cw. nsfw, afab!reader, vague threesome (f/m/m), vague nipple play, fingering, voyeur!price, alcohol consumption, vague spit kink *not proofread, just pure horny
[why is price drinking such a common thing in my fics good lord im a slut đđ]
MINORS DNI!!
there's a flutter in your chest as alejandro drilled his fingers into your sopping hole, laying his palm flat against your clit. you're situated in alejandros lap with your back to his chest. while price is stood across from you, leaning against his desk with a whiskey glass in hand.
alejandro's free hand smoothed up your stomach to your chest, taking your breast into his palm. your hands are holding onto his forearms, your nails leaving crescent imprints on his skin as you squirm and shake in his lap. alejandro groped and squeezed your flesh, laying kisses on the back of your neck.
"you look so pretty, mi vida."
your knees are hooked over his, his legs holding your legs open, keeping your sloppy cunt on full display for price to admire. you can barely focus on anything other than the unbridled pleasure that alejandro inflicts on you. your heart is thumping in your ears as he whispers sweet praises in your ear.
"hmm, messy little thing, aren't you?"
price moves to stand in front of you, tilting your head down to make you watch how alejandros fingers disappear inside you and how much of a wet mess there is in his lap. he moves your head back up, a hand tangling in your hair to keep your head back.
"open."
it's a quick demand as he gives your hair a gentle tug. your mouth easily falls open, watching with glassy eyes as price takes a sip of his drink. he pours the drink into your awaiting mouth, a smirk tugging at his lips when you don't swallow, just hold the liquid as alejandros fingers start to work faster.
"atta girl, love. swallow for me."
there are practically hearts in your eyes as you blindly follow prices words, the whiskey leaving a pleasant burn as it goes down. price holds your neck, fingers squeezing around your throat ever so lightly. your eyes almost roll back into your head as alejandros fingers brush against your g-spot. you can't keep your eyes open as alejandro works you closer to your release, drool pooling at the corner of your lips.
"eyes on your captain, cariño."
the rumble of alejandros voice in your ear is near euphoric as your thighs shake and try to close around his hand. your nails are digging into his arms harder, teetering so gently over the edge. price hums quietly, cupping your cheeks with one hand and squishing them together. your mouth falls open quickly, letting price pour more of his drink into your mouth.
"c'mon sweetheart, make a mess for me."
Please I need more of your teacher AU with Valeria đđ (I type this as I'm about to fail a chemistry exam tomorrow bcs I'm thinking about valeria instead of studying)
Soft spot for you
Miss Garza x fem!reader
WARNINGS: Nsfw themes, implied age gap, darkish content, many many pet names and swears ofc
RATING: Darkish smut
NOTES: Oh i love her sm đ«. If you don't love her i cannot and will not trust you.
đŠđđŻđ·đČđ°đ: Chemistry
đđŽđČ: 36
â«ïž - Drunk in love by BeyoncĂš
- Miss Garza has taken a likeing to you from the very day you strutted your perfect little self into her class, and she wasn't subtle about it either. Most students would whisper about you being a teachers pet or accusing Miss Garza herself of favoritism. She couldn't help but have a sweet spot for you.
- On that note of favoritism, she's only nice to you. You and you only. Anyone else asks for an extention on that really stressful assignment? "No. You should've made time for my class. Do you not take your grade seriously?". But for you? "Oh of course mi dulce niña! How 'bout you stay behind tonight and I can show you how to finish. The assignment that is".
- She is usually a 'take no shit' teacher and doesn't have time for back talk or late assignments. But when it came to you she couldn't bare to shout at you, nevermind an empty threat. Whenever you did do something rather annoying an image of your sweet face holding back tears would flood her mind and all anger would subside almost immediately.
- She sat you on your own infront of her desk so she could 'help' you with the work. It certainly wasn't to roll her chair right underneath the desk and place a knee between the both of yours, just grazing your soft cunt through the lace of your underwear.
- She constantly buys you new underwear and scoffs it off as "Were both girls honey, i'm just assuring your nice and comfy hm?". She especially loves seeing you in a soft pink or blue, but one day you decided to surprise her of a picture of you in a matching deep red set for valentines day.
She took the day off of work and picked you up emmidiatly.
- Did i mention she's the biggest perv? Conveniently always 'dropping pencils' just so she can see how wet you are after all the nickname's she coo's at you. And don't even mention all the little touches on your thighs and lower back (which usually her hands graze your ass).
- Leaves kisses all over your face which eventually lead into red and purple blotches painting your neck accompanied by a lingering kiss on the lips that leave you feeling all dizzy. She gives you these mind numbing kisses and bites as soon as your about to stumble to Mr Parra's or Mr Vargas's class.
This is all due to her noticing them not so subtly checking out her sweet girl and they need to know what's hers. After all, she doesn't enjoy sharing.
Tags: @antigonusyuki, @southernbluebellereader, @crimsonbubble, @warrenkcle, @simonrileyscockring, @vangoghcoffeeco
down bad simon may look a little like this
You've stepped outside for some fresh air so when Simon walks out a few minutes after you and lights up a cigarette, your face immediately scrunches up in disgust.
He catches your expression. "Not a fan of smoking?"
"Came out for some fresh air."
"Hm, seems like more than that." He muses, turning his head away to blow out some smoke.
"I just think it's gross."
He's silent for a few moments and you think maybe he's offended even, but then he turns back to you and clears his throat.
"That one of your deal breakers then?"
"Deal breaâyeah. It is. Don't think I could bring myself to even kiss a smoker. Why? You interested?" You joke, expecting a laugh and dismissal of the conversation.
He immediately throws his cigarette on the ground and snuffs it out with his shoe, then walks over to the bin and pulls the half-full carton out of his pocket and throws it and his lighter out. Just like that. He walks back over to stand in front of you, his large hand coming up to rest on your cheek, an intensity simmering in his dark eyes as he looks at you.
"Yes."
Task Force 141 (and Los Vaqueros) x fem!reader
Summary: It started simply. An invitation out to the base for just a night of drinking since some of Soapâs buddies from Mexico were in the U.K. for a visit. You had just planned to tag along as his plus one for the night and enjoy some drinks with his old military buddies.
But then Soapâs CO, Price, brought out some cards.
Tags: afab reader/fem pronouns/anatomy, unprotected PIV sex, riding that vaquero, naked reader, clothed male, voyeurism, EVENTUAL ORGY I PROMMIE, 18+ smut beyong this point
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: hellooooooo the long awaited fic of strip poker that was all started from this ask. this is just a part one (of 2 parts bc y'all wanted the orgy....sigh) and i thought i'd give rudy some love bc he doesn't seem to get a whole lot <3
find it on ao3 here!
next part
It started simply. An invitation out to the base for just a night of drinking since some of Soapâs buddies from Mexico were in the U.K. for a visit. You had just planned to tag along as his plus one for the night and enjoy some drinks with his old military buddies.
But then Soapâs CO, Price, brought out some cards, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at you and suggested a round of poker. You then confessed that you didnât know how to play poker, much to everyoneâs apparent amusement. Soapâs friend, Gaz, sat next to you and offered to help teach you the basics of poker. But after a disastrous first three games, in which you were beaten royally by everyone else at the table, you were ready to give up, before Soap declared he wanted to up the ante, a dangerous glint in his eye, and suggested they switch to strip poker. You just rolled your eyes at Soapâs suggestion, but the other men in the room nodded with a few chuckles, overruling you.
âI feel like this is a setup,â you grumbled, pulling in your new cards as Price dealt them.
âJust an incentive to win, hen,â Soap said, his teasing grin giving away his true motivation.
After a few starting rounds of the new game mode with you soundly losing, they made a deal with you; they got to pick which article of clothing you took off if they won, you got to pick who stripped if you won. You agreed, though at that point, you were down to your shirt, pants, and everything underneath, having exhausted your âshoes and socks count as one article of clothingâ argument.
Not that it helped you, as you seemed to be losing consistently. Though Soap seemed to be the second worst player, so you got him down to his pants at least. Ghost, Soapâs L.t., was winning and had all of his clothes, while the rest had lost just a couple of pieces.
You finally folded when they got you down to your bra and panties, now just resigning to sit back and watch. But then they argued that whoever wins got to tell you what to take off. You just rolled your eyes, but went along with it.
When Ghost won, again, he told you to take the bra off. you did, but you kept an arm over your breasts, so they were still sort of covered. They all groaned at that, tired of the teasing.
âC'mon, hen, let us see,â Soap whined.
You rolled your eyes at him, but you removed your arm. But when they all moaned appreciatively and Gaz, nearest to you, tried to make a move, you swatted him away. âNew rules, boys: you can look, but you canât touch yet.â
So, it was back to more whining and groaning.
But soon, Price won the next hand, and his eyes drilled into you. âPanties off, love,â he ordered, every bit of the captain, then patted his lap. âC'mere.â
You stood and shucked off your panties, tossing them to Rudy who was on your other side. Somehow you managed to evade Alejandro's hands and on your way to Price's lap. His hands were around your waist as soon as you sat down, possessive and low.
âNew rules,â he growled out against your neck. âWhoever wins gets to fuck her while the rest watch. Got it?â
You gasped as he started to play with your nipples, while the rest nodded eagerly. Gaz dealt the next hand, his gaze barely getting ripped away as you squirmed on Priceâs lap as he teased you. You vaguely looked at the cards in Priceâs hand--nothing too terribly round-winning--but you couldnât pay too much attention with the way that his talented fingers plucked at the sensitive parts of your body.
It was perhaps the most tense game of poker that night, now that you were part of the reward for winning. Alejandro cursed and threw down his hand as he folded during the second round. Price folded more calmly after him, satisfied enough with teasing you.
Rudy ended up winning the final round, leaning back with a smug grin while everyone else cursed and threw their cards at the table. His eyes were dark and lidded as he turned his gaze to you, patting his lap.
âCâmere, cariño,â he purred.
You stood on shaky legs, supporting yourself with Priceâs arm he offered out. You could feel six pairs of eyes on you as you made your way over to Rudy. He held out his arms to you as you slid into his lap, one leg on either side of his legs. He hummed, his hands wandering over your naked skin to cup your breasts and press his face between them. He rubbed his thumbs over your nipples, staring up at you with his dark eyes when you gasped and wriggled in his grasp.
âSo sensitive, cariño,â he murmured, drawing a nipple into his mouth, lathing his tongue over the sensitive nub.
You moaned, rubbing your cunt over the steadily growing bulge in his pants. âMm, RudyâŠâ
He popped off of your nipple, snaking a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit. âGonna be a good girl for me? Mi chula buena?â
You nodded, biting your lip as sparks of pleasure rocketed up through your body. âMm, yes, Rudy, please.â He inserted a finger into your slowly soaking cunt and you moaned, throwing your head back, as he soon reached that spongy spot inside of you that you could never reach with your own fingers. âOh, Rudy, please! Please, please fuck me.â
He chuckled, a low, growly sound, removing his hand from inside you to unzip his pants, covering his leaking cock with your slick. âShh, cariño, youâll get what you want, prometo.â He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, then slowly pushed into your cunt.
You let out a high pitched moan as Rudyâs cock slowly filled you. He groaned into your neck, hips hitching into your tight heat as he buried himself to the hilt. âFuck, cariño, youâre so fucking tight, fucking squeezing me.â He cut off with another groan when you clenched around him at his words.
Someone whined behind you, but you could hardly pay any attention to anything else but Rudyâs thick cock slowly rearranging your insides. You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscles there. Your thighs quivered as you lifted your hips and then sank back down with a whine. Rudy gripped your hips in a bruising hold, helping you bounce on his cock.
âOh, fu-uck, Rudy!â
He groaned, drawing your nipple into his mouth once again, drawing out high-pitched moans from you as he did. âFuck, so good, cariño, so, so good for me. Fuck, feel so good, taking me like this.â
You whined and bounced faster on his cock, tossing your head back as the thrill and pleasure coursed through your body. Rudyâs talented mouth switched back and forth between your nipples while one hand remained on your hip to guide you, the other buried in the space between your bodies, rubbing your clit in smooth, consistent circles.
âOhh, Rudy--please!â
âShh, just keep going, cariño,â Rudy growled against your tits, gaze dark and intense as he stared up at you. âYouâre being so good for me, mi chula buena--fuck--Iâm so close.â
Your fingers gripped the hair at the base of his scalp, holding his head flush against your breasts so his mouth could continue its ministrations. You bounced even faster on his cock, angling your hips so the head brushed over that sensitive spot deep inside you with each thrust.
âOh, fuck, Rudy, Iâm gonna cum!â
He groaned against your skin, hands holding your hips with a bruising grip as he thrust up into you. âFu-uck, Iâm close, too, cariño. Câmon, cum for me, so, so good.â
You gasped and moaned sweetly as his words tipped you over the edge, melting into his embrace as you rode out your high. Rudy groaned, hips hitching into your tight warmth as his orgasm followed soon after yours.
He ran a hand up your spine to cup the back of your head, holding it for support as he scooted his chair away from the table. Then, he stood, making you gasp as his cock shifted inside of you, before he laid you on the table. All the men around you groaned as you were laid out on display for them, while Gaz and Ghost took the opportunity to hold your legs open as Rudy pulled out, moaning at the sight of his cum dripping out of your soaking cunt.
You panted as six pairs of hands roamed over your body, sparks of lust slowly rekindling deep in your core despite the fact that you had just cum. You leaned up on your elbows, giving the six men a shaky grin.
âSo whoâs ready for round two?â
cw. nsfw, afab!reader, oral (f receiving), bondage, hair pulling *not proofread, just pure horny
[the poll wanted price but I need more alejandro content oops đ€]
MINORS DNI !!
if someone told you that one day, alejandro vargas was going to be on his knees infront of you with his mouth on your slick cunt and his hands tied behind his back, you probably wouldn't believe them.
he peers up at you through his eyelashes, moaning into your wet pussy at how your eyes are already on him. your legs are perched on his shoulders, your hand buried in his hair to keep his mouth working on you.
you can hear the slight rustle of the cuffs binding him, his lower half tensing as he takes your throbbing clit in his mouth. his tongue drags down your slit, his eyes sparking in the dim office lights.
your thighs tighten around his head, his eyes fluttering as he eases his tongue into you. each of his low moans send jolts of pleasure up your spine. his pants do little to hide how hard he is but oh how he wishes you could feel how much he's leaking within his confines.
alejandro shuffles closer, pressing his nose to your clit while his tongue delves in and out of your sticky cunt. tears glimmer in your eyes as you push the hair out of his face, clenching around his tongue as he merely looks up at you with lust and devotion.
a new wave of love and arousal crashed over you as your eyes shut, basking in the feeling of alejandro lapping up everything you give him. your words are jumbled as each flick of his searing tongue pushed you closer to the edge.
alejandro groaned against your sweet cunt ad your legs tightened around him, holding him there as you rode out your high on his tongue. his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he swallowed down every drop he could get his mouth on.
your hand tugged at his hair harshly, before your thighs loosened around him. both of your breathing is erratic, as you both take a moment to piece yourselves back together. alejandro's mouth and chin are glistening in your juices, a familiar sight that always sends sparks to your still pulsing cunt.
"Lean back, mi amor. I'm not done yet."
Three Brothers & Three Sisters
Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal
Lady Death and Lord Bloodshed
Death and his Lovely Fawn
[Stunning ACOTAR pins from @0nceuponapin on Instagram]
(Art by @__alex_oxy_)
I'm acc clinging on the scraps of valeria content on ur account I need moreee ahhhh. Imma re-request valeria teacher fic bcs i need to tell you how important it is to me đđââïž
Miss Garza Imagines!!
Valeria Garza x fem!reader
Warnings: Teacher x student relationship (obvs), lots of smooches, mentions of eating out, strap-on sex, talk of jealousy and implied age gap.
Rating: Fluffy smut with some angst wedged inbetween but overall her being so sweet and hot
Notes: Im back and better than ever!!! I don't think you all understand the sheer amount of you fuckers asking me for more teacher Valeria. I swear there's like 8 of yall but I'm here to feed your obessesions! i love her sm :((
mwah x
⥠- Miss Garza who never fails to drag you into her classroom before you leave, whispering in your ear in that sultry tone that she adores to use how adorable that new necklace looks on you. That same necklace she bought you thats in the shape of a simple gold heart thats adorned so sweetly between the valley of your chest, the back of it engraved with a simple initial, V.
⥠- Miss Garza who leaves a stamp of her perfectly shaped lips on every assignment you turn in. The kiss mark is always a shade of dark rouge that usually matches the very same one you had smeared over your thighs the night before.
⥠- Miss Garza who persistently insists that you should come to summer school! That summer school being her lavish mansion and the work being the two of you wrapped up in her silk sheets. Accompanied by the sweet sounds of your moans and whimpers as she pushes her strap further and further inside of you.
"Oh don't worry, I know you can take it."
"Such a good girl for me, I told you that you could handle it. Didn't i?"
⥠- Miss Garza who brings you breakfast every morning to assure that her favourite student is full of nutrients for her after-class session with her. She usually bakes her own perfectly sweet pastries for her some how even sweeter girl.
⥠- Miss Garza who always takes you to the most lavish and expensive restaurants. She always tells you that nothing is off of limits and that shocked little expression painted on your face, as you step out of the car, just makes every penny worth it. She always assures that your atleast two towns over. She doesn't want those jealous, scum-bag esque ex-boyfriends finding out and ruining it all for you both.
⥠- Miss Garza who places you perfectly still in her lap as she's marking all those ,in her words, stupid papers. She keeps a hand on your thigh as she's doing so and places chaste kisses on your cheek every now and then. She assures you that she knows that it's boring yet it'll all be worth it when she's finished...
⥠- Miss Garza who rewards you graciously after you present her with an award-winning essay. She never even tells you that you've well, not even a word is uttered. She just beckons you over to her car; the back seat already pushed down and adorned with soft blankets.
She always goes so gentle on nights like those, her soft kisses are paired with even softer words of praise trailing up your thighs. Almost as if she pushed any harder you'd break. She practically pushes you down onto her face if you protest. She couldn't care less about apparently 'suffocating'.
Tags: @crimsonbubble , @warrenkcle , @southernbluebellereader , @simonrileyscockring ,@smmy-winchster @vangoghcoffeeco , @graves-aviators , @sarahs-secrets2 , @fang-kisses , @lilywastaken
đ pairing: captain john price x fem reader
đ tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times
title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
If thereâs one thing you know, itâs that youâre damn good at your job.
You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. Thatâs one thing about working with the military â theyâre all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do itâs never done properly.
Youâre patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. Itâs not an easy job; you work your ass off, and itâs often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether thatâs requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups.Â
Itâs challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you donât need male approval to excel at your job. You donât need male approval for anything.
You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that youâve never had to do before. But before, you werenât working with Captain John Price.
Heâs not⊠rude, per se. If anything, heâs always coolly polite. But itâs obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. Heâs gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldnât matter; youâve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything heâs one of the better ones.
In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadnât been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.
But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe⊠maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you wantâ no. Maybe you need his approval. Youâd prefer not to think about it; itâs easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that youâre doing it for you.
Youâre not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that youâre competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, heâs finally starting to realise that youâre good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you.Â
Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too â stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like youâre capable of something more than just photocopying.
Heâs not a bad boss, not by a long shot. Heâs kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. Heâs also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now.Â
But heâs also older, by at least fifteen years, and heâs not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, youâve seen it a hundred times before. Thereâs always something more important to do, and while heâs always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that youâve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.
That should be it.
But youâre so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like youâre a hostile target, you canât stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I donât need male approval for anything, I donât need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.
Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. Heâs always so busy that he doesnât have time to give you the approval that youâre straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly.Â
A brief nod or a low grunted âThanks, sweetheartâ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when youâre walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, itâs to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.
Itâs stupid. Youâre stupid. Heâs just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
Youâre perfectly self-aware enough to admit when youâre in a bad mood.
You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning youâre greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. Itâs big, itâs throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when youâre not looking at it.
Your mood doesnât improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that youâve stocked for yourself. As if thatâs not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.
You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.
Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. Itâs all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but youâre a big girl and youâre just going to have to go without.
Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you donât have to deal with this.
Itâs time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since thereâs been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.
 Normally, thatâs not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway.Â
And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.
You start easy.Â
Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. Heâs gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. Heâs a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.
After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but heâs significantly more difficult to photograph.
He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it.Â
âItâs a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.â You sigh, irritated. âI need you to have a blank, neutral expression. Itâs like a passport photo, Sergeant. Itâs for a government document.â
âCanât help it, lass.â Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. âI see a camera, I smile. Itâs muscle memory.â
You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you donât get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that youâll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.
You have tougher targets to tackle.
The difficult part isnât even taking Ghostâs photo â the difficult part is catching him in the first place.
You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he wonât read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the manâs enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.
You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.
So yeah. Youâre in a real bad fucking mood. But you canât help it â some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you canât, and you donât want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.
You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.
God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or itâll fall on your head.Â
Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. Thereâs no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.
You walk to Priceâs office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but⊠well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.
When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock.Â
Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you donât exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.
âI need you for a moment.â You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.
You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. Heâs wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and heâs recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.
âHello to you too, love.â He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. âWhatâs the problem?â
You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. Youâre a professional, and youâre not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.
âIâm updating personnel files,â You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, âI need to take a picture of you.â
Priceâs gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That heâll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.
But thenâ
âJesus, kid.â He sighs, already shaking his head. âIâm up to my eyes right now. Leave it âtill tomorrow.â
For a moment, you donât react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. Heâs already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you havenât felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.
âI need it done today.â You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.
You donât need male validation. You donât. But damn, youâve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isnât even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.
Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.
âYeah, well. I donât have time. Tomorrow.â
You swallow, pursing your lips. Heâs so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.
âI have to get the whole team done,â You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. âSoap wouldnât stop smiling for the camera, I couldnât find Farah anywhere, and Ghostââ
Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. âForget Ghost.â
You scowl. âI need to do the whole squad.â
âNot Ghost.â Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. âSimon doesnât do photos.â
You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Youâve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and youâre familiar with Lieutenant Rileyâs penchant for covering his face. Itâs not something you have a problem with â usually.
âThereâs no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.â You say through gritted teeth. âEveryone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no moreââ
âChrist, enough.â Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. âThe One Four One is my squad, in case youâve forgotten. I know these lads, and Iâm telling you to leave it out.â
You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasnât been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasnât been drinking enough water.
You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.
âThis is why I told Laswell you werenât necessary,â His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. âI donât need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad forâ for fucking photographs.â
You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. Itâs stupid â youâve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over itâs frequently directed at you.Â
But this⊠this feels different, for some reason. Youâve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that youâre a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.
You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You donât want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who canât even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.
âRight,â You say, and even youâre startled by the sharpness in your tone. âFine. Forget the file updates, then.â
You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files youâve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence thatâs fallen over the room.
âIâll tell the higher-ups that youâre handling it.â You continue, your voice coming out brattier than youâd like. âSince obviously I have no idea what Iâm doingââ
âOh, donât do that.â Price sighs, as though youâre the one being unreasonable. âWhat Iâm saying is, if youâre going to work with the team, you have to understand the teamââ
That, you think, might just push you over the edge.
âDo you think Iâm stupid?â You snap out, and Priceâs mouth closes. âDâyou think Iâmâ that Iâm some kind of idiot?â
Price blinks. It seems like youâve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but youâre not ready to hear him speak again just yet.
âIâm here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. Iâm considered an asset to the teams that I work with,â Youâre scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration thatâs been mounting all day spilling over. âAnd I donât have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.â
Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. âKid, thatâs notââ
Usually, being called âkidâ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that youâre absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly.Â
âDonât!â You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. âGod, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I havenât had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my fatherââ
To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you canât finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and youâre pretty sure your lip is trembling.Â
Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.
âHey,â He soothes, lifting his hands. âIâm not your father.â
âI know that!â You snap, irate. Youâre frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what youâve unintentionally given away. âI wouldnât want you to be!â
Priceâs expression flickers, as though he canât decide quite how to react to you. Youâre more than aware that youâre being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like heâs at a loss.
âAll Iâve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.â You continue before he can interrupt again. âAnd all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, andâ andââ
âKidââ
âThe only person who wasnât an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,â You rage, on a roll now. âEveryone else has just been soâ and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like childrenââ
Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple thatâs been throbbing on your chin all day. You donât even think youâre making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what youâre saying.Â
âYour⊠skin.â He repeats, a little disbelieving.Â
You whirl away, agitated. Youâre not getting your point across well, and Price must think youâre simply demented.Â
âHey,â He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. âI didnât mean to suggest that you werenât doing a decent jobââ
âWhatever.â You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. âWhatever.â
Itâs too little, too late. Heâs always been a bit of a hardass, and youâve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you canât bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.
âIâll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or donât. It doesnât matter.â You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.
âWait,â Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.
But youâre not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you donât think youâve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.
âSweetheart, just wait a minute,â Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. âI understand that youâre stressed, thatâs normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you canât just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are beinâ difficultââ
âMy knickers are none of your business!â You yell. Truthfully, itâs more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Priceâs eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.
âWhoa, okay,â Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. âYou're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."
âOh, give me a break!â Youâre beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. âYou ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when Iâm just trying to do my job, but now youâre telling me you need me to not be on edge?â
Youâve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. Heâs stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you donât plan on giving him the chance.
âKid, just hang on a damn minuteââ
âSort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.â You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. âI donât even care anymore. Itâs your squad, you do it.â
Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you donât know how he hasnât lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldnât be more obvious that youâve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria.Â
The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in â at least that way you could pretend that you donât notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.
âAnd you donât have to wear that stupid hat, weâre indoors!â You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.
You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
ââ just thinking that maybe Iâd be better suited with another team, thatâs all. I heard Kortacâs liaison is approaching maternity leaveââ
âThat position is going to be filled internally,â Laswellâs voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. âBesides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than itâs worth.â Thereâs a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. âYou still havenât explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.â
Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.
â... Internal conflict.â You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve.Â
Thereâs a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what sheâs thinking â in your line of work, itâs impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But youâve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife.Â
âInternal conflict.â Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as youâve ever heard it. âMeaning?â
God, it feels like youâre disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.
âI know how it sounds,â You say, âButâ they donât want to work with me. Thereâs only so much I can do if Iâm being met with resistance at every cornerââ
âYouâve worked with resistant squads before,â Laswell interrupts. âItâs part of the job.â
âYes, butâŠâ You start, before trailing off.Â
She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. Thereâs no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. Itâs making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that youâre usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all youâve ever wanted was Priceâs approval.
Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.
âLook,â Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. âIâve never given you an assignment that I didnât think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. Youâre a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team youâve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldnât be able to tackle.â
âMhm.â You grunt noncommittally.
âSort out whateverâs going on with you.â Laswellâs tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. âIf whatever issues youâre experiencing continue, Iâll talk to Johnââ
âNo!â You blurt.
God, you canât think of anything worse. Youâve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that youâve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You donât want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.
âNo,â You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. âIâll⊠sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, maâam.â
Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, sheâs not anywhere near her cushy office. Youâve interrupted her on whatever assignment sheâs on, and sheâs been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.
â... Right.â She says. âFine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?â
âYes, maâam.âÂ
You understand whatâs not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and sheâs always been an advocate for you and what youâre capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.
âGood. Iâll speak to you then.â
You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.
For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?
For the last few days, youâve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and youâve taken the opportunity to just chill out. Itâs the first chance youâve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and itâs needed.
You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.
And you almost, almost, forget about why youâre hiding away in your little flat in the first place.
But your third day off creeps around, and you canât help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. Thereâs only so much time away from the office that youâre able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, youâre not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because youâre too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.
So, you go back to work after your little break away.
You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite helloâs from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base â itâs well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you donât come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like youâre doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you.Â
To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You donât know what to make of the absence of work; you canât help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.
You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again.Â
Well. Okay, then.Â
You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. Thereâs a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.
You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until thereâs a soft knock on your office door, and by the time youâve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.
âOh,â You straighten up in surprise. âCommander. What can I do for you?â
Itâs a surprise to see her, especially since you hadnât received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldierâs usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.
Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. âI hear you are taking photographs.â
Your smile slips a little. âOh. No, actually, I wasnâtââ
âCaptain Price said I was to be photographed,â She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. âI tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.â
You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. âRight. I wasâ Price said that to you?â
âMhm.â Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. âHe said that you have been stressed.â
You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what youâre thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.
âThatâs all he said,â She says. âThat, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.â
âOh.â You shift, embarrassed and awkward. âIâ Listen, I had a⊠rough day at work a few days ago, thatâs all. Iâm notâ things are fine.â
Farah just nods as though thatâs perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.
âSo, then,â She says, and raises her eyebrows. âThe picture?â
You canât find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you donât have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadnât noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that itâs her personnel file.
âThere wasnât much to update, just a recent blood work test.â She says as she lays it on your desk.Â
âThatâs⊠thanks.â You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farahâs details all filled in â Priceâs handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farahâs medical report.
You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. Sheâs an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.
âLovely,â You murmur, flicking through the pictures. âThank you.â
Farah hums. Youâre expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that sheâs still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that sheâs standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.
âThe Captain is worried about you.â She says, as though itâs the most natural thing in the world. âIs everything alright?â
You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; thereâs no way that Farah could know what happened, but sheâs looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.
âWhat?â You squeak.
âYou fought?â Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. âI donât mean to pry, itâs justâŠâ
âNo, thatâs okay.â You say hastily. âWe didnâtâ there was no fighting, exactly.â
She just nods, as if youâre making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go.Â
âYou look tired,â Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. âWhen Price wants to fix things, let him.â
âMhm.â You nod quickly without really hearing her. Youâre pretty sure youâd agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farahâs gaze. âYeah, of course.â
After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. Itâs all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ youâve made such a mess of things.Â
It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; youâve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden youâve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad youâve tried so hard to impress these last few months.
You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, itâs a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what sheâd say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.
All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farahâs photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.
The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if youâre a little bit passive aggressive, then you donât think anyone can blame you.
Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farahâs soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you donât look up from your screen.
âCome in.â You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.
Youâre half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.
Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.
âCaptain.â You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.
Priceâs cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state youâre in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isnât on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And itâs silly, but⊠well, you canât help but notice the way Priceâs eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.
Except today, you hadnât been planning on running into Price. You hadnât planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort â youâre wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You havenât even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy youâve looked in months.
âDâyouâve a moment, love?âÂ
His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know heâs only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days youâve spent alone in your apartment, youâd almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.
Itâs not as though you can refuse him, though youâre already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.
âYeah.â You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. âSure.â
As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you canât help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.
But still, he approaches slowly, like youâre some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that heâs taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.
âYou look rested.â He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.
You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Priceâs big body is towering over you in a way thatâs honestly making your head swim a little.
âYeah.â Your voice is a little hoarse. âI guess.â
Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.
âFinished âem off for you while you were gone.â He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. âNearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.â
You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words.Â
âThis isââ You start to say, and truthfully youâre not sure where youâre going with that. You think youâre about to thank him, but he doesnât really give you the chance to.
âWhy donât we talk?â He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.
You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You donât make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.
 The couch had come with the office, and you donât even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but itâs fine. It does the job.
Youâre half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you â youâre not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.
You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. Youâre not surprised that heâs asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldnât exactly protest if heâs decided to caution you or something.
But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down youâre sure youâre about to receive.
âThink weâre due a discussion about the other day.â He says, gentler than you had been expecting.
You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably.Â
âIâm sorry, sir.â You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. âMy behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It wonât happen again, I assure you.â
Itâs as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasnât helped matters at all.
âWell,â His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. âI wasnâtââ He clears his throat. âI wasnât looking for an apology.â
That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. Heâs already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. Heâs trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesnât look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.
âPaperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,â He confesses with an air of chagrin thatâs painfully endearing to you. âAlways found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was⊠short with you, the other day.â
You frown, making yourself small on the couch. âYou said I wasnât necessary.â
Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.
âShouldnât have said that.â He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. âYouâve been great these last few months. Donât know what Iâd have done without you, sometimes.â
Youâre stupid. Itâs the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesnât notice.Â
âYou know Iâm no good at deskwork,â He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks youâre not listening properly. âDonât have the head for it. I think youâre the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.â
The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that youâre so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captainâs lips assuaging all that upset that youâve been carrying around with you for days now.
But still, part of you isnât quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused.Â
âIs this you apologising, then?â You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.
He smiles, close-mouthed. âYeah. It is. Not doinâ too good, am I?â
âYouâre doing okay.â You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. âBut you can keep going, if youâd like.â
Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You donât think youâve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months youâve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.
âShouldnât have snapped at you,â He says slowly. âYou do good work. Great work. You shouldnât feel like youâre not a valued member of the team.â
You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.
âI overreacted,â You mumble reluctantly. âI shouldnât⊠your hat isnât stupid.â
That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Priceâs hand doesnât shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.
All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; itâs chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.
âThe hat isnât the problem,â Price mutters, though you barely hear him. âI wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.â
That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. âIâ what?â
To your bewilderment, Priceâs cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesnât break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee.Â
âDonât mean to overstep,â He assures you quietly. âAndâ and donât mind me if Iâm talkinâ nonsense. But I know that youâve been working so hard, and youâve got a tough job. Canât be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some⊠guidance â someone to steer you on the right path, that isâ well, that Iâm here if you ever want to talk."
Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.Â
Itâs funny, because even though Price isnât even yet forty, heâs always seemed so much older. Maybe itâs the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. Heâs always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; youâve seen the way heâs so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.
Itâs sweet. Heâs always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when heâs acting like that typical military authority figure.Â
"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that itâs missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.
Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadnât been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.
âJesus. Thatâs notââ He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. âThatâs not what I meant.â
Thereâs a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadnât you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? Itâs like you just canât keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.
âIâm sorry.â You blurt. âI shouldnât have said that. I donât know whatâ I didnât mean it.â
The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. Heâs so close to you that his scent fills your nose â a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You donât think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because youâve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.
Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.
âRight.â He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. âMm. âCourse. I didnât mean toâ perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your fatherââ
âI donât want to talk about my father.â You say swiftly.
God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.
But if your issues are on display, then so are Priceâs, because you canât help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasnât faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin thatâs stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.
A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch.Â
Priceâs eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and youâre surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.
âWhat if I did mean it?â You blurt out before your courage can flee you.
Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing.Â
âKid.â He says, and it sounds like a warning.
You donât heed it, adjusting yourself so that youâre shuffling closer yet again. You donât think youâve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until heâs all that youâre aware of.
âWhat if I meant it?â You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged.Â
Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadnât expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and youâre startled by how much you want him in this moment.
âDâyou know what youâre asking for?â He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs.Â
His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that youâre walking a fine line here, that youâre getting close to the point of no return.Â
âYes.â You breathe, although youâre not entirely sure that you do know what youâre asking for. All you know is that heâs so close, and heâs staring at you with an expression of such hunger that itâs making you feel weak.
Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.
It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself youâre burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction â everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Priceâs full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.
The kiss doesnât start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Priceâs big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming.Â
Priceâs big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but itâs not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.
You swing your leg over Priceâs, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but youâre still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.
âIâve beenââ You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. âIâve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anythingââ
Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else.Â
âSh, I know,â He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. âI know, love, youâve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?â
And the thing is, youâre a very capable woman. Youâve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that youâre capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Priceâs praise sinks into you like warm honey.
âWatching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.â He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. âAnd those heelsâ completely impractical for a military base like this.â
You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that youâre currently perched in your Captainâs lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that heâs been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.
Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isnât that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big manâs lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that youâre valuable, and important.
âFuckinâ hell,â Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. âYouâre a handful.â
Youâd love to argue that â you like to think that youâre perfectly measured and sensible, after all â but youâre already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you canât stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.
Priceâs breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. âHang on a sec,â He breathes, âHold on. Iâm stillâ Iâm still your Captainââ
You think that itâs meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation youâre in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What youâre doing right now is ridiculous, after all. Youâre still on base, youâre in your office, and if the two of you get caught you donât even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldnât apply here, since youâre only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.
But if it is a warning, it doesnât work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.
He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where itâs pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.
âChrist,â He grits out like a curse. âAlright, then.â
He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that youâre laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily âÂ
youâre soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.
Heâs too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesnât even matter. Now that heâs above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you donât know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face.Â
âYou think I havenât been looking?â He asks, and his voice isnât as harsh or gritty as youâd been expecting. Itâs softer now, fond, almost. âHow could I fuckinâ miss you? Always so pretty, always workinâ so hard. âCourse I noticed.â
When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so youâre laying in your bra. Itâs one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.
But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though itâs premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until heâs kissing messily at your mouth all over again.
âSo gorgeous.â He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. âI was too mean to you before, wasnât I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.â
âYes.â You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.
âLet me make up for it, darling,â He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. âHm? Iâll show you how good youâve been.â
Youâre nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. Youâre not even sure what it is that heâs offering, but you know that youâll take anything that he has to give you.
Heâs looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When heâs got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though youâre wearing something else entirely.
Even though youâre laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesnât grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though heâs got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though heâs committing you to memory.
âNeed you to say it,â He says, strained like heâs trying to hold himself back. âNeed you to say it out loud.â
âWant you to show me how good Iâve been.â You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. âWant you to look after me.â
The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. Heâs so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though youâre drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving youâve ever had.
âI will,â He breathes like itâs a promise. âOh, I will.â
His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesnât even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him.Â
He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like youâre hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though heâs tasting something incredible.
You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesnât give it to you. Heâs too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though theyâre something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.
âSo pretty, ainâtcha?â He groans against your chest. âFuck, even when you were walkinâ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckinâ thing Iâd ever seen.â
âCharming.â You snap, but thereâs no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you donât think thereâs a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Priceâs hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.
All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that youâre laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.
He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like itâs a treasure.
âMm, so gorgeous, princess,â It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. âSo lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look⊠like sugar, my sweet girl.â
Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You canât handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you havenât just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.
You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.
Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you canât help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.
Priceâs fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that itâs infectious.
âLet daddy see you,â He croaks against the hollow of your throat. âSpread your legs, sweetheart.â
Itâs not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when thereâs a squelch as your cunt unsticks. Andâ Jesus, Priceâs eyes fucking light up, and you realise that heâs clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.
The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. Itâs a taste of both command and reverence â in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth youâre breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.
In the blink of an eye, heâs there â between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of whatâs to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.
Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesnât immediately touch you.
You crane your neck to see that heâs staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. Youâve never seen a man look so hungry, like heâs about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.
"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs.Â
It takes a beat for you to realise that heâs holding himself back, that heâs essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, âYes, fuck, yes, pleaseââ
Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.
You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though heâs savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.
You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him â Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.
Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before heâd pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.
You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesnât seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.
You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy.Â
Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. Youâre so fucking wet, and you canât help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. Youâre leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.
Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Priceâs head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.
With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. Heâs fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.
The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way youâre whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big handâs wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.
âOh, oh fuck,â You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, âFuck, fuck, fuck thatâs so good, oh god, Captainââ
âYeah,â Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like itâs a sweet. âI know, baby, I know.â
Heâs so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious.Â
Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though youâve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. Youâve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like itâs curing you.
You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Priceâs mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.
âWanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please pleaseââ Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Priceâs head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. âOh god, please make me comeââ
Maybe itâs not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.
Youâre lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though youâre just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering.Â
You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Priceâs shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.
Priceâs fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.
Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.
Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. Youâre panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.
From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Priceâs ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.
âFuck,â He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as youâve ever heard it. âJesus Christ. Knew youâd taste sweet, knew that youâd come so pretty.â
The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like youâve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy.Â
âIâThatââ You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static.Â
âMhm, I know, sweet girl.â He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent.Â
When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that heâs straightening back up again youâre reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.
A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; youâre still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.
But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid â how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when heâs staring at you like that? Heâs looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb â you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.
And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you donât make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.
âOh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.â He leans in then, and presses a hungry kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.
You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. âYour beard is wet.â You observe dumbly.
He chuckles, as though youâve said something terribly endearing. âOf course it is, sweetheart. Thatâs all you.â
You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because youâve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. Itâs angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.
But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you donât feel as though youâre being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.
âDonât have to do that, love.â He grunts, shifting. Heâs looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. âDâyou think you could take me?â
It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what heâs asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside.Â
Youâre still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesnât keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.
You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.
His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that itâs embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.
The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt.Â
âOh, fuck,â He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. âYeah, youâll take me just fine.â
You burn with embarrassment, but you still donât close your legs. Itâs silly, but thereâs still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well youâll take him. Itâs obvious how wet you are, and you hope heâs imagining how good youâll feel on the inside.
âNeed you to turn over for me, love.â He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that youâre on your belly beneath him. âThatâs it, arse up. My knees arenât what they used to be. Make it easy for me.â
You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply donât have the mental capacity for it. Youâre too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.
He doesnât waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.
âGotta let me in, petal.â He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. âRelax, relax.â
You had wanted this, youâre more eager than you think youâve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger thatâs almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though youâre wet and eager and ready, two of Priceâs fingers briefly testing inside werenât quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is.Â
Your head is spinning. Youâve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.
âFuck⊠you alright, love?â Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.
âFuck,â You moan, breath gasping out of you. âYouâre fucking huge.â
It feels like youâre learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you canât even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.
âAm Iâ sâit too much, honey?â He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. âNeed me to take it out?â
âNo!â You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though youâre trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. âDonât you dare!â
His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though heâs fucking impaling you. Price groans as though heâs been shot, and his head lowers so that heâs burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you.Â
âOkay,â He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. âOkay, love, but you need to relax. Youâre going to squeeze my cock right off.â
âSorry.â You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.
Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him.Â
God, heâs so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. Heâs exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.
When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. Heâs cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.
âChrist, youâre tight,â Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. âAnd you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ainât that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isnât he?â
âYes,â You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.
Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position thatâs a little detached â usually, you like seeing the face of the person youâre fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words heâs murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like heâs blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.
Youâre bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Priceâs powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in.Â
Itâs enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Priceâs licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much.Â
The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ahâs are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.
Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though youâre being fucked absolutely stupid. Itâs not that heâs fucking you all that hard, but heâs filling you up so deliciously and knowing that itâs him, your Captain, the man that youâve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like youâre going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.
âTell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.â Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. âTell daddy how good he's making you feel.â
Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though youâve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; youâre aware that heâs asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.
âGood,â You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you canât even see straight. âI justâ itâs so muchââ
âI know,â He rumbles. âBut you can take it, canât you? Youâve been so good, sweetheart.â
The praise does exactly what heâs hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him â it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.
Priceâs rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. Itâs as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.
He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Priceâs cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.
âI wanna come again,â You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. Itâs a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you canât bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today.Â
âYouâre gonna come, love.â He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one youâve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.
But despite his promise, he doesnât change his steady pace. Youâre just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm thatâs simmering in your lower stomach.Â
âPlease, daddy,â You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title heâs so clearly craving. Heâs fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. âPlease, please make me come againââ
âFuckinâ Christââ
Priceâs arm reaches around your front, and youâre startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that youâre about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that heâs rutting up into you at a speed thatâs overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, youâre forced into stillness.Â
Itâs exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. Itâs better than you ever could have hoped for, and youâre nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.
You know that youâre already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You canât even keep your back arched anymore, though you donât think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.
âOh god, Iâmâ yes, yes, yesââ You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.
Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captainâs big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Priceâs dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though youâre losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.
Youâre still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that heâs pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.
The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and youâre blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess heâs made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.
He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way thatâs unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.
You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still canât manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like youâre on another fucking planet entirely. Youâre only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that heâs just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that heâs rubbing his come into you like itâs goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though itâs sad that he didnât come inside.
âFuckâŠâ You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest.Â
You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, youâre reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after heâs turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.
âYou okay, love?â Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you canât quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. âDid I go too hard on you?â
Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding youâve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.
âShhh,â You drawl shakily. âDonât make me think right now.â
A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like youâre delicate, a stark contrast to the way heâd just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.
âAlright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?â He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. âHow are you going to finish out work today if youâre all sleepy like this, huh?â
That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.
âOh my god.â You blurt, eyes growing wide. âIâ weâre at work!â
âSharp as ever, darling.â
Not even Priceâs lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Priceâs thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.
âWe have toâ oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks inââ
âShh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,â Price grumbles. He doesnât appear too impressed with the way youâre attempting to wiggle away, but it doesnât matter so much; even with one arm heâs perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. âLie back down, love.â
Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. Itâs hard to hold onto your panic when heâs so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, youâre unsure whether or not youâre allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands donât stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.
âThatâs it, relax.â He coaxes, clearly pleased now that youâre melting back into him.Â
âI have so much work to catch up on.â You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that heâs given you the greenlight to stay like this.
His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise heâs chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.
âYou think I wasnât capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?â He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. âI finished out those little files you were stressinâ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, thatâs standard.â
You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farahâs, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies.Â
âThank you.â You mumble.Â
You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then heâs leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that youâve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.
Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each otherâs air for a moment.
âAsk for help when you need it, sweetheart.â He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. âThatâs what Iâm here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?â
âYeah,â You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. âAlright.â
Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.
You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like youâre valued and appreciated, and you canât even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesnât want to move either.
âLet me come home with you tonight,â He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. âYou have an apartment off base, donât you? Iâll⊠why donât I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.â
Thereâs a pause, then he adds cautiously, âIf Iâm not being presumptuous, that is.â
You canât stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. Heâs so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.
âI thought this was you appreciating the work I do.â You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.
âMm. You do a lot of work, and Iâm very appreciative.â Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.
You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Priceâs expression brightens further; itâs strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. Youâre so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though itâs beating out of rhythm.
âI said Iâd look after you, sweetheart.â He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. âYou just need to let me.â
Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze thatâs been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Priceâs bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing youâve ever done.
Based on a request:
absolutely obsessed with your writing! It's beautiful Feel free to ignore this ask, I just felt like sharing So F reader and the cod men (Alejandro, Rudy, Graves) it turns to something more đ It can be separate or all together
A/N: Went off on this one, sorry
F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, foursome, f!ngering, unprotected!sex, enemy!reader, CNC?, anal!sex, blowjob, rough!sex, masochist!reader, degrading, spit roast, some aftercare, some praise
"Why don't you tell us," Graves tries to convince you. You sit there, arms tied behind your back, the three men who once were enemies now finding you as their common one. Rudy approaches you, cups your face and smirks, "If you don't tell us, we'll have other means to get the information." But you don't budge, no matter how bad they need the codes, you won't betray your own team. Alejandro chuckles and the two other men nod at the other.
You couldn't deny it, the way they looked at you, how their eyes undressed you, how in their minds they already had you drunk off their cum and begging for more, you wanted what they needed. Rudy looks at you, "Do you really want it that way?" It was as if he could read your mind, the dark twisted side of you that wanted to be treated like a whore and slapped around as they all fucked into you. Your aching pussy, clenching around their thick cocks, cum leaking from all of your holes, being greedy and asking for more.
"It's the only way you'll get them from me." you tease. Graves' knife cuts through the fabric of your shirt, leaving Rudy to take it off, the three men watch as their fuck toy watches them with desire. Alejandro, with one movement, removes your bra, making your tits move, earning a now visible boner from Rudy. "Alright, Vaqueros, let's show her how much we need those codes." Graves said as his hand rubbed his boner, owning a groan from his mouth. Alejandro kisses your neck, and he begins to grope you.
You can't stop it, not when you want it. Graves undoes your trousers, Rudy pulls them down to your knees, gives Alejandro a nod and gently reaches for your soaked knickers. You squirm but that only earns a slap from Graves. "You stay still like the bitch you are." His voice was smooth but filled with anger. You look up, Alejandro and Graves with a grin stare at you, Rudy already beginning to finger you, his thick fingers making you moan. Graves make sure your gaze stays on them. Soon, both men kiss your neck, one pulling onto your hair to give them better access to your sensitive skin. Bite marks and hickeys begin to show, just the show these horny men needed. A little sex slave.
Rudy parts your legs and begins to lick your inner thighs, his fingers still fucking into your cunt. Graves forces your mouth open and spits in your mouth, he then makes Alejandro spit in your mouth and they force you to swallow it. Between moans and pants, you beg for more, earning a slap from Alejandro. "You take what we fucking give you," he slaps you again, Graves spits on your face and spreads it all over your face with his palm. Your face is red from the slaps. Rudy looks up, a smirk on his face as he asks, "Give me the first number for the code, mi niña." You try to speak but three fingers go inside of you, your eyes shut and you moan, your walls clench around him. "F-fuck.,..its..f-four" you mewl and throw your head back.
He chuckles and stops fingering you, which causes you to whine and move your hips. "More...more" you whine and moan. "Didn't you hear, you take what we fuckin' give you?" Graves slaps you again. They immediately get you off the chair and get you on all fours, "Look up for me, Chula." Alejandro commands and you do so. "Another number?" Rudy asks and you close your eyes as you feel Graves tease the tip of his cock on your wet cunt. "S-...six." You say and it earns a slow kiss from Rudy. He then moves away and sits on the side as he watches his two friends fuck you dumb. Alejandro makes you spit on his thick cock and then begins to fuck your throat.
You gag on it, your drool leaking out of your mouth. Rudy stroking his hard cock, watching from the best view in the room. Graves begins to fuck into your tight pussy, your slick making it easier for him to slide deeper into you. His hands on your hips, an occasional slap on your ass, his calloused hands never being gentle on you. Alejandro grabbing your face, fucking your throat raw, leaving you gasping for air each time. Meanwhile, Rudy takes a picture of this moment, making sure he sends this to the other two men in the room. He chuckles and then walks to you, his cock in your hand as your stroke it. Your cheeks are red as Alejandro gives it a few slaps. Your back is covered in spit, Graves ramming himself to you, his balls hitting you in the right places. Your moans and whimpers are muffled by the drool and pre-cum from Vargas.
You gag once more as the cum from Alejandro fills your greedy mouth, his sticky seed leaking out of your mouth, his tip sensitive but he keeps rubbing it. Once he finds the perfect opportunity, Rudy sticks his cock inside your mouth, your throat ached but you didn't want to stop it. Graves continues thrusting into you. Anytime you gagged or clenched on either of the men, you made the room fill with groans and moans. Graves continues to fuck into your tight cunt, and soon your walls are painted white with his seed, he grips onto you, fingers digging into your hips, and he gives you some final and slow thrusts, earning moans and groans from Rudy. He was too overstimulated by the view and came too quick.
Alejandro takes a seat on the chair, he guides your cum drunk body towards him, his dick pressed against your ass, splitting you open. You couldn't make up many words but the sensations were good. Your pleasure was not important to them but theirs was. Graves wanted to fuck your throat like the other men did, so as you sat on Alejandro's dick, his tip was teased by your tongue. Rudy fingers your clit and then with you guiding him, his cock begins to slowly fuck your cunt.
Your tight ass made it a perfect place for Alejandro to cum, his hands on your hips, guiding you as you continued to get fucked senseless by the other men. You moan and cry in pleasure. Your tears ran down, Graves being a desperate man, he slaps you. "You better give us those codes, you fucking bitch."
Rudy kissed your cheeks, Graves dick makes a bulge on your face, and you stare at Rudy with pleading eyes. He cleans your tears and kisses your forehead. Your nails dig at Alejandro's thighs. You in that instant had your orgasm. Your moans and cries are all muffled by slaps and drool. Cum leaks from all of you as the men continue fucking into you. Your back arching and legs shaking.
Once they all paint your walls and mouth white, they let you lay back. Alejandro stroking your hair, Rudy cleaning the mess between your thighs, which you squirm a lot from. Graves leaves kisses on your face, "Now, give us those codes, pretty girl." His hands caress your face, and Rudy massages your thighs.
Soon Graves and Alejandro leave the room, leaving you to Rudy. You laid your head on his lap, he stroked your hair and kissed your cheek. "Please, mi niña, please give me those codes." He grabbed your hand and from your fingers to your shoulder he kissed you. "You took all three of us so well, I'm sure if you give us those codes you'll get more." He murmurs and smiles softly. "They are in the...pocket of my trousers," you whisper back, to which he gives you a lukewarm bottle of water. "Here, please don't talk much, don't want you to loose that pretty voice of yours." He keeps stroking your hair as you lay there.
A/N: My head is too fucked to write a good ending...
part one | part two
đ pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader
đ tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, youâre coming to realise, is that now that youâve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you canât stop thinking about it.
In the week following the night youâd spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like heâs carved a space for himself inside of you, something youâll never get back â not that you want it back in the first place.Â
Realistically, you know that the whole âloss of virginityâ thing doesnât have as much to do with how youâre feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghostâs massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.
The worst part is, you donât know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. Youâve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you donât even come close to coming again.
It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you donât know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.
The problem is that while you feel as though youâve been changed from the inside out, you donât think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, thereâs no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training.Â
All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.
Itâs harder than it sounds.
You find your whole body straining towards him when heâs close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You canât even look in Ghostâs direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.
And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. Heâs the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. Heâs still your lieutenant, but itâs like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. Heâs no longer just your untouchable superior, the man whoâs always so cold and distant behind that death mask â now heâs the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.
But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you.Â
You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though itâs never at the same time as when youâre looking at him. And maybe youâre imagining it, but it seems as though heâs gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. Itâs subtle, and you canât be sure that heâs actually touching you anymore than usual.
But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesnât make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz.Â
If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that heâll give you something.
Youâve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. Youâre slow, youâre clumsy, you mess up everything.Â
You donât think you can be blamed when youâre working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when heâs lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs.Â
You know itâs obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before youâre able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.
But if Ghost sees it â any of it â he gives no indication.Â
If you have to be honest with yourself, youâll admit that youâre disappointed. You had hoped thatâ well. Youâre not sure you can bear to admit what youâd hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldnât be content with just being your first, that maybe heâd want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.
You donât technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you wonât be missed in their ongoing training. Youâve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when youâre out there with them.Â
Thereâs just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. Youâd been vulnerable in front of him in a way youâd never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that youâd been okay with it being a one time thing, but you werenât exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.
So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesnât even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like youâre being rejected anew. ItâsâŠ. Itâs not ideal. But youâre a big girl, and youâve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.
Itâs fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. Heâs Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you.Â
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise itâs not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.
Truthfully, it doesnât take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, youâve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so youâre dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.
To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago.Â
Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghostâs massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement.Â
Itâs galling to admit it, but you feel like youâre on fire. He doesnât say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move thatâs unexpectedly intimate.Â
You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that donât know him well, to you and the squad heâs always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghostâs eyes follow him until he gets back as though heâs expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that heâs gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.
So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesnât actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesnât mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghostâs side.
You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to â maybe itâs because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly.Â
Itâs a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety thatâs been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, youâre leaning against his side. He doesnât react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if heâs just tolerating it.
When Ghostâs eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you canât stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.
âSlow down.â He murmurs, setting the glass aside. âItâs still early.â
You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though youâre pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.
Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soapâs loud voice brings you back to yourself.
âLet the lass drink, LT.â He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadnât even noticed him leaving for the bar. âShe deserves to have fun tonight. Donât you, bonnie?â
âSure.â You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. Youâre still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. âI deserve fun.â
It feels as though Ghostâs gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. Heâs so intense, youâre pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. Itâs the most heâs looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.
Heâs drinking too, though heâs foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that heâs barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.
You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like youâre on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghostâs muscular body pressed against your side.Â
Over the last week, youâve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.
Youâve heard men laughing about girls theyâve slept with whoâve become too clingy, whoâve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys arenât willing to give. Maybe itâs because youâre so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but youâre so determined to not be that person.Â
Ghost isnât exactly a big talker anyway, unless itâs the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so itâs not like youâve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you neednât have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you donât know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that heâd see you later.
So, you donât talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu youâre experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.
While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. Heâs already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention.Â
âYouâre staring at me.â You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.
Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement.Â
âYeah.â
He doesnât say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. Itâs like he thinks that he doesnât need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.
Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you canât focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, itâs hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation thatâs growing under your skin.Â
After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now heâs sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?
The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. Youâre not sure what to make of his attention â youâve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot thatâs gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.
âIâll get the next round.â You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.
Itâs too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly donât look at the half-full glasses in your squad matesâ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghostâs relentless stare.
You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.
God, this is just embarrassing. Youâre a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that youâd be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.
It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you canât help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself.Â
When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadnât expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.
Well, heâs not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but youâve never actually had any dealings with him and you canât think of a name⊠Daniels, maybe?
âHello there,â He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. âHow you doing?â
Itâs far from the first time youâve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. Youâve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life.Â
Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him.Â
Heâs sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.
âLet me get this next one for you,â He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. âWhatâre you having?â
âUh..â You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. âVodka soda.â
He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you donât shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.
When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder.Â
The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.
The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language.Â
You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. Youâre not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasnât spoken to you all week despite the fact that heâd nearly done your back in fucking you.
Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but thereâs no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you havenât been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. Youâre starting to wonder if maybe youâre not capable of coming without someone elseâs hands on you.
âIâve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,â Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. âBut itâs, uh⊠itâs a little difficult to catch you alone.â
You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and youâve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe.Â
âYeah, the guys can be a little protective.â You laugh a little weakly. âBut donât mind them.â
Even now, you can feel Ghostâs dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.
âMm,â Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. âCanât blame them, I suppose. Why donât you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.â
You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, youâve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a manâs interest in you now.
âOh, Iâm not sure.â You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. âI donât think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.â
Danielsâ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though youâre stretching muscles youâre not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadnât done too much mingling outside of the squad; theyâve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.
âI think they get enough of your time,â He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. âCâmon, Iâll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?â
Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. Itâs lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. Youâre pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy.Â
If you canât get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldnât be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.
You glance down at Danielâs hands where theyâre wrapped around his beer glass. Theyâre big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you canât help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think theyâd do the job.
âWellââ You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.
But you donât get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.
For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isnât even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.
âOn your way, Sergeant.â Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.
Despite Ghostâs obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesnât immediately do as heâs told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what heâs hearing.
âWeâre only talking, Lieutenantââ
Ghost doesnât even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking â maybe you were going to be one of them.Â
But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else youâve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when heâs angry. Itâs like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying âDonât fuck with meâ. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.
And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesnât so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.
Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.
âWhat the hell was that?â You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.
Ghostâs head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes â bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.
âWhat was what?â He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that youâre facing him head on.
âYouâ I was justââ You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands.Â
Youâre indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadnât spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?
âMm.â Ghost grunts. âWhat were you doing?â
Your jaw clenches. âI was talking. Is that a crime now?â
Jesus, you sound like a brat. You donât even know where this insubordination is coming from; heâs your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. Youâre being too bold talking like this, but itâs like you just canât help yourself.
His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.
âWatch that mouth, doll.â He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone.Â
But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.
âYou canât ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when Iââ
He cuts you off as though heâs not even listening to you. âNot here. Come on.â
And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. Heâs not harsh, and he doesnât drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now.Â
Youâve pissed him off, and you donât want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.
You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now.Â
Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off â how mortifying. You pray they didnât catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but theyâre also terrible gossips.
âLet meâ Sir, let me goââ You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.
When you realise where heâs leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesnât stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that heâs leading you all the way back to your own damn room
âWhat are you doing?â You demand in a hiss. Youâre so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end.Â
After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like youâre a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar?Â
A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when heâs not in the field, but it doesnât make him any easier to read.
He doesnât answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.
Now that itâs the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. Heâs just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.
You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.
âYouâre unbelievable.â You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. âYouâve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, youâre over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?â And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, âSir.âÂ
Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. Thereâs something in his eyes that you donât know how to read, unable to get a feel for what heâs thinking through that inscrutable mask.
ââS not true.â He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests heâs frowning.
You feel like youâre going to explode. âYes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him offââ
Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadnât even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that heâs sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide.Â
âHis name is Davidson.â He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. âAnd that wasnât what I was talking about.â
Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didnât know the guyâs name â whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, youâre certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.
âI havenât been ignoring you.â He says, watching you like heâs trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. âJesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?â
Youâre left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.
Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him.Â
Despite the fact that this is your room, youâre stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.
âYouâve barely spoken to me since weââ You canât bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. âSince last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, thatâsâ thatâs fineââ
Ghostâs spine straightens, but he doesnât speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.
âI donât want to make things awkward, I justââ Youâre tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. âIâve never done this before, so Iâll follow your lead, but I donât understand the point of sending Danâ Davidson, whatever, away like that if youâre clearly trying to keep things between us professionalââ
Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like heâs suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.
âHeâs a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time weâre in there.â His voice is a low earnest rumble, but youâre too agitated to properly hear him. âHe didnât have anything to offer that youâd be interested in.â
âThatâs notââ
âBesides,â He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. âI think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.â
Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so heâs decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.
âRight.â You say. âYeah, thatâ um⊠thatâs made things awkward, I suppose.â A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, âSorry, LT.â
Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though heâs considering his next words carefully.
âCâmere.â He says.
You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, youâre suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries.Â
You had never slept with anyone before, and you donât understand whatâs expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that youâve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant?Â
âHavenât been ignoring you,â Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. âYou jokinâ? Been watching you all week. Thinkinâ about you all the time.â
Thatâs a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You canât deny that heâs been watching you â you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. ButâŠÂ
âYou neverââ You start to say, before swallowing again so you donât say something stupid. âYou havenât spoken to me.â
âSpoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.â
Thatâs a little galling, and all you can do is scowl.Â
âStop that. You know what I mean.â You snap defensively.Â
Maybe youâre imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when heâs trying to figure something out.
âI was trying to give you space, doll.â He murmurs. âIt was your firstâ I didnât want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.â
The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but youâre not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly youâre losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.
âI didnât want space.â You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. âYou justâ we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.â
You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?
And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasnât impressed with your⊠performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than youâve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadnât made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.
Thereâs a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesnât rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks.Â
âI go for a run in the mornings.â He says at last, his voice low and rumbly.Â
It takes you a moment to process that.Â
âYouâ what?â
Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. âThat morning, I⊠went for a run.â
He must realise how that sounds â maybe the expression on your face tips him off â because he hurries to add on to it. âCreature of habit, love. I didnâtâ I donât do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thoughtââ
He stops rather abruptly, and doesnât finish so you donât quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and youâre staring at him in agitated confusion. God, heâs bad at communicating.
âShould have stayed.â He says gruffly, and if youâre not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. âThought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.â He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. ââCause it was your first time. Dunno.â
Oh. Well.
Now youâre the one blinking at him. Thatâs⊠not what you had been expecting.Â
While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. Youâre not sure how to even begin processing that.
âI didnât need time to myself.â You say, and you sound pathetic.
Thereâs a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.
âNo,â He rumbles after a moment. âApparently you didnât.â
You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after itâs been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, heâs still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you.Â
âRight, wellââ You start to say, a little sharp.Â
He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. Heâs not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow heâs tugged you up into his lap.
âJesusââ You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.
Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. Heâs broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that youâre certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.
âLast week wasnât enough?â He asks, and if youâre not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking thereâs an undertone of hope, too.
But maybe thatâs a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. Heâs veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. Youâre pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you canât help yourself.
You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasnât enough.
âThen why bother with that idiot at the bar?â Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. âIf you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.â
You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadnât expected him to speak so bluntly, but itâs typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush.Â
âI wasnât sure youâd want to do that with me again.â You say, your voice edged with insecurity.Â
Thereâs a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. Itâs borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, heâs still so intense.
âWhat made you think that?â He asks, his voice low.
You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position youâre in. Youâre sitting perched in your lieutenantâs lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. Youâve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together.Â
âYouâre difficult to read.â You whisper awkwardly, shifting. Youâre hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know heâs strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.
But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.
âYou think so?â His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. âYou been trying to read me? Canât have been doinâ a very good job, darling, since youâve been avoiding me all fuckinâ week.â
Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he canât hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear.Â
âI justâ Didnât know if you would want me again.â You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.
Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.
âFeel that?â He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that youâve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.
âYeah.â You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.
You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.
âOh!â You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. âOh, god.â
âStill think I donât want you?â He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.
Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs.Â
âI donât know.â You say stupidly.Â
Itâs like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because youâre fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghostâs cock press into you.
He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately.Â
âYou think too much, doll.â He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like itâs a stress toy. âWay too fuckinâ much.â
Heâs probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.
Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.
âYeah,â Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. âThatâs it. Youâve been wanting this, haventâcha?â
âYeah.â You admit, so quietly that itâs almost inaudible. âYeah, I want it.â
But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot.Â
He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how youâd gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.
You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But youâre already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that heâs here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and youâre about to get what youâve been craving all week.
He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that youâve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesnât have any intention of letting you hide yourself.
He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. Youâre not sure what heâs doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you donât think thatâs whatâs happening here because heâs still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.
âDid she miss me?â He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.
âWhat?â You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.
But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that heâs talking about your fucking pussy.
âOh my god, you weirdoââ You choke out, but you donât get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt.Â
He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that itâs been revealed. Itâs embarrassing, but you canât bring yourself to try and hide again. Heâs touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that youâre not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.
âMy fussy girl,â He mutters, low enough that you almost donât hear him. âHave you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?â
You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they havenât been working. No matter what you do, you canât replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.
But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought thatâs been practically haunting you, thatâs had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as youâd sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.
âWaitââ You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. Itâs like heâs just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.
âI want to try something.â You tell him before you can lose your nerve. âSit back down.â
He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than youâd expect for his size if you hadnât already seen him in action. Heâs almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.
Since youâre already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine.Â
âPromising start.â He says, and you want to smack him.
You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. Youâve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now heâs sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesnât seem put off by your inexperience at all.
Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. Itâs somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like youâve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant.Â
âVery promising start.â He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. âDâyou know what youâre doing, sweetheart?â
The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what youâre doing, youâre learning as you go along. But Ghost hasnât judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that heâs willing to put up with this too.
âSort of.â You say evasively. âIâve seen it in porn, and Iâve⊠Iâve been practicing.â
Ghostâs groan sounds like itâs been punched out of him, and itâs rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where youâre trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and itâs slow-going.
âYeah?â He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. âWhich one?â âWhat?â Youâre a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. Youâve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.
âWhich one of your toysâve you been practicing on?â He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. âThe pretty little pink one?â
You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. Youâre not quite sure what to make of the fact that youâre apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo youâve been sucking at, imagining it was him.
âMaybe.â You mutter evasively.
Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, youâve felt it, and yet now that itâs in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.
Youâve watched porn with so-called âmonster cocksâ and it isnât like that. Itâs just⊠bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because itâs not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.
Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.
âYou donât have to.â He says quietly.
âI want to.â You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves.Â
Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that youâre in over your head. But youâre not willing to back down; not when youâve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when youâve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.
You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghostâs thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. Heâs so big that it feels like heâs dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what youâre doing.
You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that youâre getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.
âGrip it harder, love.â He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. âIt ainât gonna break.â
âShh,â You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. âLet me do it myself.â
Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You canât help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because theyâre your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown.Â
Itâs not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock.Â
You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you neednât have been. Heâs a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.
He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.
âThought you wanted to do it yourself?â
Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesnât mind.
You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and youâre coughing, choking, and sputtering.Â
You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.
âSlow down,â He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. âYou in a rush?â
âNo.â You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. âI just⊠I donât know what Iâm doing.â
Even though youâre quite certain that Ghost already knows that, itâs a little humiliating to admit.
Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit thatâs trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.
âDonât matter, love.â He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that heâs wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. âPlay with it as much as you want to. Donât think too much.â
You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted â the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.
You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.
âYeah, thatâs it.â He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.
His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke â the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.
You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesnât seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.
It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. Youâre rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.
Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isnât nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.
It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when youâre on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.
You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.
You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what youâd do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything youâve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. Youâre making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and youâre certain that youâre drooling.
Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.
âFuck,â He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, âKnew youâd be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckinâ gorgeous.â
That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. Youâre not sure what feels better; whether itâs his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises heâs growling.
God, you want to be good at this. Youâre definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost.Â
Youâre pretty sure heâs lying about you looking gorgeous, though. Youâve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, youâre gripping onto Ghostâs thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and itâs taking everything you have not to choke on him again.
Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. Youâre making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way thatâs definitely a little gross, but youâre surprised by just how much youâre enjoying this.Â
You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy.Â
You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldnât be cute but it is.
The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. Youâre fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.
You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch.Â
Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. Itâs jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though itâs just waiting for your attention once more. Itâs already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.
âLike a pro, baby.â Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture thatâs gathered there.Â
You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. Itâs nice to know that youâre not doing a horrific job, at least.
You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghostâs eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. Heâs watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. Itâs too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.
An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once itâs been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you donât understand why heâs taken it away from you.
Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.
You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.
âNo,â You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. âI wanted you to come on my faceââ
You can tell that Ghostâs expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesnât put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, heâd hardly gotten undressed at all. But now youâre being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button.Â
âNext time.â He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. âFuck, love, next time.â
Heâs quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before heâs muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like itâs a hard candy.
You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and heâs so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You donât even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes arenât lined up with the holes anymore, but heâs working with such enthusiasm that it doesnât even matter.
And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation heâs providing is really doing it for you.Â
Youâre probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way youâre craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. Heâs built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing youâve ever seen in your life.
âOh god, fuckâ!â You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.
Of course, Ghostâs fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe itâs because youâre used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when youâre playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghostâs pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.
He pushes another finger inside and itâs snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.
Youâre honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves.Â
Itâs exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.
Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when youâve been failing so spectacularly for a week.
Youâve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point heâs shucked his trousers off, and the fact that heâs naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. Heâs still got the damn mask on.
Heâs breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. Heâs still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. Heâs still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what heâs thinking.
When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. Youâre sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.
Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.
He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and heâs quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.
âOh, look at her,â He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. âShite, she missed me, didnât she?â
His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesnât even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.
âFuck, sheâs been waitinâ for me all week,â He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. âI know, baby, been waitinâ for you too.â
Jesus, you feel like youâre gonna die. Youâre taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. Youâre so wet it feels like youâve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.
Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.
âYeah, sheâs begginâ for me.â Ghost is still talking â at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because theyâre low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. âListen; itâs like sheâs talking to me.â
For a second, you have no goddamn idea what heâs talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.
âOh god,â You whine, high and needy. âJustâ stop teasing.â
The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.
âItâs not teasing, lovie.â He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. âYouâve been avoiding me for a week straight. Iâm just reacquainting myself.â
Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that youâre tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response.Â
âSimon,â You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you donât even get as far as finishing the order.
He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it youâve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.
When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. Youâre wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghostâs dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You canât stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.
He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, âCâmon, stop pushing me out, darling.â
âWait,â You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. âWait, oh my god, youâre too bigââ
His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though heâs obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.
âItâs only the tip, baby.â He murmurs, cooing softly to you like youâre something easily spooked. âYouâve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.â
You nod, hesitantly. Heâs right; he may be big, but youâd taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since youâd long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.
Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. Itâs mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?
You slap at his belly hard, writhing away.Â
âNo, nope, not gonna fit.â You wheeze.
Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. Itâs still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick.Â
Itâs big, but you know you can take it. You just⊠you need better leverage.
Your jaw clenches in determination. âI need to be on top.â
Thereâs a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghostâs brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that heâs laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.
His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you â the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.
âGo on.â He encourages, as hungry and wanting as youâve ever heard him. âAll yours, gorgeous.â
All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until youâre certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.
You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.
You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghostâs cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as youâre speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.
Though youâre the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.
You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that theyâve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if heâs trying to take it all in before it disappears.
His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesnât, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.
You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesnât rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.
Youâre so full you feel like youâre about to break in half, and Ghostâs gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you donât stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.
Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside.Â
âThatâs my girl.â Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. âFuck, itâs like you were made for me.â
Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system â youâve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.
One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.
âWould you have gone back to his quarters?â He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.
âHuh?â You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.
âThe guy at the bar.â Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. âThe one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?â
Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that heâd be a big possessive bastard.
âI donât know.â You say, but youâre barely paying attention. Youâve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind â you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.
âWaste of your time.â He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. âJesus, look at the way youâre sucking me in. Cuntâs so fussy, she was just waiting for me.â
The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasnât the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldnât fall over that damn ledge.
âYeah,â You whine, hardly even aware of what youâre agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but thereâs nowhere else to go because heâs filling you up so completely.Â
You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, heâs so strong, itâs like your body weight is nothing to him â he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.
Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then youâve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock.Â
âSimon,â You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper thatâs far more pathetic than you had intended. âAm Iâ am I doing good?â
Heâs gritting his teeth â you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.
âLike I said, lovie, youâre a natural.â He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. âGimme a kiss.â
When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.
âThere.â You moan into Ghostâs mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each otherâs lips. âOh god, pleaseââ
The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden heâs fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.
Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, heâs drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.
Your mouth is hanging open and youâre pretty sure that youâre drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You donât understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.
âFuckinâ Christ, youâre so tight,â Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. âGonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.â
You didnât actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.
Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and youâre gone. You think you might actually scream, but itâs muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs.Â
You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it.Â
You donât get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all heâs worth. Youâre put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.
It's the most unravelled youâve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know youâre already addicted.
This is not the lazy rhythm of before; heâs uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that youâre sure itâs going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe thatâs what heâs aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.
Youâre oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you donât complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghostâs own soft belly too.
It makes a mess, but you donât care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed.Â
You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You donât bother opening your eyes; you know heâll come back.
Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that heâs pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery.Â
âYou alright, love?â He asks, and you realise that youâve just been staring blankly at him.
âYeah.â You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that youâve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but donât complain.
To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. Heâs a little too big for the standard issue frame, but youâre more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.
âAre you staying, this time?â You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you canât quite help the little pulse of insecurity.
âAs long as youâll have me.â He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like heâs talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.
You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. Heâs so solid, reliable. Youâd trust him with your life, with anything.Â
You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. Itâs laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when itâs flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You canât lie to yourself and say you donât feel a little possessive, either.
âAre we dating now?â You ask quietly. Youâre not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You donât think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.
Thereâs a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns heâd been drawing on your back.
âWas that a question for me, or my cock?â He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though heâs actually not sure.
You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when theyâre looking at you like this.
âYou,â You say.
Thereâs another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.
âYeah,â Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. âStuck with me now, lovie.â
The Quiet Ones
Colonel Alejandro Vargas / fem!Reader
Summary:Â Â When Schwalbeâs assignment in Las Almas draws to a close, Alejandro finally makes a move.
Content:Â Â secret identity, sexual tension, pining, food as a love language, heavy PDA, car sex, grinding, fingering, rough non-penetrative sex
Part: 1 / 2
Word Count:Â Â 7.5k (70% pining, 30% pure filth)
Notes:  My dear anon, every day we stray further from salvation and this idea only sped up the process. I loved it. Thank you for requesting this beautiful man. I feel like Alejandro would be the type to spoil his partner all the time, just because he can and loves to see them happy. I've been writing away at this the whole week whenever I had a little free time at night, I hope you like it! đ€
Ⳡcallsign for the reader is Schwalbe (swallow, like the bird, German)
"Oh my fucking god," she whispered, eyes glued to the tall and handsome man on the other side of the airstrip.Â
The Colonel wore dark green today, with a heavy tactical vest and combat boots that were caked all over with mud. His sunglasses perched on top of his head, black hair slicked back a little but the late time of day and humidity had done a marvellous job of bringing back some natural curl. He looked good. More than good. Fine. Hot. Ready to eat.Â
And he was coming their way, fast.Â
Schwalbe hastily slid on some sunglasses, happy that the blue mask over her mouth and nose would do the trick and conceal most of her undoubtedly blushing face. Alejandro was talking rapidly to Rodolfo over the radio as he approached, Spanish smooth and sexy and dear lord she was so fucked.Â
The last time she'd seen the Colonel had been during an emergency evac of the 141 boys and some Los Vaqueros soldiers, with her flying the helicopter. Fun times. Not a situation where one could properly appreciate the sex appeal of a man who seemed to age like fine wine. And was that-
Before she had any opportunity to embarrass herself, Lieutenant Ghost stepped forward and the two men shook hands firmly. There was true familiarity there, the kind that you can only get from being shot at together and coming out the other end more or less in one piece.Â
"My favourite fantasma, back to haunt me, eh?"
"More like savin' your ass as usual," Ghost replied drily.
Alejandro laughed, then turned towards her.Â
"And who is this, Lieutenant? Am I doomed to never see the faces of my team these days?"Â
He ducked down a little to look into her eyes, obscured as they were from the sunglasses. Their faces were very close for a moment, and she could smell the dust and leather on him before her hand closed around his outstretched one.Â
Alejandro was grinning and she smiled back behind the mask, then her gaze flickered to the small patch of beard she'd noticed only moments ago. Right there next to the corner of his mouth was a tiny sliver of silvery grey hair, interspersing the otherwise tidily trimmed black beard.Â
Now that his lopsided smirk morphed into a confused but polite smile at her silence, the grey was less noticeable.
"Sergeant Major Schwalbe," she said softly, mouth dry.
"Welcome to Las Almas," the dark-haired man said, then released her and straightened back up. Mourning even that innocent contact, Schwalbe followed the two men to the SUV waiting for them. The aircon inside was bliss, and she released a tiny breath of tension as her back hit the soft leather of the backseat and eased her tense muscles.
Las Almas was a big deal, being assigned here repeatedly meant that she was considered to be among the best and most reliable. Schwalbe tried not to let it get to her head, but the spark of pride in her chest helped with the usual anxiety of being thrust into new places.
Lost in thought, she stared out of the tinted window, watching the city move by quickly. Children ran along sidewalks, and an elderly man with an impressive moustache sold divine-smelling street food that had her stomach cramping tightly as they rolled past.Â
Schwalbe glanced at the two men in front, who'd been holding quiet conversation the entire time. That in and of itself was highly unusual for Lieutenant Ghost, who most often preferred to observe quietly instead of participate in banter. Perhaps with the exception of Sergeant Soap. He really must be fond of the Colonel-
Dark eyes already watched her in the rearview mirror. Curious and piercing, even as Alejandro continued speaking and driving along like it was nothing.Â
Schwalbe felt her face grow hot but knew that there was no way he'd be able to see her stare back behind her gear. Perhaps it was cowardly, but she just couldn't bring herself to take off the sunglasses, especially knowing that she would have to face his intense stare without a barrier of protection if she did.Â
And by god, that man was handsome. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, full mouth a straight line and she wondered if she would be able to find more of those charming patches of silvery hair if she had the opportunity to look more closely again.
"Tell me, what does Shwalbee mean?" The Colonel asked suddenly, his pronounciating a little off but infinitely sexy.Â
"Schwalbe," she corrected him quietly, smiling behind her mask. As if he could sense it, he smiled a little as well. "It's German. A type of bird, swallow in English, if you've heard of it?"
"Known for flyin' low, 'specially when storms come through," Ghost grunted, arms crossed over his wide chest.
The Colonel snapped his fingers a little in recognition.Â
"La golondrina! An old friend of mine has them tattooed on his neck, stands for freedom, no?"
"Among other things," Schwalbe huffed in quiet amusement at his enthusiasm.
"Pretty birds," Alejandro said, winked and then turned his eyes back on the road. And though she knew it was just meant as a throwaway comment since he didn't actually know what she looked like and couldn't compliment her on anything, her stupid heart still fluttered like she was fifteen.
The days and weeks that followed were packed full of meetings revolving around the two different missions that the Los Vaqueros and 141 had a shared interest in. Since Schwalbe was technically only there on a loan from SpecGru, she didn't always have the clearance required to attend in-depth consultations with Laswell and Price over video chat.Â
That had bothered her the first one or two times it had happened, but then she'd started to see the upside of it: It gave her more free time to roam the foreign base, sleep in longer or go out later.Â
Her own training hours were rather tame in comparison to that of the many soldiers permanently stationed here, and she found joy in driving out into the desert to teach promising new talent how to fly small planes and helicopters under severe pressure (and stay alive with the help of hair raising off-the-books manoeuvres). Â
And sometimes, when she was especially lucky, the Colonel would be around the same places that she was.Â
He was always surrounded by some of his men, serious when the need called for it, but most often joking or laughing. His eyes crinkled up in the most charming of ways whenever that was the case, easing the severity of his expression.Â
Just now, long fingers pushed back a mop of thick black hair and, not for the first time, there was a distinct lack of a wedding ring on Alejandro's hand. Sure, that didn't have to mean much, but it made fantasizing about getting bent in half and ruined by him a tiny bit less shameful.
Schwalbe watched him in secret from a few tables down almost every day, pushing around the food on her plate and listened only half-heartedly to the chatter around her. Ghost was content to eat in silence by her side, and never commented whenever she let out another wistful sigh like the supportive friend he'd slowly grown into over the years.
It didn't stop the Lieutenant from throwing her meaningful and heavy stares every once in a while though.
"I can't," she'd told him only yesterday with a firm shake of the head, and the Englishman had only tilted his head in consideration.
Today, the Colonel kept throwing glances their way, eyebrows drawn together in concentration like he was trying to solve an especially hard riddle. Schwalbe stared back, secure behind her tinted glasses.Â
The green alarm clock digits shone back at her with grim determination, hardly ever moving forward.Â
4:25 AM.Â
Damn it all.
She'd been awake for over half an hour, heart racing after a nightmare that had slipped through her fingers like smoke. The faintest memory of screaming and blood lingered, but Schwalbe wasn't sure if that came from memory or her overactive mind.
Sighing deeply, she sat up and dangled her feet over the edge of the bed, careful not to wake the other woman sharing their small dorm room. The floor was nice and cool, and she tiptoed out of the door towards the general direction of the kitchen.Â
With the base quiet with no one up and about yet, Schwalbe was determined to follow her cravings and stuff herself with at least three chocolate muffins.Â
Patting her stomach, she grinned to herself as she turned into the dark room, moved through the stainless steel appliances and countertops and then opened the glorious object of her desires.
The fridge light bathed her in cold blue hues, and she had to stand on tiptoes to reach the dessert shelf.
"Ah, supongo que tenĂamos la misma idea."
The raspy voice right behind her almost gave her a heart attack. She bumped into the fridge door and almost sent several glass bottles of milk and juice flying, but both Alejandro and Schwalbe barely managed to hold them upright in time.
"E-excuse me?" She stuttered, face aflame at his proximity and her clumsiness.
The Colonel drew his eyebrows together in a frown, his heavy gaze taking in her entire body slowly. Suddenly, the tiny shorts and tank top didn't feel like proper sleeping attire anymore, and Schwalbe fought against the urge to cross her arms in front of her braless chest.
"Who do you belong to?" He asked, before muttering something under his breath. The only words she could pick out were 'tourist' and 'kill them' and for the first time ever, Schwalbe felt deeply irritated with the older man. Belong to? What the hell?
"I don't know what you're implying," she said, voice quiet as usual but firm. "But I don't appreciate getting snuck up on in the middle of the night. I think I'll go back to my room now, Colonel. Good night."
Alejandro's eyes widened with every word she spoke, roaming over her face to find... What? A lie? Had she smeared chocolate around her mouth?
Just as Schwalbe pushed past him, clutching another muffin because why not, Alejandro's hand shot out and curled around her bicep, halting her in her tracks. She wasn't quite annoyed enough not to bodily react to him, his calloused fingers so firm and warm on her own skin that it made her heart beat faster.
God, who had given him the right to look this good this early? Alejandro's hair was impossibly soft and hung into his eyes a little, grey sweatpants low on his hips. She swallowed.
"El pĂĄjaro sabe cantar," he murmured, voice as warm as his hands now and so smooth that Schwalbe wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it forever. "I'm sorry for not recognizing you straight away. And excuse me for making assumptions, but it wouldn't be the first time that one of the guys brought back a beautiful woman for the night."
Beautiful-
"What?" Schwalbe asked, completely flabbergasted. The Colonel released her, now that there didn't seem to be any immediate danger that she'd run, and straightened to his full and considerable height. From this close, she could see the small laughter lines around his eyes, and the blue light from the fridge made the grey patch in his beard gleam.Â
Dark eyes drank her in hungrily.
"You must confess," he said, grinning. "I had quite the disadvantage here."
What on Earth was he talking abou-
Schwalbe's eyes widened and then her hand flew up and over her face on instinct, obscuring her nose and mouth as she continued to stare at Alejandro.
He frowned, clearly unhappy with her.
How could she have forgotten? She wasn't wearing a mask.Â
Sure, sunglasses would have rendered her blind in the darkness, but Schwalbe never left her quarters without the soft piece of cloth. She'd grown so accustomed to it, that it always took her several days while she was on leave to get used to the feeling of a vulnerable face again.
"It's okay," the Colonel said quietly, brushing one hand through his hair. "I will never mention it to anyone if you are uncomfortable with me knowing."
The tiniest hint of sadness had crept into his voice now, and it made her feel bad. Was it really so terrible that he knew what she looked like now? It's not like he was a complete stranger. Ghost had seen her face multiple times, but never had she felt so... raw. Like an exposed wire about to burn through and ignite everything around it.
Slowly, Schwalbe lowered her hand again and chewed on the inside of her cheek. A habit she'd picked up as a child and never been able to drop.Â
Alejandro watched the movement with great interest, and at the first taste of blood in her mouth, Schwalbe abruptly stopped.Â
"I don't mind," she squeaked, embarrassed.Â
The concentrated, almost greedy look was replaced by a grin. Schwalbe wanted to grab his handsome face with both hands and just... squeeze? Pull him closer until they kissed? Climb him like a tree? All of it felt very tempting, the longer the darkness in his gaze ate her up whole.
"Good, because I don't think I would have been able to forget. Anyway, what are you doing up this early, pequeña ave?" His gaze dropped to the chocolate muffin in her hand, and he frowned deeply.Â
Feeling oddly defensive over her choices, she straightened her shoulders and tried not to squirm too much under the interested tilt of his head.Â
If she didn't know better, Schwalbe would say that the Colonel was checking her out. Impossible. Right? He was Alejandro Vargas, not some wet-behind-the-ears recruit, eager to have a go in an empty barrack. Right?Â
Although, it's not like she wouldn't have thrown herself at him right here on this cold kitchen floor if he'd asked. Did that make her into the newbie with an appetite for superiors or something? What a strange thought.
"I'm indulging in my cravings, Colonel," she said. Some of them, anyway. "And these are actually pretty good."
His eyes had dropped to her mouth for a split second, and she smiled, unsure about the ever-deepening frown.
"That's not food," he growled, dismissing her words with a wave of his hand. "Just some trash from the grocery shop that will leave you addicted to sugar at ungodly hours of the night."
"I couldn't sleep," she said stubbornly, scowling now.
"Because you're addicted to refined sugar."
"What? That's not even true!" Schwalbe laughed, finally putting her muffin on the countertop and crossing her arms over her chest. Goosebumps rose along her arms from the slight chill in the air.Â
"Every day, you get the sweetest treat that the lunch lady has on offer, and then you eat Ghost's dessert, too. I believe that's the first sign of a problem right there."
Her eyes widened, and Alejandro made a jerky motion with his body like he'd been about to take a step closer and then aborted mid-movement.Â
At her laugh, a grin formed on his face.Â
The Colonel looked so different like this, up close and relaxed and not surrounded by anyone else demanding his attention for once. Schwalbe wanted to stay here with him, even if it meant having to defend herself against these totally false claims.
She patted her stomach in mock-offence.
"Are you calling me soft, Colonel? Is this some kind of intervention to keep me from going out of shape?" Her quiet voice was teasing, and she tried so very hard to keep the laughter in.
"No," he said, almost a growl in the back of his throat and fuck, that was hot. Alejandro opened his mouth to say more, dark eyes firmly on her face. Just then, the kitchen door swung open and another Los Vaqueros soldier she'd been training the other day sauntered in sleepily, groping for the light switch.
The sudden glare of the harsh light was like a rude awakening to both of them, and Schwalbe hastily turned her back to the young man, before he had a chance to get a good look at her.Â
Only now did she realize how close the Colonel and her had been leaning towards each other, how the warm smell of his skin and sleep had lured her into his orbit. The soldier behind them let out a startled gasp and Alejandro glared at him with so much annoyance and squinted eyes, that the poor lad backed out of the still-open kitchen door.Â
A rapid stream of Spanish, Schwalbe only caught apologies, followed.
With a sigh, the Colonel pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked back down at her with a serious expression.
"I will take you to Las Almas for some real food, yeah? You can even have some sweet things, but at least they won't come out of a factory then."
Schwalbe tried to swallow back her nerves and rolled her eyes instead.Â
"I hope you know that you will be paying since I'm the one perfectly content with my free snacks at base."
Alejandro threw his head back and laughed loudly, then grinned back down at her.
"You didn't think I'd let you pay, did you, guapa?"
As more time passed between that strange encounter in the kitchen and now, Schwalbe started to question if it had ever actually happened at all.Â
The only indication that things were a little... different now, was that the Colonel's eyes would find her form almost as much as hers did with him. He'd stare across the yard, or wave from his SUV when he passed, or watch her pull up her mask discreetly to eat.
She knew that he was absolutely swamped with two missions at once, and that everybody always seemed to want something from him at all times of the day, but it still left her a little crestfallen. Their shared assignment was coming up fast, weeks of preparations slotting into place.Â
Soon, she'd most likely be stationed elsewhere, and who knew when she'd have the chance to see him again? The thought put such a damper on her mood, that even her trainees started to notice and Ghost kept throwing her more and more glances each day.Â
As she stared more or less subtly at the handsome man three tables down, the Lieutenant nudged his chocolate pudding towards her. Not my favorite kind, he'd told her a while ago. I prefer Caramel Fudge.
A dessert was a dessert to Schwalbe, so she happily ate his.Â
"He asked for your unredacted file, you know," Ghost grunted, following her gaze. "A little while ago."
She almost dropped her spoon.
"And you're telling me this now? What did you tell him? Did you give it to him?"
Ghost actually looked offended at that. "Obviously not. I told the daft fucker that if he wanted to see your face he should just ask you."
"He doesn't- that's not why he would want to read my file!" She protested, cheeks flushing hotly behind her mask.Â
"The unredacted one," Ghost reminded her, eyes rolling as he threw the Colonel another cool look. "He knew about all your previous assignments 'fore we came here, including the last Las Almas job. Bet that's why he asked for you specifically when Price put together some suggestions."
"He never mentioned it."
Ghost shrugged. "I'm not surprised."
Schwalbe glanced over at the Colonel and was pleased to find him staring as well.Â
He looked between her and Ghost unhappily, hand clenched on the table as his boys around him laughed and talked, Rodolfo at his side.Â
Feeling stupidly brave, reckless and oddly horny all at once, she pushed her mask up much higher than usual, letting it rest over her nose before shovelling another chocolate pudding spoon into her mouth. Grinning, she shot him a thumbs up, and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second, clearly caught by surprise.
Then he grinned back and mouthed not real food at her, which made her giggle and shrug her shoulders, before digging in again.
The next day, Schwalbe declined her dormmates's offer to hit the town with some of the other soldiers, glad to have the room for herself for a little while. She'd just snuggled back into bed with a romantic book and a glass of cheap red wine when an insistent knock sounded at the door.
Thinking that the other woman must have forgotten something on her way out, Schwalbe just called a quiet come in and turned to the next page.
"Am I disturbing you?" The raspy voice of the Colonel asked, and her head shot around to him so quickly, that it was a miracle she didn't crack her neck.Â
They stared at each other for a moment, his dark eyes roaming over her spread out form on the bed, then her room. She hastily sat up and pulled her short sleeping shorts down her thighs a little more, chucking the book onto her comforter.
"N-no, not at all," she said, cursing herself for stuttering as soon as his attention was back on her. Alejandro seemed to fill out the room with his mere presence, dark blue shirt clinging tightly to his chest and arms, black army pants snug around his waist and thighs.Â
He looked dangerous and capable and so fucking sexy that Schwalbe wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him between her legs, propriety and work ethics be damned.
"I wanted to ask if you're still available tonight," the Colonel said, shifting from one foot to the other but smiling faintly. "Don't think I forgot about our little agreement."
"I-" Schwalbe began, tongue-tied. Yeah, alright. She kind of had lost hope that he'd ever mention their kitchen encounter again. "I'm free tonight. Didn't want to go to the bar."
"Me neither," he shrugged, then pushed his hands into his pockets. "I noticed you didn't come for dinner."
She vaguely gestured to her wine and book set-up. "I was too busy."
"Busy," he echoed, eyebrows drawn, then snatched up the book from beside her and looked it over. "It's not in English!" He complained, and Schwalbe sent up several prayers of thanks over that fact. The two vague people embracing on the cover were mortifying enough.
"It's not." She confirmed, lips pressed together. Then she stood, and pushed him down onto her bed with both hands, until Alejandro sank into her soft mattress and blanket, looking up at her with an unreadable expression, still holding her book.Â
Schwalbe swallowed and removed her hands from his shoulders, then took an awkward step back, more aware than ever how exposed her face felt and how much bloody skin her outfit revealed. It would be so easy to slide into his lap right then and there, or push herself between his spread-open legs and-
"I'll get changed," she choked out, hastily grabbing a random assortment of clothes from her small cupboard and disappearing into the bathroom without another look at him.Â
"What is it about?" Alejandro called after her, and she could just imagine him turning pages, trying to decipher or recognize words.
"Aliens," she shouted back, splashing her face with cold water and brushing her hair, before changing into fresh underwear for good measure.Â
"And what do they do here on Earth?"
There was a definite note of amusement in his voice. Braver, now that she didn't have to face him directly as she answered, Schwalbe bit back a grin.
"One of them falls in love with a human and they start a scandalous affair that has all the alien girls jealous."
She closed her jeans and turned, tying her hair up into a messy high ponytail that would never pass military regulations under normal circumstances. As Schwalbe entered her room again, the Colonel was lounging back on her pillow, idly tracing over random post-it notes she'd stuck into the book, with little comments or exclamation marks.Â
When he saw her standing there, he abruptly sat back up.
"You look lovely," he said, serious, then stood and walked past her, holding open the door. Caught off-guard by the remark, Schwalbe hesitated for a moment, chewing her cheek as she glanced at the mask on her nightstand.Â
Alejandro said nothing as he watched, and with an internal what the hell, why not, she left the blue cloth lying there and joined him in the empty corridor. His long fingers sprawled out over her lower back for just a moment as he gently turned her down to the left, then they walked to his car in silence, thankfully not passing anyone.
Now that she was up and about, there was a definite pang of hunger in her stomach - and if she was being honest with herself, not only for food. The Colonel looked handsome, beard neatly trimmed with the first signs of grey in stark contrast to the black, eyebrows serious and mouth soft. Jesus Christ, and the smell of him. Clean, like he'd showered before picking her up but also spicy and warm, like a mulled wine in front of a fireplace.Â
"Where do you plan on taking me?" She asked, voice softer again, now that there was a chance they could be overheard. He shot her a long glance and an easy smile.
"This little street vendor in town makes the best chalupas you'll ever try. He's been selling on the same corner since I was a little boy, and his granddaughter makes fresh churros and honey-roasted almonds."
"I don't think I ever had chalupa before," she admitted, trying to imitate the pronunciation.
Alejandro opened the passenger door for her and watched her climb in before shutting the door behind her. He rounded the SUV, and Schwalbe wiped her sweaty hands down her jeans, heart racing.
He climbed in as well, then the engine purred to life and they were flying down dirt roads towards the city.
"It's kind of like a taco," he explained, buckling himself in with one hand, then checked if she'd done the same. "But better, trust me."
"And not made in a factory," she teased him gently, and he laughed.
"No, guapa," he chuckled. "Definitely not."
They didn't talk much for the rest of the ride, content to watch the dark landscapes fly by as soft music played from the speakers, occasionally disrupted by static. Schwalbe was highly aware of the Colonel, his proximity and dark eyes that flitted over to her every once in a while.Â
He parked them down the street in a parking lot with a gate guard and helped her jump out of the car once more when he'd pulled into their assigned spot.
She wanted to protest that she was more than capable of jumping down herself, but then his eyebrows were drawn together in that concentrated frown once more and his calloused hand closed around her own and she couldn't find it in herself to complain. It's kind of gentlemanly, she reasoned with herself, as Alejandro locked the car and put his hand on her lower back again to steer her in the right direction.
Las Almas was a wild mix of colourful street lights, graffiti, and people. And though the city was and had been plagued by conflict for so long, she found the sandstone houses and crowded streets beautiful, peaceful and alive as they were that night. They blended into the crowds going in and out of tiny bars and hole-in-the-wall restaurants, smells and noise all around.
Schwalbe spotted a few men with weapons down a darker alley, and she saw that Alejandro noticed as well. He shook his head and grabbed her hand, pulling her away with tense shoulders.
She felt sorry for him, for the obvious love and care he felt for a place that others viewed as a lost cause. Gently, she placed her much smaller hand onto his forearm, and the Colonel looked down at her with stormy eyes and a set mouth.
"It's a beautiful night," she reminded him quietly, and he rolled his head over his shoulders a few times before smiling.
"It is," he nodded, then pulled her past some kids playing tag and toward a tiny stall on wheels that housed an ancient-looking grill. Schwalbe vaguely recognized the impressively oiled and twirled moustache from somewhere, as the old street vendor turned towards Alejandro and her.Â
The divine smell hit her like a ton of bricks and she was too busy trying to translate the small menu on the cart to notice Alejandro's fond gaze.Â
"I can order for you if you would like," he told her gently, and when she nodded gratefully, the two men launching into a familiar sort of conversation. After a few seconds, the Colonel turned back towards her. "Are you vegetarian? Do you want some extra spice?"
"No, meat is fine. And spicy as well."
As he continued to order for them and watched the old man prepare their meals like a hawk, Schwalbe looked up at him, still clutching his hand. Alejandro looked softer here, not surrounded by grey walls and soldiers. The street lanterns bathed him in a pretty glow, and she wanted to listen to him talk in Spanish for hours. A younger woman brought over a tiny paper bag that was already soaked in grease, and Schwalbe grinned as she took it from her.
Alejandro shot her a look. "Some of them are for me."
"We'll see," she teased, as the warm scents of sugar and oil and chocolate wafted up towards them. Alejandro laughed, then dropped her hand to pay the old man, waved off the change under exasperated protest and picked up the container of chalupa for them.Â
They ate on a bench nearby, watching people as they went past, some of them more or less drunk and others talking loudly and passionately into phones. It was a nice night, with a cool breeze that brought some relief to the hot humidity that had been plaguing the area for a week now. Alejandro bumped his knee into hers after a while, smiling.Â
"And?"
"You didn't exaggerate how good this is," she said around a few bites, and he puffed out his chest in pride.Â
"I know," he quirked his lips. Then his face fell a little. "Listen, I- I wanted to ask you something. You don't have to answer me if you think it's inappropriate."
"Okay?" Schwalbe said, fishing out her first churro and biting into it with gusto. "Shoot."
Alejandro watched her lick some grease and sugar off her fingers.
"Are you and Ghost... together? Even just... casually, sometimes?"
She almost choked.
"The Lieutenant and me? No!" Schwalbe laughed, genuinely perplexed. Was it not very much obvious who she wanted to ride into the sunset here? "We have known each other for a long time, and he has become someone that I can rely on and vice versa. We're friends."
Alejandro murmured something under his breath that sounded a lot like thank god, then one big hand suddenly closed around the back of her neck and the underside of her ponytail, the other cupping the side of her jaw and cheek. The Colonel leaned in close, ducking a little so their faces were on the same level. His nose brushed along hers and dark eyes burned holes into her soul.
Schwalbe's breath caught and then he whispered her name, her actual name, like a prayer and like a question all wrapped in one, waiting.Â
Her head swam from his proximity, his warm breath so close to her mouth and then, recklessly, she decided to just do whatever the hell she felt like doing.Â
Even if everything went south, she could just refuse another assignment here and never have to see his handsome face again. But at least for this one night, she could and would have him, if his needy expression was any indication to how he felt.Â
She pressed her mouth to his, sugar and spice between them.
Alejandro groaned and pulled her closer by the neck, his thumb stroking the front of her throat. Schwalbe dropped the bag of sweet treats and buried her hands into his thick hair, beard scraping against her chin and cheeks as he kissed her more urgently. It was good and hard and everything that she had hoped kissing Alejandro would be like.
A loud whistle and the cheers of a few drunk ladies stumbling past brought them out of it, Schwalbe's breath just as heavy as his. Her face and neck felt hot where he had touched it, and he watched her from behind lowered eyelashes, eyes urgent.
"Want to go for a drink?" He rasped, and Schwalbe shook her head, jumping to her feet and pulling him up by his hand as well.Â
"No, I'd rather be alone with you."
Alejandro's eyes widened for a moment, as he let himself be dragged after her, then he laughed.
"Siempre los callados," he murmured darkly in her ear, though it didn't really seem to be directed at her. His thick arm wound around her waist and he pulled her in closer as they crossed the busy street, music from the bars blaring and people shouting along to it. "Back to base then?"
Tempting. The thought made her give in to the urge to kiss him again and so they stumbled against the brick wall of a convenience store that had drawn their shutters down for the night. She felt drunk off of him, his scent and the taste of his mouth and the way his thumbs curled around her hip bones, then slid into the back pockets of her jeans to squeeze her ass firmly.
Panting, they parted again, and this time it was Alejandro who dragged her back to his car so quickly, that she had to jog to keep up with his long strides, laughing. He nodded towards the guy manning the parking lot, showed his ticket and then pulled her into him as they stumbled along, fumbling for his keys.Â
Alejandro opened the passenger door for her again, but she just pushed him into the side of the SUV and pulled his head down until she could suck his lower lip into her mouth. He groaned as he crushed her against himself, the hard muscles of his body flexing under hers as he groped for the door handle of the backseat instead.Â
One insistent grab on both of her upper thighs was enough, then Alejandro bent down a little and picked her up. Schwalbe hastily closed her legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders as he slammed her door shut with his shoulder and somehow managed to turn them.Â
Her back hit the soft leather of the backseat, and Alejandro released her long enough for her to crawl backwards and make some room for his much larger frame. They were both breathing heavily, with him still standing at the open door, clutching the frame of the car.Â
"Come here," she demanded, and his eyes were little more than black pools of ink underneath his drawn-together eyebrows, as he leaned his forehead onto his arm for a moment, never letting her out of his sight. Then, as he seemed to have taken her in enough for his liking, he crawled into the open space between her legs, turned around only for a moment to slam the door shut behind them, and plunged the interior into darkness.Â
He was onto her between one breath and the next, hands sliding underneath her tanktop and massaging both breasts roughly, mouth sucking into the side of her sensitive neck. Alejandro lowered himself between her legs, forcing them open wider with his muscular body.Â
Schwalbe moaned softly, hands in his hair as he rubbed himself against her, the pressure between her legs growing.
Fuck, she had fantasized about this moment for weeks, and now that it was actually happening against all odds, she felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.
But Alejandro was much too large for the space, bent in half on top of her, letting out tiny huffs of frustration as she arched back into him desperately, sucking at his lower lip.
Schwalbe pushed him off, and he immediately backed away, breathing harshly and looking worried for a moment, but then she pushed him into a sitting position and climbed into his lap. He groaned as he gripped her waist and ass, pulling her closer and over the hard dick straining against his trousers, grinding them against each other.Â
Her breathing came quickly as she ripped off her top, and he fumbled around with the clasp of her bra for only a moment before she was completely exposed to him. Hair wild and tickling her shoulders, she steadied herself on his shoulders for a moment, but then he already latched onto one of her nipples, sliding deeper into the leather seat and pulling her flush against himself.Â
Schwalbe squeezed her eyes shut at the sensation, the way his beard scraped along her collarbone and the underside of her boobs as he squeezed them again and sucked harder.Â
She said his name softly, and he groaned into her chest, hips jerking up and into her core.
Grinding down into him, she put her cheek on top of his soft hair, letting him take over her body however he wanted. And Alejandro wanted.Â
His hands couldn't get enough of her, his mouth sucking bruises into her chest as he dry fucked her through way too many layers of clothing. The stimulation against her clit left her wanting for more, and perhaps impatiently, she started pulling his belt free between them, pushing him back as she worked.
He watched her like a shark, chest heaving as her fingers closed around his hard cock, flushed and drooling with precum already. Alejandro helped her push her jeans down, toying with the lace of her panties as she awkwardly shimmied around, knocking their legs together.
She giggled throughout the whole thing, and he smirked back at her, spread out lazily against the black leather.Â
When she was finally able to climb on top of him again, she immediately ground her soaked lace panties against his exposed dick, making him roll his eyes back and hold onto her hips for dear life.Â
Schwalbe rolled her hips experimentally, the close contact so much better, the heat between them delicious. His thickness pushed her panties aside eventually, and then it was just soaked skin on skin, his cock dragging through her folds and over her clit and ohmyfuckinggod he was huge.Â
"I don't have anything," she whined, desperate as she writhed against him.
"Condoms?" He asked, dazed and when she shook her head no, he thumped his head against the headrest, groaning in frustration. But then he slung his arm across her lower back and pressed her closer, her thighs aching from how far she was being stretched right at her core.Â
Alejandro braced his feet on the floor more firmly and then he was rutting up between them with hard, precise thrusts that dragged over her clit and entrance in a way that made her want to forget about safe sex and rules and everything if he could just thrust into her-
He kissed the underside of her jaw, then buried his face into her neck as he pressed himself against her, his free hand gripping the leather behind him to steady himself. The air in the car was hot and smelled like sex and them and Schwalbe's head swam from being stimulated on so many fronts.Â
Alejandro whined into her skin softly, and she felt herself gush all over him, beyond caring as she jerked her hips down into his lap as best as she could in his iron grip.
And then his thrusts stopped almost entirely, only one, then a second that were the harshest ones yet, and he spilt between them with a deep groan, sticky semen coating her lower belly and pussy.Â
She felt hot all over, tingles shooting up her legs and fingertips as she watched him at the height of his pleasure, hair mussed and undone.Â
Her own orgasm wasn't far, she could feel it, but when she gave an impatient twist of her hips Alejandro hissed, overstimulated.
"Hold on," he growled, then sat up straighter so she wasn't pressed down right on top of his dick anymore. His hand snaked down between their mess, middle finger pushing through her and over her slick entrance, easily gliding in.
They both moaned at the way she gripped him, spongy walls greedy. He pumped his finger in and out for a second, watching her face as she clawed her fingers into his shoulders, staring back. Then another finger joined the first, stretching her wider.
Schwalbe could do little more than kneel over him as Alejandro thrust them in a little more harshly, the ball of his palm against her clit until he was as deep as her body would allow.Â
He picked up his pace, eyes never leaving her face in the minimal light of the parking lot, tinted windows blocking out the world beyond the two of them. Was there anyone or anything out there that would have mattered as much as this man, anyway? The way he curled his fingers and breathed quickly whenever she whimpered made her want to say no.
A third finger nudged her, and she tensed for a moment. Alejandro was slow and careful with that one, easing it in and out slowly until her pussy was stretched and ready for him.Â
His thumb rubbed slow circles over her clit and lower lips, and then his head rolled back with a cocky grin. The hand slid lower until it rested over his thigh, fingers almost entirely removed from her.
"Come on, ride me," he coaxed her in a dark, honeyed voice. His other hand slapped her butt lightly, before grabbing the same cheek and massaging the soft skin there. It made her clench around the tips of his fingers and Alejandro licked his lips, waiting.Â
Well, he didn't have to tell her twice. And though her thighs trembled from strain and pressure, Schwalbe was a trained soldier. Once she had set her mind to something, she achieved it. And right now, all she wanted to do was ride the Colonel's finger so well and dirty that he'd start bringing condoms everywhere he went, just in case.
So she did. Flexing her abdomen and thighs she ground down and bounced up so recklessly, that the SUV trembled slightly. She slid her own hands down her stomach, meeting his in the mess between them, before rubbing her clit harshly, fast, like she was just riding one of her toys in the privacy of her home instead of the thick fingers of the man who would put his life into her hands in a couple of days.Â
Schwalbe mewled and panted and Alejandro groaned, then leaned forward and sucked her tits again until she shattered around him, leaking all over their fingers and his pants and possibly the expensive leather. Aftershocks wrecked her, but she kept going, uncaring about how loud or wild she must appear until a second, smaller orgasm swept over her like an electric shock.
She collapsed forward and into his chest, and Alejandro gently withdrew his fingers from her, then slung both arms around her shaking body, kissing the side of her head and breathing in the smell of her hair. Her heart raced, thumping in her chest wildly and both their breaths were harsh in the quiet interior of the car.Â
"Wanted to do that since the first time I had you sprawled out in my backseat," he growled into her ear, tightening his hold.Â
TRANSLATIONS fantasma - ghost Ah, supongo que tenĂamos la misma idea. - Ah, I guess we had the same idea. El pĂĄjaro sabe cantar. - The bird knows how to sing. pequeña ave - little bird guapa - pretty/lovely (used in the beginning stages of a relationship or between friends) Siempre los callados.. - Always the quiet ones.
Want some more? The next part is now online! -> Without Your Mask
I can't believe how much this story grew, but I think this was my favorite piece to write for quite some time now! What do you think? đ€
My general COD writing masterlist with all my stories including this one, a COD headcanons masterlist + the COD Halloween Monster Special. Itâs all linked separately in my pinned blog post for easy navigation as well!
Until next time! - A âš
Orange and rainbow dividers by @cafekitsune đ§Ą
Latina, Bi, 25, Capricorn, INFJ, Elriel, and my fandoms include Call of Duty, Lore Olympus, SJM novels, Marvel, DC, TMNT, etc.MDNI 18+ Blog
68 posts