Going to say this. People think Simon Riley has a life outside of the military, or something that softens out of "Ghost," but I don't think that's true. If he ever does leave base, he doesn't change from Ghost. I think that's just who he is, now, and to reach "Simon" would be meticulous and take a special kind of someone. (Hint, Soap). Yes, I fear that Price and him are close and Ghost is under his wing, but I think Riley remains as Ghost in those times. He doesn't soften up much, if only a little, and remains as the masked, mysterious anomaly that he is....
Let's talk Pebble & Price, the way a big part of the fandom perceives Price and how they misinterpret my ship because of that.
Everything under the cut.
Let's start with what we all know. A big part of this fandom sees Price as a father figure to start with. On that when it comes to those who simp for him it's added this overprotective nature to him. I've read MANY Price x reader fanfics to know that many ppl want Price to take a "daddy dom" role, often he's super possessive, jealous and controlling, most often I see fics about him and his "pretty little trad wife" or the "controversially young gf" that is just treated like a sugar baby (or worse just acts like a kid). I don't often see fics and ships that don't fall in those lines.
Now I'm not here to shame anyone's preferences and kinks, but let me tell you how this affects the ship with Pebble.
First of all Pebble's existence doesn't revolve around Price. He exists for like 3-4 years in her life in her lore so far.
If I post some art of Pebble, u dont have to bring him up. If he were relevant there, I'd mention it. You also have to remember I ship her with a bunch of my friends' ocs, so it's not always about him, lol. You are free to be curious and ask "how would be react to this?" But just assuming it's... yeah.
Second, Pebble and Price are equals. That's it. In their relationship (even with the difference in ranks) they are equals, they're both equally dominant and in control. Personally, I see Price as a character that wouldn't want a partner he needs to worry about. The same goes for Pebble. They're not an "opposites attract" or "they complete each other" situation, they're a match. Both want the same thing, they're not clingy, they want an intelligent and capable partner, someone that can stand on their own in their fucked up world. Now ofc they'll protect each other and have tender and intimate moments, but neither is looking to have a "protector" role in the relationship.
NOW because of how I PERSONALLY see Price doesn't reflect how most of the fandom sees him it puts me in situations where I tweak out over people taking my ship and assuming the dynamic they are used to seeing most often or what they'd want from Price.
No Pebble doesn't need his protection. She HATES jealousy (sees it as insecurity if she hasn't done anything to elicit that reaction from her partner), possessiveness, and being treated like a child.
If anything I beg of you guys to see them as "mama y papa". They're a power couple, Price is not jealous in nature and Pebble gives him no reasons to be anyway. Most people wouldn't even guess they're in a relationship with how neutral Pebble acts around him in public.
Price is a very confident man, and he loves how confident Pebble is, too. He knows how loyal and blunt she is. She'd bite the heads off of other men on her own, and if she didn't want him anymore, she'd just tell him, not waste anyone's time. Pebble being comfortable in her body isn't a threat to their relationship. And neither is other people admiring her if they do, he's got nothing to worry about.
Basically don't assume Price is jealous of anything or that there's any drama when you see another Pebble ship. They're both very mature, confident, logical and "no bullshit" type of characters.
Thanks for reading! I hope it clarified some things or it was fun to learn more about Pebble and their dynamic!
Beautifully said! I 100% agree that Price wouldn't be a jealous, possessive man that wants someone to baby and trail after. Him and Pebble are such a power couple and I love your ship with them 🥹🙏🏻. Your Price interpretation is amazing.
Your ask made me remember the request I was going to send it to you but forgot
hard to pick one to ask out of my drafts (very tempted to ask a PriceGhost omegaverse thought) BUT I decided to go with this cliché ask:
During a mission it snowed in, trapping Price and Nikolai in the safehouse, maybe one of them is experiencing hypothermia and needed to be warm up...in one way or another ( ͡º ꒳ ͡º) you can decide if they go 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 or not!! I'll eat up anything you write either way
love yo stuff, stay hydrated! also manifesting max grains and zero pain for ya gym days 💪
Nik has to save Price from hypothermia, but with their bodies pressed so close, they can't resist each other.
cw: omegaverse, alpha Nik, omega Price, dubious consent in the sense Price is embarrassed by his body's reaction, clearly has some trauma, and it's kinda a stressful situation, and Nik gentles him? But they're into each other. Uncertain/open ending as Price clearly has a lot to work through. Sorry, Gomz, this got a whole 7k away from me...
The snow had come in so quickly. That was the problem with operating this far north; the weather was unpredictable, and when it turned it took no prisoners. Nik had managed to get them to an old house he knew about just on the outskirts of a small town. One of many old estates once owned by a soviet officer, its wine cellar, opulent decorations, and sprawling grounds all that remained of the bloated symbol of hypocrisy. It had long since been abandoned by the locals; too much trouble to repair, and everything of immediate value had been gutted.
While Nik had tried to get one of the old radios they found to work, John had been shovelling snow around the generators in an effort to get close enough to crank them up, but the storm had eventually defeated him and driven him back inside. Not even the legendary Bravo Six could overcome nature when she dug her heels in.
Nik wasn't immediately worried when John stepped into the study where they'd set up a temporary camp, shaking the snow from his carrier vest and coat like a dog clearing its fur. He was walking normally, placing his rifle down against the wall as he shut out the howling wind. Nik had loaded a fire in the hearth and found a heap of animal furs and blankets in one of the bedrooms upstairs to supplement their sleeping bags, so the room was warm enough to shed their coats and hang them to dry. He sat hunched over the desk by the window, one side of the headset pressed to his ear as he adjusted the antennae.
The radio whirred and buzzed, but there was too much interference from the storm and all he could coax out of it was white noise and whining. "There is only static," Nik said. "It is working, but we will only get a communication through when the snow eases. For now, we must wait."
"Thas'good," John said, and then proceeded to knock into a dusty coffee table, his boots clumping heavily as he tried to steady himself.
Nik paused, his hand stilling on the dials. "Captain?" He looked over his shoulder, picking John's shape out in the gloom as his eyes adjusted to the dim light created by the fire. A sharp contrast to the almost radioactive yellow of the dials. He could see John slouched over by the door, his hand against the wall.
"Nik, I fink... Fink 'm..."
Nik abandoned the radio in the next breath and was there to catch John when he staggered, his body falling heavily into Nik's arms. There was no mistaking the signs of hypothermia; John looked confused, his eyes dilated, and when Nik yanked his glove off with his teeth and shoved his hand just on the inside of John's collar where he should be warm and dry, his skin was cold and clammy.
"Nik, 'm... S'somethin'..."
Nik dragged John towards the fire, his boots scuffing on the old wood panel floor as he struggled to find his footing. John's clothes were wet, inside and out; a combination of relentless snow melting through and the sweat from exertion meant that much of his gear's insulation had been rendered useless. Exposed for too long in adverse conditions, even the most expensive military kit couldn't keep up.
Nik peeled John out of them, tearing off velcro and unclipping buckles, swift and efficient. His palms passed over pale skin spotted with freckles, blue in some places where it should be flushed and pink. Despite its pallor, John's body was truly beautiful; strong and athletic, with its defined musculature dusted by downy body hair. If the situation wasn't so desperate, Nik might have lingered to admire every new inch he revealed. He had fantasised about it long enough in private moments, his eyes closed and his hand inside his underwear.
John tried to help. Even dazed and shivering, he knew what was wrong. Knew what the process was. But his clumsy hands only slowed Nik down, numb fingers unable to grip or feel their way over the fastenings. "Let me. I have you," Nik said gently, pushing John's hands away from his belt. He was naked for barely a handful of seconds before Nik was wrapping him in a sleeping bag, laying him down on top of the pile of furs before the fire.
There were warm packs in their Bergens and Nik cracked a few of these as he kicked off his own clothes. Sleeping bags needed actual body heat to work well, and that was something John was lacking; on their own, the heat packs wouldn't work quickly enough. This wasn't how Nik had wanted to hold John for the first time, not what he had dreamed about in those quiet hours before dawn, his hand clutched around his knot, but he didn't have time to lament fate.
Nik shivered as he grabbed the last of the blankets, a little musty, but a maid had clearly laundered them before storing them away for the final time. He draped them over in layers before sliding into the sleeping bag at John's back, large arms encircling his quivering chest and drawing him close, John's freezing body fully ensconced in life-saving warmth.
Only in the stillness that followed did Nik realise his own heart was hammering in his chest, his ears muffled by the pulse of his blood as he allowed himself the momentary grace to feel fear. What if John had stayed out only five minutes longer and collapsed in the snow? What if Nik had searched for him, his body already covered over, and hadn't found him until the morning? Frozen solid, his beautiful eyes empty of life. It could have happened. Fate had been close to stealing John away. Too close.
John's laboured panting evened out and Nik felt his body go slack as he slipped in and out of unconsciousness. It was fine, as long as he was warming, breathing, his body relaxing out of its tense alarm, then Nik could stop his useless panicking.
Nik swallowed, tilting his nose down into John's hair to inhale a lungful of him, seeking comfort from the soft scent of a mature, fertile omega; a guilty pleasure, but one he allowed himself to calm his fear.
He had never been this close to John. Brief embraces, shoulder to shoulder in the back of a Hercules, sharing a drink and whispering conspiratorially in a bar, passing a cigar back and forth in the back of Nik's Black Hawk. So many intimate moments where Nik had fallen slowly, irrevocably in love with this fierce, bad-tempered, feral man with scruffy facial hair and cunningly intelligent blue eyes. But none like this. None where he could taste John's musky, soft smell in the back of his throat, feel the pulse of his heart as if it were beating under his own skin.
Nik knew he was torturing himself. John’s scent curled through him like rich cigar smoke in an expensive bar, winding down his spine until it coiled in his belly and stoked at his instincts. Nik was so very aware of the firm line of John's body in his arms; the plush curves of his full arse, the strong muscles of his thighs and the quiet strength boasted by his broad shoulders. How soft and inviting his body hair was, how kissable the freckles, scars and moles across his skin, like constellations mapping a lifetime over John's body. The thought of spreading John's legs, sinking into his tight heat and making that gravelly voice break with pleasure was driving him insane.
"Blyat..." Nik muttered, the heat coiling in his hips, his cock twitching. Nik flattened his palm against John's chest and felt the strong, valiant thrum of his heart, defiant in the face of the cold. He used it to ground himself. He had to stay calm. For John's sake. While Nik could forgive his body its natural urges around such a handsome omega, he could not forgive any loss of control because of them.
Nik stayed vigilant as the minutes ticked into hours. He tried to remember his training about the different levels of hypothermia and their recovery times, but all his damn mind could latch onto was the scent and feel of the omega in his arms. Nik ached in a way he never had before; a deep, humming discontent at his very core. It was a combination of desire and terror; the cold had nearly snatched John away, and now here he was, so close, so vulnerable, and yet he had never been so off limits. Nik burned with need and it mocked him.
Nik held John a little tighter and closed his eyes. As long as he could feel the slow rise and fall of John's chest, feel the flutter of his breath over his bicep, he knew John was still… here. Alive, and safe. If Nik stayed still, taking each minute as it came, he would not slip. Not allow himself to indulge in his weakness.
Nik must have dozed off to the lullaby of John's heartbeat, his face tucked into his hair, because seemingly in the next moment John was writhing in his arms, his arse bumping back against the hard length of Nik's cock, which had only stiffened further as Nik had grounded himself in the strength of John's body. A poor method of quietening his libido, as it turned out, with John's scent now fogging every breath, melting into his hot skin like settling snow.
Nik loosened his embrace a little and John rolled over, the cold tip of his nose pressing between the mounds of Nik's tits. Nik felt the bristles of John's beard and then the soft vibration of a contented hum, followed by the softest roll of a pleased purr; the noise of a receptive omega looking to mate. It gripped in Nik’s chest like a closing fist and he drew in a stuttering breath. Nik stroked a palm down the curve of John's spine to settle at the small of his back, and John's hips pushed forward, teasing himself against the thick bulge in Nik's boxers. Nik did nothing to stop him, paralysed by the noise he never thought he'd hear John make.
One of those strong legs lifted to drape over Nik's hip, drawing him closer until Nik could feel John's wet slit dampening the cotton over his cock. John was reacting favourably to his scent, judging him worthy as he flexed against his strength, instinctually reaching for him. Nik's entire body ached with desire and sordid lust, his teeth on edge, as the man he yearned for offered himself up in a poisoned chalice. To take advantage now would be beyond redemption.
"John?" Nik croaked.
John's lashes fluttered against Nik's skin and he pulled back a little, a stitch between his brows. "Nik, I..."
"How do you feel?" Nik bit out, intimately aware that he could feel the throbbing heat between John's legs pressed against the length of his cock.
John's cheeks reddened and Nik felt his weathered hands press to his chest. "Fine... Good, I... Sorry, 'm... I didn' mean..."
"Is ok," Nik said softly. "It is warm. Your body is reacting naturally."
John swallowed and Nik felt a deep breath shudder the length of his back. Noticeably, John didn't draw his hips away; he tensed and then relaxed, like he was fighting an internal battle, his body warming further in Nik's arms as his hips squirmed, rubbing the swollen bud of his cock against Nik's with a soft gasp of surprised pleasure. His skin was warm, flushed, the first beads of sweat gathering across his shoulder blades, slick between their bellies and chests. The miasma of pheromones and arousal made Nik dizzy, and beneath it he could smell the telltale sweetness of heat.
John wasn't due, he knew that much. The captain organised his heats fastidiously. His body had been thrown off kilter by the cold, perhaps, or even the proximity and availability of someone his subconscious deemed a worthy mate to protect it while vulnerable; a virile, strong alpha. The thought that John's primal self would offer him for mating, assured that Nik would be strong enough to protect him while he recovered, and the resulting pups from their union, stirred something feral and possessive in Nik's gut. He pushed it down, shoulders bunching.
John growled low in his throat, flashing his sharp canines, his fists bunching against Nik's chest, perhaps sensing the shift in Nik body. "Don't know wos fuckin' wrong with me," he snarled, and Nik felt the graze of those teeth against his clavicle.
Nik knew John fought his biology. He chafed at it, saw it as a failing. Nik could only imagine what had been done to him in the past to make him feel that way. Like any omega, John was more than capable of tearing him to pieces if he felt threatened, but there was something so rawly vulnerable about John now as he clenched and growled, fighting something that he should view as a nuisance more than a crippling inadequacy.
"Nothing," Nik said. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are... velikolepnyy."
"Fuck, Nik..." John's fingers splayed over his chest again, the cool tip of his nose warming in the hollow of Nik's throat. "Haa, hnn, I think.. ahh, I think ‘m..."
"Da, I can... smell it in your sweat."
"Fuck, fuck..." John snarled, letting out another soft gasp as his body cramped for the first time.
"It is ok. You are safe. We can manage it until help arrives."
John shoved his face into Nik's chest and groaned, pained. “Yer so fuckin’ hard, Nik.”
Nik swallowed. That didn't sound like anger or disgust. But desperation and desire. “Da, you… smell very good,” Nik said, somewhat lamely. “It is ok. I can… I am in control.”
“Oh, fu–” John tensed in Nik’s arms, and Nik heard his jaw creak as he clenched his teeth through another spasm of discomfort. “Need t’ get out of here or I won't be… ha-ah.”
“Nyet, you… John, you must stay in the warm.’
“All the bloody blankets smell of you. S’only gonna… get worse. Fuck, why fuckin’... now?”
Nik swallowed and slid a hand from John's back to his hip. “A panic response. You were in danger–this is not your fault.”
John said nothing. He faded into silence, his body wound tight in Nik’s arms. His previously calm, deep breaths that had inhaled lungfuls of Nik’s scent, soothing his heat into a deeper lull, now hitched in short, sharp pants, trying to avoid the lure of comfort and surrender. Nik wished they were home, in John's bed, or even the snug bunk he used in his office when he couldn't be bothered to drive back to his flat. At least there, surrounded by familiarity, John might have felt safe enough to tentatively explore the desire sinking its hooks in.
But then, Nik thought with only a hint of bitterness, it was the sheer desperation of the environment around them that had panicked his body enough to shake up the clock. Without it, John would have always remained in absolute control of himself to the point of guarded repression. He would have never fallen into Nik's embrace.
“God, fuck,” John growled, his body rigid, like if he moved even an inch he might lose some invisible battle. Ground lost to an encroaching enemy. Nik wished he could roll him into his back and scent him until he relaxed. Every instinct sparking in his brain roared with distress at the discomfort of the omega in his arms, demanding he do something, anything. He laid there uselessly, as frozen as the fish in the ponds outside, caught in the storm of competing needs; to satiate John, and to respect him. It hurt that the two things were in opposition when they should be one and the same.
John shifted, his broad shoulders rolling a little, his head tilting back. Nik could practically hear the cogs whirring in John's mind. When he finally lifted his chin far enough for their eyes to meet, John's were red and watery from stress, pupils dilated. Nik could see a deep sadness, a kind of resignation; bright blue dampened to a faded grey. “I, uh… would ya help me, Nik?”
Nik’s mouth opened and closed, each breath drawing more of John’s deep, saccharine scent to the back of his tongue. His body was tense in Nik’s arms still, occasionally shuddering as another muscle spasm worked its way through his core, a grunt snorting through his nose as he swallowed down his groan of pain. Nik couldn't find his words. “I…”
“C’mon, know you want it, can feel ya between my legs,” John said, huffing softly with amusement, face crinkling in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Would jus’ be, mm… quick, y’know? So they don't find me in a state. I'd make it up t’ ya, on my word.”
“You would offer me something I have wanted for years as if it is a burden,” Nik said, trying to keep the edge of sadness from his voice but failing rather miserably. “This is not how I… hoped it to be.”
John swallowed, his eyes dropped, expression hazy. It wasn't how Nik had hoped his confession would be either. He had pictured an expensive dinner, perhaps a trip to Duxford so he could look at the planes and John could look at the tanks, and then Nik would have told him as they strolled through the countryside towards a pint, wrapped in scarves and heavy coats. Warm, safe. Comfortable in each other’s presence as they had always been. Like this, John would feel under duress, vulnerable and like he needed to be on the defence.
Another shudder, another pant of breath, the soft gasp not quite bitten back in time. “Please, Nik… can’t let them see me like this, I… I'll be good.. ahh, for ya. No funny business.”
“Funny business?”
“Yeah, not gonna bite, or… mm, won't… won't fight ya.”
“John…” Nik said, his chest pulling tight; his teeth ached at the back of his mouth and a miserable knot formed in his throat. “I am not a rapist.”
“I know, I know… Nik, 'm… ahh, ‘m not thinkin’, didn't mean it like that, I…” John's face dropped to Nik's chest for a moment as he gathered himself. “Jus’... Don't bite me, don't mark me, no’... no’ ready. I… no’ like this.”
“I promise I won't,” Nik said. It hurt that John couldn't meet his eyes. Someone had hurt him badly in the past. Nik had always assumed as such, but that was all the confirmation he needed. The harm was so deep, still raw, that John couldn't even trust a man that had served him loyally for so many years.
Nik lifted the hand from John's hip and cupped the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. Those blue eyes flickered and John tilted into his palm, the softest purr breaking through the tightness of his jaw, so low, like a glass marble rolling across an old oak table. Nik couldn't be sure John wasn't forcing it for his benefit, but it had the desired effect either way; the alpha part of his biology ruffled happily, and he responded with a soft chuff, pressing his lips to John's forehead. "Ya tebya obozhayu."
Nik couldn't resist any longer. If he was gentle, if he took his time, then that apprehension he could see in John's eyes, the tense fear rigid down his back, would melt away. John was watching him, sad blue eyes glistening, part in shame, part in barely disguised fear, and Nik wanted to hold him until all he felt was comfort and pleasure.
Their first kiss was tentative, as tender as Nik could be as his hands shook. John's mouth yielded to his tongue, soft, chapped lips parting with a low moan as John's body arched against his once again. Nik slid his palm beneath John’s thigh to lift it further over his hip, grinding his hard cock against the wet heat between his legs, slow and leisurely. Even the soft material of his boxers would begin to feel coarse against John's heat sensitive skin, so they needed to go.
When Nik pulled away, he sucked gently on John's lower lip, before pressing another kiss to his forehead creased with tense lines. He wriggled away enough to shove his boxers off his hips and down his thighs until they passed his knees. When John pressed back against him, soft skin of his inner thigh sliding over the outside of Nik's, Nik's cock head slid through his wet folds, bumping up against the swell of his cock.
“Oh fuck, Nik… yer so fuckin’ thick…” John bit out, grinding himself against the underside of Nik's cock, slick and precum making filthy, wet noises as John groaned into Nik's chest, hands clutching at the meat of Nik's body as he took his pleasure. Nik let him, mouth hanging open, the soft, wet slit of John’s cunt hot and perfect around the underside of his shaft.
He cupped John's arse with one hand, spreading it open a little so his fingers could dip towards the fluttering muscles of John's holes. The softest brush of his fingertips appeared to be enough because John’s moans hit a peak after only two passes, his body seizing, pushing hard against Nik's cock. “Oh, fuck, Nik, Nik… ha-ah.”
John tucked his face away as if ashamed at his eagerness, pressing his nose into the centre of Nik's chest as his orgasm rattled through him. He was on a hair trigger, sensitivity heightened, receptive to a potential mate’s touch. The thought made something warm and heavy curl in Nik’s belly, and he allowed himself a fleeting moment of excitement. Nik nuzzled a kiss in his hair and chuffed softly, stroking his hands up and down John's back before lifting John higher against him, his cock flicking free of the press of John's body.
It was awkward like this, wrapped tightly in the blankets with John half draped over him, and Nik didn't want to risk rolling on top of John and panicking him. There was a risk instinct would overcome reason in the haze of heat and John's fear, and those sharp teeth would rip through his jugular in seconds. Perhaps later, when he had realised Nik wasn't about to hurt him, Nik would drape over his back and appease the deep need in his gut to blanket his omega as they mated, to fully encompass his powerful body as it presented and guard it with his own. Instead, Nik reached beneath John's thigh, hitching it a little higher, to steady his cock just long enough to sink the head inside.
John gasped, his back arching, his walls still tingling from his orgasm bore down, spasming in renewed pleasure as Nik slowly thrust inside. He couldn't quite get fully seated, not at this angle, but it was enough. His eyes flickered shut at the sweet, soft heat sucking around his shaft as he drew back, thrusting back in with a slow roll of the hips, feeling John press against him with a strangled grunt of shock.
“John…” Nik kept hold of John’s thigh but the other hand slid up his back into his hair, urging his face away from where it had buried against his chest. His eyes were red-rimmed, dull, and there was a crease of concentration doen his face. Nik's heart ached. “I am sorry… you are… tight.”
“S’ok,” John croaked. “Don' be, s’fine, feels good… please, move… ‘m–haa.”
Nik kissed him gently on the lips, no more than a brief brush, before rolling to ease him on top. As John slid down Nik's full length, his knees splaying over the blankets, he choked out a soft gasp. “Nik, fuck, so much… haa, mmm, n-no, give me a moment, need a moment…”
John was so tight, bearing down on the thick girth pressing him open, resisting, anxious. Nik had a slight height advantage, and he used it to press gentle kisses to John's face; over his brow, against a flushed cheek and the creases at the corners of his eyes. He chuffed, stroking warm palms up and down John's broad back as it flexed and quivered.
With each caress, John relaxed, sinking down against the plush warmth of Nik's body; the give of his belly, the cushion of his chest, the downy black hair of his torso that trapped the scent of his sweat and pheromones, rubbing both into John's skin.
John tucked his nose beneath Nik's chin and purred, rough and craggy, like someone had rubbed sandpaper down his throat. Not the silky trill of a young omega, but the worn, tired purr of a mature one that has torn his way through life with his bare hands, snarling and growling, so used to roaring with fury that gentler noises were unwieldy. And yet, it was the most beautiful sound Nik had ever heard.
Nik responded with soft huffs and murmurs of his own, hands sliding down to John's thighs as he slowly rocked his hips up, dragging his thick cock out until only his crown stayed notched inside, the slick dripping down his shaft, soaking his balls, further assurance that John was finding pleasure in their mating. When John tilted his head and started to lick at Nik’s chin and neck, his tongue rasping over Nik’s stubble in long, indulgent laps, Nik tilted his back to submit himself to his omega’s affectionate grooming. I trust you, please trust me.
His. His omega. John was his. Handsome, fierce, strong. Every inch of him wrapped in corded muscle, with a soft layer over his belly and tits, his slim waist and the dip of his back perfectly shaped for Nik’s hands, the firm curves of his arse and thighs, built for explosive strength, agility, for riding an alpha’s cock and taking their pleasure. If only someone had nurtured John's confidence rather than destroy it.
Nik pushed his heels and upper back into the floor, and bounced John’s hips against his, fucking him down onto his cock with increasing pace.
“Oh, Nik, Nik… mmm, yeah, tha’--ah, ah, fuck,” John panted, breath hot against the wetness he had left on the underside of Nik's chin.
“You are perfect, John. Tell me, tell me what… mm, tell me what you want…”
“Ahh, ahh, I nee’, ah, Nik, yeah…”
“That's it, solnyshko, take what you… ahh, take what you need. I am yours.”
Nik could feel John taking agency, tentatively, his hips moving without guidance. He slid his hands down the back of John's thighs and held him behind the knees, giving him something to brace against as he began to grind and roll with increasing urgency, chasing the pleasure coiling in his hips, tensing in his thighs and his lower back.
“Ahh, yer… ahh, yer gettin’ harder… feel, ahh, feel bigger, mm… ahh, yer knot, fuck!”
Nik's knot was beginning to swell, popping in and out of John's hole, gaping him wide with each pass. His back arched, hips thrusting up to meet John, a firm platform for him to slam himself down and grind against. Under the cover of the blanket, the sweat eased the glide of their bodies together, intensifying the scent of heat and arousal in Nik's nostrils. His balls pulled tight as John's desperate noises, broken and gravelly, hit a new, urgent note, and his knot swelled, grinding into John's hole until it locked them together.
Nik released John's shaking legs as his body responded with a deep, overwhelming orgasm that milked Nik’s knot, and Nik grabbed John's face, arching him back to lick the sweat up the curve of his throat. So close to his scent glands, it was saturated in heat pheromones and Nik sucked desperately at the soft, vulnerable skin just above the hollow of his throat as his prick filled John with his seed.
Those strong thighs clamped around his hips, shuddering and weak from exertion, and Nik whispered gentle praise until John went limp against him, melting into the cradle of Nik's body and relaxing around the bulge of his knot.
Nik had never felt satisfaction like it. A soft, comfortable calm settled deep in his bones. His omega smelled satiated, content, the heave of his shoulders calming as his heart settled into an even rhythm. Neither of them spoke. Nik thought perhaps they were both listening to each other's bodies. Nik could feel John's heartbeat; against his chest, wrapped around his cock. Defiant, strong. And Nik wondered whether John could feel his, beating deep inside him, whether it made him feel content, whether the intimacy made him feel as content as it did Nik. Nik kissed John's neck and received a soft rumble in response.
They dozed. Nik's knot went down and he eased John into the softness of the blankets, kissing his chest, his throat, his mouth. Desperate to taste him, to please and comfort him. He was sucking a pebbled nipple when John tugged at him again, gladly spreading his legs for Nik to climb between them. Nik gathered John's hands and pressed them above his head, their fingers wound together, and watched his eyes, kissed his lips, made love to him as gently as he could.
Muscular thighs spread wide as Nik ground deep inside John's eager cunt, alternating between agile rolls and circles of his hips and deeper thrusts that let John feel the heavy balls ready to breed him. The second knot was as intense as the first, and Nik fucked his spend deep into John's body, his tongue in his mouth, their lips locked together. John pushed himself up into it, legs wide in wanton and beautiful submission.
The ebb and flow of John's heat stretched through the night, the storm howling relentlessly outside. They slept between bouts of sex, with John curled into the safety of Nik's arms. After his first turn on top, he was too weak to take the lead again; drained by his brush with the cold, exhausted by the anxiety of an unplanned heat, he relaxed into Nik's care because he had little choice. Nik cradled him, kept them wrapped in the blankets, now rich with the miasma of their mating, their bodies slick and pliant. Every time John demanded, Nik provided.
When he left the impromptu nest - for that is what it had become, soaked in the scent of their mating - it was only to check the radio, feed the fire and arrange John's clothes before it to dry. Each time he returned, John curled back into his embrace with a contented purr, drawing Nik back between his legs.
As dawn creeped closer, John's scent changed, so full of Nik now that he was ready to be claimed. John rolled onto his front, too exhausted to fight his natural desires, and tilted his hips up. Nik writhed between the blankets to taste between his legs, warm tongue lapping slowly over John's puffy, sore cunt, so sensitive and wet, giving into his own instincts to taste the fertility and readiness of his omega.
It was dizzying, intoxicating; Nik pressed his tongue inside and felt John squeeze around him, heard him sigh softly in pleasure, and ground his hard cock against the furs in excitement. He had done this. He had satisfied this strong, indomitable omega to the point he would relax, present, accept a deep and thorough breeding. Nik had been deemed worthy once again.
Nik licked John until his jaw ached, his face soaked in slick, reaching to play with John's engorged cock, squeezing and rubbing until John’s hips were rocking, his moans low and filthy. Eventually, John squirmed, a softer orgasm making his walls flutter in search of a knot as his fingers snagged in the furs. His heat would break in the next few hours; this was their final coupling.
Nik draped over his back, up on his hands and toes with John's hips tilted up. John swallowed him so easily, snug heat sucking Nik’s cock down until Nik’s heavy balls were flush to his body. Nik groaned, the silky soft wetness somehow more divine than it had been the first time, and John echoed him, pressing back, demanding his alpha.
“Nik…”
It was the first word John had said in hours. He had been mostly moans, gasps and growls, completely delirious. That was it, wasn't it? The tension, the resistance, it had melted away, John wanted him, wanted to feel his knot, to take his seed.
“Da, solnyshko. I am here…”
John twisted, arching back, and they kissed, John licking into Nik's mouth. No hiding his face, no delirious submission, but seeking affection as Nik slowly rocked into him. Nik's chest ached in a different way; relief, love, a deep need to protect, to serve his omega's every whim. The soft noises John made through their kiss as Nik dragged every inch of his prick in and out of his body made Nik want to stay there forever, trapped in this moment of bliss. So in tune with John, their heartbeats in tandem, bodies joined as one.
When John broke the kiss, he turned to press his chest into the furs and lift into Nik's thrusts. “Breed me proper, Nik… fuck, I need it… need yer knot, mmm, please, please… harder, wanna feel ya in my damn womb.”
Nik's nostrils flared, his lips rolling back to show his teeth. He dropped to his elbows and tucked his arms beneath John's chest, pressing his own into the sweaty plain of John's back, and began to rut into him harder, faster. The blankets fell away with the pace of Nik's movements, but the fire was stacked high, the room warm enough that it didn't matter. John moaned and gasped, slick hole bearing down on the relentless pump of Nik’s prick into it, hands kneading at the furs.
It was instinctual to lean down and mouth the gland at John's neck, rolling it between his teeth, the sweet taste of unmated omega soaking his tongue. John moaned, more slick dripping down his thighs, his mind unthinking in a soft haze of instinct and heat. He didn't resist, didn't fight.
It would be so easy to claim him at that moment. They would be bonded for life. This beautiful omega would be Nik's and Nik’s alone. Every heat, his body would call for Nik, and Nik’s rut would answer. The intensity of their mating would leave them both sated, and Nik would have a lifetime to show John how much he deserved to be loved. Perhaps even a pup or two, with John's beautiful blue eyes and round cheeks and lopsided smile–
Nik moaned, teeth tightening, as his hips pistoned harder, cock throbbing, so close to release. John's body was so open, so wet, the noises filling the room alongside their moans completely obscene. The filthy pleasure of it roiled in Nik's gut, the thought of pumping another load deep inside his omega, of it quickening as his teeth rended through freckled skin to claim what was already his by fucking birth right, and John had said no, but what if–
He growled low in his chest and forced his jaw apart, pressing his open mouth to John's shoulder, as his knot popped and his balls emptied in powerful pulses.
He didn't bite down.
Wouldn't.
Couldn't.
John had said no and Nik's love for the man was greater than his desire for the omega, even in the heat of the moment. A well of self disgust formed in Nik's chest as he pressed his face to John's back, the fevered, possessive internal rant fading into an echo in the back of his mind.
John moaned and flopped into the furs, his hips shifting only with the occasional stutter of Nik's as he ground his spend as deep as he could. Nik relaxed some of his weight onto John's back and felt him vibrate with the depth of his contentment; a low, croaky purr, only stoked a little louder when Nik lapped at the sweat on his neck, his biceps, and nuzzled into his hair and beard. “Am I too heavy?” he asked, his voice soft beneath the crackle and pop of the fire.
“Naw, feels like yer crushin’ my soul back into my body,” John murmured, his muscles squeezing a little around the swell of Nik's knot. “Feels… good.”
Safe, Nik thought.
The way John was relaxing into the furs, his scent sweet and doughy, blue eyes drooping closed. Nik continued to groom him while they were knotted, licking at the rough at the edge of his grey-speckled beard, nipping his ears and kissing the slopes of his shoulders.
When Nik’s knot faded, he sat back on his heels and watched his cock pull free of John's body with a filthy little slurp. He pressed his thumbs into John's thighs to spread them, admiring the glisten of slick and cum dripping out of John's used hole. Something primal wanted to push it all back in, to make sure not a single drop was wasted. With John so relaxed, Nik gave in to the desire. When Nik slid two fingers in slowly, watching John's soft cunt swallow them so easily, he groaned. It was enough to make his cock twitch with interest again, despite the ache in his lower back and thighs.
“Nik…” John whispered, his hips lifting. “‘m knackered, c’mon… oh, fuck.”
“You are just so perfect… krasivyy. I want to make you feel good. Just once more.” Nik slid his other hand beneath John's body, two fingers rubbing back and forth over the lovely swell of his eager cock, matching the pace of the two thrusting into his cunt.
“Oh, ah, Nik… it's… too much, ‘m too… ah.”
Nik curled his fingers, finding the sweet spot that made John's back arch, and it was so breathtaking the way his muscles bunched, rolling beneath sweat slick-skin, following each pulse of pleasure as it passed up his spine. John's knees spread out, agile hips grinding his cock against the rough pads of Nik's fingers. Even exhausted, wrung out, John’s body sang like a finely tuned instrument under Nik's touch. Like they were meant to be, even without the chemical bond of a mating mark.
John came with a broken moan, his thighs shaking as his cunt clenched around Nik's fingers, slick and cum soaking Nik's palms. The alpha in Nik rumbled with pride and he pulled his hands away to watch John flop, powerful body twitching in the aftershocks.
Nik drew the blankets over their backs and bedded down at John's side, pressing his lips to the back of John's shoulder. In the soft afterglow of their mating, Nik made the silent promise to wait as long as it took for John to be ready. Even if their bonding was his final act as he drew his last breath.
Nik woke some hours later to a crackling voice through the radio. This is Bravo 7. Come in, Yankee 7. He dragged himself out from beneath the blankets and stumbled over to the headset. “This is Yankee 7. It is… good to hear your voice, Lieutenant.”
Copy. And yours. Sitrep?
“We are secure. The captain requires… medical assistance, but it is non-urgent. Hypothermic but stabilised.”
Roger. Location? Over.
“Figures,” Nik yanked his notepad towards him and read out the coordinates.
Rog. Hostiles? Over.
“Just the storm.”
ETA two hours. Sit tight. Out.
Pulling John from the nest felt cruel. Omegas needed time to recover from a heat, and prepare for the next stage. A stage that John would not get to experience, Nik realised, with no small pang of disappointment. They had little time to talk, focusing on packing up camp and covering evidence of their presence.
John's clothes were rough where they had dried before the fire, and Nik held him as he climbed awkwardly back into them. By the time they were making their way towards the drumming blades of a helicopter, Nik's arms around John's back to help him across the uneven ground, they smelled more of woodsmoke and musty damp than sex.
Ghost’s eyes lingered on John when he snapped at the attempt to help him into the Heli. A recently mated omega was aggressive to any alpha that wasn't theirs, and the lieutenant knew something existed between his captain and the pilot that arrived to snatch him from frying pans and fires across the world. Nik dipped his chin once when Ghost glanced at him, and that was enough for the lieutenant.
They gave John his space on the flight home, listening to him growl over the Comms, updating Laswell and Mac on the relative success of the mission. They had secured the intel they needed, even if the storm had nearly scuppered them.
Rog. Ye broken?
“Naw, caught a cold, nuffin’ a rest won't fix.”
Copy. See ye when ye land. Oout.
Nik watched John chuck the radio down and drop his face into his hands, and had to grip his own knees hard to stop from moving over to comfort him. All he felt for the entire journey was a burning desire to blanket and scent the love of his life until he could sleep peacefully. John dozed fitfully the rest of the way, startling awake where he felt unsafe, unguarded.
The base nurses kept him in for a night for monitoring after Nik had accurately relayed John's symptoms, omitting the heat when John had cast him a stern look. So it wasn't until the next day that Nik had a chance to speak to him without prying eyes and ears encroaching on their privacy. Nik caught him just as he was heading into his office.
“John.” Nik felt a stab of pain as John’s shoulders lifted with tension. He couldn't help but reach for him, fingertips stroking the inside of his elbow.
“You olrigh’, Nik?”
“Da,” Nik said, his hand dropping away under John's scrutiny. “Did… did they clear you?”
“Yeah, they said… uh, ya saved my life. Again. Quick thinkin'.”
Nik swallowed, his palm pressing to the door by John's head, desperate to touch him. “And yet, you cannot look at me.”
John’s breath hitched. “I, uh… what you saw… I had no right t’ demand that of ya, Nik. I was arrogant t' think I didn't need spare suppressants for a quick jaunt. Fuckin' irresponsible. Won't 'appen again.”
“You demanded nothing I was not willing to give.”
Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say. John drew in a stuttering breath and tilted his head away, like Nik's scent, even dull beneath shower gel and cologne, was too much. “Yeah, I… thanks fer no’ bitin’ me. I woulda let ya… at the end.”
Nik felt a prickling at the backs of his eyes, a tight knot in his throat. “I do not wish to be thanked for common decency.”
John huffed. It was a sad, resigned noise from deep inside his chest. “Not as common as ya think, mate. Listen, I need time t’ process… come back tomorra?”
“John, I…”
“I need bloody space, Nik,” John snapped, and Nik heard an edge in his voice usually reserved for people stupid enough to try clawing their way under John's skin. “Tomorra, olrigh’?”
Nik blinked quickly, drawing back and inhaling a deep breath. It only served to carry the scent of distressed omega to the back of his tongue, and he wanted nothing more than to curl around John until he smelled just as content as he had in their makeshift nest. “Da. Tomorrow then.”
John pushed down the handle beneath his hand and disappeared inside his office, leaving Nik in the corridor to stare forlornly at the door.
He would wait, he reminded himself. Wait for John to be ready. Even if it took ‘til his dying breath. Nik placed his palm gently on the door before he departed, heading for the familiar comfort of his Black Hawk and her myriad of mechanical issues to occupy his mind.
If Nik had pushed the boundary, he would have found John Price, Captain, peerless leader of the 141, the indomitable Bravo Six, curled up on the floor on the other side of the door, his face buried in his knees as the tears fell and his shoulders shook. He had said he needed space to process, but the truth was, he had no idea where to even start.
Hi!! I saw your recent ask on Jack’s account where you asked about Russian!! First off, YAY, new nikprice writer! And there WAS a Russian language post! I wrote it :D here it is bud, looking forward to reading your writing when it comes out (no pressure though obviously!!!)
Hi rawr! First, you're one of my favorite authors and I visit your page very often! I love how you write, it captivates me so easily.
To my ask, though! When writing other characters, I feel like I do amazing at it (when I made them). When writing characters like Nikolai or Price I feel like I'm slaughtering their characterization. Do you have any tips for writing them better? Or, in general, how do you write for them?
I know when I write for characters I embody them, but that's because I have their personality traits, habits, and ideologies in my head. When it comes to canon characters I get hesitant.
Thanks for reading :))
Funny thing 1) I recently scored a roleplay partner who has a similar username to you and I was befuddled because I did NOT think you did rp. I was just confused and we cleared the air 😭. 2) kitty. She's beastly, watch out.
Thank you for the cat tax. Love that she's looking at me like "Sus".
With characterisation, it's very much in the eye of the beholder. Because we are unique in experiences and cultural background, my Price should feel a bit different to yours. But, there are a few things that might help to keep in mind for him?
When you’re writing Price, think of him first and foremost as a seasoned professional. He's not loud, flashy, or trying to prove anything. He’s been doing this a long time, and everyone around him can feel that. In a room full of soldiers, Price doesn’t need to dominate the conversation; he often speaks last, but when he does, it settles things. He is always the deciding factor, even when someone outranks him. His confidence comes from experience, not ego, so his decisions feel deliberate and thought-through. (Price studied the map for a few seconds longer than everyone else. "No," he said finally, tapping a different route. "That alley’s a kill box. We go wide.")
Price is also lethal in a very controlled way. Violence, for him, is a tool, not a thrill. He doesn't taunt enemies, celebrate kills, or linger on them. When he acts, it’s quick, efficient, and immediately followed by moving on to the next problem. If he shoots someone, it’s because that person left him no other option, and Price doesn’t waste time justifying it out loud. Think: Shepherd. That scene hit hard because Price was like an inevitable force; not loud, no monologuing. He promised it would happen, so it just happened. (The target reached for the detonator. Price fired a single shot. The room went quiet. "Clear," he said, already scanning the door.)
Morally, Price lives in the grey, but he’s not lost in it. He believes in standards and his disregard for rules is situational rather than a character trait; he believes even more in outcomes that save lives. There is a line but he decides where it is. If command gives an order that will get civilians or his team killed, he’ll ignore it without making a big speech about it. He accepts responsibility. ("If this goes sideways, that’s on me." "Sometimes the right thing doesn’t look pretty." "I’ll answer for it later.")
As a leader, Price is protective in a restrained way. He’s hard on the 141, but it’s never cruelty. It's because he expects them to survive. He notices injuries immediately, steps into danger without announcing it, and positions himself where the risk is highest when it matters. He doesn’t shout unless someone’s life is on the line, and when he does, it’s sharp and focused. Captains don't lead in the field. Price is exceptionally unusual in this. (The trooper hesitated. Price stepped in front of him without looking back. “Eyes up. Follow my lead." - "You broken?")
His humour is dry, minimal, and perfectly timed. Price doesn't joke to lighten the mood; he jokes to acknowledge reality. A single flat line after a near-disaster is more his style than banter. The humour is usually understated, sometimes self-deprecating, and never distracts from the mission. I imagine he is more open in his private life, but I've always interpreted him as being a bit socially awkward. The guy is whipsmart, but don't expect him to engage in highbrow witticisms. That's just not him. ("Well. That could’ve gone worse." "Add it to the list." "I’m getting too old for this.")
Underneath all of this, Price carries weight. He remembers past failures, lost teammates, and hard calls, even if he never talks about them directly. You can show this in small pauses, habits, or moments where he chooses silence instead of explanation. He’s not haunted in a dramatic way; he's marked by experience. I'd describe him as world weary. There's a wealth of content to explore when it comes to the impact of his incarceration in a Gulag (OG) and I think Soap's death is gonna send him into a tail spin.
The big thing to remember is this: Price is dangerous because he’s disciplined, not because he's loud. If you write him calm, deliberate, and quietly decisive, he’ll feel like Price without ever needing to announce who he is. The only exception to this quietness is when he loses his temper.
This usually means someone has made a grave mistake in two ways: they've committed an act of moral cowardice, or they've endangered his team through incompetence/ego. It will be forceful, hit like a bloody sledgehammer, but it won't last. He doesn't do that "just sees red" shit. Price's violence is always controlled.
I write him on the softer side when I'm writing from his PoV because people's internal thoughts are often very different to how others perceive them. Also, it will vary from person to person. Nik sees the young lieutenant with the bright blue eyes that are far too serious for his age, his confidant and his equal. He doesn't fear John like others do. Whereas Soap sees his gruff, no-nonsense superior who he idol worships. (See: Physio Price vs. London Rules Price or uh, any other time Nik rails him.)
We get glimpses in the game of a warm and genuine man. Like when he jokes with Laswell - "that's classified" - and then giggles with Nik in that alleyway. He is also very tactile; he pats his team a lot, and so I think, in a romantic relationship, he would crave touch (not just sexual, but also cuddles and caresses). He is a soldier. He is lethal. He does some horrific things to get the job done. But he's also very human, and that's why he's so compelling to write.
Sergej when he can't help how disgusting sex makes him feel. He accepted pleasure once, and now he can't get enough. He feels so icky using a dildo, he feels so disgusting, but it feels so good and it makes his head so fuzzy.
I like to think about poor omega Sergej and his little, alone life. I literally ACHED writing this. My poor boy. Somebody love him
He had pups once and lost them, and he craves to have a squirming litter to cradle and care for.
He's all snapping jaws and raised hackles now, and he truly refuses to let anyone close. When he sees pups, though? He softens around the edges, then grows insanely jealous and angry, and reverts. He isn't a good omega, he would never be a good mate again.
His time as a middle man, more than a beta—less than an omega, has allowed him to get muscular, and his scars are deep and ugly. No alpha would sit and drag his instincts back, then be able to take him seriously in a nest. Sergej is an utter laughing stock.
He cannot muster to nest, he hasn't had a proper heat in ages, and any advance from an alpha is met with fangs. Serg will never admit out loud that he would like such soft things, to purr and fall into the role he misses.
He misses his mate, and his heart breaks when he thinks of the pain he endured with labor alone and the dead, unmoving babies that he'd birthed. He weeps nightly. Holds his only blanket and clutches it into his belly and shudders, pretending that it's his babies.
It isn't, and he shivers in the cold of his shabby room, stuck in these four walls without any affection to make him sweet. His nose flushed and running from the frigid state. He tries to convince himself that he deserves this. That he deserves this loneliness that suffocated him. Grips at his heart. Thinks it until he drowns.
When he sleeps? Boy, his dreams are a cruel joke. In a home - a place he hasn't ever truly had. On a couch, embraced by his mate. Holding their litter, everyone purring as he nurses their pink mouths and watched their folded ears twitch with their suckles and coos. Only he wakes again to his cold room, his nestless, stiff bed, and looks down at the old stretch marks on the sides of his thick belly and feels shameful. All these lines and nothing to show for it.
Good omegas have heats, good omegas have a mate at his age. They aren't soldiers with nothing and nobody. Omegas are adored and cared for. Most alphas that come across him don't even recognize the omegan sweetness attached to him. It's hidden beneath years of stale, muted dampness from his grief and resentment. He has no appeal, and he cannot conjure the energy to omit his honeyed scent. Just a flat, constant drawl. It makes all alphas cringe. They shy away from his gnarled face, and they retreat further at the sight of his body.
Poor little thing has grown so detached from his body, he hardly can handle to shower anymore. Sergej has entirely lost himself to this, and he is always grieving and disappointed.
Not to mention, visits to the doctor are just as hard. He hates the doctor, but he hates the looks of pity he receives more. The woman scolds him, but it falls on deaf, drooped ears. Tells him that his health is rapidly declining, that he will endure a young, alone death if he doesn't get taken care of. If he doesn't get torn out of this drop. It's nearly impossible now, isn't it? To drag someone out of this, who's so far gone.
I hate him i hate him i hate him. Did i mention i hate him? GR.
I would love to write for nikprice but I think I wrote Price wrong for a long time. Trying to re-calibrate but the imposter syndrome somehow continues to chew my ass. Luv them sm but I dunno.
thinking very deeply about price going through stages where he is very heavily dissociated and how obvious it is in the game sometimes. spends so much of his childhood checking out of the universe in certain situations with his dad to protect himself, and it ends up becoming such a big part of his personality.
John and Sergej fuck again because they are both lonely pricks. Sergej cries when he finishes the first time. Ser starts to show signs of being a clingy bastard.
cw. anal sex, fingering, spit as lube, mention of musk
They're thinking of it. Of being entangled. Raw. Letting go of restraint. Poor captain can't stop thinking of having Sergej around him. Had one too many nights with a hand tight around his dick. He feels guilty for it by the time he finishes. Breath rattling and balls tight, head flopped back.
And poor Sergej. Squirming, frustrated. He got a taste of it and now his fingers won't satisfy him. Humping his bed and hand doesn't help at all. So frustrated that he almost throws a fit every time. He’s actually shed tears.
They're both pent up.
"Hey." A voice curls, Price. One thick hand suddenly onto Sergej's shoulder from behind. Too close to his neck - possessive to Serg, friendly to others. "Been a minute, mate. Meet me in my office tonight?" Jonathon's beard rubs on Sergej's opposite cheek - the scarred one.
Sergej's breath rattles, and he hums. Throat clicking with a dry, nervous swallow. "Sure, sir, after chow?" He hums, hairs standing on the back of his neck as he leans to look back at Price's face. Handsome as ever.
He squirms the rest of the day. Unfocused, unsure. The day feels slow and fast all the same. Slow when he wants to get there, fast when he doesn't want to find out.
He finds himself there outside Jonathon's office before he knows it. He knocks gently, throat tight. He did everything he could think of to clean up. Shower after training, a quick douche. His heart skips before he gauges his allowance to go in. His hand turns the knob and he pushes in. Big blue eyes peeking past the doorway.
“Serg, come in,” John sounds friendly, so Sergej’s posture loosens. The captain isn’t at his desk, but on the worn leather couch in the office. “How are you?”
The poor blonde is quite thrown off at this gesture. He shifts. Hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. “Uh… I am okay, sir. How are..you?” He stammers, wringing his hands in his pockets.
“Good, good.” Jonathon breathes, giving Sergej that tight lipped smile. He gestures to the sitting area vaguely, and the blonde skeptically comes forth. He goes to sit across from John, but a quick: “I don’t bite, mate.” Has him scooching to sit on the same couch. Looking around. “Are you wondering why you’re here?”
Sergej nods, eyes flowing to the captain’s relaxed dress and the half empty glass of whiskey in his hand.
“Well. I think we need to have a little chat.” The rumble of the captain’s voice is authoritative; the soldier squirms in his own seat. “About what happened the last time we sparred.” When Sergej’s head turns away, Jonathon reaches and takes the back of the blonde’s neck, dragging him into firm eye contact.
Sergej’s nostrils flare, and he looks panicked. Starting to think that he’ll be in trouble - discharged, banned, on the streets. His heart has since swapped places with his stomach.
“Don’t you think?” John grunts, biting at the hair under his lip and snarling out a deep breath. Sergej nods, squirming to more comfortably follow the big hand scruffing him. “Good lad, that’s right.”
The deep chuckle Jonathon gives goes right from Sergej’s ears and into his guts, producing a weak, small sound. Rabbit cornered by the fox. The clock starts to tick through cotton, and the soldier is slowly realizing that he’s in the good kind of trouble - the type that tells him he’s getting laid. The leather couch groans as John shifts, studying Sergej’s glossing-over eyes and trembling, pouty lips; watching his body with hunger. He didn’t get to see all of it the last time, and the thought makes him hungry.
“You liked it, hm? Can tell you haven’t stopped thinking about it.” He chuckles again as Sergej’s eyes flutter shut, submitting under John’s heavy paw. “That’s right.”
Sergej shivers - something between arousal and nervousness. Giving a broken whine. Big, blue eyes fluttering only half open. He feels controlled, and it’s making his entire body feel fuzzy. Jonathan’s big hand cupping under his jaw, thick fingers squeezing just under his ears—palm choking at his throat. Dragging little Sergej closer - enough so to drop his glass and grab him better. Dragging one another into a bruising kiss. An actual one, a peck at first before mouths open and teeth click. Serg puffs a soft moan into Jonathon’s mouth, clambering into his lap and snaggling his hands into John’s shirt. Rutting their bodies closer.
John’s hand splays over Sergej’s lower back, slamming their fronts together as they kiss with a new ferocity - driven mad by the continual thought of one another over the past few weeks. The blonde whimpers against John, letting his captain push away his jacket and rip at his shirt. Throwing it haphazardly across the room.
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Jonathon snarls, cupping Sergej’s hips and soft belly. Curling up his waist and encircling his body. Going to kiss down Sergej’s neck, but the blonde has other plans, cupping his captain’s face and dragging him for more kisses. Whimpering softly into John’s mouth, hips stuttering and slowly grinding into his lap. Swapping spit and gasping as Price’s hips snap up to grind back. Sergej’s strong arms draped now around John’s neck to let him kiss down his own—wet, open-mouthed slurps against his pale skin.
Sergej gasps, heaving another soft sound as his hips rub down again, moaning again as John humps up, too. His fingers squeezing at John’s muscle-thick neck. “Shh..” he chuckles, leaning up to nip Sergej’s lips, shoving down his shorts. Letting the air meet his round behind, listening to his hiss. “Fat fuckin’ ass..” The captain snarls, hand reeling and slapping Serg’s ass nice and rough, gripping it hard and jiggling it in his hand.
Poor little blonde, shuddering at the slap, at the hot sting that makes the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck raise. Panting softly, hands falling down to return the favor. Undoing John’s pants, untying them and pulling his cock out. His chin drops so he can spit onto him, stroking him and spreading the wet glob around. Jonathan groans, hips bucking. Eyes locking with Sergej’s as they grope one another. Sergej’s eyes watery and cloudy, watching the darkness in John’s. Watching his eyes flicker with pleasure as he slots John through his legs, angling to grind himself down onto his cock. The captain’s length snug against his taint and hole.
Sergej whimpers, hands pushing up John’s shirt and tugging it away. Grinding harder, more. His own, smaller cock, rubbing on the captain’s hairy stomach. Whole body hot and shaken with desire, lips parted to give soft little pants. Jonathan grasping his ass and grinding right back. Humping himself between the cheeks as they both pant and sigh—finding one another beyond irresistible in this sweaty, entangled moment.
He’s torn from John’s shoulder, from the haze. Panting softly as John chokes two fingers into his mouth, pushing at his tongue. John watches as those plush, pink lips hug around his fingers, nostrils flared and looking at his captain like he alone rose the stars into the night sky. John’s hips still work, huffing and grunting as he swirls his fingers in Sergej’s mouth. Tugging them out once they’re nice and slick.
The captain huffs, pushing Sergej’s back into more of an arch so he can reach behind him. Circling his subordinate’s rim slowly, all before pushing his finger into his hole. Sergej whines softly, lips pouting together as he arches more. Heart racing and eyes watery as he lets his captain finger his ass, a second finger prying him open and making him shudder. Groaning once again as Jonathon leans into his neck, slobbering more chilling kisses against him, growling in his good ear.
“Just have to actually bed you good sometime, Sergej.” He breathes, snapping his fingers in more rough. Able to tell that his soldier prepped before arriving. “I just need that hole, mate… been thinking ‘bout it.” He grunts, cock throbbing up against Sergej; who pants in return into the air, crooning as John’s fingers score just right into his prostate. Another reminder to be quiet shushed against his neck.
“Captain..” Sergej slurs, tugging at his hair and grinding his own hips down more. His eyes flickering and teeth sinking down into his lips as his prostate is assaulted. Panting more sweet noises into the captain’s neck. Giving a whine as he pulls them out, only more shocked when his body is shoved back onto the couch. Lying on his back and looking up, shocked, at the captain. Those big hands don’t wait to split open his legs and shove them onto his shoulders.
“What, eh?” The captain chuckles, enjoying the feeling of power that comes with such a position of both advantage and physicality. “You’ve been thinkin’ of my cock, yeah?” His grin only grows as he watches his subordinate nod eagerly, head tossing back with a breathy pout as his hole is teased. “Little lieutenant’s been needing some good dicking.”
“Yes.” Serg heaves, locking his ankles around John’s neck. Eyes glossy and needy. “I do, please. Please give it-”
His prayers are answered as John snaps himself in. Groaning to himself as he sinks in all the way to the hilt, watching Serg’s lips fall open and face twist up, hole fluttering. A big hand curling right up against his throat and under his chin, leaning over the smaller. “There it is.” He sighs, hips retracting and pushing back in, his own eyes fluttering. Looking at the far-off, glazed look in the blonde’s eyes. “There’s that stupid look.” His hips push, grinding deep and hard, giving his lieutenant every thick inch of himself. Whose hole talks back, and whose throat sings with held moans. A flush of embarrassment up his neck as it’s done again. “Cunt’s talkin’ for you, blondie.”
Sergej pouts again, sniveling a sob as Jonathon finally starts to move, hips rolling out and shoving back in. Slow and deep, sticking all the way in and pausing to take his soldier’s breath away before doing it again. One meaty hand still around Sergej’s throat, gripping and forcing eye contact; the other snug against his lower belly, pushing with a possessive air.
“Whose is this?” John snarls, snapping in and choking out a weak whine from his stuttering subordinate. “Go on.” He demands, laughing slowly and repeating the process.
“Yours.” He weeps, his voice small and shattered. Thighs tensing and hole clenching. Another cry hitting him as his captain starts to thrust just right. Both sets of eyes rolling. Sergej’s lips tremble, and he sniffles. His knees wobbling and head trying to toss back, once again demanded steady by the tightened grip on his throat. A choked moan rising from him.
The captain’s hand moves now, covering his mouth and leaning over the man beneath him. Sergej’s hips forced into an angle, hole getting pounded into deeper. John’s hands don’t release, hips plunging down into Sergej. The blonde’s breaths gasping in through his nose. Trembling hands pressing into John’s chest, gripping the matted curls of hair. One staying in-grasp, the other wrapping and clawing at his equally hairy back. Eyes drooling overwhelmed tears.
John nods, his breathing heavy and expression drooped with pleasure. “Yeah.. s’right, sweetheart. All fuckin’ mine.” He growls, hips dropping down again with another lewd sound, grunting away a moan at the feeling of Sergej’s clenching around him. “God, your body just loves my cock..” He growls, leaning further into Sergej’s face. Heaving against his forehead, allowing himself to get lost in the feeling.
The poor little blonde doesn’t even know what to do with himself, his knees up to his ears. Thighs quaking, another sob wracking against his captain’s palm - he’s going to cum. His knees trying to close together. Sergej’s breath sobs in, trembling. Clinging to the captain’s broad back, lip trembling against his palm.
“Shh, love. Let it go..” Jonathan growls, grinding in again. Rolling his hips and giving another perfect thrust. Dragging and rubbing on Sergej’s prostate. Each hit making their beautiful blue eyes roll, their hole fluttering. “Cum on my cock, sweet thing.” The demand hits, and Sergej whines through his nose again. The room carries the stink of sex. The muted musk, carried heavy and thick. Sweat beading on John’s chest from the movement, the pulse of need. Every slip in, every shove deeper, every gasp and sob given.
Sergej shivers, crooning as the hand-gag is removed, now cradling the back of his head like he’s something precious. His chest constricts, and he can’t focus on the tender gesture as he spurts all over himself. Jaw slacked with pleasure and head leaned into the palm that braced his skull. More tears falling down his cheeks, quickly kissed away as his prostate is milked. Painting his captain with streaks of unworthy white. Gasping and sighing as he comes down. His lower half trembling, tight around his captain, who shushes him and slows the pace of his movements.
“Art, love, fuckin’ gorgeous..” the brunette groans. Kissing the scars on the left of his soldier’s face. “So beautiful, lovie, taking it so well. Giving me such a perfect orgasm.” The captain purrs, his thrusts reduced to slow, tender pushes and pulls. Easing Sergej down from such an intense high. Jonathon’s other hand pulls Serg’s arms softer around his neck, caressing sweetly along his tricep. The blonde shivers at the praise, still gasping softly, still trembling.
“Thank you.” He breathes, gasping at another buck into him. John grunts, slowly pulling out and leaning back. Listening to the whimper from the other. He watches his hole gape and flutter, slowly laying his cock against their pelvis. The captain’s cock throbs angrily at the loss of contact, but Serg looks relieved for a break.
John lazily strokes Sergej’s hair with his other hand, kissing the inside of his calf. “Deep breaths.” He guides, shifting slowly. Easing each other into an easier position. “Best I’ve ever had, Serg. Bloody perfect.” Those steely blue eyes skip over his subordinate's face, leaning to thumb away a few more loose tears. When his breathing is more even, the captain smiles. “Better now?” He hums, eyes half lidded.
The nod given is all John needs. One of Sergej’s thighs up on his shoulder still, the other pressed back. “Yes,” he gasps, nodding. “Give me more..” Jonathon is more than happy to oblige, holding himself steady and easily slipping back into Sergej, who shivers and moans. A tremble running up his spine, deep breath catching in his throat. Whimpering as those strong hands curl around his thighs, then shift to cradle his soft belly. Massaging and running up his chest, starting to thrust again.
Hard, more insistent. Stuffing himself in and out over and over. Groaning low in his throat. Looking to chase his own release, thumbing Sergej’s pink nipple, the other moving to gently cup his cock - half hard, pretty pink tip polluted with remnant jizz. His thumb presses, rolling in firm circles that make Sergej’s thighs twitch and knees buckle, moaning and angling his hips into John’s. The captain hisses in a deep breath, moving faster, thrusting harder. The couch groans, their skin slaps together. The captain pauses, leaning back to spit down on his own shaft before resuming his pounding. “Promise I’ll do ya’ right sometime..” the captain gasps, his movements more slick as he slaps into Sergej’s stretched arse. “Lay y’out good..”
The blonde’s head cranes back, pale-flushed throat bared and jaw hung open. Overstimulated and speared open. Split open just right. His body trembling still, cock pulsing in his captain’s hold. “Get you all prepped and pretty, take care if y’ make you cum more than you ever thought’ya would.” The words track through Sergej’s pliant, supple body, whimper rising. Feeling his captain’s body lean over his fully once again, thick arm wrapping under the mid of his back, rough palm splaying upon the upper of his back. Other hand still holding his head. “Promise.”
A groan ripples through John, and he catches Sergej’s tight moan with a kiss. Slow, reverent, even. Different from the way his hips piston in and out, ploughing hard into his subordinate. The kiss is clumsy, taken from by the jump of Sergej’s body against the faux leather. His own hand knotted into John’s hair, gasping and moaning into the kiss, the other gripping the back of John’s shoulder. He can feel every throb of John’s cock, every pulse and twitch with the pauses. Hooking his other thigh around and pressing his heel into Jonathon’s lower back, pulling him deeper with a gasp. His body already drawing tight again.
“C-cum with me.” Sergej strains, biting John’s lower lip, shuddering and fluttering around his captain. Bodies and minds overwhelmed with intense pleasure. John nods, gasping into Sergej’s mouth, brows knitting together as he tenses, balls aching. Snapping up into the perfect little sweet spot deep in his soldier. He croons again, clawing into John’s muscles, head leaning back to hold the captain’s into his neck. Thrusts growing erratic, hands shaking, hips stuttering.
John lays trembling kisses onto Sergej’s neck, shifting to return to stroking his prick, firm and quick. Jaw and throat tight as he keeps slow, mouthed kisses, holding his own orgasm down. Serg arches again, weak and desperate, pulsing weakly in his captain’s hold. His body tightens, milking John with another gasp, fluttering and squeezing around him. Jonathan’s own hips snap in, hitting his own peak with a hunch of his back and a low, sighed groan. Shivering and emptying his balls into his subordinate once again.
He stills for a moment before thrusting with shallow ease, pressing his spunk deeper, moving to gently kiss Sergej’s lips again. Breaths evening out as the moment eases into a soft haze. No arguing, no scowls, just the drift and fuzz of orgasm slowly filling their heads. Serg pants, moving to cling to John, face hidden in his shoulder and breaths rattling. Whining through his nose as his leg is eased back down, settling his heel into the couch. His legs still shaking. Nobody’s ever had him shaking this much before - had his guts feeling so worked. Had his knees feeling like they won’t work again.
Sergej slowly looks back at John, eyes still fuzzed over. The captain looks back, adjusting so he can slowly pull out. Taking a long, deep breath as he watches cum leak from Sergej’s hole, rim rubbed raw from fucking. “Good boy.” John praises, looking at the fuzzy, exhausted look in Sergej’s eyes as he reluctantly lies back, unraveling his arms from around the captain.
Part of him wants to keep clinging, to sing not to let him go, but he moves away. Legs moving off his captain, blue eyes averting away as he catches his breath.
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