glaring at him as if to emphasize your stand in the conversation. You're not scared by the likes of him, even if he's the most known powerful within his tribe.
"I surely am holding the mightiest power here, because I am, in fact, the princess."
The stubbornness in your tone was both annoying Simon yet at the same time irked that same stubbornness in his own soul. It was a long, deep stare between you and Simon as if both of you were talking telepathically. And the lack of fear in your eyes, despite facing a literal human twice bigger than your own frail bodyâreminds Simon of when he's facing the monsters out there with his folks.
A grin spreading on his face, his tongue flicked slowly to lick his bottom lip. "Is that so? Well," Simon started, spreading his legs wider and pulling your face towards his crotch where the bulge of a tent prominent beneath the leather. "Then show me this... power of yours by using that so-gifted mouth of yours."
For better or worse, there was an irresistible urge from the pit of your stomach at the sight of his bulge, making your hands eager to reach and undone the fabric to reveal what's hidden beneath. But hell, you won't back down that easily. "Ha! You're ridiculous," you scoffed, slapping his hand away from your chin.
The right-hand man was ready to interfere due to your lack of respect, but Simon halted his movement. Without turning his face away from you, Simon commanded his right-hand man. "Leave me alone. And tell the others to not enter my tent until I command you so."
There was no fight against his words, the right-hand man left without further questions, leaving you alone in that tent with Simon.
"So, you are just scared."
Simon's words made your eyes twitch once again, the annoyance brewing inside you as your eyes once again fall on his crotch. He knew where you were staring, and he scoffed.
"To be honest, I don't have anything towards puny, weaklings like you who rely on magic and all of those stupid mantras," he mocked, gesturing idly while lazily stroking that bulge which seems to grow bigger each second. "You think I'm enjoying this? Being touched by a woman as fragile as you? Hah."
For a princess, you're always being worshipped in every step you take, all of the things you're done always invite more praise than mockery. But in the face of these stupid barbarians, you're nothing compared to his liking? Oh, please. Just as much as you don't careâhow can you ignore the fact that your pride was hurt just from knowing that even you're not appealing in the eyes of him?
"Then, I'll make you take back your words." With determination, you close the remaining distance between you and his crotch, reaching to rub the bulge through the leather fabric.
He grunts, unused for being touched by someone else, especially around the parts he deemed as his weakness. But watching you so determined to prove your point, how can he back down? He just has to handle you and prove that you cannot affect him.
...or so he thinks.
When he watched you freeing his massive dick from underneath the layered fabric, closing your lips against his tip, and started to suck gently over the very sensitive spot, he was leaking almost continuously. His cock throbbed in your hand, reacting to the rush of pleasure coming from your wet, warm tongue swirling over his cockhead. Both of your hands stroked his dick from under, and the comparison was almost comical it made him struggle further to hold back his noises.
The question is: why is he reactingâto you?
Isn't he supposed to hate a spoiled brat like you? The mighty and glorious elven race who thinks they're better than everyone?
But the sound of your mouth working on his cock was louder than anything, as if his rigid, tense body reacting to your mouth was answering everything. He's genuinely enjoying this, and it was a lie if he didn't have the urge to shove his entire length down your throat and fuck your mouth as God intended. But he can't, can he? That'll prove you're right, and you'll win.
Too bad, because his restraint is hanging by the second now, when your mouth is wrapped around his cockhead and your eyes locked up to meet his gaze. It was like you're saying you're winning, when you started to suck him hard, the obscene noise of your mouth swallowing his hard-rock cock and swallowing his precum filled the tent. Your tongue traced the spot underneath the head, watching his eyes roll back as he remained quiet, despite how badly his body shook from pleasure.
With a secure spot to prove you're right, you take another notch higher, pushing your head forward and taking more of his length until you gagâand he jolted from the tightness of your throat. Then, what comes next was the most chilling, arousing moan you could ever hear from a man.
"Alright, that's enough," Simon growled, his rough, calloused hand fisting the back of your hair and forcing his remaining cock into your mouth until your face is all red. "Fine, you win. Now... be a good girl and let me fuck this throat until it's all covered in me."
That was, in fact, making your cunt flutter in response, eager for something to stuff you full just like your mouth right now. Just like that, he had his hips moving shallowly, testing your throat, before moving them in a rapid, controlled motion. And he no longer holds back any noise; moaning in pleasure as he fucks your throat raw, using both hands to keep your head still as he fucks your throat like it's his toy.
But what's even more arousing to him? Your eyes.
The way you looked at him with pleasure and submissionâperhaps subconsciouslyâwas nothing sort of beautiful, it's fucking gorgeous. He never saw anything like this, to admit an enemy like you as beautiful would put his ancestors in shame. But he couldn't lie even to himself, the way your moans vibrate around his cock; your pretty nails leaving red marks over his thick, muscular thighsâhe was getting closer and closer to his peak.
"Fu-fuuck... hell, princess," he groaned, watching your face dirty with his precum, "You're so good with this, huh?"
When your throat constricts around his cock, the tightness milking his sensitive cockhead and it makes the coil snap inside him. With a roar of pleasure, he slammed one more time, letting his cum spurting down your throat, thrusting shallowly as he ensured every drop being swallowed. Your eyes are wet with tears, and mouth is full of his cum when he lets go, leaving you coughing from the amount of cum you had to swallow.
He came a torrent! This damned barbarian...
"Now," he said, breath ragged, lifting you off the floor and carrying you towards his so-called throne before sitting you there with your legs spreading shamelessly wide open for him. "I'm going to do the same, and you, can only take it."
"Wha-what? I didn'tâ"
Simon ripped the remaining of your gown in an instant, leaving you naked for his hungry gaze. The sight of your weakling body compared to him was ridiculous, but he couldn't help but to react, when his eyes landed on where human race mate. It was no deceiving him, when he see a trickle of sticky mess between your thighs, even still dripping like a clear honey inviting him for a taste.
"Don't you dareâ"
But he won't listen. With his calloused, bigger hands, he wrapped his muscular, huge biceps around your thighs and kept them part wide enough for him to access your pretty leaking cunt. When you feel his stubble against your sensitive folds, it's harder to hold back your whimper from the tingles. God help you because you're already so sensitive and wet and needy it might be too late to act all composed.
However the good news is, Simon doesn't give a fuck.
He's going to drown in you, and he will.
"Waaahhh!! You will notângghhh!"
Your eyes are watering from constant pleasure, Simon's starving mouth lapping over your clit with rapid flicking and rough suckingânothing about it was gentle at all but it constantly makes you shake like a leaf in his grip. He buried his face fully in your cunt, sucking your clit so religiously, swallowing your honeyed essence until you're crying from the rapid rush of pleasure.
"No! Waitâhngghhh! Let me breatheâahhnnn!"
Nothing works, Simon was persistent, now using the tip of his tongue to circle around your sensitive nub, leaving your jaw dropped in shock. There was the familiar tingly feeling in the pit of your stomach, making your hands fly to his head and gripping his hair super tight. But it doesn't bother him, as he wrapped his mouth around your clit again and sucked, sucking so hard it blurs your vision and before you know itâyou gushed onto his chin, your orgasm ripped out of you and makes you shake on his throne.
A long whine left your throat, followed with a broken cry when Simon continued to lap your cunt and swallow your cum without missing any drop. "You... fucking monster..." There, you're so blissed out that you used a word forbidden for elves, but, like Simon care.
He doesn't reply, but watching the way tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, the remaining of his cum still painting your face, when he busy himself by circling your clit and occasionally kissing the nub. Then, he finally let go of your thighsâunfortunately, though, you can't move. Or is it fortunate? Because Simon thinks you want more.
"Bed, now," he continued, throwing you over his shoulder as he headed to the other tent through the other door, ignoring all the curious look of their chieftain wearing just his slacks messily, while carrying the naked elven princess on his shoulder.
Inside, he throws you onto his bed, before stripping himself naked and hovering over your body like a goddamn predator. It makes your chest rise and fall rapidly, both fear and excitement mixing in a weird emotion inside your chest. Then, when he cupped your chin again, his eyes bored to yours in that same intensity.
"You can leave after I'm done with you," he announced just for you to hear, closing his face with yours where both of you can smell each other's essence this close. "But if you don't leave... after I'm done..."
His voice hung heavy in the air when he captured your lips in a subtle, messy kiss.
"...then I'll take it that you don't want to leave me."
What he said doesn't make sense to you at first, because why the heck you don't want to leave? This place is dirty and stingy anyway compared to your mansion. But the fact your mind went blank once his massive cockhead popped inside of your tight, little pussy (compared to his insane cock anyway), the scream that left your throat was the proof that there was nothing inside that head of yours.
"Simooon!" You screamed his name when he kept pushing, stretching your pussy so wide with his girth, making you sob and fluttering in the attempt to fit him inside you.
"Yeah, yeah, look at her... still taking me, stretching so wide... so big..." Simon praised you, ignoring your sobs and cries beneath him as he forced himself to bottom out inside you.
It's like he was deep in your throat like earlier, he was that deep you could feel him pulsing through your tummy, your walls clenching and fluttering around his girth. Your vision is blurred with tears, but when he rubs your clit with his thumb, your body shudders in response, walls clenching around him and soaking him in your juices.
"Mhm... perfect," he growled, before starting to thrust in-and-out of you, the squelching noise of your pussy being bullied by his cock soon followed after. "So tight, huh?"
Again, you cried out when he gripped your hips hard and lifted them high, allowing him to reach your deepest spot already, hitting that cervix and making you squeal and whimper in protest. Your free hands scratched and clawed his bicep, while your feet kicked his thighs, but it was no use; his hips moving like a machine, thrusting further and further until the bed creaks under his weight and brutal thrust. And you're left helplessly crying beneath him, pleasure and pain coursing inside you and making you come after the persistent assault against your sweet spot.
Then, he pulled out, thinking you got a chance to breathe, only to be flipped onto your stomach. "No, wait, whatâangghh! Simoon!"
Once again, his cock penetrated your cunt from behind, his strong arm wrapped around your throat in a headlock, before he thrust into you at an animalistic pace right off the bat. It made you scream almost feverishly, but the pleasure was something undeniable, your cunt couldn't stop squeezing and milking him, drawing any drop of cum he would be willing to offer.
"And you never once said stop," he growled raw in your ear, "not when I suck your cunt, not when I violated your throat, not when I came in your throat, not when I fuck your noble pussy like it's mine, not when I... use you... like this."
His words were nothing but gibberish in your mushy brain, you barely could think of anything but his cock splitting you open in two. The hell is this barbaric saying? Just fuck already! Your hips moved on their own, fucking yourself on him and inviting a scoff from him.
"Well... I guess you did that on purpose." A kiss landed on the top of your head, before he arched your back harder, keeping the headlock around your throat, as he fucks your cunt from behind with his raw strength. "I guess you won't be leaving."
Everything was hurt and sore, but you can't stop the bliss from swimming behind your eyes, the ecstasy once again reaching your cunt as you squirt all over his cock, and Simon kept going, fucking you raw through your nth orgasms. Before you collapse, you lose the strength to scream when he breaches your cervix and breed you full of his cum, thrusting in-and-out of you until every drop remains inside you.
Just like that, you collapse immediately, eyes fluttering close as you fall unconscious after the exertion vanishes from your body. While Simon pulled out, he caught the sight of your body, battered with bruises because of his holds, but he's amused. Then, he just lies down beside you, pulling you into his embrace, securing your naked body within his arms.
Whatever tantrum you throw tomorrow, you won't be leaving because you've missed your chance.
Simon paints a pretty picture bent over the open hood of your car wearing his tight black tee and blue jeans.
You've put your car through some wear and tear lately, and being the sweetie pie boyfriend he is, Simon offered to look things over, see the state of things and start fixing anything that might need it. He roped you in as well, pulling you over to his side and talking through the things he started messing with.
He also insisted you get your hands in there, to be the one to uncap, unplug, and pull things out and put it back together again. Which is how the both of you end up with oily, car-gunk covered hands.
Simon's going on a spiel about spark plugs, asking how old the battery is, mentioning that you're a little low on wiper fluid but that's alright he's got some rolling around somewhere he'll use to top you off when you take your hand, covered in that gunk, and land it solidly right on his ass, an impeccable, tar-black hand print left behind on the blue of his jeans.
Everything about Simon stops. His voice cuts off mid sentence and his muscles freeze like someone just hit his pause button. Eventually, his head turns towards you at a glacial pace to see you biting back a shiteating grin, your laughter locked down behind your teeth. His body twists a little bit to be able to look at the hand print that now adorns his backside like a brand in the perfect shape of you.
His dark eyes slowly roll back up to yours, a familiar glint flickering in their depths which makes you start to back up. You hold up a finger at him as if to ward him off as that impish look spreads to his scarred lips.
He follows you, no, he stalks towards you as you try to make your escape around the car. The saunter in his hips and the way he holds his shoulders up, looking down at your nervous giggling makes your heart pound a little faster for a multitude of reasons.
As he passes it, he swipes his hand over the side of your admittedly filthy-as-fuck car, getting a good handful of the dirt and road muck.
"Don't you dare," you try to scold him, but it doesn't have the effect you want it to spoken between your nervous laughter. All he does is put his hands together and wipe his palms against one another, getting both of them nice and coated.
You bolt.
And you barely get two steps away until arms wrap around you from behind and you're lifted off the ground. Simon manhandles you as you let out a squeal you would later deny you're even capable of making.
His big, nasty hands grab all over you as you try and fail to wriggle away from them. You can barely get a breath in from the release of your laughter and your pleas for him to, "Unhand me, you brute!"
Eventually, when he's deemed you good and marked up, he hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and brings you back over to your car. He lowers the hood back down and sits you down on it. He stands between your knees, hands grabbing your hips as you try to get a hold of yourself.
The both of you are gross, neither of you spared during the ruckus. He wipes the side of your face with the cleaner back of his hand.
"You're lucky you're cute," he says before leaning down to give a gentle kiss to your smiling lips.
You just reach around and grab the other side of his ass to even him out.
.ăoâ [ simon riley and a hot night during winter ]
just me and the newfound fantasy of being chokedâ maybe recently I just discovered how disgusting i can be. thats fun (â Êâ ÆȘâ â 3â â ïŒ
MDNI 18+
cw: creampie, riding, cockwarming to fucking, light choking
â
What's so good other than being in your husband's embrace during a cold winter night, when your fingertips freezing, even your breath feels like they came out of the freezer. Yup, there isâcockwarming him and watched as his chest rose and fell each time you squeezed around his cock. His strong arms cupped the under of your thighs, fingers digging into the plush of your flesh.
"Mmm, what gets you so fuckin' wet, sweetheart?" His voice warms against your ear, kissing you lightly as he lets you drag yourself up and down his cock in lazy motions.
Cockwarming is just an excuse, you just wanna fuck yourself on him, thanks to him being so hella delicious in those rolled-up sleeve and half-buttoned shirt. Damn it, you could just fall for any thirst trap if he ever gets you to one. "Oh, don't ask shit as if you're clueless, Lieutenant," you said with a scoff, capturing his lower lip and biting them gently, "just you, basically."
Simon grunted when your walls clenched hard and slammed yourself down, your cunt swallowing him whole. "Ughâhuh," the spark in his eyes lit up the mischief behind his grin, when he rolled his hips back up, his pelvis deliciously grinding against your clit and keeping you still on top of him.
"Unghhâshitâf-fuuckâ"
Your words stammered out, while he watched you in ragged pants, observing your expression change into melting bliss; eyes rolling back with your jaw slack, tongue lolling out from the motion he pound his cock inside you. "That good? Hit the spot, huh?"
The question followed with another sharp thrust, making you shudder and whimper, a sticky glob of pleasure trickling down his shaft onto his balls, making a sticky mess of your arousal on the leather cushion. Everything felt burning, hotterâhis hips keep that furiously steady grinding against your clit, while ensuring to thrust, thrust, his cock deeper until kissing your sweet spot repeatedly.
"Siiiimoon!"
A long moan of his name followed after, when he kept you still on top of him, letting him fuck you from beneath. Your thighs were already shaking, sore, and aching from the position, yet he continued to spread them wide open. "Yes, yes, just like thatâhnghhâso fucking gorgeous, love."
Somewhat his praise makes you warmer, the tingly promise of your orgasm made you start to move you hips up and down rapidly. "Ngghh! Yesyesyesyessâahhnn!" Now you're a mess of rambles and moans, as you fuck yourself on him.
It worked incredibly well; Simon was getting harder, one thumb moving to rub your clit with fast strokes that makes you clench even tighter around his cock it choked him. "Oh ffuckâgood girl, keep clenching like thatâloveâ" He grunted, rubbing your clit faster until you mewl, your walls clenchingâsqueezing and milking his cock mercilessly.
"Pleaseâahh!âdon't stopâ"
Your fingers are clawing on his shoulder, digging deep into the skin through the fabric, as your hips rapidly moving up and down, taking control over the pace. It was a lie if Simon didn't get so turned on, watching you getting all lost in lust, his own climax already closeâhis cock throbbing when his hand moved to your neck; wrapping his fingers around your throat.
That was when your eyes widened in surprise, your pace faltering, before Simon continued with a rough snap upwards, making you jolt. "Anghh! Siâ"
"Stay still," he growled, keeping you in place as he fucked you harder, rougher, the pace messy and erraticâbut your walls were already clenching too tightly around his cock, making every drag a delicious friction against your sweet spot.
Your vision turned white when his grip tightened, your hands immediately clawing his forearm, as a long, breathless moan escaped your throat. Right then, he guided you down hard, meeting his thrust with a heavy smack, keeping you still on his cockâbut with your walls clenching like vice; wrapping, squeezing, flutteringâSimon broke.
"Fuck meâ" Simon burst inside you, pumping load after load, stuffing you full of his seed. "Take it, take it, love."
As he kept you impaled on his cock, your clit throbbed against his pelvis, each subtle movement sending sparks of pleasure that makes your hips twitchâand your orgasm hit right after him, leaving your eyes rolled back from the bliss of pleasure. The clench from your orgasm made his hips jerk upward, lightly thrusting up into you with a breathless moan of his own.
"That's it..." A kiss pressed to your temple as he catches his breath, keeping his lips pressed against your temple, while his hand remained wrapped around your throat. The lack of protest you gave him made him grin a little, before whispering in your ear, "you like it when I held you like this while fucking, wife?"
Oh, when your walls immediately clench at the question and he just chuckles darkly like... yeah, you like it.
Being married to Rugby!Simon means having mega scary dog privilege.
After the bombshell of your existence drops, Simon quickly makes it clear to the reporters and commentators that wifey is off limits. If you're not in the room, he's not saying shit. Simon's never once spoken for you or controlled how you present yourself publicly and he's not about to start now, especially not for the insufferable twats online who wouldn't know basic manners if it were a bullet in their head.
The boys on the team know that they will talk to or about you with respect or not at all. It's not a difficult task for them, they respect Simon (and are maybe just a little scared of him) and they know how much he loves you. They care about their teammate so it's always a good sight to see how happy you make him. It also doesn't hurt that they genuinely like you. Being married to rugby!Simon means you've got a whole rugby team of incredibly athletic brother-in-laws who would go to battle with you should the need ever arise.
You will learn, however, that that scary dog privilege translates onto the field as well.
It's inevitable, with Simon's global popularity paired with his seemingly fully redacted personal life and background, that something like you would end up being the only thing available that could get to the seemingly unflappable Simon Riley.
It starts off with a comment made offhandedly on some podcast by some cocksure player on a different team. The conversation was about social media and how fan interactions with the sport have changed. It naturally led to discussing some of the biggest names currently in rugby, which of course brought up Riley. And by bringing up Riley, it brought up you.
The comment wasn't long, it wasn't anything that too much time was spent on. But it was dropped with a clear intent. One that made the recording booth break out into dirty snickers, a throw-away comment that they would brush off as locker room talk before quickly moving on to a new subject.
And then word got around to Simon.
To the outside eye it would seem that he would do nothing about it. No retaliation was being made on his part, he refused to comment back no matter how many times he was goaded into it. But the entire time he wasn't doing nothing. He was waiting. And your Simon is a patient man.
That patience pays off on match day when he steps onto the pitch and the name of that idiot pops up on the opposing team's starting lineup.
The game starts off as it always does, and still Simon waits. He doesn't have to for long until the ball makes into the one pair of hands he's been waiting for.
The impact is so hard it gets picked up on the ref's mic. The ball shoots from his hands as Simon tackles him backwards a couple meters. The take down to the ground sends a loud, unified wince roaring through the stands and the commentator box.
The ball is loose, Riley's teammate snatches it and the play continues. Simon leaves the idiot flat on his back where he lay. Try is scored while medics pile over the melted remains still scoped and dropped in the middle of the field.
The referees go over the tackle, the TMO looking over it frame by frame, scrutinizing even the most minute positioning of Simon's body. They end up finding nothing. The tackle was legal. Brutal, but legal.
As the player is taken off the field to find out he's got cracked ribs and in fact won't be back for a while, all one commentator says on it is:
"Well that one felt a little bit personal, didn't it?"
you were bringing a lunch box for simon, but it seems he was thinking of a different lunch...
MDNI 18+
cw: oral sex (f receiving), simon makes you pick up a call during oral
â
Over the past few weeks you've been preparing yourself to cook Simon's favorite dish. Just so you can come to his workplace today and bring him lunch, for the first time, to be honest. If you could recall, you don't exactly remember if he ever mentioned he liked something before. So, you gave it your all today, especially because he told you it's alright to come to his place, he had arranged everything.
Sure, arranged everything... huh.
"Si, this is not what I'm thinking when Iâmmhhâ"
Your words were cut off by Simon when he kissed you, capturing your lips with a gentle yet demanding kiss, and you practically felt his smirk against your lips. The rough pad of his palm cupped your cheek, while the other guided your hip to walk backward towards his desk. "You're not escaping me, wife," he said, "I haven't had my lunch." His rough voice sending shivers down your spine, making a pool of mess between your legs.
"Well, your lunch is over thereâ"
With a swift movement, you yelp when he lifts you off the ground and places you on his seat, his arms on the armrests and effectively caging you in. "Oh, that meal? No, no, I'm craving something else."
Oh...
Oh.
It sent a rush of blood to your cheeks, painting your skin in red while Simon grins as if he knew you knew. With a peck on your lips, Simon trailed his lips down your neck, keeping you still on the seat as you let you whimper from the heat of his kisses. With this position, Simon was completely hidden from view, his bulky body hidden underneath the desk, as he got between your legs.
"Wo-won't anyone come in?" You asked while panting, but he seems to be unbothered when he kissed your inner thigh after spreading your legs apart and rest them over his broad shoulders. "Simon... it would be embarrassing..."
"No one would," he answered in a gruff tone, already annoyed thinking of the possibility, while pulling your panties to the side. Oh, let you think over next time to not wear a skirt where Simon could easily access you.
A silent moan escaped your lips when you felt his tongue lapped over your clit, your eyes fluttering close as you melted onto the seat. Well, it always undeniably feels so good, your mind immediately sets abuzz with nothing but pleasure. The tip of his tongue stroked your bud, flicking it over and over until your legs tremble uncontrollably over his shoulders.
"Huhhâhnggh... Simon..." His name came out breathless, whine and whimpers mixing with your labored breath, before a sharp gasp escaped you when his mouth wrapped around your clit and he started to suck. Your thighs started to clench together, squeezing his head between your legsâbut oh, he loves it.
Simon buried his face whole into your cunt, gripping your thighs to pull you closer to his face, before he started to suck and lick your cunt like he was making out with them. Your vision blurred, with desperate, broken moans ripped through your throat as the tell-tale of your incoming orgasm started to reach its peak.
Thenâ
His desk phone rang, making you jolt and the peak disappears, leaving you whining from the disruption. "Shit, Simon... someone's calling you..."
"Answer it for me," he answered, unbothered, still licking your clit before dipping his tongue into your dripping hole and drinking your essence, making your toes curl from the rush of heat pooling in your gut again.
"Butâbut Iâahhnnggâ"
You couldn't even trust your voice if you ever picked up the call, until Simon sucked you gently before pulling away just enough to look up at you. "Trust me, they won't take long," he assured, before kissing your clit, allowing you to realize that... he wants you to pick the call.
"You... pervert..."
Oh, he didn't deny it when he looked up at you as you picked up the phone, eyes locking with his as you felt his tongue flat and teasing lapping your cunt. It feels so good, your other hand ended up pulling his head closer, making you clench your thighs tighter around his head. Triumphantly, Simon licked your clit and sucked it with gentle yet deep suck, making you dripping even more before you muster the controlled tone of your voice.
"Yes? Lieutenant Riley isn't present at the moment... he's currently occupied, but it won'tâuhnâtake long." You shot a glare down to Simon when he pushed his tongue into your cunt, but his eyes were filled with pride at how good you were answering the call.
But, the call didn't end immediately. The caller needs something from the Lieutenant's desk, something about the current paperwork about the last mission and he needs to know the amount of evidence collected by the Task Force 141. You frowned while rummaging through Simon's paperwork, only to bite back a moan when he started fucking you with his tongue.
Ugh, fuck, it feels so fucking good that you barely able to keep your eyes open. You tried to rummage through his desk, finding whatever the fuck you were looking forâ "Higher, right side, with green clip. The numbers should be on the bottom left." With Simon's guidance, you hold back the remaining moan and whimper when Simon continued to thrust his tongue in and out of you, with your legs now spreading wide open on his chair.
"It's seventy, yes," you immediately answered, unable to hold back the overwhelming urge for release, "Please contact Lieutenant Riley in five minutes for more detailsâ" You slammed down the phone back to its place, before escaping a broken, long moan as you came on his face, hand gripping his hair tightly as you ride his face to ride out your orgasm. "Shitshitshitâ"
It felt so long, your cunt kept squeezing Simon's tongue in your cunt, while his nose poking your clit right against that spot that made your whole body shudder from pleasure. He didn't even protest while he guided your hips, letting you feel every drop of your orgasm before you collapse against his leather seat.
"Ah, there is my smart, pretty wife," he complimented with a proud smile as he got up, caressing your thighs while cleaning his face from your juices.
"Hngh... I think I won't be able to walk home like this..."
"Really?" Simon tilted his head and chuckled, before picking you up and taking the seat himself, then making you straddle him. Your eyes were still regaining its focus when he... "You can stay here, on my lap, you know that, right?" Followed with a quiet click of his belt being taken off.
Well, well, at least you won't be picking the call later in 5 minutes.
It was a running joke within the unit; whenever Simon would mention you. Theyâd go along with it, maybe crack a few jokes here and there with Simon (to which, he adds onto it, assuming theyâre being serious). To be fair, whenever he mentions you, it always comes off very sarcastic?
âWanna go down to the pub after work?â Johnny would ask.
âCanât and donât wanna. Spendinâ the weekend with my love,â was all Simon would say.
Or there will be times when Simon would briefly mention something about you and it comes of even more sarcastic. Like that one time John mentioned about how his wife cooking him a real, special dinner after a long, stressful day.
âYeah? My love does that every time I see âem. Three times a week at that. Iâd say step it up.â
Seriously, how can anyone take Simon serious when his tone is flat and expressionless?
Of course, no one believes him. Simon? Simon Riley? A man who has the driest humor and somehow ends up being funny because of his deadpan tone? The same man that hides in his office during lunch hours because heâd ârather talk to the rat in the corner than converse with you lot,â⊠His words.
It wasnât until a week before Johnnyâs birthday that really made them all think Simon was taking the joke too far. âMight invite my love out too, if thaâs alrighâ with you, Johnny,â Simon briefly mentions in passing.
And as per usual, Johnny goes along with it (so does everyone else), assuming that Simon was in on the joke. ââCourse, L.T. Bring âem around! Tell âem to wear camo while youâre at it.â
Get it? Because youâre apparently not real.
But Simon took those words seriously. âIâll see what I can do. Donâ think they got camo.â
The day of Johnnyâs birthday, everyone met up at the pub. You and Simon were the last people to arrive just because you had to go shopping for some camouflage prints after he decided to tell you last minute. Because of course, the man forgets to mention it was camouflage themed.
Now, youâre standing there with Simon, both dressed up in camouflage printed outfits and a small gift bag in your hand while the three men stared at the two of you with jaws dropped.
âI thought you told us to wear camo,â Simon says flatly, walking up to the three with you awkwardly tagging behind.
No one wore camo. Not even the birthday boy. What a sick joke!
âGhostâ I thoughtâ We thoughtââ Johnny stared between you and Simon with wide eyes, fingers pointing between you two.
âI told you so!â Kyle hissed, slapping Johnnyâs back. Oh, he knew heâd be getting a glare from the Lieutenant. They all were. Even his own captain.
Simon stood there with a flat expression and slowly re-pinched his black surgical mask over his nose. âYou thought what,â he said, still confused about the situation. He doesnât make it clear though; just glares with the same stare he always gives them.
âYouâre real?â Johnny ignores the man, pointing at you. He squints his eyes, believing that maybe, just maybe, he was imagining you⊠Or that it mightâve been some awful prank thatâs gone too far. âYouâre like, not getting paid for this, right?â he adds.
âWhat? No?â you replied in a question, just as confused as Simon was.
Simon lets out a huff under his mask and stuffs his hands into his pockets. The only thing you had to pay for was the ridiculous camouflage outfit. And technically, you didnât even pay for it, he did. âI told yâ that Iâd show up with âem,â he tells Johnny.
Kyle gives his captain an awkward smile as if heâs mentally transporting his words over to the other manâs brain. âWe fucked up,â he thinks.
All John could do was stare back with a look that says âyeah we did.â
Johnny leans in close to you, âno, seriously. Between us, he ainât paying you? Youâre really his partner?â
Simonâs brows knitted as he snaps his eyes over to his teammate. How many times did he have you mention you? He basically soft launched you to the whole team months ago. And heâs been keeping you a secret for ages! âChrist, Johnny. Iâm beinâ serious. Theyâre my partner,â he says, grabbing Johnny by the shoulder, gently tugging him away from you.
It takes a second for Johnny to finally realize that Simon was serious. That all along, he was genuinely telling the team about you.
It was safe to say theyâve forgotten that it was Johnnyâs birthday and spent the whole night asking questions about you⊠And what you saw in Simon.
Donât worry, Johnny considered this the best birthday surprise ever.
you with simon during a new year party, when everyone's outside the room...
MDNI 18+
cw: p i v, creampie, headlock, both of you r losing it
â
The fireworks soaring outside, muffled cheers with drunken laughter echoes outside the room. But here, in the locked room of whomever room this was, you were pinned underneath Simon, drooling over his thick, firm bicep locking your head in place as he splitting you open from behind on top of the bed. Your eyes dazed, drunk from the dozens of little cups of booze you've taken without thinking.
Is it 2026 already? Like hell you could even think, busy whimpering into his bicep, your ears filled with nothing else but the sound of your soaked cunt being pounded, over and over, alongside Simon's low, breathless growl in your ear. Man is hungry as hell, the musk scent of his with the wine you spilt over his mouth earlier adding to the intoxicating scent.
"Simon, I'm gonna cumâ" Your voice broke when he covered your mouth tighter with the inner side of his elbow, keeping you quiet while his hand splayed over your head, sending mixed signals of whether this man was being gentle or brutal.
"Fuck, I'm right here, come fo' me, loveâbaby," he breathlessly whisper, lips brushing against your ear as his other hand snaked between your legs to rub you swollen clit.
And you screamed, muffled by his arm and ended up sinking your teeth into the thick flesh of the man's bicep, listening to him moaning and went plaplaplaplapâfaster, fucking you harder through your orgasm.
"So fucking tightâdamnâanghâ" He's barely controlling his noises, rolling his hips forward with a sharp smack, driving his cock further deeper and nudging hard on that sweet spot that makes you squirm. "Still," he growls, pressing you further into the mattress, one hand lifting your ass higher and he start rutting into you, the flushed, leaking cockhead hitting your cervix and make your vision blurs.
"Fuckâaaahhh! Simonâsstop! Angghhâ" Your eyes tear up, but he pressed that messy kisses on your temple, probably an apology but he didn't say anything except growling something incoherent, fingers digging into your hip so hard to keep you up, leaving bruises over the fading one.
"Caâcan'tâyou're so fuckingâungghâgood..." He mutters, his chest pressed against your back, feeling his stomach flex against your spine as he ruts deeper, like an animal in heat, burying his head between your head and shoulder, lost in the way your walls squeezing his cock inside you. He can't, maybe he won't, ever, want to pull out. "Gonna cum here, right now, deepâfuuck hnghhâhere," his incoherent murmurs echoes in your ear as his hand moved to your stomach and press.
Fuck, you feel his cock bulging your tummy, tears falling down your cheeks as the overstimulation drove you to another peak and leaving you breathless. The headlock loosens, and you screamed when you came the second timeâ "Simonâaaanghh fuckk!" Your cum gushed around his cock and he shudders when your cervix feels like it was sucking him in, his own soul feels like it's being sucked out of him.
Beyond saving, he spilled inside you with blank brain, moaning into your ear as he cum, spilling load after load, until it leaks around his cock. Both of you barely thinking, barely processing, lost in that haze of breathlessness, but his hips still grinding against you, his instinct alive to keep his load remain in your womb.
Simon kissed your neck, still panting, slowly shifting his arm away, seeing the deep bite mark over his bicep and your drool over the skin. His cock twitched back to life, fuck, how can he's so easily enamored with everything you do to him?
"You're amazing," he compliments, arms wrapped around you while you process everything, how you're currently ovulating and his cumâ "We're not done, right?"
Despite his shaky voice, he kissed you deeply, both of you exchanging saliva over the kiss, struggling to breathe as all you can hear is just heavy panting from him, and the slick sound of his cock moving slightly inside you. "Mmmh... I think it's you who're in heat..."
He laughs, breathlessly, biting your lower lip as he looks into your eyesâthe soft, raw affection. "I mean, you said yes, I just..." he confesses with a breathless chuckle, his hips press against the plush of your ass, "...lost it. I thought you'd... think it over."
Yes, Simon just proposed to you earlier. In the balcony, when you said you wanna go home, and he was damn nervous despite his best keeping his cool in front of everyone. And everything just started there, especially when you're crying because he proposed. Happy, of course.
Simon didn't bother to remove your dress, letting it bunched over your waist, bending you over the balcony once you whispered how you'll carry his baby and moving around the house, annoying himâHell, like it would.
"I'll carry you, I'll feed you, I'll sit with you in the bathroom..." His voice a mix of longing, affection, and desire when he slipped inside, rock-hard and leaking, hugging you from behind while biting back a moan, "I have no fucking reason to be annoyed by the woman who carry my children."
â
kirayamee, 2026 ][ do not copy
note: i've been reading numerous jjk smut n all i can say is they're sooo juicy i just want to read smth like that w simon ( ăâœă)
Heâs just big. Too big. Broad shoulders that feel like wallsâmountains you cling to when youâre on top, desperate for leverage, desperate for him. His arms flex when he pulls you closer, biceps straining against your body, wrapping you up like youâre something small, something fragile. His hands cover too much at once, palms so wide they could swallow your waist whole, fingers digging into your skin until you feel branded.
When you ride him, itâs those shoulders you hang on to, nails clawing into the solid curve of them, your cries muffled against his neck. He doesnât mind. He never does. He just groans, low and wrecked, holding you steady as your hips stutter. âI know,â he murmurs, voice all gravel and warmth, âI know, baby. I know that dick is big.â
 Effortlessly. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, your legs still trembling around his waist, and sets you on the bed without breaking rhythm. His frame eclipses yours, back broad enough to cover you entirely, blocking out the world until all you can see is him, feel is him.
The mirror on the ceiling doesnât lie. It shows how small you are beneath him, his body spilling over yours, swallowing you whole. Every thrust shakes through you, every roll of his hips forcing you deeper into the mattress. He doesnât just fuck you. He drowns youâblankets you with his size until youâre gasping his name, pulling him closer, begging for more.Â
Thick hot ropes of cum fill up your sore pussy, He pushes himself deeper into you, which makes you claw his back with your nails, moaning in pure ecstasy. âYou're gonna cum for me again, right, my slutty girl?â
And he gives it, again and again, until you canât tell where you end and he begins.
It's unusual. Simon was returning home after another deployment, his body all sore and exhausted, he probably just wanted some cuddle with you and sleep all week. And to find you already on the bed, looking blankly up at the ceiling, barely even realizing he was home, he's faced with another reminder.
You're always alone, your guards were all down, and you're distracted with something in your mind. Upon putting his duffle bag down, making a small rustle noise, which successfully capturing your attention. Yet, you didn't jump up from the bed, only managed a small smile.
"Welcome home... Simon," you greeted, barely even audible for him to hear, as he watched you there on your back, knees up as your eyes half-opened. You're swaying them while looking at him undressing himself. Something was in your mind, but it's not him.
Simon offered a smile, with all his gears off, leaving him in just that sleeveless shirt and cargo pants. Socks and shoes off somewhere. "You waiting?" He asked, matching the low tone of your voice.
There was a pause from you, your eyes and mind are wandering again as you avoids to look at his direction. You lost in thought, perhaps thinkingâthen you nodded to yourself before turning to him. "Mhm... always."
It was everything he needed to hear, knowing you're still there with him. He approached you on the bed, reaching to caress your cheek, grounding himself in the presence of you. "Good to know," he replied, as soft as possible, before leaning down to land a kiss on your forehead. "I'll take a shower, I'll be back, alright?"
With your faint nod, Simon takes his leave to the bathroom, spending less than 7 minutes to finish his shower. It's probably him taking his time, anyway. The door clicked open, revealing him in just his usual shorts; all of those scars, wounds, hairs on his skin are all for you to see. The bed dipped under his weight as he got onto the bed, gently massaging your ankle and gathering your attention again.
"What's on your mind?" He asked, curiosity and concern mixing together, his hands working on your legs, as if finding the strains in there and gently unfolding them to clear your mind.
Slowly, he lifts both your legs and let them wrap around his waist. Intimate, but his eyes spoke nothing but reassurance, gentleness. Something that drawn you into him for the very first place, ever since you told him about what you've been through.
Alone.
Again, his hands continue their gentle massages, now gently over your thighs, watching your expression shift from daze, lost, and blank into something more expressive; wince and furrow. It's something, at least. "Should I stop?" He offered, and you shook your head right away.
"No... stay, like this..." You whispered, shifting your legs around his waist and feeling his thick, big thighs beneath yours, the position left you way more open and vulnerable. Yet, despite that, you feel nothing else but safety. In Simon's arms. "I don't know what to say."
That answer alone got you a nod from Simon, as he gently leaned down, hands now resting on either of your head with a kiss landing on your cheek. "But you do want to talk about it?"
Another pause, and this time, you're thinking while staring deep into his eyes. "Sort... of, I'm not sure... I... I feel so puzzled," you answered, and Simon nodded again, one hand caressing your cheek as he settled into his side beside you.
"We have all night," he answered into your ear after he pulled you into his arms again, ensuring your legs now comfortable against his. "We have all day," he adds, pulling the covers for both of you. "We have all week," he continues, placing one arm around your waist. "We have all month..."
Simon's eyes locked on you as you are into his, a subtle smile on your face makes him feel much warmer after those gruesome pictures from the war. He pressed his forehead against yours and sigh, feeling your warmth in his arms, your breath over his face...
"We have a whole lifetime ahead of us," he still continue and smile this time, pulling you closer until there was no gap between the two of you. A kiss landed on your lips as he started to caress your back, lulling you to comfort and safety. "I'll wait, because I'll be there."
â
kirayamee, 2025 ][ do not copy
note: sincere apologies to you who are waiting for a smut ( ÂŽăŒ`) I'm writing this bcz I don't think I'll ever feel anything like this so idk, gotta satisfy this dying need to be held ig. merry christmas everyone âĄ
11.2k words of porn with plot. Going out with a bang for Halloween (pun intended). Everyoneâs hands are everywhere and I may or may not have lost track at some point. Mâbad.
It was honestly Gravesâ fault.
Not that youâd admit that to him, the manâs ego was insufferable enough without adding fuel to the fire. But the chain of events that led to⊠well, everything that came after, started with him and his inability to keep his goddamn mouth shut.
Though to be fair, he couldnât have known what he was triggering. He didnât understand the fundamental truth about Task Force 141, the thing that everyone who worked with them learned eventually:
They were the most competitive bastards in the entire British Armed Forces.
It wasnât just legendary; it was documented. There were actual incident reports.
Like the time Soap and Gaz had turned a simple training exercise into a competition over who could complete the obstacle course faster, which escalated into them sabotaging each otherâs runs, which culminated in both of them dangling from a cargo net theyâd somehow set on fire. Price had made them write individual apology letters to the base commander. Theyâd turned that into a competition too, each trying to write the most eloquent apology. Price had been furious. The base commander had been confused. The letters were still pinned to the bulletin board in the rec room as a warning to others.
Or the time Ghost and Soap had disagreed over the best way to clear a building, and instead of just⊠discussing it like normal people, theyâd run the same scenario seventeen times in a row, each trying to beat the otherâs time by mere seconds. Theyâd only stopped when Price physically removed them from the kill house and threatened to make them do paperwork for a month. Even then, Soap had muttered that heâd been winning.
Even Price wasnât immune. There was a pool table in the officerâs lounge that no one was allowed to use anymore after Price and a visiting colonel had gotten into an increasingly intense game that lasted six hours and ended with the colonelâs transfer request. Price maintained heâd won fair and square. The indentation in the wall from where the cue ball had been hit with unnecessary force suggested things had gotten heated.
They competed over everything: marksmanship scores, mission completion times, who could do the most push ups, who could hold their breath longest, who could spot the enemy sniper first, who could drink the most without getting drunk (that one had ended poorly for everyone), and once, memorably, who could go longest without speaking. That had been a peaceful week for you, right up until theyâd all broken at the same moment and started arguing about who had technically lasted longer.
Ghost had won that one by pointing out he never spoke much anyway, so it hadnât been a challenge. Soap had thrown a boot at him.
The thing was, it made them excellent soldiers. That competitive drive pushed them to be faster, sharper, better than anyone else. They held records across multiple bases. Their mission success rate was unmatched. When Task Force 141 was assigned to an operation, people breathed easier because they knew it would get done.
But it also made them absolutely insufferable when they decided something was a competition.
And they decided everything was a competition.
Which brings you back to Graves.
The rec room was unusually crowded with Shadow Company temporarily stationed at the base. Youâd been dealing with Graves and his people for three days now, and while professionally everything was running smoothly, personally you were ready for them to leave.
Graves had a way of taking up space, his Southern drawl filling every room he entered. He wasnât a bad guy, exactly. Just⊠a lot.
You were refilling your coffee when he sauntered over, that trademark smirk firmly in place.
âWell, well. Didnât expect to see you here,â he said, leaning against the counter in a way that was probably supposed to be charming.
âItâs my base, Graves.â
âPhil, sweetheart. Weâre past formalities, arenât we?â His eyes gleamed with something that made you tense. âEspecially considering.â
Across the room, you felt the 141 paying attention. Price had looked up from his report. Soapâs conversation with Gaz had died mid sentence. Even Ghost had shifted slightly in his seat.
You shouldâve known then. Shouldâve recognized the signs. The 141 had a sixth sense for potential competitions, and they were already alert, already watching.
âConsidering what?â you asked, keeping your voice level even as warning bells started ringing in your head.
âOh, come on now. No need to be shy.â Gravesâ smile widened. âThough you werenât particularly shy that weekend in Berlin, as I recall. Great even.â
The room went very, very quiet.
You sighed internally. Of course he was going to do this. Of course he was trying to posture and mark his territory. âThat was two years ago, Graves.â
âPhil,â he corrected again, clearly enjoying himself. âAnd I gotta say, youâre looking even better now than you did then. If you ever get tired of the 141, Shadow Companyâs always recruiting. Iâd be happy to conduct your⊠interview process.â
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Oh no.
You saw it happen in real time: Soapâs hand tightening around his mug, Gaz going unnaturally still, the way Priceâs report crinkled ominously in his grip, how Ghostâs head tilted in that particular way that usually preceded someone having a very bad day.
âIâm good where I am,â you said firmly, trying to de-escalate. âThanks.â
âYour loss.â Graves straightened, addressing the room now, playing to his audience. âBut between you and me, and well, everyone else hereâ he stage whispered conspiratorially, âtotally worth the operation debrief we had to sit through the next morning half dead from exhaustion, if you know what I mean.â
Oh no.
âGraves-â you started.
âIâm just saying.â Graves straightened, clearly enjoying the attention. âBut hey, you know where to find me if you change your mind. Iâll make sure to clear my schedule. Maybe we can recapture some of that Berlin magic.â
He winked- actually winked- and sauntered off to join his team.
The silence he left behind was suffocating.
Finally, Soap broke it. âBerlin?â
You shrugged, returning to doctoring your coffee. âIt was a joint task force operation. Two years ago, like I said.â
âAnd youâŠâ Gaz trailed off, eyebrows raised.
âYes.â
âWith Graves.â Soapâs voice was flat.
âWith Commander Graves, yes.â You turned to face them, meeting each of their stares head on. âIs there a problem?â
Price folded his paper with deliberate precision. âDid we say there was a problem?â
âYouâre all looking at me like I kicked a puppy.â
âWeâre just⊠processing,â Gaz said diplomatically.
Ghostâs voice cut through, dry as bone: âDidnât take you for someone with poor judgment.â
You snorted. âIt was one weekend. Casual. And for the record, it was perfectly good judgment at the time. Mission was over, we were both consenting adults, and I have no regrets.â
âNo regrets,â Soap repeated, something dangerous in his tone. âAbout Graves.â
âShould I?â You challenged, feeling your own temper stir, offended as they questioned your life choices. âIâm pretty sure Iâm allowed to have a past.â
âCourse you are,â Price said, but his jaw was tight. âJust didnât realize your past includedâŠâ
âIncluded what? Men you donât like?â You crossed your arms. âGrow up.â
âHow was it?â The question came from Ghost, and everyone turned to stare at him.
âExcuse me?â
âYou heard me.â Ghost leaned back in his chair. âHow was it? With Graves.â
You couldâve deflected. Probably should have. But youâd never been good at backing down, and something about their collective judgment made you want to defend yourself even if a voice in the back of your head said you were just going to poke the bear.
âIt was alright,â you said with a shrug. âBetter than most, if Iâm being honest. ActuallyâŠâ you paused, taking a sip of coffee, âprobably one of the best Iâve ever had.â
The reaction was immediate and visceral.
Soapâs mug hit the table with a thud. âYouâre joking.â
âOne of the best?â Gazâs voice had gone up half an octave.
Priceâs knuckles were white where they gripped the report.
Ghost had gone preternaturally still.
You blinked at them, genuinely confused by the intensity of their reactions. âWhat? You asked.â
âOne of the best,â Soap repeated, standing now. âGraves. Commander Philip Graves, who canât shut his mouth for five seconds and wears those ridiculous sunglasses indoors-â
âI didnât say he was perfect, I said the sex was good. Thereâs a difference.â
âBetter than-â Gaz cut himself off, glancing around the room. They were still in public, even if most people had cleared out when the tension started rising. âBetter than most?â
âAre you actually offended right now?â You stared at them. âThis is ridiculous.â
âItâs not ridiculous,â Soap said hotly. âItâs-itâs-â
âItâs Graves,â Price finished, and somehow that explained everything.
You looked between the four of them and suddenly understood. This wasnât about you having a past. This was about their egos. Their pride. Their absolute inability to accept being second best at anything, especially to someone they considered inferior.
And especially not at this.
âOh my god,â you said slowly. âYouâre jealous.â
âWeâre not jealous,â four voices said in unison, which was probably the least convincing denial in military history.
âYou are.â A laugh bubbled up despite yourself. âYouâre actually jealous of Graves.â
Soap had started pacing. âOne of the best. One of the bloody best. What does that even mean? Top five? Top three?â
âIâm not ranking my sexual encounters like a mission debrief, Johnny.â
âWhy not?â he shot back. âSeems like useful information.â
You pinched the bridge of your nose. âCan we not do this here?â
âDo what?â Price was genuinely curious now.
âHave a breakdown because I slept with someone and thought they were good.â
âItâs about-â Gaz gestured vaguely. âStandards. You have standards, right? And if Graves meets those standards, then what does that say about-â
âAbout you?â You finished. âNothing. It says nothing about you because youâre not in competition with my past.â
The look they exchanged said otherwise.
âDonât,â you blurted out preemptively.
âDonât what?â Soap asked, voice too casual.
âWhatever youâre thinking. Donât.â
âWeâre not thinking anything,â Gaz said, which was absolutely a lie.
You knew that tone. Youâd heard that tone before, right before theyâd decided to turn a simple reconnaissance mission into a competition over who could get the most actionable intelligence. It had been effective but exhausting.
âIt was two years ago,â you said firmly. âIt was fine, itâs over. Can we please move on?â
âFine?â Soap pounced on the word. âYou said fine? But Graves was great.â
âIt was an exaggeration.â
âWas it though?â This from Ghost, who had actually stood up now. âIn my experience, Graves is many things, but he doesnât usually undersell his own accomplishments.â
You stared at him. âAre you defending Graves right now?â
âIâm establishing accurate parameters.â
âParameters for what?â
The look they all exchanged was brief but telling. In that single moment of silent communication- the kind theyâd perfected over countless missions- you saw them come to some kind of collective decision.
âNothing,â Price said, but his slight smile suggested otherwise. âJust thinking itâs interesting, thatâs all.â
âWhatâs interesting?â
âThat you considers Graves some of the best youâve ever had,â Gaz said thoughtfully. âMakes a man curious about the standards being applied and if someone can raise them.â
âOh my god.â You could see where this was going now, clear as day. âNo. Absolutely not.â
âNo what?â Soap asked innocently. Too innocently.
âWhatever competitive insanity youâre all cooking up right now, the answer is no.â
âWeâre not cooking up anything,â Price said. âAre we, lads?â
âNothing at all, Cap,â Gaz agreed.
âWouldnât dream of it,â Soap added.
Ghost said nothing, but his silence was somehow the most ominous of all.
You pointed at each of them in turn. âI know how you people think. Iâve seen you turn loading supply trucks into a competition. Youâre not turning my sex life into another one of your challenges.â
âYour sex life?â Price raised an eyebrow. âNo, love. This isnât about your sex life.â
âThen whatâs it about?â
He moved closer, and despite everything, your breath caught. âItâs about performance metrics. Ensuring quality control.â
âQuality control,â you repeated faintly.
âWeâre the 141,â Soap said, appearing at your other side. âWe donât do second place. In anything.â
âAnd if Graves-â Gaz made a dismissive gesture, â-thinks heâs set some kind of benchmark, wellâŠâ
âSomeone needs to correct that misconception,â Ghost finished.
You looked around at all of them, these competitive, stubborn, absolutely impossible men who apparently couldnât stand the thought of anyone- especially Graves- being considered the best at something.
Even this.
Especially this.
âYouâre all insane,â you managed.
âProbably,â Price agreed easily. âBut youâre still here.â
You were. God help you, you were still here, and you werenât walking away, and they all knew it.
Which is how you would up on Priceâs bed with Soapâs head between your legs.
One second youâre in the rec room and the next youâre ushered upstairs, Soapâs mouth on your cunt, and your whole body jerks like someone plugged you in.
Itâs wet and hot and pressure. Not a fluttery kiss, he seals over you and pulls, drawing your clit into his mouth and your hips come off the mattress a good inch. His hands slam to your thighs and push, spreading you wider and pinning you at the same time.
âF-fuck- oh god- Johnny.â Thatâs when your pulse drops, leaves your throat and settles between your legs in a hard, responsive beat. Every time his tongue flicks, it kicks. Every time his mouth sucks, it swells. The nerves there go loud, drowning out everything else.
You can feel your own slick on your inner thighs now, warm and a little messy. When he drags you closer, you slide on it. The sheet under your ass is going to be damp.
He angles his head and finds the exact spot.
You know it because your calves tense and your fingers curl. You try to close your legs around his head, curl around the pleasure, and he just laughs into you, low and smug, and forces your knees apart again. Your hip flexors burn from the stretch. You can feel the tremor start in them.
Above you, the bed dips; someone leans in. A broad, callused palm plants over your lower belly and holds you down. That single extra point of contact changes everything; now you canât roll, canât run, canât arch away. All you can do is feel.
Soap increases his tempo.
Slow at first; long, wet licks from your entrance up to your clit, pausing there, circling. Then tighter, faster, little pulls of suction. Then when you gasp right, he adds tongue and lips and pressure and it becomes this relentless little engine of sensation, over and over, no mercy.
Your stomach knots. Your thighs start to shake properly now, not just twitch. Your nipples rub against the fabric of your bra every time you breathe, and theyâre hard, throbbing, needy from the rubbing.
You make a sound.
Itâs not pretty. Itâs a half choked, wet, needy thing, and it spills out without permission. Someone coos at you for it. A thumb strokes your cheek. Fingers thread through your hair. It all blurs together because the center of you is flooding with heat.
He pushes two fingers inside you and the stretch is immediate; fullness to match the drag of his tongue. A sharp, perfect ache along your inner walls where your body says yes, there. Your cunt clenches around him like itâs trying to pull him in farther. The wet sound is obscene. You hear someone suck in a breath and say âFuck, look at âer.â
Your chest heaves. Your ribs canât expand enough. You canât get a full breath because every time you try, Soap does something with his tongue to take it.
Youâre right on the edge of that bright drop and your thighs try to close again. He forces them open again.
Your hips try to lift. The hand on your belly forces you down.
Your head tosses side to side, too much, too big, too good. Fingers- whose? Priceâs? Gazâs?- catch your jaw and bring you back to center.
âLook.â
So you do. You blink through the blur and look, and thereâs a pair of baby blue eyes watching you come apart, and that alone tips you.
You break.
Itâs hot and itâs fast. Your whole pelvis locks, then pulses. Your cunt clamps around his fingers in hard, greedy squeezes. Your clit is burning from the drag of his mouth and you are so wet you can feel your slick slide down toward your ass. Your toes curl, calves cramping, thighs shaking. At the crest, your vision goes white at the edges and your ears rush.
You come hard.
He stays on you.
Thatâs the killer. He doesnât back off. He gentles, yeah, but he doesnât stop. He licks you through it, slow, teasing, gathering everything he pulled out of you, making you feel every last pulse.
Your body shudders in aftershocks. Little heat flares. The muscles in your stomach flutter. You canât do anything but take it.
Someoneâs hand comes up to your chest and rubs, grounding. Another slides under your knee and bends it, easing the strain in your hip. Another strokes the inside of your thigh where his stubble has made it pink.
You sag.
Youâre warm everywhere now, skin buzzing, limbs heavy. Your cunt still pulses in little sympathetic squeezes around nothing. If Soap slid his cock in right now, youâd pull him in to the hilt, no resistance.
They move you, fabric drags over your oversensitive nipples and you hiss, arching away, and someone laughs softly and unhooks your bra, slipping it away, soothing your nipples with their thumb. The bed squeaks, wood complaining. A knee slots between your legs and you ride it without meaning to because thereâs still ache there, still want.
Another mouth finds your throat. Teeth scrape, gentle. A hand cups you, broad and warm, palm pressing over your still wet clit.
You were still shaking when they decided one orgasm didnât prove anything.
The bed dipped and shifted around you, weight moving like a tide. You were on your back, knees loose, underwear somewhere halfway down one thigh, trying to remember how to breathe, when a warm hand slid up your stomach and settled just under your ribs. Big palm, callused, heavy enough to say stay right here. Price, then.
âEasy,â he murmured, more in tone than words. You felt it in your skin, not your ears. âYouâre alright.â
You were. Your muscles, though, hadnât caught up. Your thighs had that post release tremble, the one you couldnât command away. Your belly kept fluttering in little afterpulses. Between your legs you were hot and slick and sensitive, pleasure still fizzing under the surface like it hadnât decided to leave yet.
And they were all still there.
You were aware of them the way youâre aware of heat behind you. Soap, breathless and smug near your knees. Gaz, closer to your head now, arm along the pillow so you could lean if you needed. Ghost, solid at the side of the bed, one knee on the mattress so he could reach you without crowding.
Four men. Four sets of hands. Four different temperatures of want.
Your body knew it before your brain did: weâre not done.
Priceâs hand slid down from your ribs to your hip, then lower, thumb brushing the still damp inside of your thigh. He hummed, quiet, pleased. âGood,â he said like he was noting it for the record. âSoft and wet.â
That shouldâve been embarrassing. It wasnât. Not with the way they were looking at you- like this was data, yes, but also like it was a gift you were like this for them.
Gaz tipped his head, watching your chest rise and fall. âSheâs coming back,â he said, the way he mightâve said her vitals are up. âLook.â
You opened your eyes. The room swam into focus- concrete walls, rain on the window, four shadows leaning over you.
Soap grinned down at you, face flushed, mouth a little swollen. âSo?â he said. âBetter than Graves?â
You meant to snap at him. You really did. But the second your mouth opened, a thumb- Ghostâs, gloved and warm- smoothed over your cheek, and whatever retort youâd had melted.
âDonât make her talk through it,â Ghost said, voice low. âSheâs floatinâ.â
You were. Your head felt light, your limbs felt heavy, and under all of it, your cunt still pulsed, slow and needy, because that first orgasm had taken the edge off but not the want. If anything, the want had gotten worse; looser, lazier, more give me more of that.
They saw it.
Price shifted, sitting on the edge of the bed so your back could rest against his thigh. The fabric of his pants was rough against your bare skin, but his palm was warm, moving in soothing circles over your belly. You let your head fall back against him without thinking.
âThere we are,â he said voice like gravel. âLetâs get you comfortable.â
Comfortable was relative. Comfortable meant supported while we do more to you.
Soap crawled up again, this time on your left, bracing a hand beside your shoulder, his body radiating heat. Gaz mirrored him on the right, thigh pressed to your hip. Ghost stayed at your feet, big hands sliding up your calves, over your knees, pushing your legs apart again with maddening patience.
Your thighs quivered under his hands. He didnât let them close.
âLook at that,â Soap said, and there was honest admiration in it. âStill shiverinâ.â
âSensitive,â Gaz agreed, eyes crinkling. âMakes it a fair fight.â
A fair fight. You almost laughed. Nothing about this was fair. It was four world class overachievers deciding one loud American didnât get to be the gold standard in your head.
Ghostâs hands were firmer now, thumbs pressing into the tender spot where thigh met hip, easing you open inch by inch. You felt the cool air on you again. Felt your own wet, slick and warm against the inside of your thighs. Felt the ache start to build again, low and heavy, because even being held open like that sent a pulse of want through you.
He didnât touch you right away. That was almost worse. He just kept you open and looked, head bent, breath brushing your inner thigh through the mask. His gaze flicked up to yours, unreadable.
âStill want more?â he asked.
You swallowed. Your throat felt dry. âYes.â
Priceâs hand on your belly stilled for a beat, then resumed, slower. You could practically hear the satisfaction in his silence.
âGood,â Ghost said. âBecause weâre not lettinâ Graves win on a technicality.â
Then he touched you.
He dragged two knuckles through your slick and the sensation was so sharp after what Soap had just done to you that your hips tried to jerk away. Priceâs arm across your middle kept you exactly where you were.
âEasy,â Price murmured, mouth close to your ear. âBreathe for me.â
You did. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Your body settled, but only in the loosest way. Every nerve from your navel down was on.
Ghost circled you first. Slow, deliberate, dragging wet over the most sensitive part of you in lazy, cruel little loops. It made everything there swell, throb, wake up. It made the ache bloom again, hotter, until you were whimpering into the air, panting from the heat of it.
Then, when you were looking at him, when he had your eyes, he slid two fingers into you.
You gasped. Couldnât help it. Couldnât hold it back.
It felt deep immediately. You were still soft and open from the orgasm and your body took him to the knuckle. You could feel your walls flutter around him, a helpless, greedy squeezing. You could feel just how wet you were, how easily he moved, how the motion made obscene, slick sounds between your thighs.
âFuckinâ hell,â Soap breathed. âListen to her.â
You heard it too. The wet. The way you caught on his fingers on the way out, then sucked him right back in. Your cheeks burned. Your body didnât care. Your body wanted more.
Ghost set a rhythm- deep press in, slow pull out, lazy twist at the top that nudged right where you were still sensitive. Every stroke made your hips roll, made your breath catch, made moans spill out past your lips, made that warm, liquid feeling in your belly spread.
Priceâs hand slid up to your breasts, fingers curling over the weight of them, thumb brushing your nipples. They were already sensitive and the touch made them tingle more. You arched into his palms without thinking and he made a pleased sound low in his chest.
âResponsive,â he said, mostly to himself. âLike that, do you?â
You managed a nod. Your voice was somewhere under the bed and you could only answer him with moans.
Gaz leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth. âYou look wrecked already,â he murmured, smile against your skin. âThatâs good. Thatâs how we like you.â
Ghost crooked his fingers inside you.
The pleasure changed. Went from warm and spreading to sharp and right fucking there. It sent sparks up your spine. Your thighs tried to close again and Gaz and Soap clamped their hands on the fat of your thighs, held you wide and open, while Ghost worked that spot over and over.
Your breathing went ragged. Your hips started to chase. Your toes curled in nothing. Your hand flew up, searching for something to hold, and landed on Soapâs forearm. You clamped down hard. He just laughed, turned his arm so you could get a better grip.
âYeah, thatâs it,â he said, eyes hungry on your face. âHold on.â
You could feel yourself climbing again. Already. So soon. Your body didnât care. It liked his fingers, liked the way they filled and dragged, liked the way Priceâs thumbs kept circling your nipples in lazy counterpoint, liked the way Gazâs mouth kept brushing your jaw, your cheek, grounding you.
âStill with us?â Price asked quietly.
âYes,â you got out. Barely.
âGood girl.â
Your cunt clenched around Ghostâs fingers at that. Hard. Instinctive. You felt the heat in your face flare.
He felt it too. âOh, you like that,â he said, tone gone velvet dark. âThat what he said to you?â A pointed reference- Graves? Did he say it like that? It shouldâve annoyed you but it didnât. It just sent another pulse of want through you.
âDoesnât matter,â Gaz said, amused, kissing your temple. âSheâs gonna hear it better from us.â
You were too close to answer with a retort. The pressure was right there, sitting low, throbbing. Your thighs were fully trembling now, little uncontrollable shakes. Your belly was tight. Your breath came in hot pants. You knew if he just-
He did.
He added his thumb.
The extra point of pressure on your clit lit you up. It was too much and exactly enough. Your head tipped back on Priceâs shoulder. A sound tore out of you, high and helpless.
âLet it happen,â Price said into your hair. âLet it.â
You did.
It rolled over you harder than the first, because your body was already primed, because you were being held this time- one hand at your throat, another at your breast, hips braced, legs kept open. You didnât have to hold yourself up. You didnât have to be quiet. You didnât have to pretend you werenât falling apart for them.
Your climax ripped through you in tight, fast pulses. Your walls clutched around Ghostâs fingers like you were trying to keep him. Slick flooded out around him, hot and embarrassing and perfect. Your thighs shook, heels digging into the mattress. You mightâve said someoneâs name; you werenât sure which.
They talked but it washed over you. What stuck was touch: Priceâs hand on your sternum, grounding; Gazâs thumb catching a tear you didnât realize had slipped; Soapâs palm tightening on your knee like there you go, thatâs our girl; Ghostâs fingers slowly, carefully easing out of you when the aftershocks got too sharp.
You sagged back, boneless.
Your cunt still fluttered, slow little squeezes in the afterglow. Your thighs glistened. Your skin hummed. You were warm all over, skin prickling, heart finally starting to settle.
Somewhere near your ear, Price chuckled. âThatâs two,â he said, smug. âHe give you two?â
You huffed a breath that was half laugh, half groan. âOh my god.â
âSheâs not arguing,â Soap crowed.
Gaz leaned his forehead to yours. âThatâs because weâre winning,â he said, delighted.
Ghost wiped his fingers on the sheet, then rested his big hand over the inside of your thigh, thumb stroking once, slow. âWeâre not done,â he said, and the promise in it made your already overworked nerves spark again.
You believed him. Every part of you, flushed, wet, and trembling, believed him.
Price shifted behind you.
âAlright,â he says, voice low, that command layer threaded through it. âMy turn.â
You feel him move, feel the bed dip differently, feel his thighs open so thereâs room for you. A hand slides under your knee and guides your leg over his until suddenly youâre straddling one of his legs, back against his chest, his arm a wide band across your front, holding you steady.
Heâs warm everywhere you touch him. Solid. Bigger than you in all the places that matter for this. You can smell him, too, smoke, wool, the faint metallic smell of weapons oil. Familiar. Comforting. Infuriatingly hot right now.
Youâre still soft from coming. Still wet. When he palms your hip and pulls you backward over him, you feel just how wet; you slide on yourself, on the inside of your thigh, on the sheet. You make a small, uncontrolled sound at your own slickness.
âYeah,â he murmurs against the side of your face. âThatâs what I thought.â
Thereâs movement below you: a belt unbuckling, the soft metal jingle, zipper down. You donât have to look to know what heâs doing. Your body knows; your muscles get ready. Your hips go loose and expectant. Your cunt gives a slow, hungry little pulse like yes, now.
He fits his hand between your legs first, checking like he didnât just watch Ghost make you flood. His fingers drag through you, gather you, stroke you. The touch is gentler than Ghostâs was, not searching for a spot, just confirming youâre ready for weight.
You are. God, you are.
âStill open,â he says, and you can hear the approval. âThatâs good, sweetheart. Gonna make this easy.â
You donât even realize youâve tipped your head to his shoulder until his beard scrapes your temple. His mouth is right there, breath warm, words for you, just you. That alone makes your chest go hot.
âHands on me,â he says. âHold on.â
You do. One arm goes back around his neck, dragging his collar down so youâve got something to grip. The other braces on his thigh. You can feel the muscle there, hard even relaxed.
The others have gone quiet.
Theyâre still close. You can feel Soap at the edge of the bed, practically vibrating. You can feel Gaz leaning in to see. You can feel Ghost standing sentry, watchful, but thereâs a charged waiting in all of them now; the kind you get right before breaching.
Price angles his hips.
You feel his cock thick, hot, and heavy pressing against you from below. Itâs blunt at first, just a nudge at your entrance, sliding in your wet. Your breath stops. Every muscle lower than your ribs goes tight, held in that exquisite almost there.
He hears it. âBreathe,â he reminds you softly. âDonât lock up on me.â
You force air into your lungs. It shudders on the way out.
Then he pulls your hips down.
Itâs a slow, controlled push. Heâs too big and youâre too sensitive for him to just drive in, so he eases you over him, inch by steady inch. The stretch is immediate and deep. You feel it all the way up your spine. Your body parts around him because youâre open and slick and primed, but it still burns for a second and tells you youâre getting full.
âThereâs it is,â Soap said somewhere off to the side, almost reverent. âLook at how sheâs takinâ him.â
You felt it even with your eyes closed: three men leaning in, watching the way your body gave for Price. You were too busy feeling it to be shy.
Because once he got past that first thick resistance, your body just⊠went. The muscle ring eased, the wet did its job, and you sank. You could feel every ridge, every vein, the heat of him. You could feel the difference between the blunt, stretching first half and the deeper, thicker second half. You could feel your own slick being pushed up around his cock.
Your breath came out on a shaky, âOh-â
âGood girl,â Price said in your ear, voice gone rough. His arm tightened around your middle to keep you from scrambling away from the intensity. âKnew youâd take me.â
That praise lit you up. Your cunt clenched around him hard. He groaned low in his throat, vibrating against your back where you felt it more than heard it.
âFuckinâ hell,â Gaz muttered, delighted. âSheâs squeezinâ him already.â
âCourse she is,â Soap said. âSheâs still warm from before.â
Ghost didnât say anything, but you heard the small, sharp inhale he always did when something impressed him.
Price held you there for a beat, fully seated, your ass on his thighs, your back to his chest, his cock buried in you to the hilt. It was a lot. Full, hot, so deep it nudged at places Ghostâs fingers hadnât reached. It made your stomach feel heavy and your chest feel light. Your body wanted to move, to rock, to chase, but he didnât let you. Not yet.
âFeel that?â he asked quietly.
You nodded, too breathless to speak.
âTell me.â
âSâfull,â you slurred, cheeks hot. It felt silly to say, but it was the truth. âYouâre- full.â
âThatâs right.â He sounded indecently pleased. âThatâs the bit he couldnât give you.â
Your back arched when he pulled almost all the way out.
The drag was obscene, long and slow, your walls gripping, reluctant to let him go. You could feel the way you narrowed again around the thickest part of him, the way your wet clung, glistening on his cock. At the top of the stroke he stayed right at your entrance, head just inside, letting you feel the emptiness heâd leave if he pulled out.
Your whole pelvis tipped, chasing him back.
Price laughed, low. âOh, you liked that.â
Then he pushed back in, a little faster.
It rocked your whole body every thrust translated through his thighs and into your spine. Your breasts jostled; his forearm across your chest pushed them up. Your head fell back on his shoulder, mouth open.
He found his pace quickly, not jackhammering- he wasnât showing off for the lads. He was demonstrating. Deep, confident strokes, bottoming out every time, giving you the full length so you couldnât accuse him of holding back.
Every thrust pressed you down onto the mattress and up into his chest at the same time. Every thrust made your clit drag against the heel of his hand where it was braced on your hip. It stacked sensation- deep stretch inside, blunt friction outside- and your nerves lit right back up.
Your thighs tried to close and his big hand slid down and caught the inside of your knee, pushing it back open, letting the others see him inside you.
âSheâs made for it,â Gaz said, softer. âLook at her.â
You were half gone already. Your breathing had gone high, breathy, those quick little pants that always came out of you when you were being taken instead of doing the taking. Your hands had locked on him, your cunt fluttering around him every time he bottomed out, that desperate, helpless squeezing.
He felt it. âThere she goes,â he murmured. âSheâs climbing again.â
You were. Faster than before. It hadnât even been five minutes since Ghost worked you over and already your body was stringing itself tight again because now you were full, now you had weight, now you had rhythm. Your clit, still tender, zinged every time he drove you down. Your belly tightened. Your toes curled.
Price angled his hips a fraction and suddenly he was hitting a spot that made your vision blur.
You made a sound- high, keening, moaning.
âThere?â he asked, voice tight.
âYes- yes- donât stop- please-â
He hit it again. Again. Held you down this time so you couldnât wiggle off it. Your mouth dropped open. Heat flooded your face, your chest, your whole pelvis. Your legs shook against his hand.
âThatâs the one,â Gaz said, almost delighted. âRight there.â
âKeep her there,â Ghost said. âMake it clear.â
He did.
You couldnât run. You couldnât even think of running. His arm was a bar across your chest; his hand was a clamp on your thigh; his thighs were solid under you. He just kept driving up, slow and merciless, right into that spot, each stroke punching a breathless sound out of you.
Your first and second orgasms had been waves. This one built like pressure. Tight, hard, insistent. Your cunt started to clamp in short, frantic squeezes. Your nails dug into his shoulder. Your head tipped back, baring your throat.
He bent and bit you there making you gasp.
That did it.
You broke around him, muscles locking and then spasming. Your walls gripped him so hard it dragged a groan out of his chest. Heat rushed down through you, out along your thighs, up through your spine. Your whole body shook. You mightâve said âCapâin,â you werenât sure.
He didnât stop. He rode you through it, pace steady, letting your spasms milk him, letting you feel every inch of him inside you while you were at your most sensitive as he groaned and spilled deep into your cunt with a groan.
âThatâs three,â Ghost said, satisfied. âHe do three?â
You couldnât answer. Your brain was white noise. All you could do was gasp and babble and hold on and feel.
Price finally slowed, then stilled, cock still deep, arm still locked around you. You were limp against him, boneless, chest heaving. Sweat was cooling on your stomach. Your thighs were a mess between wet and shaking and being forced open.
He kissed the side of your head. âGood,â he said, praise thick. âThatâs my girl.â
Around you, the others moved.
You felt Soap climb onto the bed properly now, not just hovering. Felt Gaz shift closer to your knees. Felt Ghost come around the foot, big and quiet, watching you with that evaluating look.
âYou want a turn?â Price asked, still inside you, not even pretending heâd pull out yet.
âOh, absolutely,â Soap said, hungry. âSheâs soft as fuck now.â
Gaz laughed. âYou just want to see if you can top that.â
âMate, I know I can top that.â
Ghostâs eyes flicked over you, taking in the flushed face, the trembling legs, the way you were still clenching around Price even as you came down. âShe can take more,â he said.
You made a weak, protesting sound that wasnât really a protest.
Price chuckled into your hair. âHear that?â he said. âShe wants it.â
Price kept you on him for a moment longer, big arm banded across your front, chest to your back, thighs snug under your ass. You were still pulsing around him in little, involuntary squeezes, and every one of them made his breath hitch warm against your ear.
âWell?â he asked the room, smug. âThat feel like Berlin to you?â
Ghost shifted at the foot of the bed, mask tipped like he was taking notes. âSo far,â he said, dry as bone, âthatâs us: 3. Graves: fuck all.â
You managed a laugh, weak and breathy. âYouâre all⊠ridiculous.â
âCompetitive,â all four of them said at once.
Price finally eased you off him. You felt every inch of it; felt the drag, the last thick stretch, the way your body tried to hold him and then had to let go. You gasped softly at the loss, hips twitching. He steadied you with both hands, murmuring, âEasy, love,â as he guided you forward.
The second you were clear, Soap was there.
âCâmere, then,â he said, hands already on your waist, warm and eager. âMy turn.â
Soap pulled you onto your hands and knees near the middle of the bed, the mattress complaining. You were loose limbed and shaky, so he did half the work himself, tucking your knees under you, keeping a palm between your shoulder blades so you didnât fold.
âOh, look at you,â he said, a low whistle in his voice when he got a full view. âMessy wee thing.â
You flushed hot. You were messy: your slick on your thighs, Priceâs cum dripping out of your on the blanket, thighs still trembling. You wouldâve dropped your head in your arms if Gaz hadnât reached in and tipped your chin up.
âDonât hide,â he cooed. âWe wanna see you.â
Ghost made a little approving sound. âThatâs the point.â
Soap looked over your shoulder. âSo?â he challenged. âCap do good?â
Price, still catching his own breath, wiped a hand over his beard. âShe came,â he said, a little too pleased.
âThen Iâll make it four,â Soap said. âAnâ then we can tell Graves to get fucked.â
âYou did tell him that,â Gaz reminded him.
âAye, but now I can tell him why.â
You felt Soap line up behind you, heat against the back of your thighs, chest to your back for a second as he reached down to guide his cock towards your entrance. His left hand stayed right in the small of your back, keeping you in position.
Soap pushed in.
He wasnât as patient as Price- he was eager, and you felt that in the way he rolled his hips, in the way his hand tightened on you when he felt how easily you took him. You were wet enough, and already open; your body gave. You gasped- couldnât not, after being so full already. Your arms shook. Gaz immediately slid closer on the bed and let you grip his wrist.
âPrice did the hard work,â Gaz said, but he was grinning, cupping your cheek with his free hand so youâd look at him. âHowâs he feel, love?â
âSâ good,â you got out, words breaking on a breath. âHeâs-â
âBetter?â Soap said, smug, starting to move for real now.
You couldnât answer right away because Soap fucked differently than Price. Price was heavy and deep and sure. Soap was energized. He rolled through his hips like he fought, like he danced, like he couldnât keep still if you paid him. Every stroke had a little snap at the end, a little lift of your hips, a little grind that dragged over every sensitive place Price had already woken up.
Your arms almost gave. Your elbows dipped. Gaz caught you around the shoulders and pulled you up, settling you half against his chest so you werenât bearing your whole weight. It changed the angle, your back curving, your hips tipping, and Soap groaned when he felt it.
âOh, thatâs better,â he said. âFuck, thatâs better.â
Price moved in behind him, one hand landing on Soapâs shoulder like, pace. âDonât blow your load in five seconds, Sergeant.â
âWouldnât dream of it, Captain,â Soap said, but he slowed just enough to keep you from being overwhelmed.
Your body, though, was already there. Every thrust pressed slick heat up where you were still tender. Every time he bottomed, you felt that deep, aching fullness, your walls clinging to his cock. You could hear yourself wet, obscene, a steady rhythm under the creak of the bed. Your thighs started to shake again, traitorous.
âSheâs goinâ again,â Soap said, awed, angling his hips, his dick pressing deeper and making you whine against Gazâs throat.
âSheâs not gonna last long with you showboatinâ,â Price said.
âShe doesnât have to,â Gaz said, mouth at your ear. âThatâs the point.â
Ghost had moved closer, right at the foot now, one knee on the mattress, watching you from the best angle. You could feel his eyes on where you were joined. You could feel the heat of him even not touching you.
âLook at that,â he said, voice gone low, almost hungry. âThatâs four. Sheâs taken two cocks and sheâs still asking for it.â
You were. Your hips were pushing back to meet Soapâs, small desperate motions. Your hand on Gazâs wrist had gone from holding to clutching. Your breath came in high, sweet bursts.
Soap slid his hand around your front, over your belly, down.
His fingers found your clit, already swollen and slick and went straight to steady, tight circles, timed with his thrusts. Your whole body jolted.
You made a noise that wasnât words.
âThere she is,â Gaz murmured, holding you upright. âThere we go. Let it happen, pretty girl.â
Soap laughed, ragged. âAye, let it- fuck- listen to her.â
You couldnât hold it back. Your body was too ready, too worked, too wet. The combination- full inside, rubbed right there, held and watched and praised- ripped another climax out of you. This one was messy and loud, your muscles going tight-tight-loose, thighs shaking so hard Soap had to clamp his arm around your middle to keep you from dropping as he buried deep and came, flooding your sensitive cunt with his release.
âThatâs four,â Ghost said immediately. âGraves: still nowhere.â
You dropped your forehead to Gazâs shoulder, breath tearing in and out of you. He cupped the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline. âGood girl,â he said. âSo good. You with us?â
âYeah,â you panted, tears sliding. âYeah.â
âNeed a minute?â Price asked, voice back to that command soft.
You thought about it. Your body was thrumming, muscles liquid, thighs sore in a good way, your cunt still fluttering around Soap where heâd slowed to a lazy grind to keep you from getting shocked. You could have taken a minute.
You didnât want to.
âNo,â you said, surprising yourself with how sure it came out. âDonât⊠stop.â
You felt all of them react to that.
âFuck, I love her,â Soap said, groaning, pulling out slow, another long, obscene drag that made your eyes roll. âRight. Trade.â
Gaz laughed, delighted. âMy go.â
He was smoother about it.
While Soap eased out, Gaz was already shifting you, rolling you gently onto your back again, then tugging your hips toward him. His hands were warm, steady, different from the other two: less force, more coaxing. He bent, kissed you once, slow and deep, like a palate cleanser.
âHow we doing?â he asked against your mouth.
âFuzzy,â you murmured. âGood. Fuzzy.â
âFuzzyâs good,â he said. âMeans weâre doing it right.â
He pushed your knees up, opening you again, and glanced back at the others. âYou lads want to see?â he asked, shameless. âCome round. Sheâs gorgeous like this.â
They did.
Price came to your left, hand braced by your head, beard shadowed, eyes heavy. Soap flopped to your right, still flushed, watching like he wanted to dive back in the second he got the nod. Ghost stayed at the foot of the bed, looming, mask down, eyes dark.
Gaz stroked you first, just fingers, slow up your slit, spreading your slick and Priceâs and Soapâs cum along your cunt. âStill so wet,â he said, low. âGod, youâre perfect.â
Then he pushed into you.
He was between Priceâs deep and Soapâs eager. He sank in steady, watching your face, slowing when you gasped, pushing when you relaxed. Your body welcomed him, open and dripping and aching for it. Even so, the stretch made your breath stutter and your hands grab for whoever was closest.
Price gave you his, lacing his fingers in with yours. âHere,â he said, and you held on.
Gaz bottomed out and stayed. You could feel him everywhere, thick inside, pressing low, your walls hugging him after so much use. Your belly fluttered again.
âFuck,â Soap whispered. âSheâs still clenchinâ.â
âMeans weâre not done,â Gaz said, beginning to move.
His pace was cruel in its own way. Not the driving authority of Price or the showy roll of Soap, this was measured. Just fast enough to keep you on the high, just deep enough to hit where you were tender. He knew he didnât have to prove he could make you come, Price and Soap had already done the heavy lifting. He wanted to prove he could keep you there.
He did. Within a minute you were right back on the ledge, breath short and hiccuping, thighs trembling, slick loud between you, hands switching from Priceâs wrist to Soapâs forearm, back to Priceâs shirt, sobbing and sniffling with each thrust. Your clit was throbbing, begging for touch.
Gaz gave it, of course. Thumb down, gentle circles, perfectly in time.
âYeah,â he murmured when your mouth dropped open and your back bowed and lewd desperate sound fell past swollen lips. âThere she is. Gimme another.â
âAnother?â you gasped, half pleading, half hysterical laughing.
âYou said Graves was âone of the best,ââ he said, smiling through the words. âWeâve got to bury that score, love.â
You couldnât even argue because you could feel it right there again, that tight, spiraling tension building from the inside out; because the others were watching you like they were cataloguing every twitch; because Price was murmuring, âCâmon, love,â and Soap was chanting, âThere ya go, there ya go,â and Ghost was saying nothing but looked satisfied.
You shattered again.
It rolled over you like a breaking wave, less sharp than the last, but wide, everywhere, making your toes curl and your back arch and your fingers dig into whatever you were holding. Your cunt spasmed around Gaz in hot little pulses. He groaned, hands tightening on your thighs, but kept moving slow to draw it out until you were scrambling and wiggling and sobbing from the sheer pleasure of it.
It was the wild look in your eyes, the near frantic pleasure at being overstimulated, blubbering into the air as Gaz kept thrusting, prolonging your orgasm into too much, that broke him, pushing in deep and stilling with a groan as he added his cum to Priceâs and Soapâs.
You whimpered, overstimulated now, hips trying to twist away. Gaz caught it immediately and slowed, then stopped, still inside you but not moving. âOkay,â he said softly. âThere we are. Breathe.â
You did, trembling all over now, thighs, stomach, even your arms. Sweat dripped on your neck. Your hair stuck to your cheek. You were aware of everything: the wet between your legs, the steady heat of a cock still buried in you, the weight of hands on your knees, your chest, your cheek.
Then there was Ghost.
âShift,â he said quietly.
No one argued. Gaz eased out carefully making you whine- God, you felt that- and ghosted back. Price and Soap moved enough to give him room. You were boneless, pliant. You watched him take off his gloves, one finger at a time, setting them on the nightstand.
He came to the foot of the bed and took your ankles in his bare hands. His palms were hot, big enough to wrap nearly around. He slid you down toward him, closer to the edge. Your ass met the edge of the mattress, thighs spread over his forearms, knees kicked up, your back arched because there was nowhere else to go.
You were already wrecked.
Everything from your navel down felt wet, hot, loose. Skin clammy from sweat. Inner thighs slick where your own arousal had dried and then been replaced and then smeared again. Your muscles had that aftershock tremor- little twitches in your quads, belly fluttering, shoulders quaking when you tried to push up on your elbows.
He took one look at you and huffed behind the mask, low and satisfied. âYeah,â he said. âThatâs more like it.â
He wasnât rushed, but he wasnât delicate either. He hooked your right leg up over his shoulder; high, opening you farther than the others had and the stretch at the back of your thigh burned.
âEasy,â Price murmured from somewhere by your head, palming your shoulder. âHeâs got you.â
Ghost caught your other knee and shoved it out with his hips, there was nowhere to put him. He took up the whole end of the bed, arms, shoulders, chest, all of it. You were small against him now, laid out, thighs spread over a frame that could pin three people if he wanted.
You felt his size before you felt him.
His shadow blocked the ceiling. His thigh brushed the mattress and the whole thing groaned. His hands spanned your hips like they were handles. When he bent a little, bracing one palm beside your ribs, the bed dipped like someone had dropped a sandbag.
âWant more?â he asked.
You nodded, breath already short.
âGood.â
He dragged his cock through you once and that alone nearly short circuited you.
Because you were soaked now, used and soft, and he was thick. Thicker than Price. Different shape than Soap. Longer than Gaz. He slid through your mess in a long, slow stroke, head bumping your clit, smearing heat everywhere. Your hips jumped like youâd been shocked.
âOh-â
âChrist,â Gaz breathed, watching from beside your knee. âSheâs still that wet?â
âYeah,â Soap said, all wonder. âWe did that.â
Ghost lined up.
You saw it only in a flash- cock big, flushed, heavy in his fist and then it was gone, pressed to your swollen cunt, right where you were open. You felt the blunt head nudge and everything in you locked, not from fear but from pure instinct: big, big, big.
âBreathe,â he said, like heâd been waiting for it. âOr itâll hurt.â
You pulled air. Chest rising, shaking. Priceâs hand slid up to your throat thumb under your chin to tip your face up so he could see your eyes.
âRight here,â he said. âWith us.â
Ghost pushed.
There was zero give for the first second. You were open, but you were also swollen and sensitive, and he was a lot. The pressure was deep, powerful, like someone slowly forcing a fist into clay. Your mouth fell open in a silent oh, eyes going wide.
âFuckinâ hell,â Soap said again, because apparently that was his phrase tonight. âLook at her-â
âJohnny,â Price warned, but his voice was tight too.
Ghost didnât slam. He didnât have to. He just leaned his weight in, inch by relentless inch, and let your own wet do the rest. Your body had to yield. And that was the moment your brain just⊠flickered.
Because it was too much.
Stretch, deep in your pelvis. Burn, not sharp but huge. Fullness that pushed on places the others hadnât. Your back arched hard, heels digging into his shoulders, trying to find leverage that didnât exist.
âSi-â you gasped, name torn out of you.
âYeah,â he said, voice low, pleased. âSay it.â
He was halfway in and you already felt full. Crowded. Your cunt squeezed around him in shocked little spasms, trying to pull him in and push him out at the same time.
âFuck,â Gaz said, softer. âSheâs clamping down on him.â
ââCourse she is,â Price said, hand still at your throat, thumb rubbing your jaw. âHeâs wreckinâ her.â
He was. He absolutely was.
Ghost gave you maybe two seconds to adjust, then he pushed the rest of the way.
It knocked sound out of you. A strangled, punched out cry that wasnât even a word. Your vision went hot white at the edges. Your hands flew out, grabbing for anything- blanket, shirt, wrist. Soap shoved his forearm under your palm on reflex so you had something solid to claw at.
âGot you,â he said, eyes wide. âSâokay, sâokay.â
Your body took Ghostâs cock, because it had no choice, because you were so wet he couldâve slid forever, because the three men before him had already made you pliant. But where Price and Soap and Gaz had felt like they fit, Ghost felt like he filled. Like there was nowhere he wasnât.
He bottomed out and held.
You could feel him in your belly- cock heavy, hot pressure low and deep. You could feel him nudging at your cervix, you could feel your own slick squeezed around him, you could feel your pulse beating against the underside of him.
Your brain went white.
Not âI canât think of a comeback.â Not âwow, this is good.â Actual blank space. Everything narrowed to heâs inside me, heâs so big, I canât- I canât- oh god-
You stared up at the ceiling, mouth open, chest stuttering. Sound was distant- men talking, praising, swearing- but it was like it was happening down the hall. The only thing close was his weight and the bed and the way your body was struggling to remember how to relax around him.
âBreathe,â Price said again, firmer. âCâmon, love. In. Out.â
You dragged air. It trembled.
Ghostâs big hand slid down your thigh, over your knee, to the underside of it. He hitched your leg higher over his shoulder, angle changing, hips dipping so he wasnât ramming your cervix, just pressing deep.
âGood girl,â he said then, and you felt the words more than heard them. âTook me. Look at you.â
You couldnât. Your eyes rolled a little. Your fingers dug into Soapâs arm; he hissed and let you.
âLook at her,â Soap said, voice gone soft with awe. âSheâs floatinâ.â
Gaz laughed under his breath, gentle. âSheâs gone.â
Ghost started to move, a slow, dragging pull, to the point where you could feel every ridge of him, your own walls clinging desperately, and then a steady, heavy drive back in that rocked your whole body. The mattress creaked. Your breasts bounced. Your mouth kept making these little punched out sounds you couldnât control.
The best and worst part was the weight. Every time he came down, his hips met the backs of your thighs with a solid, meaty thock, and because he had your legs hooked over his shoulders, it pinned your pelvis to where he wanted you. You couldnât lift to meet him. You couldnât squirm away. You could only take that deep, filling stroke.
Your eyes unfocused.
Your mouth went wet and open.
Your thoughts- what was left of them- ran in circles: big, deep, canât, yes, yes, yes-
âYeah,â Soap murmured, almost proud. âThatâs the one, Ghost. Thatâs the one thatâs gonna wipe Graves right out of her head.â
Ghostâs eyes flicked up at him, dark and amused. âThat the brief?â
âAbsolutely the brief,â Gaz said. âMission critical.â
âThen hold her,â Ghost said. âSheâs slippinâ.â
Priceâs arm came under your shoulders and lifted you partway so you werenât flat, so you had him to lean on. Your head flopped to the side against his chest, lips parted. He cupped your jaw, thumb on your cheek, steady.
âCome back,â he said quietly. âWant you to feel him.â
âI-â you managed, voice thin. âI feel him.â
âOh, I know you do.â
Ghost changed the angle again, just a small shift of his knee, a deeper drive of his hips and that was it. That was the key. Suddenly he was stroking over that spot inside you the others had found, but from lower, heavier, fuller, and your whole body spasmed.
âOh- oh, fuck-â
âThere she is,â Gaz breathed. âThere it is.â
Your climax came up like a sucker punch.
No build. No slow climb. Just here. Your cunt clenched around him so hard it wrung a low, filthy sound out of Ghost. Your back bowed against Priceâs arm. Your legs tried to close around his shoulders and couldnât, he was too broad, he kept you open, made you take every pulse of it.
It was the kind of orgasm that blanks a mind.
Sound dropped out. Vision whited at the edges. Your ears filled with rushing. Your body just contracted around him over and over, pulsing, milking, trying to drag him even deeper. Hot slick spilled around him, down over your ass, onto the sheet.
âFuckinâ look at that,â Soap said, half-laugh, half-disbelieving. âSheâs squeezinâ the life outta him.â
Ghostâs jaw flexed. He held your hips down, taking it. âThat,â he said, voice gone rough, âis better than Graves.â
Price laughed, low and triumphant, hand stroking your cheek as you rode it out. âThere we are,â he said. âThatâs the record.â
You could only whimper, body shaking, cunt still fluttering around the thick length still buried in you. You werenât thinking about Berlin. You werenât thinking about Graves. You werenât even thinking words. You were just full, and held, and done.
Everything cut to soft static; weightless, cotton wrapped nowhere. Sound went muffled, like youâd ducked under warm water. Your body was still humming on some deep, molten frequency, but your mind hadâŠlet go. Like someone had hit the breaker.
You felt big hands moving you, but from far away.
Your leg was lifted- careful, careful, donât cramp her- then lowered. Cool air on your thighs for a second, then something warm pressing in. You twitched, a tiny reflex, and a palm smoothed down your hip right away.
âShhh. Sâalright.â
You heard it as vibration, not words.
Your body knew them, though. Knew the cadence of their voices, the way each one sat in your bones. Even floaty as you were, they were still buzzing in your nervous system. Nobody else couldâve touched you right then.
You were rolled, whining because you were sore, onto something broad and warm. A chest. Hair rough under your cheek. Beard bristle against your temple. Arms closing around you, not tight, just there. A heartbeat under your ear, deep and steady. You made a small noise, half sigh, half childlike hum, and melted.
âThere we are,â Price murmured, and even though you barely heard it, your neck relaxed. âThatâs it. Got you.â
Everything else turned into hands and heat.
Someone at your legs, wiping between your thighs in slow, respectful strokes. He paused every time you flinched and whimpered, waited, then kept going. Someone else tugging the sheet away and swapping it for a cleaner blanket. Someone tucked the blanket under you so you stayed warm. Someone lifting your limp hand and putting a bottle in it, then guiding it to your mouth.
âCâmon, sweetheart,â Ghost said, low and uncompromising. âNeed water.â
The rim tapped your lip; you didnât open.
A thumb stroked your jaw, firmer now. âOpen.â
Your mouth parted on reflex. Cool water slid in, shocking compared to all the heat. You swallowed slow, almost lazily. It dribbled from the corner of your mouth; someone thumbed it away.
âSheâs barely there,â Gaz said, voice soft with that pleased note medics get when a patient is post op and not distressed. âLook at her eyes.â
âSheâs lookinâ right through you,â Soap said, proud. âWe sent her to fuckinâ space.â
You werenât following the words, but you were following the touch. Every time you slipped a bit deeper- down, down- someone reeled you back just enough. A hand over your sternum. Fingers in your hair. A palm cupping the back of your neck. You didnât have to do anything. They were moving you like a sleepy doll.
Your arms wouldnât work. Your legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Your whole pelvis was one slow, warm ache, like the echo of being filled was still there even though you feltâŠempty? Clean? You couldnât tell. Everything was soft.
ââŠnever seen her this quietâŠâ
ââŠyou almost did break herâŠâ
ââŠwell she asked for itâŠâ
ââŠGraves couldnât do thatâŠâ
You drifted lower, your nervous system had finally decided, oh, we donât have to do anything now. We can just exist. Your breathing slowed. Your mouth stayed parted. Your eyes blinked slow and out of sync.
âChrist, look at her eyelashes,â Soap repeated, grinning. âSheâs fuckinâ gone.â
Price huffed a laugh, hand big and slow on your back. âYeah. Sheâs ours now.â
Ghost was the only one still a touch clinical. âSheâs pale?â
âFlushed,â Gaz said, checking your cheek with his knuckles. âWarm. Sheâs good.â
âHeart?â
âSteady. Bit fast.â
âYeah, well.â Soapâs grin turned sharp. âWe were spectacular.â
That actually tugged a weak breath of a laugh out of you, more an exhale with a shape. Four heads turned toward you instantly, like you were a radio that had just crackled.
âThere she is,â Price said, pleased. âBack with us?â
You were and you werenât.
You could hear them better, now that youâd taken water and your brain had floated a smidge closer to shore. But your body was still out in the warm sea, rocking. Every sound was filtered through cotton. Every touch was in slow motion. You had no urge to move. No urge to talk.
You were aware mostly of warmth. Warm arm under your shoulders. Warm thigh under your hip. Warm palm at your nape. Warm blanket over your legs. Warm, satisfied men around you like a wall.
âAlright,â Soap said, mischief back, because of course he would ruin the soft moment. âMoment of truth, then.â
âJohnny,â Gaz said in warning.
âWhat? We have to know.â
âWe already know,â Ghost said, perfectly calm. âLook at her. She canât remember her own name.â
âYeah but I want tâhear it.â
âAsk her later,â Price said. âSheâs milk-brained.â
Milk-brained. That made you want to laugh again. It came out a tiny smile against his shirt.
Soap saw it and crowed. âSee? Sheâs not dead.â
âFine,â Price sighed, indulgent, rubbing your shoulder. âOne question. Then you let her sleep.â
âDeal.â Soap leaned over you, upside down in your vision, eyes bright, hair a mess. âHey. Sweetheart.â
Your eyes slitted open. Barely.
âYou with us?â
A slow blink. âMhm.â
âGonna ask you a very important thing, yeah?â
Another blink. You were so tired. But his tone was playful and your body trusted him, so you let the sound out: âMm?â
âHow,â Soap said, sounding like he could burst from smugness, âdo we compare to Graves?â
The name hit your fogged brain like a stone dropped in deep water- plop⊠sink⊠gone.
Your brows knitted faintly. Your mouth worked. You genuinely searched and came up empty. Not a coy empty. Not a âIâll say this to boost your egoâ empty. A real, floaty, no file found empty.
âWhoâŠ?â you mumbled, voice slurry, eyes already sliding closed again.
The room erupted.
âFuckinâ yes,â Soap yelled, triumphant.
âTold you,â Ghost said, not loud but so satisfied it rang.
âGod, thatâs beautiful,â Gaz said, laughing, head tipped back.
Priceâs chest shook under your cheek. âThat,â he said, pressing a kiss to your hair, âis what I wanted.â
You were already gone again, body boneless in their hands, drifting on their voices like sleep:
ââŠwrite that downâŠâ
ââŠnext time he shows up Iâm tellinâ himâŠâ
authors note: jesus christ i have been thinking about this nonstop and yâknow.
imagining price has a huge cock. we all know heâs packing something huge but oh my god heâs hung like a horse. itâs so big and it hurts â hurts everyone heâs been with before. sex for him has always been about pleasing the other person anyway, he canât bear to hear his partners in pain. itâs such a big. cock. heâs content to just lap at his first wifeâs pussy, and finger his second wife with his big thick fingers. but heâs been divorced twice, his first wife sick of how long he was deployed for and his second, sick of him apologising all the time.
now heâs with you, all pretty and breathless on the bed, hair splayed out, face red. heâs lapping at your pussy, murmuring sweet nothings and he makes you come so easily. you look at him all flushed under his beard and your hands move to his zipper, to the obvious bulge straining against his cargos. but heâs sort of just blushes and looks away â ânah love i can handle that myself.â
you frown, and then he sighs, unzipping his trousers and pulling down the waistband so that his cock springs up, tip angry, red and leaking as it slaps against his navel. itâs fucking huge.
âjohn price,â you swallow, âyou were hiding that the entire time?â
he blushes, red, embarrassed, âiâm sorry, itâs â look iâll just jerk off in the bathroom or something, sorry itâs too fucking big.â
âhey!â you bite your lip, âwh-when did i say that.â your next words are shaky, âcâmon, iâm sure itâll fit, think iâm wet enough, but do you wanna check one more time.â
gym bro!ghost whose wind-down sets are lazy sex with you
he relaxes into the couch, sweat coating his chest and drenching his shirt. his shoulders relax and he groans, legs pushed apart and arm draped around your waist, hand grasping at the fat on the outside of your thigh as he drags you up and down his aching cock
he pants quietly, throwing his head back as you whimper and pant, your hungry cunt swallowing his cock whole. his throat bobs, and he squeezes your thigh, his cock twitching when you whimper particularly whorishly. your back arches, and you push your hips back into his, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs, a deliciously lewd 'pap, pap, pap' following each roll of his cock deep within you
his muscles ripple and flex, his meaty thighs spreading wide as he fucks up into you. "such a good girl ain't ya?" he drawls, biting at your shoulder. "lettin' me relax with this pussy. nothin' better," he praises, resting his head against your back. he watches the curve of your ass bounce against his thigh. you're easy to rile up and he adores hearing you whimper 'simon, oh!' all brokenly while he barely breaks another sweat.
he knows his scent sticks to your brain, excites you. he knows you love this routine specifically-- it makes you ride him till failure-- till you can't handle any more of his thick cock and even thicker cum. so he lets you. at your own pace, your own speed. he supplements it with shallow fucks into your wet heat, but nothing more
