#nikghost

[witherfide]

simon please close your eyes for fucks sake

i like to think ghost can’t kiss without making it super awkward, but nik finds it cute so it’s ok

[ghostlysoaps]

cw: sexual content, Simon turn to get railed to tears (I'm starting to see a pattern)

Ghost sandwiched between Price and Nik. Roughly pushed into Nikolai's arms where he's reclining on the bed like an emperor of old and tugged up onto his hands and knees. Thighs splayed wide because Nikolai is a big man, and Price needs the space between their legs to eat him out well and proper.

Price pauses only to test Ghost's slack rim with his fingers. Slips one in to the second knuckle to tug him open for a glimpse. Snug and soft and warm inside. "'S a right shame. Havin' a fat cock like yers and all it's good fer is swinging 'tween yer legs."

"Tha's not wha- ungh- what you said when- wh-when I had you over your desk," Ghost mutters, cheeks burning. Damns himself to helplessness by attempting to reach back and drag John off so he can form a sentence without stuttering through moans, only for Nikolai to sweep his steadying arm out from under him with one lazy bat of a giant paw. Snaps Simon's wrists up as he flounders, and he falls face-first into the soft fat of Nik's tits.

He loses track of the time he spends alternating between rutting against Nik's thick belly and shifting his hips back into the rasp of Price's beard and his wicked tongue. John a single-minded, unrelenting force behind, and Nikolai the steady, soothing bulwark to rest against, crooning sweetly when his captain sinks inside at last and Simon chokes at the stretch. Panting into the sweat-damp curls on Nik's chest. Lips skating across a firm nipple whenever he breathes; until he's far enough gone to seal his mouth around it in an attempt to self-soothe.

It's sweltering. Nik warmer than a furnace, his free hand firm on the nape of his neck to keep him tucked against his breast, his cock nearly as wet as Simon's own; a solid brand curved against his hip. More so when John's pace shifts as he gets closer to the edge and he plasters himself to Simon's back in order to grind deep - a relentless pressure against his prostate that leave his knees weak.

He comes, slack-jawed and wheezing John's name.

It doesn't stop John from continuing to fuck into him, the slap of his balls against Simon's taint nothing short of obscene.

"Uh-uh-uh- Joh-hh-nn!"

"You can- mmh. You can take it," John says, petting over where his prick is stretching Simon's hole thin. Transfixed by the easy way in which his body gives. Clenching in pulses; on every out- and inward stroke, as if he can't decide whether he wants John out or to keep him hilted. Lube and pre-cum drips down to wet the curling hair on his balls and John chases that sensation too, cupping Simon's scrotum to pet over the glistening curls.

Thrashing with what little give he has doesn't help, so Simon turns his pleading eyes on Nik.

"Play nice, solnyshko," Nikolai murmurs, shifting his gaze from Simon to John, talking about rather than to him. "He's been very good for us."

John sighs but acquiesces, pulling out until only the fat tip of him is left inside. Fisting from root to where they're connected in lazy, slick strokes. Every brush of his weathered knuckles against Simon's pale arse causing the man's muscles to spasm.

Simon twitches like he's been kicked when Nikolai worms his hand between them to swipe at the cum smeared over their bellies, nudging against the sensitive head of his cock in the process. The smile Nikolai offers in apology is warm and amused, toothy in a charming way. From the corner of his eye Simon sees him reach out, fingers glistening, to press a wet thumb between John's lips. Sees his Captain’s eyes go half-lidded and pleased. Keeps watching with rapt attention as Nik hooks his thumb behind John's teeth to drag him closer, replacing the digit with his lips and tongue – all filthy and wet and sharing the taste of Simon between them.

Oversensitive as he is, the belated twitch of his prick and dribble of spend weeping down his glans is more pain than pleasure. His hips stutter of their own accord, dragging his soft cock against the damp hair of Nik's stomach. He flinches back, and impales himself another few inches on John's cock instead with a weak cry.

"Fuck!"

The rumble of Nikolai's laughter is thunderous with his ear pressed against his sternum and he's too worn out to bristle at being gentled by fingers carding through his hair.

Nikolai clicks his tongue. Tugs at Simon's hair to get his eyes back on him.

"We are not done with you yet, milyj."

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I think Simon finds drunk Nikolai a little terrifying. Not because Nik is violent or aggressive in any way, of course. That just wouldn't be Nik. No, Simon finds Nik terrifying because he's completely and utterly unpredictable after he's necked enough bevvies. He's outrageously sociable, appears to have no shame or feelings of embarrassment, and Simon can never predict what's about to come out of his mouth.

Nik slumps down next to Simon on the couch after a raucous night in the local of a small village just outside Hereford, and Simon definitely doesn't squeak softly in surprise and alarm. "Nikolai," he rumbles in greeting.

"You know, I am proud of you this week," Nik says, throwing an arm around Simon's shoulders.

"For w--"

"You may not have met your goals, or finished your reports, or kept all of your Company together on the recce," Simon glowers across the bar at Price and makes a mental note to pour cold water into the next tea he brews as Nik continues, "but you have also not been arrested," he says, pausing to take a swig from the top shelf bottle of vodka he purchased at a premium without batting an eye. With a satisfied sigh, he pats Simon on the shoulder. "And in my line of work, this is an excellent achievement."

Simon isn't sure whether to feel insulted or comforted, so he lifts the lukewarm pint he's been nursing for half an hour with a tight nod. "Cheers, Nik."

"You are welcome, comrade." Nik keeps his arm around Simon's shoulders and Simon tries not to think too much on how their thighs are pressed together, or how he can smell Nik's sweat and cologne through his bally, or how good Nik's lips look out the corner of his eye, wet and parted, and--

Nik startles as Simon stands. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, goin'fer a fag an' a piss." Simon dumps his pint on the bar and shuffles into the cold night air to find a light and a fuckin' clue because thinking about shagging your CO's boyfriend is the thought process of an idiot.

[hatsbuckets]

It’s instinctive, the way Simon's rage bubbles in his chest like a hot spring waiting to boil over, it's muscle memory deeper than any thought.

Someone across the table lets their tone sharpen just a little too much when they address the Captain, something condescending threading through the words, and Simon’s spine locks where he stands behind Price. His jaw tightens and his weight shifts forward on the balls of his feet like a dog rising from a down-stay, his hackles up, ready to put himself between teeth and throat.

No one else clocks it. They’re all watching the argument, watching Price hold himself steady, watching rank and politics and posturing and formalities laden in poison.

But Nikolai sees it.

Nik keeps his eyes on one of the officials across the table. He reaches out carefully, the movement hidden behind the Captain's chair, fingers finding Simon’s hand at his side, sliding into his grip.

Simon freezes.

The urge to move doesn’t disappear, but it does slam into the back of his ribs and stays there like a caged animal, furious and hot. His fingers curl hard around Nik’s hand, knuckles whitening, grip brutal enough that it would make anyone else hiss or pull away.

Nikolai tightens his own grip in answer, thumb pressing deliberately against the side of Simon’s hand.

Simon breathes through his nose, slow and shaking. His shoulders stay squared. His eyes stay on the paper Price had set on the table minutes ago. To anyone watching, he’s just Ghost, as silent and as looming as ever.

Only Nik feels the way Simon trembles with the held-back violence. Only Nik knows how close he was to snapping, to stepping forward for his captain without hesitation or fear of consequence.

The argument moves on. Voices return to normal. The moment passes.

Nik gives Simon's hand one last squeeze. And after another moment in Simon's iron grip, their hands part, and their attention returns entirely to eyeing down the men sitting across from their Captain.

[laswells-ashtray]

Simon enjoys figging.

Sure, he enjoys subjecting Johnny to it. Watching the man writhe and groan until his eyes are teary and he's been tormented for so long that he's no longer hard.

But truly, he likes being on the receiving end. Specifically with bound wrists and ankles. He likes the uncertainty in Johnny's voice as he watches, the fingers hovering in the air, torn between reaching out to help and flicking the head of Simon's cock.

He enjoys desperately trying to get any sort of leverage with his knees to grind against the mattress, having his nipples pinched and bitten as he squirms. Getting flipped over whenever the other man pleases and being unable to do a thing about it. Howling like a cat in heat when Johnny gets between his legs and starts mouthing at his balls.

What he doesn't tell Johnny is that Nikolai is the reason he likes it so much.

[gomzdrawfr]

potato chips

[thatoneautisticshark]

Ghost is the biggest victim of cock drunkness ever. He always starts incredibly shy, bright pink, hiding his face and biting back moans.

But within five minutes his head is lolled back, eyes rolling back as he blabbers total bullshit, a mix of praise and begging.

He goes totally limp after, quietly whining for cuddles from Price or Nik

Simon typically comes back to himself around half way through aftercare, usually when Nik is washing the shampoo out of his hair.

He has a tendency to clam right up afterwards, and flush pink. He can never believe he acted like that.

[nekrosmos]

NikGhost c0m for @whostarlockeda03