SUMMARY: After a mission gone wrong, Soap narrowly cheats death. When visiting him in his hospital bed, overwhelming relief emboldens you, making you do something you regret. So you flee, resolved to avoid Sergeant MacTavish until the end of your days.
But Johnny is done letting you slip through his fingers.
Part 1. Part 2.
PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (reader has boobs, that's it)
TAGS: A pinch of angst, then tooth rotting fluff, Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Depressed!Reader, inexperienced!Reader, Desperate!Soap, Soft!Soap, mutual pining, first kiss, confessions, dirty talk, making out. Bit of a chase, but it's fluffy. Protective!Ghost bordering on controlling but he works on it. Swears, blood mention, injuries, miilitary inaccuracies, suggestive content.
WORDS COUNT: 5.6k
A/N: aaaAAAH F I N A L L Y! ITS KISSING TIME BABEYYY 💋 For @glitterypirateduck COD Vacation Mode challenge, prompts 32 with Ghost and 58 with Soap.
"Hey author, this is Soap x Reader, why is Ghost there...?" Because he just! Won't! Leave! 🙃 *you can now picture me trying to push him out of the room with all my meager strength but he doesn't budge an inch*
As you pace around the office for the umpteenth time, you can tell from the glint in Ghost's eyes that he's seconds away from telling you to take a seat and stop writhing uselessly.
When did you become so accustomed to the taciturn Lieutenant's expressions - or more accurately, lack of -, that you could figure out what was going on behind the mask? You couldn’t remember.
He's been keeping his gaze on you since you've sat down after learning the harrowing news; or, more exactly, since he's sat down and you've been fidgeting relentlessly.
You're feeling like a shark - to stop moving won't kill you, but it will cause the whole world to come crashing down. It will allow reality to become clearer, sharper, inescapable.
The arrival of Price in the room captures his lieutenant's attention before he can scold you. Gaz follows close behind. He offers you a reassuring smile before his captain addresses you.
“He's going to make it.”
Relief overwhelms you with just those five words; a colossal wave close to sending you tumbling down. Ghost's mask fails to hide his own calming.
Price sets his hands on his hips. His voice is gruffed but composed.
“All he needs now is rest… and some blood.”
“I'll do it,” you blurt out resolutely, taking a step towards your boss.
“No,” snarls Ghost, tone adamant.
You snap around to stare at him in shock and disbelief. He never raised his voice at you before. And, most importantly, he never tried to dictate your behavior.
“Who do you think you are?! I'm not one of your fucking recruits-”
Price loudly coughs in his fist.
“Easy there.”
He raises both hands in appeasement. “We don’t even know if you're compatible.”
“I'm a universal donor,” you counter immediately, determination unaltered.
“Course ya are,” scoffs Ghost derisively.
You glare at him with open animosity. What the fuck is wrong with him!?
“What is that even supposed to mean!?”
You throw your arms up in irritation.
“Enough! Both of you.”
John's tone extinguishes your shout with redoubtable efficiency. He's already not someone you would dare cross on casual days, but hearing him raise his voice makes you sheepish.
Nonetheless, you turn towards him, outraged and betrayed. "Both"!? Why both!? I'm not the one being an asshole for no reason!
“You've done this before?” the captain asks, looking at you.
You nod vigorously.
He indicates the door with his chin.
“Fine, then. Go see the nurses to set you up.”
You bolt out of the room without further ado, determined to not let Ghost get another word in. But you can still hear one last sentence as you hasten.
“As for you, Simon…It is none of your business.”
Giving blood has never been a walk in the park. Every time, you have to actively handle your nerves; resort to trusty relaxation methods, such as focusing on your breathing, or counting the tiles on the ceiling.
The stab of the needle is unpleasant, to say the least, but the wait between the jab and the removal is almost as challenging.
Nonetheless, you've done this before, you succeeded, and for Johnny, you'd be willing to do it for hours.
Power of will doesn't compensate blood loss however, and when you get up from the bed, you feel dizzy, your bandaged arm sore and stiff. The idea of meeting with Soap shortly helps you power through, and soon enough you’re sitting at a table in the canteen, empty at this hour of the day, stuffing your face with whatever snacks and drinks have been put aside to aid your recovery.
With nothing but concern for Johnny busying your mind, you end up eavesdropping on a couple of nearby cafeteria employees.
“You think that's really him?”
“Ain't that many guys going around with a skull mask.”
“I heard he killed a man with only a pen…”
Your eyes widen at the mention of a mask, and you groan in annoyance before turning around to see where the staff is looking.
Near the entrance, casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Ghost is watching over you like an overzealous bodyguard. He finally swapped his mission outfit for his trademark black hoodie and grey sweatpants.
Exasperation flashes through you and you proceed to fling at him a cake wrapped in plastic. Your aim's never been anything to be proud of, but he's large enough that you manage to brush his shoulder.
“Get away from me, you creep!” you yell loud enough to be heard by him.
He gives you an inscrutable gaze before leaving the room, probably settling right on the other side of the door, not one to admit defeat so easily.
Minutes later, you leave the room to visit Soap, and observe with spiteful satisfaction that you were right - Ghost adopted the same position as before, against the corridor's wall. You glower at him as you pass by, and of course he remains unfazed.
You scoff with irritation before deciding to ignore him and focus on Johnny, accelerating the pace.
“Wait.”
You halt with a vexed sigh.
“If you intend to berate me again, I'm not gonna stand there and take it.”
“I know what you’re doing.”
You pivot to face him, exasperated by his sibylline remarks. He moved away from the wall and approached you while you had your back on him.
“Once again, what is that even supposed to mean?”
His cryptic attitude makes your blood boil with anger, one that could almost mask the feelings of hurt and betrayal he begets inside you. At some point, you've genuinely started to believe that you two became some kind of friends. Turns out that you've been naively imagining things this whole time.
“The whole self-sacrificing bullshit.”
You stare in incomprehension, searching his concealed features vainly for a clue, wishing you could rip that stupid mask off his face.
“I'm not sacrificing myself. It's just a bit of blood.”
He crosses his arms.
“We have stocks for that. And it's not just that. When he got into trouble with Price for making you skip work, you tried to take all the blame.”
“He did it to cheer me up-”
He keeps talking like you didn’t intervene.
“And when he pummeled that officer, you pretended it was all your fault.”
“I-”
“Luckily for you, Price's no sucker.”
You wince with distress.
“I just wanted to help. I hate being… feeling useless.”
“That's my problem. I swear it feels like you’d slash your own wrists if you thought it would ‘help’.”
You grimace but do not contradict him. It's actually kind of scary how much he figured you out.
“Let him take responsibility for his actions. He may look impulsive most of the time, but he knows what he's doing.”
Arms folded, you gaze fixedly at the floor in silence, not knowing what to add.
“I’m sorry.”
He talked loud enough to be understood, but the content of his sentence makes you doubt what he said as much as if he whispered. You stare at him with wide eyes, speechless. It's not that you categorically believe Ghost incapable of self-reflection, but at the same time, he's always striked you more as the type to never admit any weakness - except maybe in front of a trusted superior and longtime friend like Price.
“Shouldn't have tried to boss you around. Only made things worse. What happened with Johnny… made me…”
He acts like articulating an apology out loud has on him the effect of enthusiastically biting into a lemon - an irresistible temptation to annoy him emerges inside you. No harm in a little well-deserved payback.
“On edge? Touchy? Cranky? Irrita-”
“That'll do. Go, now.”
You turn away with an amused smile on your lips.
Witnessing the wounded sergeant in a hospital's bed is like a punch to the stomach. Maybe an actual punch would be more merciful.
Inside you, gratitude for his miraculous survival battles against sorrow caused by his pitiful state. An impressive bandage is wrapped around his head, one arm secured in a cast, the other bearing a couple of compresses. His face is littered with scratches and contusions.
When he notices you, frozen on the threshold, he beams.
“How's my little firecracker doing?”
That nickname. That damn nickname. He started using it after he caught you red-handed giving the middle finger to a rude officer who was leaving your office just as Soap was entering it. You tolerated it until you realized it was a reference to his love of explosions and all things blow-able, which made you ridiculously pleased, yet self-conscious all at once.
Your legs were already unsteady, so the complimentary alias almost finished you off.
“That's my line, you Scottish bastard.” you retort, voice devoid of hostility despite the insult.
Closing the gap between you two with a few strides, you stop at what you consider a respectable distance.
“Why, I'm alive and kicking. No need fer ye to look so dejected.”
You scoff, both annoyed and moved by the attempt to console you. It's unbearable to see him so shattered and yet so upbeat, while you don't have a scratch but came so close to breaking down.
“I hate you,” you mumble.
“Ye love me.”
If you only knew… you wouldn’t dare to joke like that.
You smile ruefully, despite yourself.
“I'm serious. For a moment I…I really thought you… you weren't going to… shit.”
You furiously blink to get rid of the rising tears stinging your eyes, looking away shamefully.
“Hey, hey, hey, c'mere.”
He pats one side of the bed with his free hand invitingly. You obey, positioning yourself near the mattress close enough to touch. He grabs one of your hands and gently squeezes it.
“M sorry.”
His tone is gruff, maybe a bit abashed. A pang of culpability pierces your heart.
“What could you be sorry for? You were doing your job. I need to get over it.”
You’re not mine to lose.
“Fer makin’ ye cry. I hate it.”
Why does he have to be so kind?
You persist in trying to prove that you’re the one in the wrong here, not him.
“I shouldn't be crying. You’re the one who went through hell.”
He snorts.
“What's so funny?”
“Not funny, just… Ye didn’t even shed a tear when that bastard jumped ye the other day. Yet here ye are, crying over my sorry arse. Yer somethin’ else.”
The compliment takes you aback, and as his eyes sparkle with nothing but honesty, you fiddle with the bandage you received from the blood donation in a desperate effort to collect yourself.
“What’s that? Ye hurt?”
The concern in his voice warms your heart, even if it is unnecessary.
Soap rises from his pillow to some extent, pain obvious in his restricted movements. You react immediately, clicking your tongue in disapproval. Before you can think twice about it, you set your hand between his pecs and push him back, careful to not harm him, but firm.
“I didn't give you my blood just so you could spill it right away!”
He shouldn't be so easy to put back into his place, even with his wounds. Yet he goes down smoothly, docile under your imperious touch as if he was the unassuming civilian and you the imposing soldier.
His eyes linger on your hand before setting on you, the intensity and the heat of his gaze taking your breath away. His expression is one of surprise, but not of annoyance or revulsion, or at least that's what you hope from what you can read on his face.
Sinking into the lagoons of his eyes, you stare back in a daze. You can feel the rhythmic motions of his well-defined chest under your palm, rising and lowering as he breathes. Suddenly the contact becomes intolerable as your cheeks catch fire. You begin to withdraw but he grabs you just in time.
“Ye gave me yer blood?”
The urgency in his tone takes you by surprise, and so does his expression, one that's contemplating you like you've just announced that you've run in front of a truck for him.
“Price said you needed it-”
“Yer. Blood. We have a stock fer that!”
“I know, I just- I was there and I wanted to do something.”
“And they just let ye?”
“I asked real nicely.”
“Would have liked to see that.”
There's a challenging spark in his eye that you choose to ignore.
“It's just blood,” you mumble, shying away from his gaze, embarrassed by his reaction. You didn’t do this in the hopes that he would express eternal gratitude, nor that he'd be admiring of you.
“It will reconstitute on its own.”
He scoffs, unconvinced. Yet he doesn't sound too mad. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he's looking at you like you hung the moon.
“Let's talk less about me, and more about you, ok? How are you feeling?”
“Parched,” he retorts while reaching for the water bottle on the nearby tray table.
Of course he's not expanding further. Johnny's the kind to dramatically whine over a paper cut for fun but somehow when it comes to serious, life-threatening injuries, he becomes stoically reserved, almost stingy with words.
You almost throw yourself at the bottle when you notice the slight wince of pain in the line of his mouth - despite his efforts to conceal it - and hand it over to him.
“Just ask me if you need something.”
“Oh bonnie, ye dunnae know what yer getting yerself into with promises like that.”
You openly roll your eyes. If he can make that sort of comment, surely he's not in that much pain after all.
“Let me guess: you’re gonna ask me to kiss your boo boos better.”
You regret your jibe the second you finish talking. You were supposed to only think those words, not pronounce them. He's the gorgeous individual who can take the liberty of flirting with anyone, but you… you’re not.
His only reaction is a chuckle.
“Hmm, what if ah did? Ask fer a kiss?”
His tone is provocative, his pout sultry and his eyes pleading.
You stare at him in thoughtful silence, cogitating your answer.
He misinterprets your lack of response, and backpedals, stuttering while doing so. He starts to apologize, plainly, apparently convinced he went too far, ashamed by his own conduct.
You let him stew in his embarrassment a bit, not out of sadism but curiosity, rarely being granted the opportunity to see him so insecure.
This could be the chance to put an end to his flirting for good. The chance you've been waiting for. It's what you should do.
But there's a part of you that is fed up. Fed up of this pretty man and his pretty words, of this blue-eyed casanova that must see you as another conquest and nothing more. You’re sick of passively enduring his quips, his seduction, his winks, his smirks. So yes, you could ask him to stop.
Or you could give him a test of his own medicine.
Lifting his hand towards your face, you lock eyes with him to be certain he's watching, then tenderly press your lips to each of his scarred knuckles.
The ensuing quiet is deafening.
He half-opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. You never saw him so flustered. Is he… is he blushing?
Somehow, seeing his flush sets your own face on fire. The reality of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.
Panic surging inside you, you deal with the situation the way you know best when no other solution comes to mind - you flee. Pretending you don't hear Soap calling after you, you scramble out of the bedroom like the devil's on your heels. Ghost, settled on a chair in the hallway, throws you the closest thing he must have to a bewildered gaze in his repertoire as you storm off by him, gaze that you ignore vehemently.
The following weeks are spent visiting Soap only when he's asleep. Kyle is nice enough to let you know when that's the case. You can tell by the interrogative way he looks at you that a bunch of questions rush on the tip of his tongue: what happened, why are you not simply seeing his teammate when he's awake with the rest of them. But he's either kind or polite enough to not formulate his concerns out loud. Or maybe he thinks it's a private matter between the two of you.
Either way, you’re grateful, and you repay the favor any time you can, filling the break room with his favorite snacks, making him tea or ensuring his gear gets maintained first.
At some point Ghost half complains to you, half reprimands you - since Soap is one part of his current problem and you another.
“Fuckin’ hell, never been easy keepin’ Johnny in medical, but since ya visited him he's worse than ever. Care to explain?”
“I fucked up,” you confess, without adding anything else.
“Fucked up how?”
“I can’t tell you.”
He curses loudly, dragging a gloved hand over his face, appalled by your demeanor.
“Why the fuck not?”
“I'm taking my secret to the grave. All I can tell is that I made an absolute fool of myself, and therefore I can never appear in front of Johnny again.”
He half sighs, half groans, and rolls his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You dramatic little…”
Soap eventually gets released from medical.
You spend a couple of weeks avoiding him to the best of your abilities, even though you can tell that Ghost is frankly sick of your antics, Price is five minutes away from berating you, and even Gaz starts to look at you with something that resembles disappointment.
You actively despise yourself for ruining a perfectly good friendship. Especially because of a five seconds long action decided on a whim and carried out out of spite. You find yourself on the edge of tears a couple of times, yet unable to cry. Familiar rooms and corridors feel empty and awkwardly silent with his absence.
There are a bunch of close calls, and the base, or at least the part of it that you’re accustomed to, suddenly feels cramped.
But you hold on.
Until you don't.
You're caught completely unaware, entering the break room as usual to get some coffee.
Only to freeze on the doorstep. Johnny's right there. Barely two meters away. It's the first time you lay eyes on him in what feels like forever. You can’t help but drink in the view.
He's sitting at a table, elbow leaning on it, cheek resting on his closed fist. Your eyes linger over the blue cobalt shirt he's wearing, your favorite of his, and his black fingerless gloves, which you've always had a weakness for. The corner of his lips are down, his eyebrows lightly frowned. Staring into space, he seems sullen.
Your heart tightens at the sight.
However you barely get the opportunity to indulge into your guilt, because next thing you know, your gazes meet. He perks up, eyes widening in surprise. You tense like a deer in the headlights, holding your breath. Dread swells inside you. You’re no braver than last time.
You turn around and decamp.
It's fine, you can come back later. You just need to unearth a hiding spot for now. The object of your affliction - on top of your affection - will probably be vexed enough by your reaction that he won't seek to confront you.
Yes, everything is just fine, you assure yourself - for no more than a handful of seconds.
Without warning, brawny, familiar arms close around your shoulders from behind, pinning your back against a muscular torso.
“Gotcha.”
The word is barely above a whisper, more a growl than anything else, enunciated right into your ear, sending shivers all over your body. You don’t find anything to do but clutch with both hands one of the tanned forearms pressed beneath your collarbone.
Fighting him off doesn't even cross your mind. It's not that you think you'd fail - you trust him to let you go at the first stern summon. You just don't want to forgo his embrace. He hasn’t hugged you since that time you've been mugged and one moment was enough to make you realize how much you’ve missed it.
“Dunnae whether to be upset ye ran away again, or to find it cute that ye thought ye could actually outrun me.”
You gulp, heart pounding and cheeks heating up.
“Johnny…”
A host of pitiful excuses accumulates behind your lips, but somehow none manage to make its way out.
He briefly tightens his hold, but the gesture feels more like a hug than a restraint. Did he… did he just squish you? Like some kind of… cuddle toy?
“Got nothin’ to tell me?”
The question is a taunt as much as a hint at reconciliation.
You try to pace yourself, and think logically about this predicament of your own making. You need to devise a strategy to come out - more or less - unscathed of this.
Soap sounds more smug than mad, but still, passably angry. Maybe there's a way to fix this. Be friends again like nothing happened. Maybe he can forgive you.
First, do not worsen things.
Two, apologize. Properly.
Three, keep your fingers crossed …?
“I'm… sorry?”
He chuckles darkly.
“Gonnae take more than that.”
You try to resist the effects this sentence, his husky voice, his proximity, his laugh have on you, the way they make your stomach twist in apprehension and… indisputable arousal. Resist the temptation to close your eyes so you could focus on his voice alone, on the warm breath brushing your skin, on the lips so close to your ear; to let go in his arms, lean with your whole weight on his body.
Focus, damn it, you admonish and beg yourself all at once. On something else. Anything else.
You’re about to argue that he cannot possibly expect you to succeed in making amends when you’re in this compromising position, but you don't get the time.
Johnny hauls you away inside the nearest room. In a split second, he flicked the lightswitch on and nearly slammed the door behind you.
Cleaning products and exiguity surround you, illuminated by a cheap light bulb.
A closet, helpfully supplies your mind.
You barely have time to digest this information that Soap cages you against the wall, resting his forearms over your head. He contemplates you with a mix of melancholy and longing that renders your knees weak and sends a pang in your chest.
“Been going bloody mad with thoughts of ye.”
His voice is smooth like silk, tone sweet like honey, caressing your ears, warmth dripping inside your chest, making your head spin; or maybe it's a result of his closeness; or a consequence of his cerulean eyes boring into you.
“Ye got any idea how it felt to see ye leave without being able to do a bloody thing ‘bout it? Wanted nothing more than to rip off the tubes, get up, grab ye and lay back in bed with ye in my arms.”
He's intoxicating. He has to be, with how high, euphoric you're feeling, all your problems swept away, insignificant.
“Tell me to fuck off.”
You blink in incomprehension. Drunk on him, you may have lost track a little.
“I'll back off fer good.”
Bliss makes way to horror.
“Look me in the eye and tell me ye hate me. Tell me I disgust ye. Tell me ye wish ye never met m-”
“No!”
Your shout has the merit to make him stop, even if you didn’t mean to yell. Your scream disconcerts him for a second before an exultant grin stretches his lips. His smugness is back with a vengeance.
“So ye do like me.”
“How could I not,” you mutter, capitulating, but avoiding his gaze.
He refuses to let you, and cups one side of your face to make you look at him. As you meet his eyes again, his thumb tenderly strokes your cheekbone. You feel your insides melt at the gesture.
“I like ye. A lot.”
He licks his lips, as if to grant himself some time to mull over his next words, and you automatically follow the motion.
“And I want to kiss ye. A lot.”
His hand slides from your cheek to your chin, slightly tilting your head back.
“Can I?”
It takes a moment for you to regain your voice. When you woke up this morning, you most definitely didn’t expect to receive a confession from John Mactavish. Your brain goes into overdrive.
Is this real? Am I dreaming?
“Johnny, listen…”
The gaze he's aiming at you glows with hope.
“You don’t want to be with me. I'm…”
What? A shell of a human being? Broken?
“…a mess.”
Expectation is replaced by resolve in his turquoise pupils.
“I know exactly what I want. And it's ye. Wouldn't be here otherwise.”
His patience seems to unravel with each passing second, as he stares at you with something akin to desperation written on his face.
“Want me to beg? S’that it?”
“What? No-”
“Cause I can. Beg real pretty. Bet ye'd like that. Saw how ye looked at me the other day when I got on my knees for ye-”
He keeps babbling sweet and filthy nothings that set your face ablaze. He saw how you looked at him? Mortification briefly flares up inside you before you notice the amusement in the corner of his lips, the playful glimmer in his glance, tangled with the neediness - he's joking around. You adopt a stern expression to chasten him but quickly realize he's way too busy staring at your lips to get the message. So you grab both sides of his face to get his attention - two can play this game.
The sheepish, sad puppy face he gives you in return barely makes a notch in your firmness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, right before diving into the unknown.
“Yes,” you profess - and before he can tease you for clarification - “You can kiss me.”
But as he leans forward to obey, an incriminating detail surfaces in your mind.
“Wait, wait…”
You cover his mouth with one hand. Then immediately regret it, with how his eyes devour you the way his mouth can’t, not helping your flustered state at all.
He gently grabs your wrist and removes your hand, before pressing a kiss into your palm, your wrist.
“Now, better say something, or I'm gonna kiss my way up.”
He hums pensively.
“Scratch that, I'm gonna kiss ye everywhere.”
Pleasant tingles travel your whole body at that. He looks up from your hand to stare at you, and there's a devious glint in his eyes that tells you he caught sight of it.
“I have never.. done this… before.”
This confession means a lot to you. It's a well-kept secret, as long as people don't already deduce it from your lack of social skills. You’d rather it stays this way, but you don't see how you can start a relationship while withholding this truth.
All you can hope now is that Soap will react in a manner you consider appropriate. If he judges you, if that fact makes you go down in his estimation, or if he starts seeing you as some sort of innocent, naive individual that he could get off on corrupting, you’re not sure you'll be able to recover from it.
All playfulness deserts his face. He observes you with a mix of solemnity and compassion.
“Oh, bonnie… I don't give a shite ‘bout that. We'll go as slow or as fast as ye want, aye?”
Stirred beyond words, you nod your assent.
Not wasting any more time, he presses his lips to yours. They're soft and warm. You expected a surge of unbridled desire, but he takes his sweet time with you, to become acquainted with your mouth.
It only lasts a moment though; as he seems to gain in confidence and deepens the kiss, his motions fill with fervor, turn frantic. Hunger rivals devotion.
They say the greatest pleasure possible a human being can experience isn’t, well, pleasure; it's the end of pain - and he's kissing you like he's been aching for it, for so long, and he's finally getting relief. He's clinging onto you like the separation of those past weeks put him in severe withdrawal.
You probably would have let him continue if you weren't compelled by the imperative need to breathe. You turn away, panting.
Not interrupted in the slightest, he simply latches onto your neck instead.
Floating in a daze, you absently close one hand on the back of his shirt, and fondle his mohawk with the other.
“Hold on to me.”
The instruction takes a ridiculously long time to reach you. Thankfully, Soap picks up on that and grasps your hands to place them on the back of his neck. You only understand his goal when his fingers slide behind your thighs and he lifts you up effortlessly, wedging you between the wall and himself.
Once he gets his fill of your throat, he sneaks one forearm under your rear and lets go of one of your thigh, somehow managing to keep you in the air one-armed, to tug at the opening of your top.
Seeing him struggle to open your blouse one-handed, you reach down to assist; but just as you do that, he grabs one side of the clothing between his teeth, and pulling the other with his free hand, he rips off the first three snap fasteners in one go. Your eyes go wide, your mind torn between finding the gesture arousing or risible.
You settle for a fond scoff.
“You animal.”
The name feels all the more appropriate because when he looks up at you, releasing the cloth, the hunger in his eyes is striking, and the wolfish grin he grants you is the one of a ravenous predator.
“You could have just asked-”
“S'faster,” he shrugs, at least as much as possible in his current position.
You barely notice the staple of your bra opening; he hauls you slightly higher, bringing your chest to mouth level, and dives between your breasts like a man starved. The contact makes you tilt your head back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. The sensation of his lips and tongue against your sensitive skin makes you coil: your fingers grasp the back of his shirt and his hair, pressing his head impossibly closer, your thighs clench around his torso, your toes curl.
“Fuck, Johnny.”
He moans your name in response, albeit a bit muffled. He sounds as afflicted as you are, if not more. The idea turns you on terribly.
You look down to see him, and the vision of his face feverishly pressed to your skin is almost unbearable.
Suddenly he recoils, eyes meeting yours, and opens his mouth to stick his tongue out, right in front of your nipple, holding still in silent question. Your crotch throbs with arousal and you bitterly regret your earlier assessment - this view is much harder to endure, by far. The deep, honest eagerness in his gaze, coupled with the absolute submission to your will he demonstrates…
That doesn't stop you from frenetically nodding your head in agreement. His lips close around your nipple and the flick of his tongue against it draws a whine out of you. His free hand softly squeeze your other breast.
If he wasn’t holding you, your legs probably would have given out.
A faraway ringtone painfully pierces through the torpor you’re deliciously lost in. Your ringtone.
Johnny swears under his breath and blindly gropes your ass to silence your phone lodged in your back pocket.
Your eyes snap open in horror as you abruptly emerge into reality.
“Shit, shit, SHIT! Put me down!”
You repeatly hit Soap's shoulders to get his attention and convey urgency, without putting real force behind it. He complies immediately.
Your soles barely reached the ground that you’re already whiping out the device from your pants. Your coworker's name is displayed on the screen. Turning your back on Johnny, you pick up the call in a panic.
“Hey… yes. Yes, I'll be there in a minute. …They're not here yet? Thank fuck.”
As you sheepishly reassure your colleague that you’ll be there soon for the meeting that should have already started, you feel fingers fiddling with your blouse. Your first instinct is to bat Johnny's hands away, before grasping that he's actually putting your snaps back in place.
“Hm? Oh no, nothing bad. … I, uh… I just got held back. Anyway, see you soon.”
You hang up with shaky hands and a weary but relieved sigh.
The Scotsman's arms wrap around your waist from behind and he lovingly nuzzles his face against yours. His stubble prickles your skin, but the gesture is too endearing for you to spurn him.
“No more running away, aye?”
He exudes peacefulness, every muscle in his body content and relaxed. Where did Ghost's vicious attack dog go and who's this teddy bear?
“No more running,” you acquiesce.
“Good lass,” he purrs.
Normally, you would have gotten back at him for that patronizing comment, but you still feel bad for the way you treated him, so you just grunt.
“We'll pick up where we left off, hmm?”
Your cheeks burn furiously as you realize what he's referring to - his kisses wandering lower, to fulfill the “everywhere” part of the pledge he made earlier.
Submission for @glitterypirateduck's #CoDVacationMode challenge.
Title: Best Laid Plans
Pairing: 141 x Reader, (Female Reader)
Warning: 18+, implied smut, sexual situations, sexual thoughts
Prompts: Budget Motel, Solo Vacation, Running into the same person (s)
Word Count: 4.3k
Summary: A nice long holiday to 'find yourself' is just what you need after a messy breakup. You look forward to the restful retreat for months, dreaming about what you'll do with all your free time. But when the trip finally arrives, everything goes completely off the rails.
This got extremely out of hand in length, as my stuff usually does. I can do a part two if there is an interest 💙
The summer plan of 'finding yourself' after an extremely messy breakup was not going to plan. In the slightest. You were supposed to hop off the plane on an island in the Mediterranean, catch a ride to your rented flat, and find a lovely man, or five, to occupy your next month in blissful self love.
The first flight had been extremely uncomfortable in coach, the seats too small and your neighbor too loud to be able to sleep. That was fine you told yourself, it was just a few hours. You had a four poster bed with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean to sleep in for the next few weeks. What was a few hours?
Then when you arrived at the impossibly small airport after the second flight you found out your luggage hadn't made it. It was still on the mainland and they'd be sending it on the next flight; which wasn't until the following day. Fine. You could survive on your travel clothes for a night.
But the final straw had been when you arrived at your rented space to find the owner standing outside the place. It was flooded. Completely and utterly ruined, water running from the ceiling where the pipes had burst and their other place was already booked. So were all the other areas around. Summertime on the island was busy which was why you had to book this place out four months in advance. The owner apologized and hoped to have it ready in a few weeks so maybe you could finish your vacation there.
The only place with a vacancy is a small motel on the edge of town that looks like it rents rooms by the hour. You sigh as the taxi drops you and you walk up to the front counter. It's like the start of a horror movie, the fluorescent link flickering as you sign in and pay for a room. You'll find something better tomorrow you tell yourself.
At ten at night, there is nowhere around to eat so you settle for the vending machine that is on the way to your room. It only accepts cash. You hadn't had the chance to exchange currency, that was part of the plan for tomorrow. This was turning into such a disaster. Maybe you should have just stayed home, maybe it was the universe letting you know that this was not going to be the hot girl summer you thought.
Tilting your head back to hold back the frustrated, and tired, tears you hear footsteps approach. Carefully wiping your face you turn to see a man standing behind you at the machine, casually digging out his wallet as he looks at you.
"Oh, please go ahead," you mutter as you step aside, "I was just...leaving."
"Didn't find anything appetizing?" The man asks as he steps forward and peruses the selection inside.
"No cash. Had a bit of a change of plans and didn't expect my first night in the country would be vending machine food."
"You should always carry local currency," the man says with a grin and you catch the emblem on his ball cap is a British flag. Perhaps another tourist.
"I'm figuring that out," you answer as you look at your room key number to see where you need to go.
"What do you want?" He asks as he makes a selection, a candy bar.
You pause and stare at him with an eyebrow raise. You weren't one to accept anything from strangers but you were starving.
"What do you want?" You parrot back at him taking a step back.
He chuckles eyes roving over you before producing another bill and stuffing it into the feeder.
"No strings. Just don't think you should go to bed hungry. Even if it's shitty vending machine food." He presses in the selection and watches it fall to the tray below before bending down to retrieve the bag and holds it out to you. "Crisps?"
"Thanks," you say skeptically, taking it and preparing to run.
He smirks, unwrapping his own sweet treat and taking a bite. "See you."
You wait until he is gone, disappearing into his room down the line before hustling to your room. You slip in and slam the door shut, sliding the chain and lock into place before flipping on the light. The room is about as delightful as any seedy motel that hadn't had an update since the eighties would be. You're fairly certain something skittered under the bed when you flipped the lights on.
The next day isn't going better.
You can't find anywhere else to stay on the island. No one has any sort of openings for at least a week. Your luggage had arrived at the place you were supposed to be staying at, but since no one was there they took it back to Athens. You spend another few frustrating hours to arrange it to arrive at the motel but now they say it'll be another two days. You couldn't do another two days of dirty clothes and motel soap.
You opt to go shopping, to try and make the best of it and find some nice airy clothes and hygiene provisions. Shopping takes up the rest of your day and when you arrive back at the sketchy motel you walk up to your door and slide your key in the lock to get in. It jams. You rattle the knob in frustration, juggling your bags as you fight with it.
It's not budging.
"Need a hand?" Someone calls and you turn to see the man from the night before. But he also has a friend. The other guy is older, a bit taller, definitely gruffier, and would have been a bit more intimidating if he didn't have a boonie hat on like your father.
"Ah, no I got it," you answer as you try to shoulder the door open. It doesn't budge and you sigh.
"Here," he offers walking over, his friend lingering back with his hip on the railing just watching.
You step away from the door as he wiggles the key a bit and grabs the handle, his hand completely encapsulating the knob, and he lifts it. The lock slides free when he twists the key open again and he opens the door allowing you to slip past.
"Humidity shifts the doors, just give them a good lift," he says with a grin as you shuffle past and turn to stare up at him. You watch as his eyes sweep over the room before back to you.
"Well, I'll hopefully only be here another day or two," you answer, "thank you..." you pause to get his name.
"John."
"John," you say with a nod before moving to shut the door.
"Wait," his hand stops the door shutting and your heart jumps into your throat. "Key," he supplies pulling it from the knob and holding it to you. "Don't want anyone just wandering by and letting themselves in," he finishes with a small wink before turning away as you snick the door shut. You watch him walk away through the eyehole before turning back to your dismal room to make the most of your evening.
You are going to the beach today.
You had enough of phone calls, trying to make arrangements, and sitting in the infested motel room. Perhaps this was all part of that grand universe plan, a great story to tell later and a lesson to just roll with whatever was thrown at you.
You didn't have your suit but that was fine; a summer dress and a bottle of wine tucked into the tote bag you bought would keep you entertained. There is a public spot to visit and you decide to walk, taking in the summer day and the sights as you wander. Finally happening upon the beach an hour later before groaning. It's all the way down a hill, a hill full of steep stone steps that look like would be your demise at one misstep. Fuck it, you came this far.
Pulling out the wine you wander down carefully, sipping right from the bottle as you go. You don't pass anyone on the way down and when you make it to the sand half the bottle is already gone. You should have brought two. No matter.
You walk along the shoreline watching the water lap against the sand as you continue to sip. You aren't sure what the rules are for alcohol on the beach, let alone in public, so you keep tucking the bottle away as people happen upon you. A man runs past you and you twist to watch him pass. He grins at you over his shoulder but that's the only acknowledgement he gives you before he continues.
But then he comes back a few minutes later, slipping past you with a polite 'excuse me', hands brushing your shoulders as you step into the shallow surf to give him space. He's shirtless this time and you stare boldly as he goes, twirling the bottle in your fingers as you watch the sun shining on the sweat on his back. You bring the wine up to your lips to finish the last dregs, leaning back a bit tipsily to get the last drop. When you tilt forward again you nearly splutter the liquid out as you see the man standing right in front of you. How did he get back to you so quickly?
"Drink that whole thing yourself?" He asks, his Scottish accent thick as he eyes the bottle in your hand. You almost see a twinkle in his eye at your unsubtle attempt to grip the neck of the bottle to prepare to swing it as a weapon if needed.
"Going to tattle on me?" You shoot back willing your eyes to stay on his face. Not the way his chest heaves a bit to catch his breath, the lines of his muscles on his stomach that are taunt and oh so chiseled. And definitely not at his arms where the veins are on prominent display after all the cardio. Fuck. You snap your eyes up and he's smirking at you like a cheshire cat.
"Me? Never," he answers before looking over at the hill and the stairs, the only way back up. "Just curious if you plan on spending the evening down here," he grins, "you'll break your neck walking up those after all that. Especially out here in the sun, nary a drop of water in sight." With that, he sips on his own bottle of water and pulls his shirt that he's tucked into the waistband of his pants to wipe the sweat off his face.
"Be better than where I'm staying now," you mutter glaring at the stairs for a moment. "I think I have a multi generational family of roaches under my bed."
"Aye, roaches are better than rats though," the man states and he sees your eyes widen. "Thinking better of camping out here?" He laughs as you turn to stomp toward the stairs. You better start walking now if you want to make it out by sundown.
He follows though and you shoot him a look over your shoulder.
"Only way in or out," he reasons and you sigh before beginning your hike.
Your legs are on fire after only twenty steps and there are many more to go. He's a few steps behind, quietly following and politely looking at the ground, at least when you turn to stare at him. Halfway up you can't take it anymore and you step off to the side to bend over to breathe. The wine is churning in your stomach and you're slick with sweat from the heat. You wave him to go past you but you watch his legs stop in your vision before he taps you on the arm with his water bottle.
You snatch it with a muttered thanks before taking a few sips and handing it back. He's watching you quietly before you stand up and continue your march in silence with him still lingering a few steps behind you.
At the top, you breathe a sigh of relief before remembering you've still got about an hour's walk back. Maybe the rats would leave you alone if you just crawled under the bushes on the side of the road and slept there.
"We have to stop running into one another like this," comes a voice that makes your head snap up. It's the man from the motel in the baseball cap half leaning out the passenger window as he looks at you with a grin.
"I'm beginning to think you're following me," you answer the tone not a joke.
"Small island," he reasons as the guy from the beach walks around to climb in the car. Did all of these people know one another?
"Great, well enjoy," you answer and twist to walk the opposite way of the car.
"Motel's the other way," he calls and you hesitate in your steps. Goddamn it.
"Small island, I'll just walk the circle and get there eventually."
"We'll give you a ride." John is driving and he's watching you in the side mirror.
"I'm fine, thanks!" You shoot back and continue walking, stumbling a bit over some loose gravel.
"Careful."
A hand catches your elbow and you yank it back quickly looking up. Was all of Britain on this vacation? What are the odds you run into yet another British guy based on his accent?
""m fine," you snap as you take in him. He's tall, so tall you have to crane your head back to look at him. There isn't much to see of his face though between the black facial mask and sunglasses. He has a bag of what looks like takeaway in his hands and someone yells from the car for him to hurry up.
"The stumbling walk tells me otherwise," he answers as he blocks your path from continuing your walk. "Not safe to be out here alone in your state."
"Yeah? And what? Safer for me to get in the car with you lot?" You glance over your shoulder where the men inside the car continue to watch.
"Yes." He nods off to the right where another group of men are watching the whole scene unfold and as if on queue one wolf whistles while staring blatantly at you. "Considering Johnny was kind enough to keep them away from you on your walk, I would view us as the lesser of two evils."
"I-what?"
"It's the middle of the hottest part of the day, you think he went for a run for fun?" He laughs a bit, "get in the car."
Something about his tone is commanding enough for your confused, and tired, brain to listen. Maybe it's stupid. No, it is stupid. But what other choice do you have? You walk toward the car and the man in the back, Johnny, leans over to open it from the inside and you climb in.
The back seat is cramped once the other guy climbs in and he shoves the food into your hands, his knees tucked nearly to his chest. You take it before staring at John as he pulls off the curb and heads back to the motel.
Your heart is hammering through the whole drive, staring at street names, markers, anything to help you when they inevitably drove you down some side road and tried to murder you. No, they'd certainly murder you. Johnny's arms were the size of a small child and the guy next to you looks as if he could smash you under his foot.
True to their word though, you arrive back at the motel very much alive. Johnny gets out first and you slide out next to him and hand him the food with a shove before making to run for your room.
"Hang on," comes the big guy in the face mask's voice. You halt and twist as he walks over and sticks a Styrofoam box into your hands. "Living off wine and vending food is no way to spend your vacation." You swear he's grinning as you stare down at the box before he twists away to follow the other three men toward their room.
The food is delicious. You sit in the very center of your bed, above the blankets, and eat it all while watching the fuzzy television. You realize as you doze off in your wine haze that they had bought you food. There had been five boxes of in your hand sitting in that car as if they knew you'd say yes.
A few hours later you decide this was it. This was the thing that was going to send you into a breakdown.
Sunburnt, hungover, and the goddamn water in the shower is a very slow trickle that barely splashes the bottom of the tub. When you attempt to call the front desk for help it just rings. And rings. You're near hysterics in laughter, or rage, as you storm toward the door. Whoever is at the front desk is about to get an earful of misplaced anger.
Flinging the door open you make to storm right down to the front when a bit of your senses come back. You don't have shoes on and you are very much wrapped in just a towel. You twist to try and stop the door but it clicks shut just as your palm hits it. Shit. Shit. You wriggle the door handle hoping against hope that it didn't lock properly but it's good and snug in its place.
Gripping the towel knot at your collarbone you walk over to the railing and peer toward the front desk. Maybe no one would be around and you could just dart in there, ask the manager for another key, and run back before anyone saw.
The office is dark; they've closed for the evening it seems which is why no one had picked up.
"Oh my god," you whine as you twist to look back at your still very much closed and locked door. What do you do now? No phone, no key, no clothes. You glance to the right as someone steps out of their room and the leering look he gives you makes your stomach churn.
Lesser of two evils comes the masked guy's words. Right.
Before you can think better you walk down to the room that you know the four men are staying in and bang on the door. It's the middle of the night so you assume you're about to wake them but you barely get two knocks before it swings open. John is standing there looking very much awake, and perhaps a bit shocked at the state you're in.
Goddamn.
Where Johnny had been chiseled bronze earlier this guy is a broad-shouldered solid wall of man that you hadn't noticed the first time. He's not nearly as cut, but you know that brute strength lingers under his skin. Your eyes trace over his pecs that seem to bulge under his compression t-shirt.
"Ah, I know it's late...and this is all a bit odd," you say, your eyes sweeping into the room to see Johnny and the masked guy playing cards at a small table, their eyes darting between you and their hands. "But my shower wasn't working and one stupid thing led to another and I locked myself out of my room and the front desk is closed." You glance at the other stranger still standing watching you. "And I'm pretty sure if I don't get somewhere else my neighbor is going to kidnap me."
John looks out the door at the man who's smoking and smirking now and his hand gently comes between your shoulder blades to guide you inside.
"Kyle is just finishing up his shower then you can get cleaned up. See if I can scrounge up a shirt instead of just...that," his eyes give your body a once over and you feel goosebumps break out along your spine at the scrutiny.
You shuffle inside and grip at your towel to make sure it's good and wrapped before leaning against a dresser. This is so fucking awkward. The other two men continue their game doing their best to not stare and you jiggle your leg restlessly. What the hell were you going to do now? Just...sit here with them all night? You should have slept on the beach and risked the rats.
"This a guys' trip?" You ask into the silence in an attempt to fill it, noticing there were only two beds for the four men.
"Something like that," John answers as he brushes past you to sit on one of the beds. "What brings you here?"
"I decided to follow a stupid self-help book about finding yourself and a series of unfortunate events landed me here. I'm going to leave the author a horrible review." You sigh wistfully as the bathroom door opens. "I was supposed to be staying on the beach with my pick of men to bring home every night and just a nice break from reality for a bit. Little bit of 'eat pray love' in my life. But this has been a disaster."
"You've got at least one of those things," comes a voice, Kyle, as he walks out of the bathroom in just a towel slung around his hips. You have to mentally make sure your mouth is not hanging open at the sight because, fucking hell, he's gorgeous. The steam curling off his skin, water droplets still glistening on his chest, and a smile that about takes you out.
"Bloody showoff," Johnny mutters and you glance over at him before back to Kyle.
"Says the one running shirtless earlier, how's the burn?" The masked guy asks as he shows his cards and Johnny tosses his own in disgust at the loss.
"Sorry. What was that you mentioned? I've got one of the things?" You ask your hackles up a bit. This whole trip had been an absolute disaster, you hadn't gotten anything you had hoped for so far. "Fairly certain this motel is not the beachside villa I booked."
"Having your pick of men to bring home to your place," Kyle answers simply as if it were obvious. "I mean technically you're in our place but that's semantics." He waves a hand absently at the final word and you feel your toes curl at the thought, which he clocks instantly.
"I-what?" You ask a bit shocked looking between all of them.
"Do you think we would tell you no? Especially in that little number," John asks with a grin, his eyes on your fingers as you tug at the towel to see if it would grow an extra inch to cover more skin.
"And if I were to pick? What then? Rest of you go stand outside and wait? Sounds boring for the rest of you." You snipe sounding braver than you felt in an attempt to call their bluff. Surely they were messing with you.
"Can't just pick one doll," the masked guy answers and your eyes widen. "All or none, otherwise someone will be jealous and it's a whole fucking thing." You can see his eyes crinkle with a smirk.
Oh. Fuck. You squirm a bit under all their watchful eyes.
"Way to cut to the chase Simon," Kyle mutters as he takes in your shocked face.
"Dancing around it doesn't change it," Simon answers as he leans forward in his chair to peer at you. His head is cocked to the side a bit as if studying you, watching your body language as you process the newest development.
"All...are all of you," you stumble over your words, the filthy thoughts going through your mind despite the shock of it. "At the same time?"
"Promise we won't break you...unless you ask," Johnny supplies with a grin. "We can start slow though," he reasons cutting a look over at Simon as if warning him to keep his mouth shut.
"Can I," you lick your lips and dare a glance at the bathroom, "can I have a moment?" Because you are going to combust under their heated looks if you don't get away to breathe.
Kyle steps to the side and gestures to the bathroom to which you scamper to as quickly as possible. You shut the door with a snap and flip the lock before gripping the counter.
Were you really considering this? How could you not? But four men? Strangers. But the part you were most looking forward to of this vacation was no strings attached sex. And they certainly looked interested in helping you with that plan. Four? How would that even? Fuck, Kyle looked good. And how would it feel to grip onto John's chest and just...ride him? Shit, stop. But Johnny's arms looked plenty strong enough to hold you down so Simon could make you scream. Stop! These men had been purposely corralling you these past few days. But it was hot...how they wanted you. To share you. No.
Your brain is a garbled mess of thoughts as you look at yourself in the mirror. You need a drink, or ten. You take a shuddering breath, then another, as you steel yourself for your decision.
You only live once, right? You could always tell them to stop if you didn't want it. You could change your mind halfway through and end it...though you doubted you'd back out since just the thought of so many hands all over you, worshipping you, made your core ache with need. After all these shitty few days you deserved a good night, dammit. And who better to help than four men who had quite literally been chasing you around the island? Maybe the universe wasn't such a bitch after all.
"Fuck it," you announce as you pull open the bathroom door to give them your answer. But Kyle is already standing there and he grips you by the back of the neck to pull you to him in a heated kiss, stealing the rest of your words out of your mouth.
I saw the Vacation Mode Challenge from @glitterypirateduck and voila! One Fem!(AFAB)Reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish vacay fic. I had so much fun writing this - I hope you enjoy!
Long fic - ~16k words
CW: AFAB Reader, no Y/N, explicit sex, public/semi-public sex, exhibitionism, sex toys, inappropriate use of hot tub jets, clothed sex, bad Scottish accents. Explicit 18+
Now do you really think you'd be able to look so bonnie and not have him chase you around the island? Silly thing you are. Better come to your senses quick, your arse looks fine as hell in that swimsuit but he's sure it'd look better under him.
Fem!(AFAB)Reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish vacay fic, No Y/N, smut with plot(ish)
AO3 Link
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Well, shit. That's certainly not your shirt. Or your pants. Bemused at the silk men's underwear and flagrantly obnoxious Hawaiian print shirts you zip the black suitcase closed again. This was a wrinkle in your vacation plans. But in the hot mess of your life, this was nothing. Life had pushed you through pain, rage, tears, and over the edge to dry humour and apathy. Sighing, you pull up the help number for the airline and after a short hold of fifteen minutes, you make it through to a very helpful representative. As you read off the numbers on the tag on the suitcase you make note of the name absently. 'MacTavish' eh? Scottish sounding, and not a drop of sunscreen in the case? Optimistic man. Snorting softly you listen to the agent as she walks you through the process. Someone will meet you in the lobby to pick up the suitcase and hopefully return it to Mr. MacTavish while they look for yours. She's so sorry but it was your fault for taking the wrong suitcase so they can't reimburse you for any purchases you need to make in the meantime.
You wave her apologies off even though she's not in the room to see it. "No worries, my fault for being a space cadet. When will you be by to pick up the case?"
There's the clacking of a keyboard in the background as she searches before informing you that someone will be by in about thirty minutes, so after hanging up you make your way to the lobby bar with the case to wait it out. Ten minutes later, halfway through your drink, your phone rings. Confused you pick it up to hear the same cheery rep greet you. She's pleased to inform you that they found your bag, in fact this Mr. MacTavish has it. Huh, hell of a coincidence. Or maybe not, clearly your bags were similar enough you grabbed his by mistake, he must have done the same. She carries on to inform you that he's even staying in the same hotel, he'll be in the lobby the same as you for the meeting, why don't the two of you just swap bags? Happily, you agree. Eager to get your bag back and get started on this damned vacation anyway - your family and friends had all but shoved you on the plane telling you to get your stress out and come back refreshed and ready to deal with the fallout. Hanging up, you continue to sip your drink in the balmy air of the lobby bar, scanning the people who walk through, looking for a man that you imagine must be some pasty redhead drowning in an echo of the obnoxiously printed shirts in the bag at your feet - a loud print of fish or birds, or some kind of fruit.
When your eye catches on the man standing preternaturally still in the lobby you tip your drink a little too far back and get a faceful of ice. Coughing, you snatch a napkin to pat your mouth and neck dry as your face heats with embarrassment. Shit. Your little display has caught his attention and you can see a grin full of boyish charm flash across his face, glowing through the stubble and matching the goofy mohawk on his head as he laughs at you. Thoroughly embarrassed, you continue your ogling out of the corner of your eye as he switches his attention down to the phone held in his hand. Christ, he must buy his shirts a size or two smaller than he should because the black t-shirt is stretched across a broad chest and sneaks in to show off his trim waist, biceps looking like they'll actually burst the seams as he shifts in agitation. As he turns in the lobby you can see powerful thighs flex in the dark jeans he wears and suddenly your face is hot for another reason. Maybe you should take your friends' advice to get over it by getting under someone else while you're here. As he completes his circular perusal of the lobby your attention snags on the black bag tapping against his muscular calf. Oh goddammit. Adonis over there was Mr. MacTavish? Just your luck. The one man you were embarrassingly attracted to who'd just seen you dump your own drink on your face? Great. Downing the rest of your drink for some alcoholic courage you reach deep inside you for some grit and rise from the bar stool to drag his bag over to him.
Blue eyes stop on you as you move and you're treated to another one of those charming grins, it turns wicked and slow, his eyes heating as he spies his bag behind you. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can feel your heart beating frantic in the base of your throat as you stand in front of him.
"So yer the lass that stole m' bag?" Eyes sparkling and dark on you he slips his phone into his pocket and holds his hand out for you to shake.
Shaking it, you respond. "I could say the same Mr. MacTavish."
Teeth brilliant in his grin, you spy a scar peeking out of the dimple of his chin through the scruff as he corrects you. "John, or Johnny bonnie. Mr. MacTavish is m' pa."
Shrugging you smile timidly back at him and wave your hand at the two bags. "So should we...?"
"Yes, yes! Sorry lass." Quickly you trade bags and you are about to beat a hasty retreat when you feel him loom over your back and he whispers in your ear. "Y'know havin' seen ya bonnie, 'M happy to help out if yer collection in there cannae do the job."
Freezing you feel the blood rush to your ears and face as you go hot. Oh this cocky motherfucker. Embarrassed you flee to the elevators as a dark chuckle follows you. Stabbing the up button frantically, you attempt to get your breathing back under control. That asshat must have opened your bag.... Flushing again at the thought of him seeing your dildo and vibe, you fight the angry screech bubbling in you as the couple that shares the elevator looks on in concern when John joins you in the car. Face tight you jab the button for your floor as he pokes the one for the floor above you, settling in the corner opposite you, openly eyeing you with appreciation. Ignoring him, jaw tight you rescind your earlier thoughts. You'd never been one for one-night stands, which is why you'd ignored your friends' advice and brought along the battery-powered alternative instead - thinking maybe some sun, sand, surf, drinks, and orgasms might help clear the miasma surrounding you from your cheating fiance calling off the wedding. But now. Now you definitely weren't going to get over it by getting under him. It was one thing to open your bag, hell - you'd opened his. But to mock you for the contents? Oh, you should have dumped soap in his bag all over his clothes. Fuming you stalk off the elevator, ignoring the way his eyes dance at you. You were going to forget Mr. MacTavish and have a lovely time. The resort was massive. Not like you'd have to see him again right?
The sun kisses your skin in blissful warmth, oozing into muscles and making your skin tighten. Time for another round of sunblock then. Sitting up you grab the bottle by your side and start smoothing it down your legs as you lounge on the deck chair by the pool. There's a splash and a spatter of water that makes you jump as John MacTavish emerges from the pool. Planting his hands on the side, hauling himself up and out of the water with his upper body strength alone. The water droplets kiss his skin like a lover, dripping down the mohawk rakishly flopping to the side, and sliding over thick pectorals catching on the smattering of hair there before trickling down to catch in the dark happy trail sneaking into his shorts. Snapping your eyes up to his face you catch another one of those wicked grins that you return with a glare as he runs a hand through his hair, sauntering up to you. Your glower ruined by your sunglasses, he flops onto the chair near you without a care. You pointedly ignore him as you slather sunscreen on your arms and torso.
"I can do yer back bonnie. Jus' ask - 'm good with my hands." Whipping your head to him, you see him finish his offer with a wink.
Nose wrinkling you decline, voice prim. "I can manage fine on my own."
"I ken. But it's better with a partner aye?" Scandalized you realize he's referring to what he'd spotted in your bag again. The enraged squeak slips out before you can help it and his grin widens at the sound.
Pointing a finger at him acusatorily you snarl. "Back off MacTavish."
His head tilts like a dog, considering your words. "Ye sure hen? Think we could both blow off some steam. I've seen th' way ye looked at me."
Cocky grin and attitude as he waves at the still glistening muscles he has on display, the deep V of his hips pointing and suggesting more deliciousness hidden in his trunks. Hairy thighs bunching and unfurling as he shifts on the chair. It makes you hesitate. Pause. For too long. His grin is wicked, syrupy sweet and fire in your veins as you heat, a pulse between your legs making itself known.
"I don't sleep with cocky two pump chumps." Sniffing dismissfully you drop your sunglasses on your chair and escape into the pool before he can respond. The water cold and shocking on your overheated skin, it shifts into a welcoming cool as you gasp and break the surface. Turning to float, you lounge weightless in the water. Pleased with yourself. Usually, you only managed those kind of responses later in the shower. Maybe this vacation was doing you some good after all. You putter around the pool, alternating between lazily swimming circles and floating aimlessly on your back. You'd never been a strong swimmer so you tire soon and float your way to the swim-up bar. The water lapping at your belly button as you stand to order, noting MacTavish out of the corner of your eye surrounded by women in their sixties and seventies on the other side. Snorting as he clearly tries to fend off their attentions you turn your focus to the menu. What looked good? A Bahama mama sounds interesting, but pina coladas were famous for a reason right? Maybe sex-on-the-beach, if you could get through the - a warm arm bands around your waist and stubble scratches your neck as a voice rumbles in your ear straight to your traitorous pussy who practically purrs at the too-familiar brogue.
"Ye gotta save me bonnie. Told those ol' biddies ye were m' lil wife." Agog in shock at his words, you spin in his hold, ready to read him the riot act as you come face to face with him.
You don't get the chance. His arm unwinds itself from your waist as its match plants itself on the bar so that you're caged in with warm muscle burning your sides as he leans down and pecks you on your forehead. The faint light press teasing your senses and unthinkingly your hands fly out and fingers snag on the band of his shorts as he retreats, tugging him back to you. Your brain is too slow to catch up, your body unilaterally deciding it wants more. Blue eyes flash dark and then his lips crash into yours. Plush lips meet yours as you open reflexively and his tongue licks into you. Faint tinges of salt and chlorine mixed with fruity alcohol and a dark taste that's all him. A wolf whistle snaps you out of the hypnosis that is his mouth and you draw back with a sharp inhale, shocked, staring into his darkened blue eyes. They flick down to your lips as you lick them nervously. The bartender drops off two drinks and he stretches out his hand to tap his wristband against the terminal they hold out to pay. Sheepishly he waves at the group of ladies waggling their fingers at him and nudges your still-stunned body with his elbow as he picks up the drinks. Stunned you follow him to a little alcove in the side of the pool, flopping down on the little bench just below the water line. He eyes you cautiously as he passes a drink to you.
Hesitating, he speaks. His usual cocky attitude blown away, replaced with caution.
" 'M sorry bonnie, when ye grabbed me - I thought...." He trails off and awkwardly scrubs a hand up and down the back of his neck.
"I shouldnae 've assumed. 'M sorry lass." Clearly repentant his gaze soft on yours he shifts awkwardly. Curse your soft heart.
" 'S ok. It wasn't bad." Embarrassed you admit and look away, hiding behind a sip of your drink. Your eyes drift back to him and his brilliant grin.
"Not bad eh? I'll have ye ken bonnie, I'm no two-pump chump. Pretty thing like ye lass? I'd keep ye cock-dumb for life." His eyes are wicked with promise as he drifts closer to you on the underwater bench. Alarmed you kick your leg out to bump into his thigh, stopping him in his tracks as your toes dig into muscle. Fuck those thighs were going to kill you.
Your control and resolve wavering along with your voice. "Oh no MacTavish! I'm not looking for anything. Let alone life."
Considering, he leans back, sipping his drink, his gaze on you heavy. Reading into your words before nodding his head towards the other side of the pool.
"Al' right then bonnie, can ye at least help keep them biddies away for a bit then?" Turning your head you see the group of women from the bar openly ogling him from across the pool. Giggling you turn back to him, eying him over the rim of your glass and you pretend to consider it.
"I should throw you to the wolves for that stunt at the bar." His face pales and his mouth opens but before he can say anything you continue. "But since you bought my drink I'll give you until it's finished."
Aloof you sniff at him, hiding your amusement.
"Wicked lass." He mutters and shifts around to try and hide behind the lip of the alcove. Your attention catches on his arm, the tattooed insignia familiar.
"How long have you served?" His entire body stiffens like you'd dropped a toaster in the pool. His face goes hard and his jaw tightens as he stares you down, focused and intense. A thrill skitters down your spine and your thighs clench. Hurriedly you tack on.
"You're advertising it pretty plainly MacTavish." As you tap on your arm in a mirror spot of the tattoo. He blinks and the intense scrutiny vanishes, replaced immediately with the lackadaisical charm you're used to from him.
"Pretty long bonnie." He dismissively bats away the question, avoiding it obviously. Fine then, not one to share much. But as you both sip on your drinks you talk about almost anything and everything. Your family and his massive brood of sisters, brothers and cousins. The fact that he prefers vanilla to chocolate ice cream, an absolute crime. How he's been forced on vacation after recovering from some injury and you ignore the hand that smooths over the pink kiss of skin at his forehead, and your own circumstances come tumbling out from a tongue loosened by the strong pour from the bartender. Observant he brushes past it as you do and the chatter stays light and pleasant.
"What do you mean you don't like dogs? I definitely can't marry you now MacTavish." Giggling you tease him as you finish your drink. He fake shudders and matches your grin.
"Been on the wrong side of those teeth too many many times lass. Bet I could talk ye into a kitten though. I'm good with pussy." He's far too pleased with his entirely unveiled innuendo so you splash him. As he wipes the water from his face you go to stand, pleasantly buzzed from your empty stomach, the heat and the strong drinks, wobbling slightly.
Bemused, he questions you. "Alright bonnie?"
"Yeah, yeah." You wave him off as you clamber ungracefully out of the pool. Stretching as you look for the chair with your towel and things.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you to your own devices MacTavish, I've got a shower and the hotel restaurant calling my name." Looking down at him you wave and leave him behind ignoring how you can feel his eyes branding your ass as you saunter away. If you have a little extra sway in your steps, well you can blame that on the drinks.
"Here you are miss." The hotel worker hands the keys to you, the metal clinking against the overly large palm tree emblazoned with the hotel's brand.
Still stunned you sputter, trying to find the words. "I can't drive this! The itinerary was for a segway, not a moped."
He looks at you, clearly bored and underpaid for this argument. "The honeymoon package includes a segway or a moped for touring the island. Vehicles are decided based on availability as stated in the package. This -" he gestures to the blue moped. "is what's available."
"I don't have a motorcycle license!" You know it's not his problem, or his fault but you can't help the frustration that tinges your tone. It was a new day on the island and you'd hoped to tour the sights you'd bookmarked and dog-eared in the travel books so long ago. He shrugs at you.
"You're welcome to stay on the resort grounds, ma'am." Gritting your teeth you glare at the cheery blue two-wheeled trouble and nearly jump out of your skin when a new trouble inserts itself with a deep voice into your discussion.
"I've got a license hen, no worries." Grinning, MacTavish drops an arm around your shoulders as you bristle up at him. The hotel worker vanishes as you glare up at the cocky grin.
"Now, what's on the itinerary f' t'day?" His arm dragging you towards the moped you internally debate the value of seeing old temples and world-famous sights if you have to do so with him. The warmth drops from your shoulders as he slings a leg over the tiny thing, lurid pink shorts glaring in horrible contrast with the little blue Vespa. The man has no fashion sense, clearly as his pecs dusted with hair peek out at you from a neon lime green shirt covered in yellow banana bunches and barely buttoned up. He buckles on a helmet and holds the other out to you. You did have a reservation for two at that restaurant, made six months ago when you hadn't known your prick of a fiance was sticking his dick in his receptionist, and you hadn't bothered to call and cancel it. MacTavish was a decent conversation partner in the pool. How bad could a day with him be? Wavering, he tips you over the edge when he teases you.
"C'mon lass, le's have an adventure yeah?" You twist your face at him in a grimace but grab the helmet anyway, buckling it on and stepping to the side of the moped. Wait how do you do this in a skirt? Carefully you climb on, tucking your skirt in around your legs to pinch it towards the body of the bike hoping to keep it from flying up in motion. Perched on the back you clamp your legs tight, determined not to flash the islanders. He quirks an eyebrow at you over his shoulder and then he's leaning back, a warm palm snagging your hand to drag it around his waist.
"Back-pack's have to hang on tight!" He gleefully says as he fires up the moped and you feel a tinny rumble underneath you.
"The hell do you mean backpa-" You're interrupted as he abruptly floors it and you screech. "MacTavish!"
He's laughing as you scramble to cling to him so you don't fall off the blasted thing, and you feel the flex of his abs as his laughter rolls through him. The wind chill on your arms you feel the whip of your skirt against your legs as he hurtles you both down the road, the little Vespa complaining at the speed.
Adrenaline and exhilaration sparkle in your veins, making you laugh as you plead, shouting over the wind rushing by. "Slow down!"
"Haud yer wheest bonnie. I ken wha' I'm doin'" You can just see the crinkle of his eyes and the edge of his smile at whatever he just said and you can't help the shriek that falls out of you as he guns it again and you feel his laughter as you plaster yourself to his back. He blatantly ignores speed limits and you're out of the town in the blink of an eye, the roadside giving way from little houses to sheer cliffs and lush rainforests. Breath-taking in their beauty as cerulean seas stretch out beyond them to the horizon, the freshly risen sun dancing off the distant waves making the sea dance and glimmer. A sense of serenity falls over you as you feel the warmth radiating off of John, the sure way he leans you both through corners and the smooth way he guides you along the twisting roads hypnotizing in his competence. You relax and ease back from him, enjoying the view. The brochures were right you think as you overlook emerald green forests, white beaches, and blue seas, a little slice of paradise.
"Ready for the drop lass?" His amused voice cuts through the wind as he shouts.
"Wha-" You yell back and he interrupts you, shouting.
"Jus' like a roller-coaster, put yer hands up!" What? You catch his meaning as you both reach the peak of the hill and the Vespa shoots forward, now working with gravity it finds a new purpose and flings you down the hill at alarming new speeds. What the hell, why not? You fling your hands up and you feel your stomach swoop in exhilaration as you whoop. Daring running out quickly, you snap your hands back to his waist, tangling your fingers in his shorts' belt loops. His hand drops to yours and drags it around to his front. It stays covering yours, warm and heavy until he pulls into a small parking lot in front of a lighthouse. Wait, shit. This wasn't where you wanted to go. Frowning, you scramble for your purse and itinerary as he shuts off the moped and kicks down the little stand.
You slide off the back to stand and flip through your printed-off spreadsheet, where was it? Stubble scrapes your shoulder and a warm palm scalds your hip as he drops his head to peer at what you're flipping through.
"Christ bonnie, anyone ever tell ye this is a vacation? Ye didnae need to plan it down to the minute." His hand squeezes your hip and you ignore the butterflies that swirl in your stomach at the feeling.
"Well MacTavish, this is how I vacation. So shut up or put up." Glaring at him you unbuckle the little helmet and balance it on the back seat of the moped. He holds his hands up in surrender, that lazy grin doing wicked things to your insides.
"Alright lass. How long ye got planned for us here then?"
Eyeing him suspiciously you mutter. "Fifteen minutes." He scoffs, but at your glare, he changes tactics.
Snagging your hand he hauls you off towards the lighthouse. "Better hustle then bonnie! Gotta get yer pretty arse all th' way to th' top in seven."
Giggling and out of breath you take a selfie with him at the top. Looking all too couple-y. It was the least you could do after he all but carried you the last little way. From then on he whirls you around the island, your confident driver as you drag him back on pace with your itinerary - meticulously planned out months ago. "My cap'n would love ye lass."
Your glares lose their effectiveness as the day goes on and he follows your details to the minute, dragging you off with a grin and hauling you over his shoulder when you're not moving fast enough despite your protests that you had built some flex time in for meandering - thank you very much! He's a military man, he teases you as you bounce laughing on his shoulder when he easily jogs up the steps to a temple, he's gotta follow orders. He laughs as you swat his ass in response. So you lean into it, making up more and more ridiculous plans. With only a few complaints and teases, he puts up with it.
"Fuckin' hell bonnie, did ye really schedule 'free time' in here?"
"Yes MacTavish, and not a minute more. You better hit the head."
Skin slightly tight from what you're sure is a mild sunburn you finally ease into your seat at the restaurant, grinning at John as he slides into the one opposite you. Your whirlwind of a day making itself known in the complaint of your feet and the little sunburn dusting his nose and arms. A waiter drops the menus off with you both and you can't help the face you make at the prices. Shit, you forgot how much this place was.
Smoothly the waiter asks, no doubt used to this. "Shall I charge the card on file?"
What card on file? You blink as he checks his notepad and reads off the last four digits of your ex-fiance's card. A nicer person might take the high road, but in your opinion, he'd destroyed the high road when you caught them in your bed. So gleefully you smile at the waiter, maybe agreeing a bit maniacally because John's staring questioningly at you when the waiter leaves.
"It's my ex's card. Guess he forgot to take it off the reservation." Shoulder lifting you grin at him. His eyes widen and then he smirks, flagging down a waiter and you laugh as he orders the most expensive champagne they have. Dinner passes in a blur of amazing food and drink, as you laugh and flirt. Falling to the desperate chant from your pussy. The man had been charming it you all day, the handsy fucker practically pawing you with any excuse, rough hands delicate and delicious on your skin, and he'd shamelessly flaunted that carved body, giving you a near continuous show of rippling muscle that you'd intimately felt pressed against on the moped and as he'd hauled you around. God, you were weak. The champagne and the fun of the day sparkling through you in a heady concoction. Your defences crumble down with every lopsided smirk and rumbling laugh he shares with you. After you both finish the bottle along with another of a red wine you abandon the Vespa in the restaurant parking lot to take a cab back to the resort.
He's pressed against you in the back seat in companionable silence, his hand alternating between stroking your back and warming your knee with his palm, making you shiver despite the warm night. When you both stumble out and into the elevator in a moment of drunken boldness you snatch his hand away from the button when he goes to push it for his own floor. He follows as you tug on that godawful shirt until you're both standing in front of your room. Licking your lips you stare up at his gorgeous blue eyes, feeling the warmth of his chest through his shirt. Whining, you balance on your tip toes, practically begging for a kiss. You feel it in his chest as he groans and slots his lips with yours, pressing you into the door. His lips firm and insistent, teasing you until you open your mouth for him and his tongue invades. Your teeth clack together as you taste red wine and champagne, that taste that's all John MacTavish as a chaser that shoots straight through you in a bolt of desire as you gasp and pull away to catch your breath. Quickly finding his lips again as soon as you breathe in. He meets you in a flurry of kisses, all teeth and tongue, chest heaving under your hands as he grumbles and groans into your mouth, hands palming your ass before he pulls away and sighs. Pouting, you chase his mouth with yours, but he presses a kiss to your forehead and steps away.
"I promise bonnie, I'll fuck ye good an' proper when yer not sloshed." You snort, head spinning as you lean on your door.
"Right MacTavish, I bet you just got some whiskey dick." It's his turn to snort as you turn and unlock your door. A flare of light pain has you yelping and turning to glare at the unrepentant man grinning at you as you rub your stinging ass.
"Nah lass, just figure ye might like to remember the best fuck of yer life." He's winking at you and sauntering back down the hall to disappear into the elevator before your drunken mind can fumble up a response to that.
The hair of the dog - the best cure for a hangover right? You sip your mimosa in your seat at the buffet having a late lunch / early supper having slept most of the day away, desperately hoping the old adage is true and your pounding head will take a step back.
"Hello dearie, where's that scrumptious husband of yours?" What? Oh god. It's one of the old ladies from the pool, she's standing at your elbow, looking for your 'husband'. You feel the blood rushing to your face in embarrassment, fuck how were you going to face him? Glad he wasn't in the vicinity you open your mouth to respond but you're cut off before you can say anything.
"Ah, there's the lovely Mrs. MacTavish." The cheeky fucker barges through the barrier of the old lady to drop a peck on your burning cheek before crashing into the seat across from you with a heaping plate. Grinning unrepentantly at you around the mouthful he scoops up as you glare.
"Such a darling couple." She coos as you seethe and he doesn't look away from you as he says around his food. "Sorry ma'am, but I've only got eyes fer muh lovely bonnie wife. It's our honeymoon ye ken? Some privacy'd be nice."
Crinkling your nose you can't help but snap. "Don't talk with your mouth full."
Eyes sparkling he salutes you with his fork and she stutters out a goodbye leaving you to glare at him.
He pointedly swallows before asking you with humour in his voice. "What's on the agenda today wife?"
"Resort day." You snippily respond, irked by his instance of carrying on the charade. Sipping your champagne you eye him cautiously as he hums.
Eyes alight with mischief he questions you. "Trust me?"
You must be crazy, but you do.
You really were crazy to trust him, you belatedly realize as you look down at the massive drop in front of you as the waterfall roars in your ears. Spinning to look at John your mouth drops as he peels off his black shirt with neon dinosaurs, leaving him in neon orange swim trunks. His pecs rippling and abdominals clenching as he leans to tuck it into your bag. Catching your stare as he stands he grins at you and starts to strike bodybuilder poses and you can't help the laughter that spills from you. His answering grin is blinding as he lopes up to join you on the rocks, your sundress fluttering in the wind stirred up by the falls. The teases fall from your lips unspoken as he kneels in front of you stealing your very brainpower, hands snagging the fabric, blue eyes full of mischief.
"C'mon wife, I ken ye got a nice lil suit under there for me yeah? Let me get this off ye?" You glare at the 'wife' and swat away his hands, peeling off your dress before you think. Flushing as he runs his eyes approvingly down your body, assets well on display in a new bikini. Heat coiling behind your belly button and the army of butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach since you met him make themselves known in flutters and swoops. He jogs away to tuck your dress in your bag and you nervously rub your arms as you peer down at the pool the waterfall empties into. How had you ever let him talk you into this? You'd balked like a scared horse when you'd seen the sign, but he'd soothed you with pretty words and gentle presses of his hands and now you were staring down at what was surely to be your death. As is practically habit for him now he startles you as he wraps you in a hug from behind, warmth surrounding you as he rubs his chin into your neck. You don't hear what he says, mind too caught in the fact that he must have shaved because the stubble against the delicate skin of your neck isn't as rough as before. No longer harsh, but a thigh-clenching catch and slide on your skin tickling the line of pleasure and pain.
"- an then we take a shot. Alrigh' bonnie?" He mouths your ear and you nod blankly, too swept up in the whirlwind of a man. Wait what had you agreed to? His arms drop from around you and he holds one of your hands in his own as he shoots you a boyish grin. Mind whirling you stare at him.
"Three!" He shouts. No. Oh no.
"Two!" No.
"One!" He drags you behind him as he runs at the edge of the waterfall and you shriek as you follow him, his loud whoop echoing in your ears as you fall, the rainforest a blur around you. You splash into the water and almost gasp at the shock of cold, kicking your feet to get to the surface winking above you. Flailing when you reach it, you shake your hair out of your eyes before you're snatched up by a wildly grinning John, his hands and chest hot against you in the cool water. Frantically paddling to stay afloat as he kisses you dizzy, giggling as he crowds you to the edge of the water where he leans over you. Pressing you into the bank he grinds in between your legs, the flimsy material of his swimsuit doing nothing to hide the burgeoning erection he bumps into your clit with every pass, making you gasp into his mouth.
"On three!" A strange voice shouts at the top of the falls startling you both. He drops his head to your shoulder with a groan and you can't help the giggle. He's sighing and grumbling under his breath as you watch the newcomers jump, falling to splash into the pool as well. They're quickly clambering out of the pool, laughing as they rush to the trail back up to the top. Biting your lip you consider. You'd had too many false starts with this man. Did you want to keep going? His warmth blankets you as he hums in your ear. Fuck it. You only live once. Scraping your nails down his back you mouth his ear as he shudders in between your legs.
"Take me back to the hotel MacTavish." He goes stock still at your words, and you pause in your palming of his back. Did you go too far? You shriek as he scoops you out of the water in a bridal carry, bounding up the path back to the top of the waterfall and the parking lot. Giggling you press kisses to his neck and jaw as he bodily hauls you up the path, muttering 'it's about bloody time' under his breath. He plops you down on the back of the moped and throws his leg over it before he swears. The keys are in your bag at the top of the falls. He's whipping around to head down the path to the falls again and you can't help the full-body laughter that starts at the sight. He's fully erect, straining against his neon shorts and pouting as he considers the quick hike. He crowds you as you laugh, raining kisses all over your face and shoulders as you try to fend him off uselessly.
"Think it's funny ya minx?" He murmurs in your ear.
Pressing him back with your hands you scold him."Stay here!"
Hopping off the back of the Vespa you back away from him still laughing.
"I'll grab the bag, we can't have you poking someone's eye out with that thing."
He acquiesces with a grimace, propping a hip on the moped and adjusting himself in his shorts. You hurry down the path, snatching your bag off the rocks where he left it and you scurry back to him excitement popping and fizzing in your belly. He's calmed down when you make it back but he kisses you with even more heat as you slip back into your sundress and he throws on that weird shirt, not even bothering to do up the buttons. A fact you take advantage of as he speeds back to the resort, smoothing your hands up and down the hard plane of his abs, fingers teasing at the edge of his shorts. Something that clearly ate away at his tightly wound control as he's swearing while dragging you down the hall to your room. Pressing blistering kisses to your lips as he crowds you inside.
Your fingers stumble and scrabble against his chest, frantically pushing at his shirt as he overwhelms you with kisses, pressing you deeper into the room. As the door swings shut behind the two of you, he flings you with a growl and you shriek as you bounce on the bed, laughing as he cages you in his arms, peppering your face with kisses.
"Fuck bonnie, I want you under me all the time." He breathes as he pulls away to look down at you. Grinning back up at him you push at his chest until he's kneeling on the bed between your knees and begin to try and tug your dress up over your head. He shifts, and it comes free from where it was trapped under his legs, John helping even further in the bid to undress you as he hauls it one-handed over your head before flinging it behind him with his shirt. You lick your lips in spite of yourself, his body looks like it was ripped straight out of a catalogue. Cocky grin now firmly in place he reaches out and snaps your bikini string on your shoulder, pulling you out of your reverent perusal of his chest. Pouting you smack at his hands, and squeak as he wraps a hand around your ankle and tugs you further underneath him.
"Careful lass, I still have t' prove ye wrong." Your mind whirls to keep up with his words as his mouth meets yours again and his hips slot between yours. His tongue fucks your mouth as he grinds into you, making your head spin and thighs clench around his burning body while you cling to his shoulders, nails digging half crescents into his skin. He shifts above you as his kiss eases and you can feel him fumbling one-handed at the knot holding your top up, you snake your hand down and stretch to palm him through his shorts. Fuck he's big.
" 'S Okay bonnie." He rumbles in your ear, voice lower and tight with desire. "Dinnae need to take it if ye don wanna. Just need t'-" You stop that idiocy in its tracks by sealing your lips to his.
Pulling away you glare at him teasingly, pulling your bikini top off with a shimmy as you say in a terrible imitation of his brogue. "Thought ye would prove ye was nae sum two-pump chump naw Johnny boy."
He guffaws above you, grin blinding before he laser focuses on your newly bared tits, grabbing them with both hands as he leans back on his haunches above you.
"Aye Mrs. MacTavish, I'll do just that." He teases back, thumbs swirling tauntingly around your nipples. Your back arches helplessly as you squawk indignant, and you swat his thigh before pumping his cock through his shorts firmly.
He laughs again. "Watch it lass, ye'll want tha' all in good workin' order."
Eyes glittering with humour he leans down and seals his mouth around your poor nipple, teased to a peak by his fingers, eyes still boring into yours. Hands flying and back arching, you moan as his tongue swirls in the same teasing path his fingers walked. Your hands tangle in his hair as his tongue flicks and his teeth scrape, and you clench around nothing, aching. The bed shifts below you and he's tugging at your bottoms, so you drop his hair to push at his. He lifts off your breast with a cheeky grin, blowing air on your tormented flesh and you hiss at the cool air. He shucks off his bottoms as you draw your legs up and fold to peel yours off, sending both sailing off the side of the bed. You blatantly ogle his cock, thick and ruddy, the dark tip bobbing as he crawls towards you again. He yanks on your legs and you gasp as he drags your thighs to his shoulders, hands scrabbling for purchase on the bed as he bends.
"Been thinkin' 'bout this since I saw ye in the lobby." He groans out as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh as you tremble. Any cheeky retort you could summon falls out of your head as he licks a hot stripe through your demanding pussy. Gasping, you cling to his head by his hair as he groans into your entrance, nose bumping your clit as he licks teasingly, too gently.
"John!" It breaks free of you in a wail. You can't hear his response, muffled by your pussy and thighs but he clearly got the message as his hot forearm bands across your hips pressing you firmly into his face as he begins to eat. Tongue fucking into you as his nose bumps your clit and he grinds his face into you, stubble teasing your mons. Panting frantically, his name dropping from your lips in near prayer you feel it building in you, a roaring fire, white-hot in your veins and electric blue in your nerves, searing you from the inside out. He grunts and the hand leaves your ass and you feel the bed shake as he fucks his hand. Desperately you drop one hand from his hair, stretching to reach his cock but it's too far for you and he seems to take offence at you letting go of your grip on his hair. A gasp is startled out of you and you clench your thighs around his head as he growls into you before sealing his lips around your clit. Your hand rejoins the other to tangle in his hair and you feel the pleased hum as it vibrates through your clit, sparkling and bright pleasure shoot through you. You can feel it tightening in your core, building to an overwhelming crescendo and you cry out his name as you come in his mouth. His pleased hum is overwhelming and you half-heartedly squirm as he gently eases you down with soft kitten licks, bright blue eyes searing from between your thighs.
Untangling your hands you hold them out and plead. "John...."
He happily abandons his place between your thighs to settle over you, kissing you as his chin glistens with your essence and the tang of your own spend invades your kiss. Kissing along your jaw he asks. "Got a rubber?"
You kiss the scar on his chin as you mutter back. " 'M clean, got the implant. Want you to come inside." His whole body shudders at your words and he nips your neck before soothing it with his tongue.
He grits out "Gonna kill me bonnie." into your neck before drawing back to tower over you, one hand tilting your hips up and the other pumping his cock as it drools milky white.
With a wicked grin, you cant your hips and wiggle enticingly. "Fuck me MacTavish."
He falls over you with a groan, and you feel the head of his cock as he taps it on your clit. Gasping at the feeling he claims your open mouth in a wicked kiss and he slides his cock through the wetness of your outer folds, lubing himself with what he'd worked out of you with his tongue. You tilt your hips trying to slip him in and you both groan as the tip catches and he fucks the first inch into your weeping pussy. His forearm clenches beside your head and you plant your feet pushing yourself up onto his cock. His head falls into the crook of your neck and he pants against it as you fuck yourself into him.
"Fuckin' hell lass." He groans into your neck and you whine when he pulls back, leaning back on his knees as he feeds his cock into you. The stretch delicious and achy, filling you, summoning that spiral in you again. Desire flickering through your cunt and coiling in your belly as he slowly sinks into you. He's hypnotized by the sight of your pussy slowly swallowing him, eyes dark, and you mewl as he reverently brushes a thumb over where he's stretching out your hole. Finally, he's fully in you, his heavy sac tapping your ass. It feels like he's rearranging your entire chemistry to make your body synch with his, lungs emptying you throw your hands up to twine them in the blankets as he pumps experimentally into your soft channel. He's cursing under his breath as you pant with each slow thrust of his hips, and his hand comes to press firmly into the space below your belly button.
"Gotta show me lass...." He's mumbling as you writhe on his cock, desperately trying to move your hips faster than the agonizingly slow pace he's set. He shifts and pumps into you again, making sparks fly across your vision as your entire body goes white with pleasure. His grin down at you is full of wicked promise. "There it is bonnie." Before you can question him, he's slamming into you over and over. His cock bullying into that spot as your peak overwhelms you and you're clenching around his cock, nails digging into the bed as you come, whining desperately. His hips stutter as you blink, mind awash in pleasure. He leans down to gasp in your ear as he goes back to that slow grind he started with.
"Can I flip ye bonnie? Fuck ye from behind?" He barely has the words out before you're frantically nodding, squeaking as he pulls out of you and flips you in a show of strength before plunging back into you. You drool into the pillows, fuck he's deeper in this position. His cock impossibly large in you, a slow drag as he pulls out and a slide in that ramps you up again. His hand tangles in your hair as he growls above you, hips starting to slam into you at a brutal pace. The sting of his hips on your ass and the pull in your hair stoke the fire in you and you plant your hands to fuck back into him. Your name falls from his lips in a reverential litany as he pounds frantically into you, his dick finding that spot again and bumping into it with each thrust. You bite the pillow as you cream around his cock and as you clench around him he loses it. His chest flat against your back he thrusts into you, groaning brokenly in your ear as his cock jerks, spilling inside you. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you down to curl around you, cock still twitching inside you as he nuzzles your neck.
It tickles, his breath puffing as his stubble scratches and you giggle, batting at his hands playfully, whining. "John!"
He huffs behind you in humour and you squeak as it jostles you on his cock. Mouthing your neck he breathes out into your skin.
"Steamin' Jesus bonnie, fuck me like tha' again an' ah'm makin' ye Mrs. MacTavish fer real." Accent thick in his voice, his brain still slowly coming online. You glare at him out of the corner of your eye and he laughs again and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before sitting up and pulling away from you. The both of you groan as his cock leaves you fully and you whine at the hot drip on your thigh. As you sit up he ambles into the bathroom and you hear running water before he returns with a wet washcloth. You smile thankfully at him, wiping carefully at the mess before handing it back to him. He wipes down his cock before climbing back into bed with you, pulling the sheets over the both of you.
"John!" You scold him as he drops the wet cloth on the floor.
"Dinnae fash, I'll get it in the morn." He soothes as he hauls you into his chest. You grumble into his pecs and you can feel the smile on his lips as he pecks you on the forehead. The two of you drifting off to sleep, still tangled in one another.
Blearily you blink into the darkness as he kisses you softly, something about a run? The bed creaks and there's a blinding glare of light before the hall door shuts behind him. Fucking hell what time is it? Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes you groan at the sight of the blinking red numbers, you really should have paid for a late check-out. Shit! You shoot up in the bed. You forgot to tell John. Worrying your lip between your teeth you stare through the darkness at the door, rationalizing. He couldn't really expect more, could he? Both of you were on vacation, and despite the wife jokes there'd been no discussion about what would happen when you parted ways. He had to know it would come eventually. Dramatically you flop back onto the pillows, ignoring the pang of guilt in your chest. Neither of you had promised each other anything. It would be fine.
Heart still pounding slightly after the weird scare you'd given yourself you give up on sleeping and drag yourself out of bed to shower. Embarrassed you find out that your legs feel slightly wobbly after last night. Still, you luxuriate under the rainfall showerhead before drying off and rounding up your things as you dress. A planner to a fault your toiletries and clothes were easily rounded up from their carefully preplanned layouts, the only hiccup in your plan was the ugly black shirt with neon dinosaurs on it. How the hell had he managed to forget his shirt? Sighing you sit down at the small desk and scrawl out a small note to leave with it at the front desk. Sorry, John, my reservation is up. Thanks for a great time. In lieu of your name, you doodle a heart instead and in a flash of mischief, you sign it Mrs. MacTavish. Tidying away the towels and roughly making the bed you leave a tip on the table for the cleaners.
You do your once over and pull the door shut behind you, dragging your suitcase and hugging his shirt to your chest. As you check out you leave it at the front desk with your note and exit out of the lobby, heading for the cab stand. Your name shouted loud grabs your attention. John's jogging up to you, skin glistening with sweat and panting, shooting you a confused look that turns into a glare as he spies the bag you're dragging. Skidding to a stop in front of you he pants, hands on his hips.
"Jus' gonna leave without a goodbye bonnie?"
Nervously you bite your lip as you try to explain. "I have to go to the next hotel - I forgot to tell you."
Tripping over your words as something overcomes you, an almost desperate feeling to not let him down. "I left a note!"
He snorts, pointing at you as he backs into the hotel. "Gimme fifteen lass, if ye truly wan' me gone get in th' cab now, or give me fifteen t' check out an' join ye."
With that said he slips into the lobby and jogs to the elevator. Leaving you with your mind whirling and nervously clenching your hands around the handle of your bag. You waver on the edge of the decision. It couldn't hurt to drag it out a little more right? You were having fun. That's what this trip was supposed to be about. Having fun and moving on. Not once had your ex crossed your mind in your time with John, save for when you found out he was footing the bill at the restaurant. You'd never laughed as much in your entire relationship as you had in this short time with him. Hell, you don't think you'd ever come that hard either. Decision made you step away from the amused cabbie to wait more clearly in the middle of the sidewalk, watching the lobby through the glass walls. Watching as only minutes later he spills from the elevator and rushes to the front desk. You can't help but smile when you see the confusion on his face when the clerk hands him his shirt. He crumples it with the note in one hand as he whirls, eyes seeking you and you heat with embarrassment and joy at the grin that splits his face when he sees you.
John still jogs out of the lobby, rushing to kiss you as he murmurs through your locked lips. "So glad ye waited lass."
He's still beaming as he helps the cabbie load both your suitcases in the trunk before sliding in next to you in the back seat. His palm is hot on your knee as you give the name of the new hotel to the cabbie. Leaning his head back on the seat he pants lightly.
Amused, you poke him with a finger, teasing. "Some big military man out of breath jogging across a lobby."
He cracks an eye open to glare at you half-heartedly. "I did five k lass and then had to pack like a fuckin' mad man thanks to some minx tha' thought it'd be funny to slip out wi' jus' a note left behind."
He waves the note and shirt at you pointedly and you feel the heat creeping in. You can't let him read that note now. He must see something in your face because he's snatching it back in front of him as you reach, deft fingers opening the note quickly.
"Jus' a great time bonnie? But, I suppose ah can forgive my Mrs. for underselling it." He purrs in your ear and you suppress a shiver at the delicious tone of his voice. The pleasant ache between your legs is a reminder you don't need of what he can do to you.Darkening blue eyes flick up to the clear partition, the cabbie pointedly ignoring the two of you nearly cuddled up in the back.
He continues in that rumble, taunting you. "I think ye might be in need of some punishment though, for nearly leavin' me high an' dry without a hint as to where to find ye. Hmm, bonnie?"
The dark scrape of his voice and his suggestion pulls a full body shudder from you as your thighs clench and you dig your fingers into them as desire crashes through you. Jesus Christ, did you have all your kinks labelled on your forehead? He certainly acted like you did. His chuckle is a threat in your ear before he leans back, calmly peering out the window as if he hadn't just shaken you to your core. Thick arm falling around your shoulder his thumb rubs circles into your deltoid for the rest of the ride in easy silence.
By the time the cab pulls up to the new hotel and you stumble out you feel like you've been edged the entire time. Panties embarrassingly damp between your legs as John pays the cabbie and unloads the luggage. He reads your wavering steps as clear as day and winks at you as he waves a hand for you to take the lead into the new lobby. Heat creeping in your cheeks and along your neck, you do your best to ignore him as you step up to the clerk and rattle off your reservation conservation code.
"Ah right! The honeymoon suite." Fuck. You stiffen at the words.
The clerk smiles blithely at you. "Congratulations Mr and Mrs -"
"MacTavish." John butts in. Leaning around you to spell it out as you stare at him wide-eyed.
Through your teeth, you hiss at him. "John!"
He just grins that cocksure grin and winks at you. That bloody man. He thanks the clerk and shoves the welcome package into your hands and gets you going to the elevators with a gentle push to the small of your back. His grin doesn't fade as you glare at him in the elevator, but you grow wary as it turns mischievous. Eyeing him cautiously you wander down the hall to your suite and unlock it. As you step in you can't help the sigh of relief. No cheesy heart bed or gaudy romantic themes await you, just a nicer hotel room and a bucket with champagne in it. From a quick glance in the bathroom as John tucks the suitcases in a corner you can see the tub and shower are clearly intended for two occupants.
Startled you squeak as he squeezes your hips in his hands. Spinning you lightly thump your hands on his chest. He catches both your wrists in one of his hands, crowding into you until your back is pressed against the wall.
His eyes glitter dangerously down at you as he speaks in that same low voice from the cab. "Still think ye need that punishment bonnie, promise I'll go easy on my Mrs."
Slow and as wicked as his words he smiles down at you."What do ye say bonnie? Do ye think ye need some?"
Heart thundering in your chest you can't find the words, thighs quivering under his scrutiny as you nod instead. His grin doesn't fall as he tsks at you disappointedly.
He moves your wrists to above your head on the wall and cups your chin with his free hand as you lose yourself in his eyes. "Need the words bonnie."
Your tongue trips over itself in your stupefied hurry to please him. "Punish me.... Please sir."
Your swirling mind tacking the last bit on almost an afterthought but it clearly works as his throat bobs and he lowers his head to growl into your neck, nipping the tender skin as you mewl. He sucks a dark hickey on your skin as he scoops you up, only breaking his hold to toss you on the bed.
"Get yer clothes off." He practically snarls at you as he shoves down his shorts and rips his shirt off over his head. Quickly you scramble to do as he says, and you see his eyes focus in on the glistening of your pussy, still wet from the cab ride and only more worked up now.
"Fuckin' 'ell bonnie." He groans as he scans the bed, his face brightening as he sees something.
"Alright Mrs MacTavish -" Despite the position you're in you still glare at him for the nickname and he grins wickedly back at you. "-hands up and around the frame. And for that look, eyes shut too bonnie. Don't you dare open 'em or let go." His voice almost teasing at the end of his orders.
Heart thundering you rush to obey, reaching up to clench your hands around the smooth wood of the bed frame and squeezing your eyes shut. Anticipation a heady rush as you hear him moving around the room.
"Out loud bonnie."
"Yes sir." You manage to squeak out in response, fingers tightening on the wood.
"Good girl." He purrs from the corner and you fight to keep your eyes closed as you hear a zipper. Trembling your thoughts gallop away from you. What was he doing? Was that your bag or his? What was he - You nearly let go of the wood, startled as his hand lands on your thigh but at the last second remember and tighten your hold.A happy hum comes from him as you feel the bed dip under his weight as he settles beside your hip.
"Doing so good." He praises you, hand sliding up and down your thigh. Calloused fingers teasingly close to where your pussy drools for him.
"Ah think ye need a little reminder of patience and communication bonnie. So here's wha' we're gonna do." His fingers softly slide between your vulva, slick with your juices, circling up over your clit and back down to dip into your hole in a teasingly slow path as he talks.
"Yer gonna tell me when ye get close an' we're gonna stop. If ye can make it to three I'll give ye a reward. How's tha' bonnie?" He hums questioningly at the end, like he's not already scrambled your mind with the slick glide of his fingers.
Thighs and voice quivering you answer him. "Yes sir." A dark chuckle falls out of him at your words.
"Ah think ye'll like this bonnie. After all, ye packed it dinna ye?" What does- Your thoughts cut off and you drop your hands from the wood as he presses your bullet vibrator straight onto your teased clit at the highest setting. Mouth open you whine, hands flying to push away his, it's too much! He tsks at you and moves it away, to draw circles with it on your lower belly.
"Hands up bonnie." Shaking you comply, wanting, needing, more - even if you weren't sure you could take it.
"Tha's it lass." He soothes, spreading a warm hand over your hip that you lock onto as a mental anchor as he draws circles closer and closer to your clit with the buzzing vibrator. You gasp out a sob, shaking as he lightly grazes your clit with it before circling back out. Plush lips kiss your side as stubble scrapes against your tummy and he starts that maddening swirl back in. Desire overwhelms you, and you tremble on the edge. Eyes screwed shut tightly unable to do anything but feel.
"Sir!" You manage to squeak out around the impending climax and he swiftly withdraws as you pant, trying desperately to reign in your runaway pleasure. His thumb presses into your side, slowly swiping back and forth across your skin as he waits for you to calm down. You feel his hand leave you as he leans up to press a kiss under your ear and you shudder at the scratch on your neck from his chin.
"All good bonnie?" He murmurs into your ear. Nodding you belatedly remember his preference for words.
"So good sir." You admit, still somehow burning with embarrassment despite the fact he's got you bare and spread before him, the words deeper somehow than that.
"Such a good girl f' me ain't ye?" Warmth and desire shoot back into you at his words that are warm with clear happiness at your admittance, pushing you back into squirming wantonly. Praise drips from his lips as heady as dark liquor as he works you back up to another knife edge, backing away again to mutter filth in your ear as you frantically pant back your orgasm.
"Tha's it bonnie. Jus' one more." It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before you're whining out his name and he's soothing you again.
"Ready f' me love? Open yer eyes now, wanna see those pretty eyes go dumb on my cock." He grits out as he settles between your legs and you blink owlishly up at him, mind focused on nothing else but him. Whining you cant your hips up as he notches his cock at your entrance, a moan falling from you as he groans. So teased and stretched from the night he slides right in despite his dramatic size.
"Fuckin' 'ell bonnie, like ye were made fer me." His voice and accent rougher as he rocks into you.
"John. Sir. John!" You babble as the slide of his cock thrums in your veins, your earlier denied orgasms hurtling toward you at an alarming rate. His jaw clenches and he curls over you, thrusts losing their rhythm as your walls flutter around his cock.
"Gotta come for me now pretty bonnie yeah?" He grits out before lowering the vibrator straight onto your clit. Swallowing your scream as he fucks you, white-hot pleasure flashing through your body you feel something burst as you cry out. His hips lose all semblance of rhythm as he swears in your ear, breathless and amazed. Groaning your name as he grinds into you, jerking as he spends deep inside you.
Your brain registers the sound of the vibrator clicking off and he collapses half over you on the bed, still cradled in your thighs. Carefully you unclench your fingers from their spot above you. Slowly stretching them out to ease the ache from holding tight for so long. His hand is gentle as he pulls them to his mouth where he gently kisses each knuckle tenderly as you dazedly giggle.
At the sound he smiles at you, sweet and bright. "God yer a wonder bonnie."
Embarrassed you duck your head to hide under his chin, happily burrowing into his warmth. With a grunt he pulls out of you fully and rolls to his side, arm snaking around to tug you in firmly under his chin.
"Tha' the first time ye squirt love?" Startled your head clacks into his jaw as your head snaps up to look at him and he swears as he rubs at it. Pulling back from him you panic at the sight of both of you covered in your fluids.
"Hey, hey, hey." He soothes, a light laugh falling from him and shaking his chest as he pulls you back in.
"None o' tha' now. Was fuckin' hot tha' was. Stop frettin'" Any protest you have is silenced as he swoops to kiss you with a grin.
" 'sides now ye have t' join me in the shower bonnie." You can't help but giggle at that. Enjoying slow kisses and tender touches until he helps you wobble into the shower for an encore.
Happily you bounce at your toes as you beam at John, who's chewing on his cheek as he glares down at you.
"It's a pettin' zoo bonnie I'm sure ye have them at home. Goats ain' worth th' money. Trus' me." He grumbles.
It's been like this all day, he drags you off to his dare-devilish sights, more cliff jumping, speeding mopeds, and ziplining while you grumble good-naturedly and he does the same as you drag him around to the historical places and Instagrammable views you had bookmarked, patiently waiting as you read plaque after plaque and pose after pose. This is the first time he's truly seemed irritated though.
Sighing you feel your happiness deflate. "It's okay John, you're right we can go."
Before you can leave though his hand catches your wrist and he's pulling you behind him as he buys two tickets. You slip your hand into his and beam up at him, heart flip-flopping in your chest as he sighs in resignation.
"Happy wife, happy life righ' bonnie?" The snort that comes out of you is unbidden and you see his smirk in reply.
"Oh my god!" Squealing in joy you abandon his hand to scoop up the tiniest baby goat who 'maas' at you. Pressing a kiss into its head you gently put it back down as you flit from animal to animal, happily petting goats of all ages, guinea pigs, rabbits, pigs, and what's either an alpaca or a llama? Stroking its neck you try to remember the difference and you see John settle on a stump out of the corner of your eye. He's stiff, holding himself in a kind of at-ready posture, guardedly watching the animals around him.
Your heart sinks as you remember your discussion about dogs with him. Shit, had he been attacked by goats too? Before you can leave your llalpaca a small boy wanders up to him. You can't hear what they say to each other but John's shoulders slowly loosen and the boy darts away before returning with a baby goat that's half the size of him, plopping it into John's startled hands. Snickering softly you watch as the child clearly instructs John on how to pet the baby goat, hands on his hips as he lectures the man. John follows orders well and his smile comes out when the boy beckons him down to pat him on his head as if to say 'there, there, you did well'. You have to hide your giggle behind the apathetically chewing alpllama. Slowly you meander back to him, pausing to pet every animal in your path as more kids flock to him. He's good with them. Patient and kind. As he loosens up you see more flashes of his humour and how the kids gleefully soak in it, rushing to bring him more and more new furry friends. Amused, you come to lean into his shoulder as he attempts to listen with rapt attention to five little children at once. Eyes not even leaving theirs to look up at you.
Not long after you join him their fathers and mothers whisk them away and you beam down at him as he looks up at you, bemused. As he stands he gives you a chaste peck and you hum happily, twining his fingers with yours. You both realize almost an hour has passed and your allotted time is close to an end. Planning ahead, you know you're getting back on the Vespa and you're not doing that with a full bladder, so you beeline for the washrooms. When you exit he's not in the immediate area and you settle on a bench to wait, assuming he's gone to do the same.
A mother comes dragging the small boy from before, trying to juggle him, as he protests that he doesn't need to potty, and a squalling infant. Timidly you rise to offer your assistance and she gratefully accepts. Thrusting the infant into your arms as she drags her son into the family washroom. Walking a small circle you bounce the baby carefully, rocking and cooing down at it. Slowly the babe settles and you slow but continue to sway and murmur. John comes out of the bathroom and you see him scanning, searching for you. When his eyes fall on you, you shoot him a smile but continue on your mission. He's frozen. Rooted to that spot as you meander, rocking and swaying until the mother returns and retrieves her baby with many thank yous before disappearing.
Quirking your eyebrow curiously you wander up to him.
"John?" You question, amused. Was he broken?
He grabs you by the hand and hauls you after him to the parking lot without a word, tossing your helmet at you as he smashes his on and throws a leg over the Vespa. Worried, you clamber on behind him matching his silence as he speeds you off down the road, away from the petting zoo. Trees and buildings pass you in a blur before he's suddenly sharply turning right and you skid to a stop in a deserted alley with a car up on cinderblocks.
He pulls off his helmet so you do the same, cautiously looking around as you question him again.
"John, what's going on?"
He grabs your hips and hauls you off the Vespa to splay you out over the hood of the car. Gasping in shock you clutch at his chest as he kisses up and down your throat, you feel his growled answer through your fingers.
"Been teasing me all day with tha' fuckin' sundress bonnie."
He kisses you with a searing heat, leaning over you, stealing your air, your ability to think. Kisses catching on your lips between almost every word he grits out as he continues.
"Then. I see. Ye. And th' babe. Gives. A man. Dangerous. Ideas. Bonnie." He groans as you catch his bottom lip in your teeth.
"Need ye bonnie, need ye bad." He chokes out as you palm him through his green and yellow striped board shorts. The dull chatter of people and the road down the alley sends a thrill racing through your veins as he grinds into your hand.
"Can I have ye bonnie? Righ' here?" Licking your earlobe he drips the dangerous idea in its shell. Electricity sparkles through you, the thrill amping up the fire he stokes in you. Gently you push on his chest and as he eases back you see his face fall slightly but as you slide off the car to lean over it his grin returns, wide and wicked.Face and torso planted on the hood you spread your legs and flip your skirt up over your ass as you hear him suck in a breath. You'll probably pay for it with shaky legs but you can't help but tease him.
"Come fuck me MacTavish."
He's shoving his shorts and underwear down just enough to free his cock from its confines before stepping behind you. One hand pulls your underwear to the side as the other guides himself into place at your entrance. Ruthlessly he sinks into you and your eyes prick at the burn and stretch, fingers clenching on the cool metal as you both pant. As he works you open, the burn gives way to bliss and when he's all the way in you moan. Immediately he's hunched over you, one hand tight around your mouth as he rocks into you, the other twining with one of yours.
"Cannae have anyone hearing ye bonnie, tha's just for me. Squeeze my hand if I'm too rough hen." Sweet words fall from his lips as he starts a brutal pace behind you, the only thing keeping your squeaks and moans quiet is his tight grip over your mouth.
"Gonna be rough and quick lass, been wantin' this all day." Hips snap against yours and you can feel it building deep in your core as the sweet nothings he mutters turn to filth.
"God, an seeing ye with the wean.... Fuck!" A particularly hard thrust has you seeing stars.
"Dangerous ideas bonnie."
He slams home into that spot and you shudder and shake beneath him as you come. He pounds into you for a few moments more before he's spilling inside you. Carefully he drops his hand from your mouth and presses kisses to your jaw before withdrawing carefully. Pulling your panties back into place with a pat to your cunt that makes you jump as he tucks himself back into his shorts. Chuckling he helps you off the car and onto the back of the moped, kissing you lazily and slowly as he buckles your helmet on your head. Not even speeding as he takes you both back to the resort. Leisurely winding you through scenic roads as the sun sets, orange and red painting the sky as the water sparkles underneath.
The good news is you've accomplished what you set out to do. You've completely smothered any flame you had for your ex-fiance. The bad news? Somewhere between the sheets, on the roads, trails and streets you explore together, you lit a candle for John. It can't be though - neither of you has even hinted at this continuing past your time here so you lock it down tight, convincing yourself it's just a crush, that tender feeling, the burgeoning flame in your chest will gutter and burn itself out with time and distance. Locking it away in a box in your soul with red warning flags and the thickest chains you can muster. If it seeps out like smoke through the cracks to gather and coalesce into embers in you then you ignore it. Just like how you ignore it when it flares brightly with almost every interaction you have with him as the days pass by in a blur of sweet moments and fucked out bliss.
Getting ice cream with him on the boardwalk as the sun sets. John steals licks and bites from your cone as you squeal and giggle trying to fend him off before shoving it in his face when he dives in, smearing it on his nose. Him taking his revenge, shoving his nose into your cheek and smudging you both all over as he kisses you, tasting of chocolate and desire. Muttering something about Gretna Green under his breath as he steals yours, your head spinning.
He starts muttering in another language as he rearranges your insides. Gritting out tha thu bòidheach in your ear as he grinds into you pressed up against the shower wall. Licking your ear with mo ghraidh; leannan, luaidh, chridhe, as he slowly ruins you on hotel sheets. Bhean seems to be a favourite. Whispered into your pussy as he drinks from you for hours, kissed into your breasts, and carved into your skin with his teeth and tongue.
It slowly bleeds out of the bedroom. Both your and his phone albums fill with pictures taken together, the two of you cozied up in front of sights, goofy poses, or pre and post-action shots of whatever crazy thing he's talked you into. All of them following him whispering "Gàire bhean" in your ear. Making you shiver every time before you grin into the lens pointed your way.
Days pass as he carefully leads you up beautiful trails, always ahead of you but turning to point out the easiest path or lift you up with warm hands. As he pops out of nooks in the souvenir shops making you startle and then laugh as he parades more and more ridiculous penis-themed souvenirs in front of you. As he opens every door, pulls out every chair, and covers you with his coat in every rain shower. As he steals the sheets and 'borrows' your fancy face cream. As he patiently follows your schedules, teasing all the while. As he takes it with a chuckle, striking a pose when you tease him back about his terrible vacation fits, the neons and garish prints that have grown on you. As he coaxes and coaches you through daredevil after daredevil activity, bringing joy, adrenaline, and excitement like you never had before. As he co-ordinates with you to try everything on the menu at the restaurants but then insists on 'stealing a taste' of the desserts, always with a kiss rather than his fork.
Before you realize, and well, well before you would like it comes. Your d-day. Tomorrow you depart. Bound to be checking out at an ungodly hour the next morning before a cab ride and a flight home. Learning your lesson you'd informed him well in advance, but neither of you bring it up now that it's imminent. Instead of another whirlwind day, it's scheduled free wandering time and he tugs you through the village as the two of you flit from shop to shop, stumbling and laughing over cobblestone streets, tipsy from all the bars and restaurants you pop into between shops - sampling the local specialties. The alcohol makes you bold, so when he slips away from you in a shop you quickly seek out and find the ugliest shirt you can. Emblazoned with the shape of the island and smattered with touristy catchphrases, all in his signature lurid neons that conflict with one another garishly. Quickly, keeping a wary eye out for John you buy it and duck out of the store and back into the street to shove it in your bag before he can catch you in the act. Breathing easier as you get your gift safely stowed away in secret you wait a few minutes before he's ducking out with a grin to join you and you slowly wander together towards the restaurant you have reservations at.
He laughs, rich and hearty, a full body body laugh that you can feel etching itself into your marrow, a drug that you know you'll crave long after you separate, when you give it to him during dessert. Ignoring your embarrassed sputtered protests he goes to put it on, lifting his shirt as he stands, but the waiter manages to stop him with a rushed appearance and warning. You're still giggling when he sits down, pouting.
"I'm sure it'll look just as awful as the rest of your collection." Teasing, you sip your water around your smile.
He grins back at you. "Aye, I'll look straight stunning mo bhean bheag, an' ye know it."
All cocky confidence as he sprawls in the rickety patio chair. "My gift is back at th' hotel bhean, ye'll have to wait till we get back."
Eyes sparkling at you he finishes your shared dessert with a smirk.
Pouting you finish your wine and find the courage to ask something you've been wanting to for a few days. "What does that mean - bhean?"
The unfamiliar language tripping on your tongue.
His answering smile is slow and dark. "Are ye prepared to pay th' price to find out mo bhean ghràdhach?"
The way he says it dripping with dark promise you shiver and bite your lip as you consider it. Eyeing him suspiscously as he waves the waiter over to settle the bill, your inner cat is fully willing to be Schrödingered by curiosity to find out, however, based on that grin your stomach wobbles nervously.
Grabbing the shirt in one hand he stands, disregarding the mints and receipt on the table to offer you his other hand. Taking it you stand, and he leads you both to the street to flag down a cab, grinning with boyish excitement. In the back of the cab, you lean against his warmth as he amicably chats with the talkative cabbie, running his thumb in small circles on your knee. Quickly you both spill out of the back of the cab, fingers tangled together as he drags you through the lobby and up the elevator to your room, opening the door dramatically.
Bemused, you step through the doorway, scanning for your present as he shuts the door. Warm hands gently grab your shoulders and point you in the direction of the balcony where the hot tub overlooks the view of the boardwalk and ocean. Glistening in the moonlight is an ice bucket with high-end champagne and two flutes. Excited you laugh and bounce on your toes to kiss him on the cheek with a thank you pressed into it. You quickly duck into the bathroom to change into your swimsuit and empty your bladder and when you emerge he's waiting in the hot tub for you with a filled flute held out in offering. You kiss him with another thank you and slide into the water, the heat and bubbling soothing aches from wandering all day that you hadn't even realized you had. It draws a low moan out of you before you sip the champagne, making him laugh as he draws you to his side, arm around you. The two of you lean into each other and watch the faint stars over the ocean, sipping champagne and resolutely ignoring the looming deadline. You break first.
"I know you're probably on the wrong side of the world from me but... if I gave you my number would you use it?" Eyes trained on the far-off waves, your heart too tender to risk seeing his reaction. He shifts beside you and his hand on your side starts moving in a soothing motion. Shit. That doesn't mean good things.
"I.... I would mo bhean, but ye'd have t' ken... ah cannae promise a quick response." He tentatively offers. Spinning to face him you can't help the questioning quirk of your face.
Sighing, he elaborates. "I'm deployed a lot. Don' often get the chance. Sometimes fo' a long time."
That makes you snort into your champagne bitterly. One of those was he? Using the military as an excuse to blow you off. It makes your stomach sour.
At the look on your face, his softens and a finger and thumb grab your chin and tilt your eyes up to his.
"My missions are classified leannan, phones are nae on the approved list."
The snort that bursts out of you at that is hot and full of hurt. Oh if he only knew. Squashing the hurt down you drop your champagne glass on the shelf surrounding the jacuzzi, spinning to face him.
"Let's just enjoy this fling then hmm?" Trying to keep your voice light and airy, you smile at him. He frowns back.
"I'm nae saying no, jus' warnin' ye." Hands snatching you around your hips he drags you over one powerful thigh.
"Yer gonna give me yer number mo bhean."
He keeps one hand branding your hip as the other tangles in your hair, dragging you down to kiss him as your hands fly to his shoulders. Teeth and tongue, chlorine and the taste of John MacTavish overwhelm you until you're pulling back to gasp in a breath, overheating.
"Speaking of, ye havenae seen the other half o' yer present." He teases you as your head spins with the heat and that kiss.
What? Squinting at him in irritation you question him.
"John?"
Your only answer is a wicked grin before he drops both hands to your hips, lifting his thigh to press against you before he drags you down the broad expanse. Rough hair tickles your thighs as you gasp at the friction on your clit through your swimsuit.
"Gotta earn it though."
Kissing your neck he sets a relentless pace as you dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders and your head falls back under the dizzying pleasure.
"Gonna be quiet fer me, mo bhean bhòidheach?" He questions you as he sucks a mark under your ear.
Frantically nodding earns you a warm chuckle before his hands drop and he shuffles under you. Seizing the opportunity you steal his mouth, kissing him fervently, trying to press all the fire burning in you into him, trying to pass on a fraction of the flame you carry. As he groans in your mouth his hands roughly yank down your swimsuit bottoms, gasping, you pull back to see he's worked off his as well. His eyes dark with desire and sparkling with the mischief you know he carries everywhere he crowds you to the side of the hot tub closest to the balcony edge, snatching small kisses along the way.
"Gonna fuck up my knees, but anything for mo bhean." He laughs in your ear as he spins you and you squeak at the realization that if anyone looked up they'd see you. Sinking lower in the water so your bareness is hidden behind the lip of the tub as he is sinking even lower behind you. His knee knocks yours apart and you feel him notch his cock to your entrance as his chest hair tickles your back. Slowly working you open as your hands fly to cling to the tub and he purrs in your ear.
"Remember bhean, quiet...."
Kissing your ear as his hands dig into your hips and pull you down so he's so deep inside you swear he's knocking on your lungs. Eyesight blurry and mouth open, you focus on panting and not making a sound as he sets a leisurely pace. The head of his cock sliding through your walls and spiralling in your veins. The dull chatter from the sparse people meandering on the boardwalk below sends a forbidden thrill through your veins. He starts shifting behind you, raising and lowering you both in the water as he starts to just grind into you, no longer pulling the fat head of his cock away from where it bumps at your cervix. He shifts you both to the right and fuck. Oh fuck. Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, blindsiding you as he centers your clit in the warm bubbling blast of the tub jet. The heat and sensation send you over an edge you never saw coming in an instant. Too overwhelmed to make a sound you bite your lip, pain flaring from it as you fight the moans and wails that spring forth, going from white-hot pleasure to squirming and overstimulated as he curses behind you at the way your walls frantically flutter around him.
Grinding into you he shifts you both so your clit is just out of the blast of the jet and you almost sigh in relief before he shifts you back. Laughing at your squeak. You bite your lip again to keep your noises in, hands clenching on the lip of the tub as he rocks you in and out of the jet, grinding deliciously deep inside the whole time. In no time at all you're practically in tears as you come on his cock again and this time he follows you with a deep groan. Dragging you both back down into the tub to sit on the far side he kisses your neck with a chuckle.
"Good mo bhean?"
All you can manage is a pleased hum, overheated and exhausted. Thankfully he presses a cold bottle of water to the side of your neck and you jump at the chill before you groan, grateful. You ease yourself off him, grabbing the water bottle to open and sip at it while he fumbles at something on the ground.
Turning to you with a proud grin he presents you with a ring. A ring. A ring? Stunned, frozen, you don't say anything as he laughs.
"Something t' remember me by, Mrs. MacTavish." He teases you, sliding it on your ring finger as you ignore how your stomach drops to your feet. Right. Your little charade, of course. Blinking you smile weakly at him and force a laugh as you hide behind inspecting it. A thin silver band and a little shell glint up at you from your finger and you shove shit you're not going to acknowledge into the furthest corner of your being. Hiding it behind a deep kiss that you almost smother him with.
"Don't scare me like that MacTavish." You tease him back, when you pull away from the kiss, proud of how your voice doesn't waver. His eyes and smirk flicker before he laughs.
"Aye bonnie, le's get ye t' bed now, early mornin' for us both."
Carefully so you don't flash the people below, you gather your suits and the champagne things and retreat indoors. Tangled in him in cool sheets you manage to sleep, despite your whirling thoughts and frantic heart.
You do trade numbers in the morning, but you feel the futility of it as he glances worriedly at you when you do. No doubt recalling the conversation you'd had about it last night. A kiss slightly too passionate for public is your farewell before you duck into your cab and he checks into a new room for the remainder of his stay. It's only on the plane do you realize two things. First, you hadn't taken the ring off your finger, and secondly, you never learned the meaning of bhean from him.
A few weeks later the ring is securely stowed in your jewelry box at your new apartment, and your feelings are only slightly less so as you report to your new job. Having returned to the the implications of a breakup with a superior you'd quickly salvaged what you could, abandoned what you couldn't, and gratefully accepted a transfer. One that took you far far away from your ex. On the plane home, you'd decided that you wouldn't look up the meaning behind John's words. You'd left that and your feelings behind on the island. That's what you told yourself. It was probably a good thing the polygraph test you had to take for your new position hadn't asked about that. You don't think you would have passed if it did. Trailing after one of your new bosses you make notes as she gives you a tour and dumps information on you at the same time.
Coming to a stop she looks at you as two men approach, another two trailing much further behind them. Her kind voice introduces you to them as you take them in. Both are built for intense situations, packed with muscle and tall, one slightly taller but those few inches feel like miles with the way he looms. Laswell introduces him as Ghost when you timidly shake his hand, trying not to be intimidated by the skull balaclava he wears. The other one with an impressive beard and mustache she introduces as John Price and you ignore the twitch of your heart at the sound of his name as you squeeze his hand.
"She's been assigned to help with your paperwork." Laswell explains before unwittingly throwing you under the bus as the other two men near. At her words you ignore them, focus snapping to her as blood rushes to your head in embarrassment. "Freshly back from her honeymoon, I'm told, so be nice John."
Tongue tripping in embarrassment you try to find the words to explain the situation. To tell these virtual strangers that yes you had gone on your honeymoon but you hadn't gotten married because he was a cheating dickhead.
"Actually, I -" Your words are cut off as you shriek when you're picked up and twirled.
"Mrs. MacTavish!" John, your John, booms as he spins you.
"Johnny!" Ghost barks. Johnny?!? "Put 'er down." He orders and John - Johnny?- drops you with a laugh. You smack him lightly as you spin to explain, tongue moving faster than your brain as Kate, Ghost, Price and the man you haven't been introduced to yet watch with clear amusement.
"Ignore him - he's an idiot!" Falls out of your mouth before you can censor yourself and John's huffing indignantly behind you as the others chuckle.
"Oh good, she already knows." Laughs the man you haven't met, as John - Johnny slings an arm around your shoulder. Johnny suits him you think as your mind spins to take this all in.
"Fuck off Gaz." Johnny says flipping him the bird. Gaz introduces himself as Kyle instead with a gentle handshake.
You don't get the same chance to correct people like he did and despite your protests, it's only hours before everyone on base calls you Mrs. MacTavish.
The year's not even over before he makes it true.
According to Google Translate & Our So Called Life:
ha thu bòidheach - you are beautiful
mo - my
ghraidh - love
leannan -sweetheart
luaidh - darling
chridhe - heart
Bhean - wife
Gàire bhean - Smile wife
mo bhean bheag - my little wife
mo bhean ghràdhach - my beloved wife
mo bhean hòidheach - my beautiful wife
If you haven't had enough of Vacay!Soap check out what anons have inspired:
Summary: A weekend away camping with your friend Soap leads to the start of a new relationship.
My submission for @glitterypirateduck #CoDVacationMode challenge. The prompts I used were:
12. Camping
32. Friends to lovers
34. First time seeing each other naked
Parings: Soap x f reader
Warnings: MDNI, smut
It had been a rare weekend of downtime after you had finished the last mission and after an offhand comment that you were going to do absolutely nothing except crash into your bed and move only just enough so that people didn’t mistake you for being dead, Soap had declared you to be his camping partner. When you agreed to join Soap on a camping trip you didn’t realize how thorough his preparation was. It started with his sending you a joint Spotify playlist “we’ll be needing good road trip music bonnie” along with a detailed list of your favorite road trip and camping snacks as well as a list of “things you need to pack to survive”.
The day the two of you set off, Gaz left you with some of his words of wisdom: “If you hear banjos, clench your buttcheeks!”
“Really Gaz? You’re referencing Deliverance now? If I get killed in some back woods somewhere I hope you fall out of another helicopter” You snap as Gaz smirks. That little shit.
You jumped as a deep Scottish accent sounded from behind you “Relax bonnie, if I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t tell anyone where we were going” Soap smirked as you got into his jeep.
“Not comforting MacTavish!” He laughed and pulled out of the parking spot “you haven’t told me where you’re dragging me yet”
“Relax, would you! You’re going to love it”
For the next three hours of driving you had been treated to Soap belting out his favorite songs, which mostly seemed like The Proclaimers on repeat and drumming on the steering wheel, both he and the radio at full volume.
“…When I wake up, well, I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you…”
You were almost ready to kick him out of the moving vehicle and head back to base when Soap pulled onto a dirt track. He stopped the car near the small forest and jumped out.
“We made it? Finally!”
“Not quite lass”
“What do you mean ‘not quite’? We’ve been driving for hours”
“Little bit of a hike to get there but I promise it’s worth it”
He’d of course been lying when he called it a ‘little bit of a hike’. You’d been walking for ages, enjoying the scenery of the area, you did have to admit it was a beautiful spot. You watched a flock of birds fly over the lake, not watching where you were walking and crashed straight into Soap’s back.
“Careful there bonnie” he chuckled as his arms braced you from falling flat on your face.
“Thanks” you muttered. Blushing, you extracted yourself from Soap’s arms and brushed yourself off.
“We’re here!” He announced with a flourish, throwing his arms out with a giant grin on his face. You look around and see what Soap is gesturing towards. You look in awe at the ruins of a castle, the crumbling stone walls overgrown with vines as nature slowly took over throughout the years “I found it when I was out here last and you were the first person I knew who I had to show this too”
“Me?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from the ruins.
“You love all those stories set in castles with ladies and knights and stuff so I just thought you might want to explore it and…” Soap rambled, suddenly nervous.
“I love it!..Wait, we’re camping here?!” You interrupted him, almost squealing with excitement.
“That was the plan, I thought we could set up the tent over by that wall there” he spotted you taking your camera out of your bag “I can set up the tent if you want to take a look around” he chuckled as you started admiring the sights through the lense of your camera.
You’d been exploring and photographing everything you could set your eyes on when you turned back to thank Soap for bringing you here but the words died in your mouth when you spotted Soap setting up the tent you’d be sleeping in tonight.
Dressed in a t-shirt and cargos, you watched as his arms flexed and moved as he pulled a support rope taut. You knew he was attractive, and might have been sporting a little bit of a crush, but as he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face you’re pretty sure he could ask you to run away with him and you’d happily go.
“Why don’t you take a picture” he smirked childishly “it’ll last longer”
“Maybe I can take a picture of you like one of my French girls” you laugh back.
“Come on you numpty, we need firewood” he bumped your shoulder with his as he passed by.
The two of you worked quietly setting up the remainder of your little camping spot, the setting sun casting shadows through the stone window frame that would have once held a beautiful stained glass.
Soap lit the campfire while you started preparing your food, pleasantly surprised Soap had packed everything to make hamburgers, he laughed at your little happy smile “couldn’t drag you somewhere and not pack your favorite food”
You leaned back against your rucksack, relaxing into the quiet night air, you could get used to this you realize, beautiful scenery, no technology, sharing burgers and beers with Soap as you told each other funny stories about your friends and family and the rest of your team.
Soap stopped his current story and glanced up at the sky “come here” he gestured for you to sit next to him. You made your way over to his side as he dragged you down to lay next to him, both of your heads resting on a fallen log “look up”
You turned your eyes towards the night sky and gasped in awe, the entire sky was full of stars, you could see every single constellation.
“It’s beautiful” you whisper “I wish I could stay here forever”
“Told you you’d love it here” you glance over and meet Soap’s eye.
You stared into his eyes for what seemed like hours before you felt him shuffling closer until he was nose to nose with you. You’re not sure who made the first move, perhaps you both did, but Soap’s lips found yours as his hand moved from his beer to the back of your head, holding you closer to him.
You yelped in surprise against his lips as his other arm wound around your waist and pulled you onto his lap “I’ve got you bonnie” he smirked as he left open mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his hand resting underneath you jaw, tilting your head to allow him more access to your neck. You throw your head back as a giggle erupts from your throat as Soap’s lips find a ticklish spot on your neck, you feel him smile against your skin as he continues his journey down your throat.
You reach down and take hold of Soap’s shirt and pull it over his head, his lips leaving your skin for the briefest moment as the shirt is pulled over his face. He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours as you catch your breath, blue eyes shining in the light of the campfire.
Soap curses as the boom of thunder breaks through the air, looking up at the sky as the first large raindrops land on your skin, he maneuvers you in his arms and carries you to the tent.
Setting you down in front of him, he wraps his fingers in your hair and pulls you against his lips, kissing you. His hands find the buttons of your shirt and makes quick work of them before he slides the fabric down over your arms and throws it over his shoulder.
The wind howled outside the shelter of your tent as you slowly undress each other, eyes and fingers tracing over each newly exposed area of skin, committing every single thing to memory “fuck lass, are you trying to kill me?” Soap smirked as his eyes practically devoured you. Standing in front of each other, dressed only in your underwear, both suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of being naked in front of each other for the first time.
Soap laid you down on the mattress he’d brought for the base of the tent “Do you want me to stop?” He asked as he positioned himself between your legs, resting on his forearms as he hovered over you.
“No” you whisper, fingers trailing through the coarse hair covering his chest. Soap shivered as your nails drag their way down his chest towards the waistband of his boxers “do you want me to, stop I mean?”
“If you stop I think might die” he claimed dramatically.
“Is that so?” You grin.
“I’d perish” Soap grins playfully back down at you “slowly and painfully in fact”
“Well, we can’t have that”
He leans back and kneels between your legs as lean forward, hands dragging his boxers down over his hips, Soap’s hands cover yours helping to remove the boxers down off his legs as your eyes wander over the length of his body, you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes roam over his cock and he grins as your eyes meet his again “see something you like?” that cocky little shit.
Soap wraps his arms around you and lifts you up onto his lap as skilled hands make quick work of undoing your bra and throwing it to the other side of the tent. As he lays you back down you raise your hands to cover yourself, suddenly shy under the heat of his gaze.
“Come on now” he smiles softly “don’t tell me you’re going shy on me” You find yourself smiling back as you slowly lower your hands. His lips find yours “lift your hips for me love” he mutters against your lips.
“Christ” he mutters under his breath as his eyes roam over you “can’t tell you how many times if imagined you like this”
“You have?”
“Mhmm, seeing you now, definitely didn’t do justice to the real thing” you feel yourself blushing as you reach between your bodies to guide him towards your pussy.
“Soap…please” you grind yourself against the head of his cock.
“Please what love?” Soap grins, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you.
“Are you going to fuck me or what?” You sass.
He finally pushes into you with a single thrust “there she is” he smirks as you gasp. His forehead rests against yours as his crystalline blue eyes watch over every emotion that crosses your face. He hikes your thighs over his hips as his thrusts become more forceful, hands scrambling to feel every inch of exposed skin they can.
He lays kisses across your chest, blindly finding your nipple as his fingers graze your clit. Your thrust grow more frantic as you both begin to approach your climax. You cling to his shoulders, crying out his name Johnny as you as you come. Soap follows soon after, his own orgasm hitting him with a final thrust. He comes with a grunt as he collapses on top of you, you hold him tightly as you catch your breath. You hear yourself whimper as he pulls out of you, he wraps his arms around you tightly as he buries his face against your neck.
The next morning you find yourself curled into Soap’s chest as he lays on his back, one leg thrown over his and your head resting on his chest. Your stomach rumbling with hunger “What do you want to eat?” He asks, his morning voice made thicker by his accent.
You pretend to think, resting your chin in your arms over his chest “bacon and eggs”
“Oh aye, my girl wants bacon and eggs?” His arms tighten around you, holding you close. My girl, he calls you like it’s the most natural thing in the world “and what do I get in return?” His eyes glint as he smiles.
“Round two?”
Soap rolls the two of you over, laughing as he starts to lay kisses all over your face and neck “works for me”
Hi hi! Love your blog! For the Gift of GIF ask game:
Thank you so much for the GIF ask!! So glad y'all like this ask game. Sorry about the delay. Hope this is something you like!
TW: DaddyDom language, female genitals, sex toys, safe and explicit consent, come play
Shore Leave
Your husband, Alex Keller, finally makes good use of his time off and takes you on your dream vacation. Little do you know that he has darker motives…
The view from your poolside suite was breathtaking in all of the best ways. An endlessly-reflected infinity pool bled right into the deep cerulean Pacific Ocean, making it seem like you could swim forever and ever and never stop. The sky was a mirror of the water, cloudless and pure. Although the sun was out, you were comfortable, and the breeze made you feel like you were always in a limbo between being awake and trapped within a lucid dream.
Even more enthralling was the way your husband’s body felt beneath yours. He was shirtless, clad only in a light pair of linen pants, and his warm body was curled around you protectively like a covetous hound. You’d never felt so safe.
However, you were also made to feel other things as well.
It had all started very innocently. He’d woken you up with poached eggs and freshly squeezed juice, running a warm bath and rubbing you down with lotion and oil before you stepped outside. Then, he’d gifted you with a brand new thong bikini, his eyes hungry as you tried it on. You thought you’d be following him down to the beach, eager to splash in the waves and show off your new fit, but he pulled you onto the pool deck instead.
He’d kissed you softly, teasingly. It was so different than his usual rabid fervor. You loved the way your husband could barely keep your clothes on when you were alone. You’d missed your dinner reservations more than once. But, you reasoned with yourself, he was always on deployment. Of course he was a little excited.
Now, though, that excitement had given way to mischief. As you had sat by the pool, kissing and holding hands, innocently watching the ships float by, you’d been lulled into a false sense of security.
And so, here you lay, your pussy stuffed with an automated vibrator, your poor unused asshole filled with an enormous plug, whimpering and begging for relief. Every time you would get close, writhing your body against his, trying to entice him with your hands and your long, smooth legs, he ignored you. He could control the vibe from his phone, and you never knew which way he was going to go. Sometimes, he would switch it off, watching you desperately humping his leg like a feral dog, swollen and perched on the edge of an orgasm.
His dark chuckle made your blood run cold,
“Does my good girl need something?”
Alex peered down into your face, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, smug and thoroughly enjoying himself.
“Oops,” he adjusted your thong again, jiggling the plug as he did so, “Keep these nice and high for me, baby. Need to be able to admire this plump ass of yours. Mmm. What a view.”
A hard, aching squeeze of his huge hand on your ass cheek made you see white, the sensation of all of his toys inside of you making even the smallest affection feel like wildfire.
“Please, Daddy, I’ll be a good girl. Please, may I come… please?” You tried to beg. You’d tried before. Nothing was helping. You could feel the slip and slide of your slick between the meat of your inner thighs.
“Not yet. Trust me, honey. I know what’s best for you, don’t I?”
You didn’t say a word, but you watched wide-eyed as he pulled another velveteen drawstring bag from his case. When he opened up the box, you could tell he’d already inspected and cleaned it. All of its wrapping was gone, and the straps were already in place.
It was a familiar piece. He’d used gags with you before, and nothing brought you more pleasure than allowing his hands and mouth and cock to bring you to your peak over and over again while you mindlessly allowed your shining drool to melt down your neck and onto your tits. When he removed it and allowed you to swallow him, replacing the silicone ball with his warm, softening cock, already emptied of its seed — you’d never come so hard in your life.
But this was no ball. This was a fat, silicone cock gag.
“Daddy, please. I’ll be quiet. I promise. Please… No, I’m —”
“Hey, show me your left hand,” he became very serious.
In your hand, you held a loud alarm button, your finger over the trigger, ready to press it at any time. When he saw it, checking in with you that you were still in your safe zone, he smiled.
“That’s perfect, baby. Such a good little slut for me. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed your cheek, shining with old and new tears, streaking down your face from overstimulation, and he planted chaste kisses on your quivering lip. You let yourself lean towards his affection, seeking more of his comfort, only to be firmly held back in place with his hand as he wrapped around your cheek.
“Shh, shh. Daddy just wants you to feel so good, baby. Now, open up.”
You stared at him with huge, gleaming doe eyes, tears threatening to run out of the corners of them again.
When you didn’t immediately comply, he grabbed the nape of your scalp and yanked your head back, not hurting you, but getting your attention.
“Am I gonna have to bruise that fine fuckin’ ass, huh? Make you walk down the fuckin’ beach with my palm prints all over you?”
“No, Daddy. I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” you gasped when the vibrator started up again as he flipped a switch. The shock made you clench down around it, which jostled the heavy plug, all in a series of mind-numbing chain reactions designed to edge you within an inch of your sanity.
“I know you will be. Now… open… that… mouth.”
Alex pressed the tip of the gag to your lips and you opened up for him, sucking it into your lips just like his cock. He pushed it all the way in and it almost landed in the back of your throat. Any further and you wouldn’t be able to breathe. It was a perfect fit.
Then, slowly, almost painfully so, he pulled it back out, staring into your eyes and seeing what you needed.
“Go on, baby. I know you wanna suck it for me. Show me.”
You wrapped your lips around it again, and as he held it in place, you bobbed your head up and down, your tongue lapping at the head of his toy. You made sure to look straight into his eyes as you used your mouth on it, letting your spit coat the silicone and drip onto his fist.
He removed his hand from your head and pet your hair gently, smoothing it away from your face.
“My poor, hungry little whore. Let’s fill you up, hm?”
Your protests became warped into a garbled whine as Alex pressed the toy all the way into your mouth, making sure it was flush and, before you knew it, you were being latched into the gag. The cock you were sucking was now perched at the farthest edge of your tongue, the soft head pressing into your palate, threatening to choke you.
Alex bent his neck to kiss your mouth as your lips stretched around the toy, smiling as he turned his attention back to his phone. He turned the vibrator down to a medium rumble and removed himself from your cuddling position to stand near the edge of the pool chair.
“C’mere, baby. Lemme show you somethin’,” your adoring husband held out his hand and you struggled to stand with him, stumbling on shaking legs.
He walked you over to the tall dividing wall between your suite and the popular beach, each step making the toys thrust up inside of you as you swayed your hips. Your weakness and the unevenness of the ground made your footing jerky and chaotic, adding to the creamy, lurid jostling happening inside of you. The pressure from the anal plug was so satisfying, and your vibrator teased your most sensitive spot, deep within you, just like a curling finger. Without your thong, you know your vibrator would have slipped out of you on your journey. You had never been so wet, and the way the toy was wriggling inside of your hole was making you dizzy.
Finally, you made it to the wall and used it to support yourself, squeezing your thighs together, desperate for some relief. Alex pointed down to the beach, showing you the little umbrellas and towels full of soldiers on shore leave, all oblivious to your torture.
“Put your hands on the wall, spread your legs apart, and don’t move them until I tell you to. Hold up a two if you understand me.”
You held up a two with your hand and then placed both of your palms on the wall, gripping it for dear life, feeling the long thread of your tangled orgasm beginning to unravel. Alex nudged your legs even wider, changing the angle of the toys within your body. The vibe buzzed away deep within you, faithfully held in place by your tight thong.
Then, you felt the familiar loosening of your bathing suit top as Alex yanked out the bow you had tied, letting the small fabric flutter away, revealing your breasts to the soft breeze. If any of the partying soldiers got too curious and decided to study you from below, they’d surely be able to see your dark nipples as they tightened on your tits, unbelievably sensitive in your current predicament.
You whined, and Alex shushed you,
“Shh, baby. I know. What if they see? That’s why you need to be nice and quiet for Daddy, hm? Wouldn’t want to attract any visitors, now would we? Now…” He grabbed your hips, his thumbs digging into the v-shaped strap of your thong, “Suck that cock for me while Daddy plays with his toys.”
You tried to focus on his instructions, but you couldn’t bear the anticipation. What was he about to do to you? You let your eyes wander back towards him, trying to prepare for whatever came next.
A rough hand came around to grab you by the jaw,
“What did I say? Show me how you swallow that dick, honey, or I’ll make you scream so they can all watch you do it.”
You nodded as best you could, trying to show him you could be a good girl for him, and you experimented a little, swallowing in an exaggerated rhythm, feeling the gag sliding back and forth through your mouth as your throat moved. It made you drool a bit, the spit pooling at the ring of your stretched lips, running down your chin.
“That’s it,” Alex praised you, rubbing his clothed cock against your ass from behind, “That’s what I wanna hear. Keep sucking, just like that.”
So, you did. As you swallowed and suckled on the solid shape, it began to feel more and more like the real thing. The ridges of the head, the pronounced veins of the body; it was all contributing to the absolute mindrot you were already experiencing. You let the cock fuck your mouth, using the tension of your tongue to mimic the feeling, allowing your thoughts to dissipate in favor of the sparkling blissed your husband had promised you.
Alex kept his crotch jammed against the cleft of your ass, forcing you to feel his hard shaft as it rolled against you, reaching around your body to softly pluck at your nipples.
At the first touch of his fingertips, you gasped, sucking in air through your nose, nearly losing your footing. His hands mirrored each other, rubbing feather-light circles around your pebbled skin, petting your heavy breasts with the palms of his hands. He was fire and ice, at one point squeezing your flesh cruelly and pinching you hard enough to make you cry out through the muffle of the gag, and then sweet as could be, stroking and petting you like a scared bunny.
You weren’t sure of the concept of time. It could have been only seconds that he played with you like this, or perhaps an hour had gone by. You just knew that your lover wanted to hear your hungry suckling sounds and to touch your swaying breasts. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.
Then, he pulled the other string at your back, letting your top fall to the ground.
You missed his touch immediately, turning your head to look back at him, questioning his choices. It was the wrong move. You knew he would take care of you, but your fervor made you selfish and doubtful.
You faced the ocean again, watching the soldiers as you swallowed against the dick in your mouth, ignoring the obvious lines of spit hanging from your mouth. Alex came around to the wall and perched himself against it. After watching you for a few moments, he took his hand and wiped your mouth, smearing your own spit all over your tits, wetting your nipples so that the cool air could tease them.
Then, right in front of you, he unbuttoned his fly and took his cock from his pants. He began to stroke it in a languid, lazy pattern, slathering his precome over his immense head and down his shaft. Surprisingly, the cock gag made you hungrier for the real thing, and you eyed him like a prize.
“I want to make sure you’re really enjoying this vacation, baby. I planned it all for you. Are you having fun?”
You nodded enthusiastically, knowing he was leading up to something threatening. You loved him like this. And he loved you when you were fully under his command. Under his care. All for him. His plaything.
“I’m about to look and see how much fun you’re having…” He let his fat cock hang and walked around to your rear, “Are you ready for me to see the pretty little mess you made, darlin’?”
You nodded again, steeling yourself for what was coming.
He placed his hand at the very middle of your thong and pulled up on it instead of down, cramming the toys inside of you deeper than they had been, making you writhe and whine, losing control of your legs, feeling them trembling, barely able to hold you up.
He let go. You breathed as deeply as you could, feeling like the cock in your mouth was growing down your throat, wishing you could scream in earnest.
Then, he rolled down your bottoms until your spread thighs stopped them, your ass and pussy now on full display.
He hummed with pleasure, and you heard his pants fall to the ground, rustling in the grass and pooling around your husband’s ankles.
Suddenly, fingers began to tug at the plug in your ass, pulling it in an undulating pattern against your muscular ring, making you feel like you were being fucked by a thick cock. Then, he applied even pressure, and removed it, letting your hole clench around nothing for a moment before teasing you with the rounded tip. Alex let it fuck you shallowly for a while, pressing it forward only a few inches at a time, barely applying any pressure at all. Until he put it back in. He stretched you again, and you realized that since you’d become all too comfortable at the thin, flat base, and you hadn’t had a chance to get accustomed to the insane girth; it was as if you were starting from scratch.
You rolled your hips, trying to ease the pressure, and he rolled the toy with you, playing with you like a lion plays with its food, batting you around, helpless to his power.
The vibrator was flailing inside of your pussy at top speed, pulsing and rumbling loud enough for you to hear the mechanical whir. And every time he pushed the plug back inside of you, the tone of it would change. Your body was making music for him, and you couldn’t help it one bit.
“Beautiful…” You could hear the smile on his lips.
Everything stopped for a moment, but you thought you heard a soft slicking sound, the noise of him jacking off. Then, you felt his fleshy head push its way into your pussy, already filled by the deep vibe.
You turned around, worried, unable to protest with the cock still deep in your mouth, pinning down your tongue.
His sunglasses were off, and he was focused on your hole, using your sticky come to coat himself, thrusting shallowly inside of you right beside the vibrator.
He wasn’t going to fit. You’d never felt so full before. You were already so primed, the audacious lewdness of it all sent you over the edge. You crashed into your orgasm like a runaway train, slamming full force into a wall of sensations. Your skin flushed hot all at once, like an instant fever, and you felt your holes clutch desperately onto anything they could find, squeezing and pulsing and swelling against him.
You lost your strength to stand, but he held you, carrying your weight like it was nothing. And he kept pushing forward, easing his cock right beside the toy, holding it steady inside of you.
“There she is. You’re doing so well for me, baby. Daddy’s perfect little hole.”
Once he was fully sheathed within you, you both sighed raggedly, melting into the feeling like molten glass in a kiln. Below you, the soldiers laughed, running through the shallow water, having the time of their lives.
Alex began to fuck you with very little heed for your well-being. You had your button, you could press it at any time, and out of all of his fun toy box prizes, you’d not once felt like anything had been beyond your abilities. But, now, as his cock made room for itself in your tight walls, you wondered if you could take it.
You understood size queens, the girls who insisted on girthy, long phalluses and who refused to settle for less. You knew why they insisted, now. Your g-spot was lit up like a beacon. There was no waiting to feel his cockhead rub lightly against it. No, it was on and it stayed on because of the terrible girth of both the toy and his dick. You were coming not in waves, but in some sort of constant stream. There was no start and stop to your orgasms; you were given no let down on their end nor warning on their beginning. You were just kept in a hot, milky, perpetual state of bliss that made your eyes roll back into your head.
The plug in your ass began to come out of you as you came. He was pulling against it, prying it from you until it popped free. You knew you were gaping open for him because when he explored the empty hole with his fingers, you could tell how pliant and soft your body was now that it had been so deeply filled.
“My good girl. Taking everything her Daddy gives her today.”
Alex praised you, but you didn’t respond. Your mind was a blank slate. All you could do was tumble further down the winding path of your own pleasure.
You felt him pull himself free from the grip of your pussy, gasping from the relief. He slipped the vibrator out of you, too, switching it off and discarding it somewhere. Then, you were empty. So empty that it felt like grief. And you cried out for his help as much as you could around the gag.
“C’mere, honey. On your knees for Daddy.”
You fell to the ground limply, turning toward him for guidance, for any sort of reprieve.
He looked down at you with so much love and admiration, bending to kiss your forehead and removing your gag.
“So good. Such an obedient slut. I’m so proud of you, honey.”
“But, Daddy, you didn’t come, yet.” You pawed at his hips, rubbing his belly and reaching for his chest, stretching yourself to try and give yourself back to him.
“Today’s not about me, baby,” he smiled sweetly at you, but you weren’t having it.
His cock was pink and flagging, practically dripping with precome, ready to burst. You reached for it, feeding it into your sore mouth, sucking it down like you’d been practicing on the gag. It was too big, but you pushed through it, swallowing and swallowing until you couldn’t breathe, hollowing out your cheeks to make your mouth into a warm wet sleeve for him.
“Baby… oh, shit. Ungh! Holy hell.”
Without any further hesitation, he began to fuck your throat, shoving himself deeper and deeper, controlling your head and moving himself within you like a piston. You let yourself go limp again, allowing the pornographic slurping sounds of your rough-fucked mouth to be as loud and as messy as he wanted them to, abandoning your shame. You rubbed yourself with your hand, shoving your fingers into your soaked pussy, and playing with your clit, already sensitive enough to come again.
He had trained you so well. This was your moment to shine.
You came with him, looking up into the twisted agony on his face as he filled your belly with his load, trying to pull away to let you breathe, leaving a trail of thick spend all along your tongue and cheeks, your mouth full of him by the time he slid away from you.
You made sure he was looking down at you when you spit him into your hands, letting his milk pool in your palms, rubbing him all over your puffy nipples and down between your swollen petals, pushing him into your pussy with your fingers only to return to your breasts to smear him around like a salve. As he watched you in excitement and a wild disbelief, his gaze darkened, and he wrapped his hand around your throat, bending down so that you could hear the rough growl in the timbre of his voice,
“Oh, baby. You just bought yourself round two.”
AO3 Link
Also, @glitterypirateduck - are we still in vacation mode?? 😅🩷
pairing: Nikolai x F!Reader + OC child
Rating : M for innuendos. otherwise fluff family story.
Summary: As a good doting father, Nikolai took his family into the wood for a quiet getaway.
Thank you @glitterypirateduck for the Vacation mode challenge! I am sorry I always pull in at the last minute.. *sob*
OC characters belongs to:
Myléne 'Petra’ Scholten de Ridder, @eenochian
Olga 'Zhar’ Samiolova, @nrdmssgs
Christine 'Riot’ Vega, @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot
“Anya! Don’t run so… fast. Oh dear.” You sighed as the warning had come too late for your toddler who tripped and face planted herself into the fresh powder snow. She was immediately picked up by your husband who threw the toddler high up in the air, causing a fit of giggle.
“There my little princess. Not a scratch. How brave!”
“Papa!! Snow!!” she giggled as she pointed towards the ground and started wiggling around in his hold, eager to get back onto the soft cold surface.
“Yes I know it’s snow, but don’t run too far away from papa and ma alright? It's dangerous. There might be bears… wolves and bad guys nearby.”
The little one nodded her head, with a serious expression on her face.
“Good, now go make a snowman for papa alright?” Nikolai sat his daughter down and the little girl immediately went to work, gathering up the snow to form a little snowball.
The rare family breaks the three of you, getting away from the busy work schedules and missions. This spontaneous getaway was initiated by your daughter reading a story book, and pouting about how she never built a snowman before.
“I must correct this! The daughter of mine has never built a snowman before???” Nikolai put his paperwork down and picked his daughter up from the couch, peppering her with kisses.
“You don’t have any free time love.” you pointed out to your husband.
“I always have time for my little princess. And you of course.” he smirked at you as you rolled your eyes. “I’ll get Yuri to take the workload off me…”
“Yuri got the twins. Petra will twist your neck off if you add more workload onto him.”
“Zhar can deal with it.”
“Do you want to see Krueger pouting? Or Nikto mopping away.”
“What has Krueger got to do with Zhar?” Nikolai frowned.
“Or maybe I should ask Price if I can borrow Riot…”
“You want to drag a pregnant woman to work?” you gasped.
“What?”
“What? Oh uh, you weren’t supposed to know that. Anyway, where are we going anyway? Into the mountains?” you quickly change the subjet.
“ I got a cabin in the woods…”
“How many properties have you got?” you quirk your eyebrow.
“A lot.” he smirked. "Remember your husband is rich."
It wasn’t even a small cabin. You thought it would be like the other small safe houses you have been to. It was a proper, large resort style cabin, well concealed and hidden inside the wood.
Anya, being the excited little child, runs around the cabin and checks all the rooms and amenities out, and pulls you around to show you each of the new things that caught her eyes.
The three of you spend days in quietness, just like a normal family, Anya drawing quietly in front the fireplace with her Papa, who has been staring at something on the same page for the last thirty minutes. and suspicously moving his finger on the page.
“No work, remember your promise? Chimera will not fall apart without you in a week. Trust the crews.” You gently remove the hidden phone behind the book he was supposedly reading, reminding him of his promises. Nikolai chuckled as he pulled you into his lap, kissing your cheek as an apology.
“You know we hardly get to spend time like a normal family.” you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “The team will have everything under control. Please just relax. Spend time with your daughter, and me.”
It’s one of the guilt Nikolai carries, he couldn’t afford to give you and his daughter a normal life. A life without bloodshed and danger.
The past he bares, the sins he carries, the man he is,
There is always a chance the two of you are in danger.
He knows you are strong enough to defend yourself.
But his little innocent princess?
Anya’s gasp pulls both you and Nikolai’s attention towards her.
“IT’S SNOWING!” She jumped up and ran towards the window. “Papa! Do you think we will have enough snow by tomorrow for a snowman?”
“Maybe?” he laughed. “But we might be trapped in here forever with lots of snow!”
“Good!” Anya turns towards her parents. “That means I can have papa and ma with me all the time!”
“Bears? Wolves?” you walked up towards your husband and leaned against his arm. Watching your daughter using all her energy to start rolling the snow ball around. “Didn’t know there’s wild animals nearby.”
“Use to. But the only wild animal here at the moment is me.” Nikolai chuckled. “The scary big bad wolf…”
“Oh what a big hand you have got!” you smirked, playing along with him.
“The better to touch you with.”
“What a big mouth you have."
"The better to eat you with!” his smile widened. “And you know what other big thing this big bad wolf has?” he whispered into your ears, letting out a low growl.
“Care to show me later on?”
“Papa!! Ma! Come and help meeeeee!!!”
“Did you have fun at the cabin, Anya?”
“Yep!! I made Ma made hot chocolate.. Marshmallow.. Papa put fire on… I build snow man!!! and Oh ma and Papa played the big bad wolf game!”
“Anya…..oh heavens.”
Bonus:
“What a big hand you have..”
“The better to spank your ass with.”
“What a big mouth you have…”
“The better to eat your pussy with.”
“And the big cock?”
“The better to pleasure my beautiful wife with.” Nikolai smirked as he started climbing over you.
“Then, my big bad wolf,” you thrust your hip up to grind against him. “Show me how it's done.”
For @glitterypirateduck Vacation Mode Challenge: 8. babymoon/ 10. beach/ 29. family beach house/ 89. skinny dipping/ 101. sunbathing/ 102. sundress
Pairings: Husband!Kyle x Preggo!Reader (f)
Summary: In which Kyle surprises you with a babymoon at his family's timeshare in the Maldives. <3
CW: Pregnancy, pretty fluffy/lovey dovey, Kyle being a doting husband, mentions of NSFW situations.
Word Count: 1,087
Waves lapped at the shoreline while the gentle morning breeze flowed through your hair, and gently fluttered your sundress around your legs as you stood in the cool white sand. The purple-grayish hues of the sky slowly faded to orange, welcoming the sun to bring forth a new day in the Maldives.
You were here for your babymoon with your husband, Kyle. Today put you at the 18 week mark, just under halfway to your due date.
Your hands gently caressed the swell of your growing baby bump, rubbing it affectionately as you took in the salty air mixed with the comforting scent of the coconut oil still lingering on your skin from the night before.
It was a part of Kyle's new nightly routine since you began showing. He'd lie you down after a shower or bath, and gently massage the coconut oil into your skin, but not without laying between your thighs and lavishing his skilled tongue over your folds until drawing at least three orgasms from you before gently coaxing you to sleep.
"There's my girls," Kyle murmured in a still groggy voice while snaking his arms around you from behind. He tenderly moved your hair to the side to allow his lips to press against the crook of your neck, and burying his nose in your hair.
Your heart swelled from his affections, a warm smile split your lips as you leaned into his embrace, feeling his warm bare chest pressed against your back, and your hands instinctively smoothed over his forearms as he caressed your stomach.
"How was your walk, mama?" he inquired, still nosing your hair and the skin of your neck.
The mix of his actions and words had your tummy fluttering, feeling appreciation for his new pet name.
"It was nice," you answered before turning your head to capture his lips in a tender kiss.
Kyle hummed lowly against your lips, the vibrations tickled your own, earning a bright grin and a breathy laugh from you.
"Sleep well, handsome?" you murmured against his lips, already knowing the answer to your question. He was out like a light after having arguably made the sweetest love to you, worshiping every inch of your pregnant body, savouring every inch of your rounded belly and swollen breasts, and the incredibly sensitive nerves of your pussy.
"Mm-hm," he hummed, letting out a purred chuckle against your lips. He pulled away from the tender kiss and gently cupped your cheek in his palm before brushing your hair behind your ear.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" he mused, a bright grin parting his lips and giving way to his pearly white teeth.
"At least a thousand times a day," both of you chuckled as he grinned at you, completely enamored with your presence.
Kyle pulled you close, resting his chin on the top of your head while you gazed upon the bright orange rays painting the sky, glowing off the surface of the sea.
"Ready to try that sea witch ritual?" he teased, lightly poking your sides to hear the sweet sounds of your giggles.
"It's not a sea witch ritual," you lightly scoffed with a playful eye roll as you pulled away from him, "It's about connecting the balances of nature. And strengthening our connection, love."
"Sure. Doesn't sound at all like a sea witch ritual," Kyle sarcastically quipped, smirking at you. "But I'm not complaining. Holding my beautiful wife, naked, in the ocean while she 'breathes' with the current,"
You giggled in response to his words, sighing in mock-defeat. "Yeah, okay. It sounds a bit like a sea witch ritual," you conceded before sucking in a breath between your teeth.
Kyle chuckled with a nod as he took your hand in his, leading you down to the soft lapping of the waves on the sand. He gently spun you to face him and planted a delicate kiss on your forehead.
His hands rested on your shoulders before easing down to the top of your sundress, then eased the material down your body, freeing your swollen breasts. Your nipples pebbled from the cool ocean air settling on your skin, and the reverent adoration in your husband's eyes as they raked down your nude body, slowly becoming more and more exposed while he let the thin material of your sundress fall at your feet on the white sand.
He knelt before you and cupped your baby bump, leaned in, and pressed a lingering kiss on your belly with his eyes closed. Your hand floated down to cup the back of his head, gently caressing his dark cropped-curls with an adoring grin on your lips.
It was a moment filled with love, devotion, and care. Your heart soared at the love pouring from every seam of Kyle. It was as if he existed for you. Every breath, every step. He took for you.
"You, my love, are the most stunning woman in the world." he whispered against your bump, peering up at you with his chestnut colored eyes.
You could feel the fluttering of your heart, that lightness in your chest when he looked at you how he was right now. And your eyes returned his adoring gaze.
Kyle slowly stood to his full height before shucking off his joggers, leaving the pair of you bare as day on the white sands of the beach. Ever thankful for the fact that this beach was private with his family's timeshare.
Kyle took your hand once more and led you out to the comfortably cool water, goosebumps forming in the wake of every inch creeping up your body until you were waist-deep.
Once your bodies' acclimated to the water, Kyle scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, utilizing the buoyancy of the water to float you on the water's surface. His eyes raked over your limp form in the water, admiring the sight of your pregnancy curves.
"What's next?" he asked, after ensuring your comfort.
"Now we just close our eyes and breathe together with the current. Inhale on every swell, and exhale at every pull."
And so you did. Kyle held your body close while you floated in the water, listening to the waves as the soft swells formed and the current pulled the water from the shore. Your breaths fell in sync with each other and with the peace of the ocean, calming both your minds and your hearts.
You and Kyle were effortlessly tied together. Exactly as you're meant to be.
