"Nikolai, a feel inclined tae tell ye that yer fly is doon."
If the slur to his words wasn't a dead giveaway that MacTavish is feeling his drink, then his death grip on the table for balance might be.
If he were a smarter man, like John, he'd stay sitting to mimic the facade of sobriety. Nikolai would be managing if his voice didn't raise a few decibels at the end of every glass.
After a brief check, Nikolai does zip up his jeans. The ones that he has to jump into to get them past his arse, a sight that John enjoys greatly.
"I feel inclined to ask why you were looking there, sergeant?"
Not that John could blame the man, who wouldn't be staring at the pilot's crotch? And that line of thought has him shaking his head and trying to jump back onto his original train of thought.
"Should be glad a wis the wan who noticed. If it wis a bird, she'd huv been tryin tae fix it wae her teeth, captain."
Johnny has a familiar grin on his face, the one that tells John he thinks he's being sly as he undresses them both with his eyes. Maybe he'd get away with it if he didn't lick his lips at the sight of John's arms. If he flexes, then that's between him and his God.
Nikolai is no help to the situation, offering Soap a wink as he hooks a thumb over his belt.
"Well, it looks like you missed your opportunity."
Nikolai's voice is filthy when he's drunk. The heavy lilt of his accent that worsens as his blood alcohol content rises, the rasp to his voice after a few drunken fags, and a rushed blowjob in the men's room. It's alluring; if he were a siren, John would drown in his desperation to get through the water and into his arms.
It's clear he isn't the only one when Johnny staggers on his feet and takes a moment to breathe before responding.
"Well, if another opportunity presents itsel, the two ae ye can book me the fuck in."
They have nowhere to be tomorrow and a desire to test what else his mouth is capable of other than cheek, so John beckons the Scotsman forward with two fingers as Nikolai tugs another chair over with his foot.
nikpricesoap where johnny goes to tattoo artist price to get sunshine tattooed on his chest
just old school fully tatted up price in a white tank showing off his arms, wearing black nitrile gloves while he inks johnny’s virgin skin, listening to his cut off whimpers as he fights not to squirm. he sits so well for him, even during the sharper lines that make him struggle, just hangs onto the chair and bites his bottom lip, and all price wants to do is find out what other noises he can get him to make, his jeans barely hiding his hardening cock as he drags the tattoo out
price pulling out his glasses for the finer line work, lamenting how he never used to need them but that’s what you get tattooing in the basements of clubs, half cut on alcohol and anything else he could get his hands on. he pauses midway through the tattoo to pull his belt line down and show off the faded, choppy lines in his inner pelvis he did as a dare, snickering to himself as he tells johnny that to this day he has no idea what it’s supposed to be; can barely remember doing it, he was so off his face and it’s so blown out it’s completely illegible anyway
johnny gives a weak laugh and can’t even pretend to look at the tattoo when he’s so captivated by the thick, wild mess of price’s pubes next to the faded ink
he’s completely done for when nik comes in at the same moment, cigar casually hanging from his lips, and crows his own loud laughter at the sight; unashamedly tugging his belt line even lower to get the full tattoo out and confessing he was the one who dared him to do it. he tells johnny as much as he can remember about that night too like he isn’t flashing the root of price’s cock just a hand’s breadth away from his face, his own hand covered in green-black ink from tattoos older than johnny is
but as the tattoo goes on, as they laugh and smoke and talk about the lives they’ve lived as alternative gay men and nik being an immigrant, coming up in communities that don’t want either of them so they built their own, it becomes about more than just lust
johnny admits to facing his own unique bigotry because of his religious upbringing, even as he beats back the twinge of shame at comparing it to what they’ve gone through. he tells them about leaving to go to uni, hoping he would find the freedom and sense of belonging he’s always wanted… just to find out even amongst these “liberated” minds, they have their own cliques and rules about who he’s supposed to be; the gay people he thought he would bond with just as prissy and regimented as his parents, telling him he’s too wild and gives the rest of them a bad name, that they’re better than those gross queers you always hear about
price finishes the tattoo and johnny struggles to bundle up the sharp sense of grief at the thought of leaving these men, of having to walk away from this burgeoning sense of safety and just how right it feels to be with them. he’s quiet as price wraps his chest, the touch gentle but for how rough and real his hands feel on his skin, and he almost flinches when nik throws his arm over his shoulders and asks if he feels up to getting something to eat; such a long session deserves aftercare, after all
his wording is so incredibly deliberate and johnny’s a blushing mess as he pushes out a meek, “sounds good”
just johnny getting taken under leather daddy price’s wing, being shown kink events and drag clubs, these “dirty” places that are more connected and protective of their own, no matter who they are, than anyone he’s ever met. nik showing him underground artists and thrash bands, singers that scream out their rage and their grief and their longing and musicians that break themselves to play with the intensity they have inside them; where he leaves shows feeling like he’d just been in a riot, so loose and bruised and free after seeing this pure display of sound and thought and artistic intent
he learns more about expression and integrity and emotion from them all than his carefully curated art class could ever hope to
johnny realising he was never going to fit in in these “proper” places no matter how much he tried to change himself. he always needed these alternative, sincere men to show him the world he was missing, the one you can only be invited to
he needed to be welcomed home instead of chasing one that would never be his
🚁💰🧼 (horny time)
genuinely can’t stop thinking about johnny trying to fit in with these high maintenance, judgemental college gays - waxing his whole body and going on a cut when all he’s ever wanted is to bulk up - getting taken in by old man nikprice who don’t count it as a fuck until they’re both filthy and disgusting; covered in each other’s spit and sweat and cum, the only reason they’re not still fucking because they physically can’t get it up any more and even then, they can’t stop groping each other’s soft cock and empty, sweat-damp balls
johnny who can’t even get head if he isn’t completely shaved and showered beforehand, staring in pure awe and longing as nik recounts pinning price down and eating his ass the night before when he got back from a three day tattoo convention and hadn’t slept or showered the whole time
all johnny can picture during his tattoo is sinking down on price’s cock, nik’s hand tangled in his hair and guiding him down, until his lips hit that old, faded ink; the two of them sharing that cigar as they indulge in sharing a new sweet young thing between them. he almost starts drooling as he goes even further, thinks about them chuckling to each other about how cute he is as he goes limp once they’re both finally inside him, his head falling back on nik’s shoulder, mouth slack as he does his best to cling to price. they wouldn’t even need to fuck him, just sit him on their cocks as his throbbing hole milks them…
both of them are just so big and hairy compared to his gym rat body, sleek and hairless since that’s what he’s been taught is most attractive. but here are these older effortlessly sexy men, their bulk and rough edges making them even hotter, and they like ruining his perfect hair and skin; the messier they get him, the better
nikprice seeing the repressed scent goblin and maybe even pig in johnny and dedicating themselves to bringing him into the light and proving he never has to be ashamed of his desires
Hellaaurrrr, so I have an ask, but first I must say that your oc is so SCRUMPTIOUS, I lava her, anyways here’s my ask:
So like, Nikolai, big ol’ Russian brick, with soap, with price, threesome, with soap in the middle, he was being bratty and had a stick up his ass all day and snapped at price and Nikolai while they were in price’s office, so they had to replace that stick with their own stick, or gaz, either or lol, anyways BYEEEE *POOF*
psppspspspssp commmmmeeee backkkkkkk bc asdoifhasjldfhlasdf this ideaaaaaaaa yummmmyyyyy. also thank u bc i love jo v much <3
cw: 18+ smut. porn with like >2% plot. brat sub!soap x nikprice. penetrative sex. rough. soap grade degradation iykwim... smoking afterwards. lmk if more
Price's office was silent. But it wasn’t the silence that came with thought, or even tension, it was the silence of two predators setting their eyes on the same prey.
And that prey was currently sulking against the far wall, arms crossed tight over his chest, jaw flexing like it could chew through the mood he’d just dropped into the room.
“Try that tone again, Sergeant,” Price said lowly, dangerously calm.
“I said I’m fine,” Johnny snapped. “You and your fucking posturing can wait.”
He regretted it before it finished leaving his mouth. But his pride wouldn’t let him take it back. Not even when Nikolai shifted his weight by the desk, slow and deliberate. Not even when Price stood, exchanging one glance with Nik, that look in his eyes.
“Well then,” Price muttered, stepping around the desk. “Suppose that stick up your arse has gone and given you a splinter.”
Johnny’s mouth opened then closed.
“And we don’t want that now, do we?” Nikolai rumbled, voice soft but amused. He was coming closer too. Wide frame cutting off the door, the only escape route.
“Fuck off—”
“No,” Price said, firm. “You don’t get to act up like this and then fuck off.”
“Not today,” Nikolai agreed. “Not after that mouth.”
“Take off your shirt, Johnny.”
Soap hesitated. Stared at Price like he wanted to bite. But his hands moved. Jacket, then tee, peeled off, shivering at the cool air of the office. His muscles twitched like he still wanted to run. He glanced at the door once. It was locked, Nik must have done it on his way in. Not with the heat of their eyes crawling over him.
“Now,” Price said, coming behind him. “Since you’ve been walking around with something so far up your arse you can't sit straight—”
“We think it needs... replacement,” Nikolai said.
“Properly,” Price added. “With something you might enjoy. Just like you're askin' for.”
Johnny scoffed, cocky to the last. “You two think I’ll beg, yeah?”
Price reached around, hooked two fingers under his belt. “Think you’ll learn some fucking manners, Sergeant.”
“And if not,” Nikolai murmured, stepping in close, body heat pressing in front of him, “we’ll keep going until you do.”
Between them, Soap swayed. Hot and cornered.
He never had a chance.
Nikolai leaned forward. A rough hand cupped Soap's jaw, thumb stroking once before tipping his head back, claiming his mouth hot and wet.
Price moved in behind him. One palm at Soap's hip, the other working his belt free, tugging the waistband of his pants. He didn’t bother unbuttoning, just dragged them down hard enough to make Soap gasp into Nikolai’s mouth.
“Already hard?” Price muttered, smirking as he pressed his body in close. “That attitude earlier, was that you begging in code?”
Johnny broke the kiss, panting. “Fuck off—”
“Watch it.” Nikolai’s voice came soft. His fingers slid down to Johnny’s waist. “You’re allowed to let go, da? But not to bite.”
Price’s hand came to rest on his back, fingers slipping lower. Soap couldn't see the bottle, but Price's fingers were slick and cold... not that he needed it. The tip of one finger breached, slow and steady.
“Christ,” Price muttered. “Already loose. Did you do it yourself, then?”
Johnny turned his head, pressed his cheek to Nikolai’s shoulder.
“Tell the Captain how needy you were,” Nik said. “Tell him how long you’ve been waiting to be fucked back into your place.”
“I wasn’t—”
Price twisted his fingers.
Johnny jerked.
“You were,” Price said, matter-of-fact. “Bet you woke up aching. Held it together just long enough to mouth off, just long enough to force this. Can’t ask like a grown man, so you act like a brat and hope someone notices.”
Nikolai kissed him again, slower this time. Tongue tasting along his mouth, his jaw, his throat.
And when Johnny reached to grab at something—anything—Nikolai let him curl fists into the front of his shirt and hold on.
Price worked another finger in, then a third, not gentle. The stretch made Johnny keen into Nikolai’s mouth. He held him steady, eyes locked with Johnny’s, breathing with him.
When the fingers pulled free, Price didn’t say a word. Just pushed his trousers down enough to free himself, spit in his hand, stroked once.
“No more talking,” Price said, pressing forward. “You’ve done enough of that today.”
The slide in made Johnny shudder, mouth parting. "Ah, fuck—"
Nikolai caught his face again. “Look at me,” he said, low. “Do not look away.”
Johnny didn’t.
And as Price pushed all the way in, he stared into Nik’s eyes and felt the heat like it was another hand on his skin.
He moaned, broken and soft.
Nikolai smiled.
“Khoroshiy,” he murmured. “Good, there you are."
Price found his pace, steady and deep up into the Sergeant. Hands gripping Johnny’s hips with the force of a man used to dragging soldiers through fire and expecting them to thank him for the privilege. He angled his hips just right, watching the way Soap’s spine curved, the way his thighs trembled.
And Johnny was fucking gone.
His mouth parted in helpless gasps against Nikolai’s throat, his hands fisted in the fabric of the other man's shirt, pulling like he might drown.
Nikolai held on, supported his weight as their chests met with each of Price's thrusts.
“Shh, shh,” he murmured, kissing the shell of his ear, his temple, his sweat-slick hair. “You’re doing well, solnyshko. Just breathe.”
But Johnny couldn’t breathe, not properly. Not with Price pounding into him now, not with every thrust knocking the wind from his lungs and pleasure blooming so sharp and fast he didn’t know where to put it. His thighs ached, his jaw was slack, his cock dripped.
“Look at you,” Price said. “Acted like a bastard all day just so you could end up like this. Used and trembling.”
Nik's hand reached down, stroking him firm and unforgiving, matching Price’s rhythm.
“No—ah, fuck, I’m gonna—”
“Yes,” Nik said softly, lips brushing his cheek. “Let go. We’ve got you.”
His orgasm hit like detonation, mind searing and toe curling. His whole body spasmed, legs giving out, his arms barely holding on. He sobbed with it, "Fuck—Nik—ah!"
Nikolai caught him, wrapped an arm around his waist, braced his weight as Price fucked him through it. Kept him safe and tight as the aftershocks rolled through him.
Price chased his own high with a low growl. Grabbed Johnny harder, fingers digging in and buried himself deep with a ragged groan, cuming inside him with a rough jerk of his hips.
Johnny was shaking as Price slipped out, leaning forward to press a kiss between his shoulder blades, gentle now. “That’s it. You’re good.”
Nikolai’s hand had only stopped for a moment, he moved it again now. Stroking over the mess.
Johnny twitched. “Nn—wait, please—!”
They both chuckled.
“That’s the sound of a lesson learned,” Price said, straightening up, tugging his trousers back up lazily.
Nikolai finally let go, brushing his knuckles down Johnny’s thigh. “Sensitive now, mm? You did very well.”
Johnny whimpered and sagged. Price lifted him gently by the hips, letting Nik sit back on the office couch and draw him into his lap like a doll.
He curled there, panting a little and utterly dazed. Nikolai wrapped both arms around him, massaging his lower back in slow, warm circles.
Price wiped them both down, efficient but careful, then lit a cigar with a soft flick and leaned back in his chair.
He took a long drag, blew the smoke toward the ceiling. When Johnny looked up, blinking heavy-lidded and soft, Price smiled a little.
“You want some, Sergeant?”
Johnny made a tired noise—somewhere between a moan and a whine. “You know I—" he caught himself. "I mean, yes. sir.”
"Mm, better.” Price hummed. "Nikolai?"
Nikolai reached for the cigar, took a slow drag, then tilted Johnny’s face up. “Open.”
Soap obeyed.
Nik leaned in close, lips just barely brushing his. Exhaled smooth, warm smoke into his mouth, watching the way Johnny shivered, the way his lashes fluttered.
It's not a criticism. If anything, Nikolai is amused as he offers Johnny a pointed look. In all fairness to the pilot, the Scot has only taken his eyes off the man's tits to give him lip throughout the night.
"Aye, an a could suck a golf ball through a hose pipe. This mouth hus many talents."
Nikolai doesn't choke on his drink like many would, in fact, he's calm as he drains his glass. He's the picture of nonchalance, standing from the table and pulling Johnny away by the scruff of his neck like he's merely an unruly kitten.
The best the sergeant can offer him is a vaguely questioning hum.
"You're going to put your money where your mouth is and give the captain a show."
Johnny concludes that he's lived a fulfilling life, there are worse ways to die than with a big, burly Russian's cock half way down his throat.
If there's anything other than his arse that John admires about Johnny, it's his shameless, bordering on intrusive, drunken questions. And the way his slurred words and heavy accent leave Nikolai tilting his head at the man like a confused puppy, yet to understand why biting is bad.
"Probably around the time you still had a hand down your drawers, thinking about Batman."
Johnny's an attractive drunk. Flashing his teeth at anyone around him, a shameless flirt. His restraint melts away under several vodkas, and he can't hide the way he snorts when he laughs. John would call it boyish charm if the man were any younger; now it might just be attraction on his part.
"Bold ae ye tae assume a still don't. Man's git a fancy motor an wee panties, if he saved me a'd be gaggin fir it."
And then he's off, hips swaying as he downs what's left in his glass and saunters towards the bar. His jeans are sinfully tight around his backside, and his t-shirt stretches over his shoulders like the fabric is one soft tug away from ripping clean off of him.
John would be embarrassed to be caught staring if not for Nikolai's breath, hot against his ear as he murmurs,
"You like? I think that one needs to be kept on a leash."
Everyone around them is too drunk to notice his hand slip under the table and tug at the pilot's belt. Belt, leash, whip, across the years of their relationship, John has found that it has many uses.
Please don't judge too harshly. Next chapter of my NikPriceSoap horror AU now featuring Roland "Swagger" Kominski for a couple chapters. But Roland as the Drac night creature ;). If you like monster love this might be fun!
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