Desperate Soap
poly141 x Reader, smut, disabled reader, You're a tall Lieutenant and Soap is just a horny little guy
Inspired by this post by softaestluv
. . .
He's on the floor of the rec room, spread eagle flat on his back, hands clutching his face as he bemoans his horrible, no good, awful predicament.
No one will let him stick his dick in them.
You, Gaz, and Roach are calmly playing cards at the table, ignoring him. Price and Ghost are in their respective armchairs, reading, ignoring him. Everyone ignoring him. Not a single hole to wet his cock with.
Johnny has been at it for days, simply complaining at first that no one was showing him enough attention. Then it became more and more about his poor cock not having the good wet fuck it needed. His hand is too rough and calloused, not hot enough, not satisfying in the least.
"Like a needy puppy," Simon grumbled after a briefing. He was annoyed, and refused Johnny's attempts to get him undressed. [Truth be told, despite the annoying whining, Simon was enjoying himself denying Johnny.]
"Just let him tire himself out," Price said, flipping through reports at his desk with little interest. [He rarely let Johnny top him, preferring to have the younger man be the one choking on his cock.]
"My asshole is too fucking sore from the last time he got needy," Gaz griped, cleaning his gun after target practice. [Johnny got like this occasionally, and Kyle was happy to help the first few rounds, but eventually even he needed a break, both his ass and throat being too sore to soldier on any longer. He truly believed Johnny's randomly spiking libido was a menace sent by the devil himself to test the mettle of the 141.]
"Maybe we should just tie him up, gag him, stick a vibrator up his ass, and leave him for a few hours. Or days," Roach signed in between sparring sessions at the gym. [He was completely serious about his suggestion. He liked seeing Johnny suffer just as much as Simon, absolutely loving how it would make the Scot even more sensitive and unraveled when Gary finally gave in and offered himself to Johnny's cock.]
You've been staying in the 141 barracks for a handful of months by now, helping them with a series of ops, and you're quickly getting used to the fact that Soap is very open and vocal about sex— and his dick in general— in front of others. You had suspected he and Gaz, and maybe even Ghost or Roach, sometimes fucked, but you didn't yet know that all of them enjoyed each other's presence in bed. You found out how open they all are with each other when you snapped one evening in the rec room, fed up with Soap's incessant whinging.
You throw down your cards, losing to Roach again, and angrily mutter, "Jesus fuck, I'll take one for the team if it'll shut you up already." You'd said it quietly enough, Gaz and Roach chuckling, but Soap immediately shoots up. You realize you can't hear him complaining anymore and glance over your shoulder. He's walking toward you, eyes wide, flushed and grinning like he's won the lottery.
"Now you've done it," Gaz grumbles under his breath.
"Ye mean that, hen? No take backs!" As you eye Soap warily, he's making grabby claw-finger motions at you as he sidles closer, and you suddenly have the urge to flee.
Price rumbles a warning from his armchair, not looking up from his book, "She can take it back all she wants, Johnny."
Your hands braced on the table, card game forgotten, you slowly stand, your metal prosthetic legs clicking quietly on the fake wood flooring.
Roach is putting away his winnings (three pudding cups, the extra good kind) and Gaz is sweeping up the cards when you tense, about to bolt. But Soap is close enough that he traps you before you can get away, his thick arms coming around your middle, pressing his chest into your back. You can already feel his erection jabbing at you. He buries his face in the back of your neck, breathing in the scent of you, moaning as he speaks into your hair.
"Ye won't take it back though, right hen? Ye wouldn't be so cruel as that, would ye?"
You're a bit taken aback, face heating. You hadn't really been serious. Well… you suppose you could do as you said, take one for the team, get this over with. Soap isn't hard on the eyes, you don't mind the thought technically, but you'd assumed he was in a relationship or at least fuck-buddy-ship with Gaz. Did he mind? You glance at Gaz across the table from you, tucking away the playing cards. He doesn't seem ruffled in the slightest.
"Fine," you huff, "let's get this over with so we can have a bit of quiet in the barracks for once."
Johnny practically crows with excitement. One of his hands clasps the back of your neck, pressing your chest down onto the cleared table, making your ass stick up in the air, being higher than the tabletop, while his other hand frantically unbuttons your cargo pants. You gasp, something akin to adrenaline surging into your veins as you twist your head back to glare at him.
"What the fuck, Johnny," you bite out, "not out here in front of everybody!" He's peeling your pants down just far enough to reveal the curve of your ass and the joining of your thighs. The cool air sends goosebumps across your skin.
"Have some fucking self restraint Johnny," Simon grumbles, turning the page in his book, not even glancing up.
"They don't mind, lass," Johnny mutters, clearly more focused on working his hand between your clenched thighs. "Come on, open up a little fer me."
"You're a fucking slag, Johnny," Kyle says, sitting back in his chair, no real bite to his tone.
Soap uses his boot between your legs to push at you, encouraging you to widen your stance. You're tempted to kick him, but your metal legs would probably do a little too much damage to his flesh ones.
This is crazy right? Is this really okay? You glance around the room, Soap's left hand still at your neck, warm and firm. No one seems to be bothered by this at all. You feel a delicious, hot chill skitter up your spine at the thought of taking Johnny's cock right here in front of them all.
Then you feel his fingers, sliding between your folds, briefly teasing at your hole, then at your clit, back and forth. He leans down to kiss your shoulder, groaning into the fabric of your shirt.
"See now, this, this here is that smooth, hot feeling I need on my cock," he says as he dips a finger inside you. He swirls it inside you while his thumb lazily circles your clit, encouraging your body to start creating more of its natural lube.
The hand at your neck slides down your back—you don't sit up though, just remain lying forward over the table, hands resting in lose fists near your shoulders—, then up under your shirt, rucking it up enough for him to kiss a scar on your lower back. His second finger goes in as his mouth moves to your ass cheek. He bites you there, sharp and quick, making you gasp with the pain.
"Hey, watch it, Soap," you snarl over your shoulder. But you catch his eye, and the way his pupils are blown wide has butterflies flipping in your gut.
"Sorry, bonnie," he whispers, licking and kissing at the indentation from his teeth. He keeps sucking at the spot until it turns red tinged purple with bruising.
When his third finger goes in, you squirm at the uncomfortable stretch. He doesn't have small fingers, and it's making you worry about how big his cock is gonna be.
"I know, I know," he says, sounding breathless with excitement, his left hand pressing down firmly on your back to hold you in place. "Don't worry, just relax for me, hen." He works his fingers inside you until that tight ring near your entrance loosens enough to his liking.
When he pulls his hand from your wet pussy [He's immediately sticking his fingers in his mouth, moaning and jerking his hips into the air at the taste of you], you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance to the side, and see Roach, his phone lifted, capturing a profile view photo of your ass—Johnny's bite mark on full display.
"Roach what the fuck, you better not send that to anyo—" A round of chimes goes up around the room.
Even your phone, tucked in one of your pant's pockets, vibrates. He sent the photo to the 141 group chat. Fuck. You try not to look around to see if anyone is looking at the photo, your face heating, and you hear a low grunt from Ghost.
"Nice ass, Lieutenant."
You press your forehead to the table, cursing Roach and Soap under your breath. Ghost has seen your ass. Even your fucking Captain is going to see your ass.
You're distracted from your embarrassment by the clatter of a plastic bottle of lube landing and sliding across the tabletop. You glance back, and there it is, Soap's "little Johnny," not little at all. It rises up between you, though not overly long, but is, like the man himself, very wide. Your breath catches in your throat and you swallow thickly. You're almost too intimidated to notice Roach snapping another pic, leaning slightly to take in the full view of his teammate's dick.
Then you feel the head of Soap's cock brush against you and you briefly clench up at the sensation before relaxing. He drags his tip from your clit up to your asshole, then back down. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling of it smearing against your clit. [He notices you leaning back into it, so he takes a few moments to indulge you, pressing his fat, leaking head into your clit, rubbing against it, smiling when he hears your soft exhales.]
And then with a slow push, Soap is sinking his girthy length into you, hissing at the tightness. Your nails scrabble at the table. Your mouth opens in an "ah fuck." It feels like he's splitting you apart, but he doesn't stop, just presses deep, parting your [sinfully velvety] walls until he's rooted inside you, hot and weighty. Your mouth waters at the unfamiliar sensation of something so heavy inside you, solid and bulky. Your legs are so long you've got a couple inches on him, so he has to stand on the balls of his feet in order to sheathe himself fully. [It certainly does not hinder his determination and hunger.]
Soap is babbling now his face pressed against the bared portion of your back, murmuring against your spine in between needy licks, making your back muscles twitch and shiver at the feeling of his tongue and breath.
"This is so good, yer so good, this is what I needed, needed this, ye know, it's so tight and warm and wet, my cock fits perfectly in yer sweet cunt."
As soon as he feels your muscles relaxing around him, he starts moving. You force yourself to keep breathing. You're sure he's too big, too much, dragging through you like a horse slowly dragging a plow through a field. You're feeling hyper aware of the other people in the room, skin tingling heatedly and stomach flipping at the thought of them listening to the lewd sounds, of being able to watch you while you're so vulnerable, speared on their teammate's wide cock.
"Screamin' Jesus, this is the perfect cunt, so hot and tight and silky, I needed this, needed ye, I'm gonna fill ye up with my cum 'till its spillin' outta ye. Ye'll be drippin' fer days, I'm not lettin' ye go without making ye swell with it."
His accent is coming in thicker as he loses himself to the sensations he'd been craving for days, weeks. [He's been waitin' all his life fer this, he's sure.] You're hardly listening to him babble his nonsense. He's pushing into you at a slow and steady pace, his boots slipping now and then on the smooth flooring.
You take pity on him—well, you want him to go faster, harder, so this is really for your own benefit—you widen your legs a little more, just enough to lower your height for him to more easily drive into you.
"Hurry up, Sergeant, I don't have all day." You say it in your 'commanding officer' voice, and it has the intended effect. Soap moans, his cock twitching noticeably inside you. [Even the other men in the room feel a hot thrill at hearing your almost casual command.] He picks up speed, standing more upright, his big hands grasping your hips tightly, and you brace your feet on the floor, knowing you're probably gonna leave scratches in the cheap flooring after this. He's moaning and almost whimpering, so needy, Ghost was right, just like a puppy. It's almost cute. Aside from being annoying.
Your hands are braced on the table still, but you lift your head and shoulders slightly, arching your back to try and get him deeper with each wild thrust. You clutch at the smooth tabletop with your fingertips, something almost like a sneer on your mouth as he fucks you like an animal, a dog in heat, his heavy balls swinging with each hard slap of his hips against you.
"They said you're a dog, and you're really proving them right, mutt," you chide, glancing back at him again, enjoying the flush on his cheeks and the way his tongue is almost lolling from his mouth as he pants. His feral pace doesn't slow at your words, instead he just moans again before a mischievous look flashes in his eyes.
"Yer always so feisty, yet sooo dignified, snooty really, almost like ye think yer so—high—and—mighty!" He punctuates the words with particularly hard pounds into you, jolting your whole body, scooting you up on the table with each one before resuming his wild thrusting. "Is that true Lieutenant, ye think yer better than us?"
"I am better than you," you snap back over your shoulder, teeth flashing, ignoring the sight of Roach holding up his phone at where you and Soap connect. Johnny groans as if you've said the most lewd thing yet today. He leans over you, the toes of his boots just barely holding his stance as he keeps up his fast and rough pace, and whispers hotly at your ear between his panting breaths.
"And yet… here ye are, getting stuffed full o' yer Sergeant's cock… like a common barracks bunny."
You shiver pleasantly, but huff an incredulous almost-laugh, refusing to yield to whatever mind fuck you're playing with him. His right hand snakes down across your front, squeezing the fat of your pubic mound before reaching down to work your clit. You can't help it then, pushing back into him, feeling the lava pool right behind your clit, building and bounding toward a peak you're almost not ready to broach. It suddenly feels too good, you don't want it to be over. You can't help the moan that escapes you [and Johnny grins in victory at finally getting a moan out of you].
"That's right, feels good don't it? Ye take my cock so good just like yer meant for this, meant tae be dicked down and bred by the people below you."
You bite back a second moan and lift your head, intending to turn and snarl at him, when you see Gaz across from you, flushed, staring intensely at his phone. His eyes flick up to yours and a slow, licentious smile creeps up on his pretty face. He winks at you.
"Hey there, Lieutenant."
Heat blooms up your neck and face, curling out from your stomach, and your walls clamp down on Johnny's thick cock, your metal feet digging into the floor, leaving grooves, your eyes roll up, your mouth opening [with the prettiest moan Kyle has had the pleasure to hear—he'd already been chubbing up in his pants at the messy wet sounds and the photos Gary kept sending, but seeing you suddenly tip over the edge because of him has him rock hard and leaking precum].
Johnny gasps as you orgasm, halting his thrusts, grinding forward into you as hard and deep as he can, skin to skin. [You're squeezing him so hard he almost can't move and his vision blurs at the edges— and he immediately cums, hard, head rocking back, eyes tilting upward, his left hand squeezing your hip hard enough to leave fingertip bruises for later].
[Gary is already there of course, snapping pictures of your mid-orgasm face, of Johnny's face, of the foamy ring of cum and slick pushed out around the wide base of the Scot's cock. The other's phones are blowing up. And they are chubbing up.]
Johnny stays inside you, swallowing his whimpers as your pussy continues to flutter with aftershocks. You're panting, cheek resting on the smooth tabletop. He slides both his hands up along your back, callouses rough over your skin, under your shirt, hiking the fabric up further, stretching his arms like a cat. [He wishes so dearly to have your breasts in his hands, in his mouth, but he is loathe to risk slipping out of you should he adjust your position. He keeps his hips pressed tightly to you, not wanting to separate even a hair's breadth.]
"That's it, well done, Lieutenant," he says, sounding almost dreamy. From where your face rests on the table, you can see the sitting area, the subtle glow of Price and Ghost's phones as they stare down at more and more photos from Roach, and a quiet breath suspiciously close to a whine slips out of you. Johnny leans over you, pressing his chest flush against you, his hands reaching to cradle and pet your head.
"Hush, hush, hen, yer alright, yer wonderfully fucked and filled." He kisses your shoulder. "But we should make sure it stays inside ye huh, I just can't pull out yet, I can't leave this sweet heat behind."
You can feel his softening length twitching inside you as he grinds into you, ignoring his own over-stimulation. He nibbles at your jaw, kissing your neck, then murmuring in your hair, not stopping his grinding hips.
"I can't stop here, it's not enough, ye know it isn't enough, I'll never get tired of this pretty little cunt, I need to fill ye up with more o' my cum and make ye mine, this perfect cunt, stained with my seed."
"Stop yapping and get on with it then, Sergeant," you quip, baring your teeth with sudden vigor, and you purposely squeeze all your vaginal muscles as hard as you can. [Soap groans as your walls clamp down on his sensitive cock like a vice. His head spins and for a few luscious moments all he can think is, 'I need to get Price's cock in her so he becomes convinced that she needs to sign on more permanently with the 141.' The feeling of you still around him combined with fantasies of all his teammates using you as the 141's personal cumdump has blood rushing back to his throbbing prick. The thought of all his boys sinking their cocks into your heat has his mouth watering. You'd be bursting full of their cum. He glances at Simon, feeling a thrill low on his spine at seeing the other Lieutenant's eyes already on him, dark with lust.]
You feel Johnny hardening inside you and your heart thumps with anticipation. You want more—you'd never admit it out loud— you already crave another orgasmic high. Fuck, you need to get laid more often, you spend too much time in the field.
Soap leans back slightly, pulling out till just his tip is still inside you. [He notices his milky cum leaking out—Roach snaps a pic of it and promptly sends it.]
"This won't do," Johnny murmurs, sounding almost troubled. He uses his fingers to shove the cum back inside, and you hiss at the added stretch of both his fingers and cock being inside you at once. Then Johnny starts thrusting again, this time slow and measured, his hands spreading your cheeks so he can keep staring at the beautiful sight before him.
You want more though, you want him to go faster, harder, again and again, but he drags his wide cock through you so infuriatingly slow you almost feel a prickle of frustrated tears in your eyes. As punishment, you bring your feet slightly closer together, lifting your ass higher an inch or so, forcing Johnny to go back up on his toes in order to fully bury himself balls deep in you at the end of each thrust.
A soft, shaky exhale coming from in front of you has you turning back to Kyle in surprise—and then more heat is coiling inside you at the sight of him. He's leaned back in his chair, one hand still holding up his phone to the group chat, while his other hand slowly works his long cock, matching pace with Johnny's hips.
"Oh," you almost moan, biting your lip, staring at his cock. Of course it's pretty, just like him. Your eyes are locked on to the drop of precum that slides from his slit and slowly drips downward. You don't even notice Ghost has moved until you feel another set of large hands gripping your hips.
Your head whips back to look, and Johnny must have been distracted too, based on the surprised look on his face as Simon grinds into his ass, reaching his hulking arms around either side of Johnny to have his hands on you. [Johnny feels a tingle at the base of his spine when he realizes Simon already has his own cock out, hard and leaking, pressing against him.]
"Yer gonna hafta wait yer turn, Si, I ain't done with this pretty cunt yet," Johnny says, so cocky, grinning devilishly.
Simon doesn't say anything, just grunts and squeezes your hips, lifting your feet from the ground a second—Johnny's cock almost slips out of you at that, "Hey!" he protests— before setting you back down, your legs now straight vertical, and a little too high for Johnny to easily fuck into you. Johnny is scowling now.
"What are ye doin' ye bawbag—" He yelps as Simon then lifts him by the hips, his cock jamming back into your pussy fully as Simon mounts Johnny on you, balancing the Scot on your ass, hips to hips, Johnny's wide torso falling over your back, his boots just barely off the ground.
Johnny wraps his muscular arms around your abdomen to keep from sliding off—you can feel his heart thumping like a runaway train in his chest pressed against you— and Simon parts his ass cheeks, revealing a large, pink plug. Simon huffs a laugh before removing it and spitting on his hole.
"Naughty boy…" he rumbles.
Ghost has a few more inches on Soap than you do, so he's able to fuck down into Johnny, all while keeping him pinned between you two. Johnny groans loudly as Simon pushes into him with hardly any preparation needed thanks to the buttplug keeping him just loose enough to handle Simon's monstrous cock. Roach is definitely taking plenty of pictures of this.
Simon sighs with satisfaction as he fully roots himself in his best friend. [Johnny feels like he can't move a finger, the battering ram that is Simon's cock plunging into his guts so deeply he swears he can almost taste it on his tongue. And the brute hasn't even started fucking him yet.] When Simon starts to thrust, it's slow at first to let Johnny adjust, but then he's soon picking up the pace, long strokes slamming into the two of you. You have to dig your feet into the floor again as the weight of two large men thrusting into you makes you want to keen with pleasure.
Johnny is just a doll in between you and Simon, folded over you, held steady by the masked man's large hands at his hips, his hard cock weeping inside you every time Simon's ruddy cockhead drags against his prostate. This angle is more pleasurable for you as well, now that Johnny is higher, his shaft rubs and grinds against your gspot with every snap of Simon's unforgiving hips. Kyle's hand has sped up, following Simon's pace now, his eyes slightly glazed over as his breathing starts to become heavy. The entire situation coupled with the sensations you're feeling has that intense heat coiled tight inside your core, nearly ready to burst—and a pleasured hum from your side snaps your attention on your Captain.
Price is standing, only a meter away, his hand lazily fisting his stiff, red-flushed cock. He's looking at the scene before him like it's the finest banquet laid out just for him. [Roach is taking a video now, doing his best to hold the camera steady as he frantically jerks himself off so he can get back to taking more pics. He loves photographing these steamy moments to both send in the chat and save for later.] Seeing Price is the last straw. You submit to your second orgasm like a dog showing her belly.
Your entire body shudders. You gasp, your nails claw at the table, your feet scraping audibly on the floor as your body stiffens, and your cunt clamps on Johnny, milking his own orgasm from him. He cries out at the pressure you put on his cock, his arms tightening around you, his toes curling in his boots where they hang at your ankles. Simon doesn't slow; in fact, he speeds up, grunting and panting and pulling up the bottom of his mask over his nose so he can bend forward and lick at the curve of Johnny's ear before biting into his shoulder as he ruts into him viciously, Johnny's shirt saving his skin from being broken. But there will certainly be a bruise later.
Johnny is still inside you of course, whimpering as he softens, as your walls flutter still, as Simon drives into him. Your face is again pressed into the table as you come down from the high, panting, eyes glazed, some strands of hair sticking to your skin with sweat. Johnny squirms at your backside, Simon truly relentless, and you moan.
"Please please please please," Johnny begs, though it isn't clear what exactly he's begging for, his face pressed into the skin of your back. You arch back into him, meeting Simon's thrusts. You feel like a dog in heat yourself, your whole body tingling and hot at the over-stimulation Simon is jarring you with. You don't have the energy to lift your head, just allowing yourself to be rammed into, rocking against the creaking table, cheek pressed to the tabletop, lips parted as you pant, a small trickle of drool trying to escape. But Johnny is even worse off than you, pleading and whimpering and quivering and ragdolling between you and Simon.
"Come on, Johnny, where's your pep?" Simon goads, his voice raspy. "You were busting our chops for days about needing a good fuck, and now that you got two big Lieutenants fucking you, you're ready to throw in the towel?"
Both you and Johnny moan at that. You already feel the lava pooling behind your clit, building quickly thanks to how sensitive you are. Johnny is half hard, his wide cock pressing so nicely into you as Simon rocks into you both with a new urgency; he must be close.
"I asked you a question, Sergeant," Simon growls into Johnny's ear, one of his rough hands slipping around to rub at your clit, using you to punish Johnny further. You didn't expect that, and you're already so worked up, you cum again, easily, Simon's fingers working you through it. You're moaning so lewdly, thighs trembling around Simon's hand, clenching Johnny again and he cries out once more, tears beading on his lashes as he curls tighter against you, shivering and shuddering, a little less cum spurting out of him this time to add to the wet mess inside you.
Simon is grinning with a hint of meanness before his breath suddenly catches in his throat as Johnny's hole clenches around him, his hips stuttering. And then he too is groaning vulgarly, thick ropes of his cum painting Johnny's insides. He slowly strokes once, twice more, grinding inward, both his hands now gripping your hips bruisingly tight to hold you and Johnny still as he rides his orgasm, panting.
He stills for a few heartbeats, catching his breath, before sliding out of Johnny's ravaged hole, his cum following, dripping down the Scot's thighs toward his pants bunched above his boots. Simon hums, pleased, trailing a finger through the mess, catching some of it and lifting it over to Johnny's mouth where his head rests on your back.
"Open," Ghost demands gruffly. Soap obeys, sucking his superior's finger clean, his spent cock spurting once more, pitifully, inside you. Simon takes the buttplug when Roach offers it up, and slides it back into Johnny's hole, stopping any more of his seed from escaping. It's a bit looser than when he first pulled it out, but it'll do for now.
You open your eyes, not even aware of when you closed them, your cheek still in place, pressed to the table. You see Price, hand lovingly resting on a kneeling Kyle's head as Kyle pulls off his softening length, swallowing the last of his Captain's cum. You'd been so lost in your pleasure you hadn't noticed Kyle move. Gary is crouched beside them, phone up, looking so very pleased with himself as he turns to snap a pic of yours and Johnny's fucked out faces.
Simon lowers Johnny off you, his poor cock slipping out, his cum seeping from your hole. Gary quickly snaps a pic of your wrecked pussy as Simon chuckles. Satisfied, Gary plops down on the couch with a contented sigh.
You stand upright, stretching languidly, feeling another glob of Johnny's spend slowly slide down your channel and out your hole. You massage at your sore breasts where they'd been crushed to the table the whole time. Gaz and Price are moving about in the small kitchen, wetting washcloths.
You turn around, watching Simon—his mouth locked on to the other man's— almost effortlessly lift Johnny and lay him on his back on the table. With such aching tenderness you almost feel like you're intruding witnessing it, Simon bends over and brushes the tears from Johnny's eyes and kisses his lips again, then his forehead. Simon then moves out of the way as Kyle approaches with a warm, damp cloth to clean Johnny up.
Simon turns to you. He brushes your jaw with surprisingly gentle fingers, tilting your chin up. Ghost is a tall man, your mouths almost even. It's nice, there being a man taller than you. Even Price is just about level with you.
You feel a nice, warm glow spreading through you, and your eyes drunkenly trail the scars on the visible part of Simon's face, drinking him in. He dips down, kissing you deeply, sucking and biting at your bottom lip until your mouth gasps open, allowing him to push his tongue inside you. Just as you're starting to feel the need for air, he pulls away, giving your lip one last nip, a little smug smile on his face. Much like Johnny, he lifts you and carefully returns you to the table, laying you down on your back, lifting your legs and pulling your pants down to the tops of your prosthetics.
Then Price is between your legs, folding your knees to your stomach to wipe your sore pussy with a warm cloth. He cleans the drying slick and cum from your thighs and lowers his face to kiss the flesh there. You shiver, his beard pleasantly scratching at you. If you weren't so sensitive and sore already, you'd beg him to eat you out right now. As if reading your thoughts, he hums against your skin, then gives your soft inner thigh a dark hickey before leaning up and over to kiss your mouth, carefully pushing your metal legs to one side.
"Before that disappears, we'll have to make an appointment for you to grace my bed with your presence. See what that muppet was raving about all for myself." He bites at your already swelling lip thanks to Simon, and you squeeze your thighs together, your prosthetics clacking against each other. "Johnny getting all cocky, saying shite like owning your cunt; I'll show you what it means to be owned by a man instead of a needy boy."
At the sound of his low, growling voice, you shiver again with expectation, groaning quietly in your throat, and he grins at your reaction, nuzzling into your neck.
"Not yet, sweetheart, let's get you some rest first."
. . . .
Not even half an hour later, Johnny is waking from his catnap in Simon's bed, reaching and fumbling for you, whispering about how he just needs a few more minutes in your wet, silky cunt, please, please, just let him slide inside, he promises he'll be good [he won't be], please just let him cockwarm inside you, he'll let you go back to sleep, he won't move [he will], please just let him bury his aching cock in you, he needs it so bad. And what can you do but relent, his tenacious sex drive stirring your own desire.
You'd already removed your prosthetics when Price had laid you down in Simon's bed between Johnny and Gary, so you turn on your side to face Gary— lifting your hips to quickly slide off your pants and underwear— and easily lift your leg without fear of cutting the boys. If Johnny had a tail, it'd be wagging as he practically wiggles with happiness, blathering his thanks and praises. He kisses your shoulder blade as he bullies himself back inside your sore cunt, his thick cock making you grit your teeth without the prep, your hands clutching at Gary's shirt.
As Johnny sinks into you the second time today, a sweet, sleepy fire heats your gut, flushing your neck and face when you realize Gary is staring so intently into your eyes. He nuzzles close to you, pulling down his mask, revealing old burn scars and the cutest smile you've ever laid eyes on.
He mouths the word, "hello."
You grin, his smile infectious, and whisper, "hi."
Johnny is already breaking his promise, rutting into you with needy moans, his teeth clenching the back of your t-shirt, one of his hands grasping under your thigh to hold your leg up for you. Gary leans even closer, one hand cradling your cheek before brushing down your bicep, squeezing your toned muscle, fingertips brushing a bullet-wound scar. His lips caress yours so tenderly before coming back in for a more heated kiss, sliding his tongue in to your mouth to taste you.
Distracted by his mouth, you gasp in surprise when you feel his fingers swirling at your clit, pinching and rubbing and sliding against the sensitive nerves. Your leg twitches involuntarily, your walls squeezing Johnny's cock, making him moan, mouth still full of fabric, as you start to ascend toward that delicious peak.
You tug at Gary's shirt, crashing your mouth against his again, hungrily, and you can practically feel his silent laughter as he responds in kind. His fingers keep working you as Johnny chases his release, bucking into you more and more sloppily.
The sound of Simon's door opening abruptly startles all three of you, prompting you all to look over to the doorway where Price stands. His eyes are dark as he slowly strides in. You're frozen, watching him, but Johnny and Roach don't stop moving, even with their eyes still trained on their Captain.
"I thought I told you two to get some rest," Price rumbles lowly, his tone dangerously enticing. "Roach, you were supposed to make sure they behaved." The two of them are picking up their pace in their ministrations, as if afraid he's going to make them stop, all eyes still on the Captain. Price's hands go to his belt, unfastening it.
"Looks like I'll just have to punish you," John croons darkly. "A bunch of unruly, disobedient soldiers." His buckle sags heavily as he pushes down his pants to release his large cock, longer and almost as thick as Johnny's. It hangs weighty along with his balls between his legs— and you're moaning at his words, at the sight of him, heat shuddering through you, leg muscles twitching uncontrollably as your orgasm plows through you.
Johnny is whimpering, eyes squeezed shut now [he swears he'll never get used to the way your cunt clenches around him in these moments] his cock spurting his release as he keeps on fucking into you, once again working through his over-stimulation [needing more, more, more].
Price's hand comes down hard on Johnny's ass with a loud smack, making him yelp and jerk hard into you. You press your face into Gary's chest, mind slightly hazy, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you away from Johnny who protests and whines when his only partially soft cock slips out of you.
Gary holds you close, rolling over so you rest on top of him. He pets your hair, his other hand lazily squeezing your ass, as you lay limply on him, cheek pressed against his chest. You blink sleepily, a slow pleasure oozing through your body, happily watching Price pull Johnny up till the Scot is sitting upright on the edge of the bed.
"Alright, mutt, get to work," Price commands, his cock twitching and growing, rising up before your eyes. [Johnny tries not to drool at the sight. Despite his current neediness, he's always fond of a good, hefty cock in his mouth.] Johnny obeys, grabbing Price's throbbing shaft and quickly enclosing the tip in his hot mouth, shutting him up for a few precious moments.
You're almost amazed at John's composure as Johnny takes him deep into his throat. Price grabs the other man's head, fingers tugging in his mohawk, Johnny moaning around the dick in his mouth. Price is the one who sets the speed, fucking into Johnny's mouth even as his heavy gaze drifts over to your prone form.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," John says amicably over the wet sounds of Johnny choking and drooling. "We'll keep this beast occupied until you're rested and ready for more." There's a teasing glint to his half-lidded eyes as he stares down at you.
"Of course, I'm going to be the one who gets your sweet cunt next. All mine." John growls the last two words, forcing Johnny to look up at him with a tug at his 'hawk. Johnny moans again, his hands grasping at his own stiff cock desperately, as Price keeps thrusting down his throat.
"Hear that Johnny? So be a good dog and take your punishment while we wait for our Lieutenant to recover."
The door opens again, Kyle and Simon entering; the bedroom is starting to feel a tad crowded. You're boneless on top of Gary, and struggling to keep your eyes open despite enjoying the show.
"I warned you to show some self restraint, Johnny," Simon says huskily. Kyle laughs.
"It's just as well," he says. "This should help some with that insatiable libido of his."
John laughs as well, then gestures with one hand to Kyle, still fucking into Johnny's sloppy mouth.
"Come here, my pretty boy, let's keep the mutt quiet with your beautiful ass in the meantime."