Summary: You want some personal time with Soap, but he’s occupied with watching the match. Until he’s not.
Word Count: 860
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, cock-warming, limited descriptions of male and female anatomy, kissing.
A/N: In response to @luminousbeings-crudematter ’s prompt. Yeah, the title is a reference to the show IT Crowd (my choice, in response to @brewed-pangolin ‘s comment). Soap is a horny bastard when he’s not distracted. Blame it on his ADD, baby.
SGT SOAP MASTERLIST
MASTERLIST (all @deadbranch fanfic content)
THE THING ABOUT ARSENAL
You see Soap rise from the couch wordlessly as the forward streaks across the screen. He whoops when the opposing goalie misses the ball and gets a mouth full of turf.
The kettle whistles as you roll your eyes. You grew up watching matches with your father and brothers, but it never really connected with anything in your heart.
Watching football was just a way to guarantee some time spent with the men in your life. You’d hesitate to call it bonding time since it really didn’t matter if you were there or not.
You could be out of the room for almost the entire match and later your dad would still thank you for watching it with him. As an adult you swore you’d never walk that awkward sentimental tightrope again, for any man.
Yet here you are.
As you watch Soap take his seat again, he whips out his phone as it cuts to commercial. You’re certain he’s texting Kyle or Ghost, the only two friends of his who follow the same FC’s as your…well…you’re not sure what Soap is. Your boyfriend? You haven’t had that discussion yet.
But that doesn’t mean you’re not standing in Soap’s kitchen in your knickers and an oversized rugby sweater you dug out of his closet.
As you let the tea steep, you decide to interrupt Soap’s tenuous concentration. He’ll forgive you.
He’ll always forgive you.
Your knickers drop down around your ankles. You kick them upward and snatch them from the air in one motion. From the kitchen passthrough you toss said knickers over the couch and into Soap’s line of sight.
No response.
Soap stands again and yells something unintelligible as two footballers collide.
You saunter into the living area and stand behind Soap. As he retakes his seat you bend to kiss him below his ear. You’re rewarded with a pat of his hand against the side of your face as he murmurs that he’s glad you’re here, even if you are an Arsenal fan.
Soap has always teased you because he knows you do not like Arsenal, but he pinned the FC on you the day you claimed you don’t like football.
Your lips continue to kiss along the outside of his ear. Soap’s breath hitches, but then he screams and stands again, coming very close to clipping your chin with his shoulder.
As soon as he takes his seat again, you walk around to the side of the telly and lift the rugby sweater.
Soap’s eyes cut from you to the screen, then back to you. You expect some verbal acknowledgement that never arrives. His jaw slackens and you watch him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Eh…you want ta watch the match wit’ me?” His voice sounds hoarse. Soap clears his throat and reaches out to you with both hands, fingers flexing. His eyes haven’t left your lower half yet.
The sweater feels too warm, perhaps a little scratchy as well. You pull the sweater up and off, tossing it where your knickers fell moments ago.
His eyes widen as his fingers flex more rapidly, his mouth moving slowly as if his brain is warring with his vocal cords. You decide to take a seat after all…on Soap’s lap. You tell him so, and a desperate groan that ends in a whimper escapes his lips.
Soap hastily unbuttons his jeans and yanks them halfway down his thighs as you approach. You straddle him carefully, letting him get a full view of what he’s getting before you start.
“Fuck, me…” He mutters as you sink down onto his cock.
“That’s the idea, soldier…” You whisper in his ear as you complete your descent, his hard length now fully seated.
He shakes his head slowly, a naughty grin on his face. “You jus’ wait…after the match I’ll really give it to ya…”
“If you last that long.” You roll your hips and Soap’s eyes close in response, another whimper teasing on the back of his tongue.
“Now that’s no’ fair. Can’t ya just keep me company?”
You shake your head as you continue to roll your hips.
He grips them firmly to stop your movement. “How ‘bout this…you can keep it warm while the ball is in play…and then during commercial breaks I take you to town.”
“Mmm…which town?” you purr as you look down at him.
“Pound town.” Soap enunciates the words. You can’t help but kiss his deliciously soft lips.
You agree to be nice until the next commercial break, but that doesn’t mean you don’t clench periodically just to hear him whimper in your ear.
