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"So," Soap says, looking from Price to Gaz as he leans back on the table, spreading his legs just so, "Which one of you is gonna fuck me?"
Price sighs deeply, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, "That isn't how this works, Soap."
Soap lets himself fall back onto the table, head tilting back and exposing his throat, so he can look at Ghost, who's glowering at him from the shadows.
"Hey there, Ghoostie." He grins, eyes flitting over his clenched fists and tensed shoulders.
Hands fix around his knees and his eyes snap onto Price, looming menacingly above him like the little alpha he likes to present himself as.
"You gotta take this seriously, we can't always go out of our way to save your ass just because you decided to go off alone again."
Soap leans up, crowding into Price's space, cheek skirting over his beard, "I save your asses by going off, though, don't I? Going behind enemy lines to blow shit up is what I do."
"Not if it means hurtin’ yourself in the process." Gaz whines, picking up Soap's arm to present the large scrape on it, like Soap can't feel it pulsing in tandem with his heartbeat.
"Comes with the job description..." he mutters, squirming now under the attention. This isn't what he wanted out of this meeting. He hates when people worry, "Ghost does the same often enough!"
"Leave him outta this." Price snaps, the pressure on Johnny's knees hardens.
"Ghost isn't as close to the action as you are." Gaz intercepts, the hand on Price's back a clear warning.
"And I don't like the pain as much as you do." Ghost rumbles, while his fingers drag slowly over Soap's waist, shivers raking across his skin in response.
"N-not true." Johnny breaths, forcing his eyes to remain open under the contact.
Price's hands inch further up his thighs, "Then how come you charged right into danger, knowing the cost, going against orders and somehow assumed you'd get away with it?"
"I did get away with it." Johnny spits through gritted teeth. He's trying hard to keep his composure, Price can tell from the way Johnny's eyes keep flicking to Gaz, the gentlest of the team, begging him to step in before Johnny loses his head. But Gaz isn't feeling like being gentle today. He was the one who had to watch Soap break away from his team, unable to go after him, every order ignored. Tonight, he'll take the obedience he is due. Price nods to him, steps back so Gaz can come close and choose his punishment.
The command comes quickly, "Ghost?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Relieve the Sergeant of his shirt and bind his hands."
"Of course, Sir."
Johnny doesn't have time to scramble, Ghost's already pulling his shirt up, binding his wrists with it before he leans down and gets the handcuffs from one of the drawers.
"Front or back, Sir?" He asks.
Gaz doesn't take a lot of time to consider, "Back."
Johnny hangs his head, but doesn't fight when Ghost fastens the handcuffs behind his back.
Gaz grabs his chin and forces it upwards, "What should I do with you? To teach you a lesson on how to behave... Giving you what you want would be unreasonable."
"I don't want anything." Johnny bites, but it holds no threat. He's already squirming in his jeans. Either way, it calls for punishment and Gaz delivers it swiftly, a crack of his gloved hand to Soap's cheek. The man bites back a low groan, shoulders shaking.
"Look at him." Price growls, "Even that slap turned him on. Such a whore for any kind of pain."
Johnny doesn't say anything.
"Ghost?" Says Gaz.
"Yes, Sir?"
"Do you want to show your pup what being obedient means?"
"Affirmative, Sir." Ghost says.
"Traitor!" Johnny spits, the sound turning into a grunt as Ghost fists a handful of his hair and pulls, until the slope of Johnny's throat is bared, back arching to accommodate.
"I'd watch my mouth, darling. You're dancing on thin, thin ice. And you know you're the one with the torch in hand." Ghost growls into his ear, not missing the shudders it casts over Soap's body. Ghost lets up, walking to stand in front of Gaz.
"What are your orders, Sir?"
"Get on your knees. Show Johnny, here, what he could have if he'd followed orders." Gaz unbuckles his belt, leaves his pants hanging open, Price already at his back, hands underneath his shirt, the motion of his fingers on Gaz's nipples pulling low hums from him.
Ghost does as he's told, pulling up the mask just far enough to expose his mouth, freeing Gaz's cock from his pants. It bobs up lazily, twitching at Price's ministrations.
"No." Johnny whines, "No, that's rude. That's cruel!"
The three ignore him, Ghost drags his tongue over Gaz's shaft while Price captures his lips in a kiss that leaves him breathless.
Johnny squirms.
"You can't just ignore me. I won't let you!" He kicks out, but his boot is caught in Ghost's hand before he can do much damage. Ghost doesn't even look at him, too busy taking Gaz's cock in his mouth. Johnny can see the head poking against his cheek. His vision goes a little fuzzy, mouth watering at the sight. But his attention is cast elsewhere as Price breaks away from Gaz, walks behind him, fingers skirting down his arms and then he yanks-
Johnny's back hits the desktop, arms forced over the edge that digs into Johnny's shoulderblades. There's a knife on his throat in an instant and a low thrumming thrill fills his gut. He blushes, squirms, Gaz's moaning gets louder, sloppier, he can hear the sinful sounds Ghost makes when he takes cock, wants to touch, wants to feel. His eyes find Price, crouched in front of him, a hand still wrapped around the chain of his cuffs, his shoulders give a pop of complaint.
"Behave, pup. Then you get whatever you ask for. That's all we want." Price says sternly, and Johnny has to draw his knees up to take the pressure off of his groyne to be able to listen.
He feels so vulnerable like this, wants to be used, to be marked and bruised at leisure, a thousand scenarios running at breakneck speeds through his brain.
"Are you listening?"
"Yes, Sir." He feels the chill of the blade scrape against his stubble as he speaks.
A low voice somewhere deep inside him wants Price to cut. To mark him as owned, for everyone to see. Let them carve their symbols into his neck so there's no question who he belongs to. But he keeps the thought to himself. It's the sort of thing Price won't ever allow and Johnny doesn't hold it against him.
The sound of Gaz's moans tightening, Ghost responding in kind, forces Soap to screw his eyes shut. Brain breaking itself over being denied, devotion and savage, wanton want clawing for dominance.
But dominance isn't what's wanted of him, so he forces both voices down.
"Please, Sir," he says, voice shaking and high, "I'll be good. Just let me please. I'll be good. I promise."
Price regards him for a second, then his eyes trail above him. He parts his knees on instinct, gives Price a clear eyeline on Gaz, maybe Ghost.
"You hear that boys? The pup wants to be good, promised it, too."
"What'll we do to him if he breaks that promise?" Gaz questions, voice wrecked. Johnny shivers, heat coiling angrily in his gut.
There's a wet pop, a breath, then a voice that could force Johnny into submission any day of the week says, "He'll be barred from missions for a month."
Johnny bristles, a complaint on his lips already, but it's swallowed by the blade pressing against them, now, warmed by his breath.
"If you keep your promise," Price whispers, "Then it won't come to that."
Johnny relents, tugging upwards on his restraints to silently ask for help, the position is getting uncomfortable, straining his shoulders far past what they should take.
Price notices, because he's good like that, and pushes him back up just in time for Johnny to see Gaz spill down Ghost's throat in a breathless moan. Ghost lets him thrust into his mouth until Gaz has calmed down enough to pull out.
Ghost licks him clean, slow, sensual, fucking perfect. Johnny watches, throat parched, as Ghost darts his tongue out, showing Gaz the cum gathered on his tongue, and swallows.
"Thank you, Sir." Ghost says, settling on his haunches. He takes a peak at Johnny, mouth twisted in a sly smile.
"Please." Is all Soap says.
Three pairs of eyes settle heavily on him.
Gaz, pants back securely around his hips, walks over to him, rests a hand on his neck, thumb caressing his cheek. Soap's eyes flutter in response.
"So sensitive..." Gaz drawls, "What do you want, pup?"
Johnny paws at his waist, fingers dipping beneath his shirt to feel the smooth skin above his hip, "Want to be good for you." He murmurs, nosing at Gaz's chest.
"You gonna follow orders?" Price questions, hands smoothing over Johnny's mohawk. He hesitates, but the look Ghost throws him from his spot on the floor is withering.
"Will do as I'm told." He relents.
"Good, pup." Price rumbles, leaning over him to kiss Gaz deeply. Johnny doesn't hide his whine.
"Ghost?" Gaz asks.
"Yes, Sir?" The immediate response.
"Bring Johnny to his quarters. Prepare him, you know how I mean. We'll follow in a moment. Until then, he's yours."
Almost too eagerly, Ghost rises from the floor in a motion too fluid for his burly body, guiding Johnny off the table.
"Will you take the cuffs off?" Johnny asks.
"Why, Sergeant? Embarrassed to be caught?"
"No." Johnny shoots back. Because it's the truth. As embarrassing as that is. But he also knows Price won't allow for any of his boys to be subject of humiliation-- outside of their quarters, of course.
"Get out, then." The Captain snaps, but it holds little heat.
Ghost nods anyways, pulls the mask back over his lips and escorts Johnny down the several halls to his room. He's supposed to be sharing with a Corporal, but the poor sod changed rooms inexplicably and now it's a place for Johnny alone.
Once the door is locked, Ghost wastes no time relieving Johnny of his clothes, including the cuffs, and getting the lube from his nightstand.
"I'll prep you. Then I'll dress you up." He drawls, "then..."
"Then what?" Soap questions.
"Then you'll get your punishment for scaring the shit out of me."
Johnny's eyes snap up to where Ghost is just taking his mask off, eyes obscured by Johnny's shitty tablelamp.
"I'm sorry." He says. Because Johnny is a bastard, but he loves Ghost.
The man turns back to him and wraps him in a bonecrushing hug, "Just promise you won't do something so incredibly wreckless again, okay? Your comms went dark and I almost-"
"Shh..." Johnny threads his hands into Simon's hair, bringing him closer, "I won't. I swear it. I won't."
Ghost breathes out deeply, shoulders sagging. Then he nods.
"Okay, okay. Good. Now get on the bed. Ass up, you brat."
Johnny relents easily, doing as he's told, cheeks spreading from the way he ankles his knees, exposing his pink hole to the cool night air. What Gaz doesn't know is that Soap won't need much time to be prepped at all. He's already loose from when Ghost and Soap hid behind a couple of crates before the mission, Ghost stretching him on nothing but his cock and his spit, dumping his load into Soap's waiting mouth to eliminate much need to clean up before they headed out and Ghost takes the opportunity to do the same again, lubing up his cock and watching Johnny's eyes roll back as he pushes in, slow and steady, barely holding back the moan that threatens to spill from his tight lips at the feeling of Soap's hole fluttering around his cock. A moan wrecks out of the pyromaniac, paired with a happy little sigh at the familiar feeling of Ghost filling every inch of him, stretching him as far as he'll go.
"Good boy," Ghost mutters, hand smoothing down his back, adjusting the angle of Soap's hips to his liking.
"Ye think Gaz'll f-forgive ye fer takin' me before he can?" Johnny bites out in between staggered breaths, fists bunching up in the thin covers of his cot, shivering when Ghost's fingers trail over the scar on Johnny's waist, the chopped up triangle from a time before Price and Gaz, that still has Johnny moaning at the memory. Ghost indulges him, digs his fingers in a little with each harsh thrust before giving him his answer: "Gaz said you were mine until he came back. Not doin' anything forbidden. If you'd obey every once in a while, you'd see that it has a lot of perks."
Then his pace becomes so unrelenting, so hard, so punishing, Johnny can't hold a thought long enough to respond, teeth sunk into his sheets to keep from crying out, hands grabbing Ghost's thighs in a constant push and pull of want and too much. Ghost smiles openly, indulges in the heat coiling low in his back at the sight of Johnny's indecision, in the way he'll push his body to its limits just to accommodate Ghost. He'll be sensitive when Gaz gets here, sensitive enough that the Sergeant's gentler pace will drive him just as mad, have him on the edge with each thrust. He could get him there by himself easily, but Gaz isn't in the habit of breaking his toys and Ghost is still reeling too much from the mission's events to allow for anything other than brutal tonight.
When his head clears enough from Johnny's whorish moans to tell him he's close, he pulls out, denying Johnny the satisfaction of carrying Ghost's cum, opting for his hand instead. Johnny whines in indignation, glaring angrily at the drops of cum spilling over Ghost's fingers.
Ghost doesn't waste time to wipe it off with one of the towels they keep in Johnny's nightstand, before he tucks himself away and walks over to his locker, pulling out the black box hidden inconspicuously at the very top.
Inside are multiple sets of lingerie, harnesses and the likes, chosen by each member of the team for Johnny to wear when they want him to. A shudder runs down Ghost's spine, one time, he'd set out a black leather number consisting of more straps than fabric for Johnny before a mission and the Sergeant had flashed his midriff to him on the plane over, all straps neatly in place. He hadn't actually intended for him to wear it on the mission, but Johnny had done so anyway and it had driven Ghost half mad with want. After, when Ghost had crowded him against the next flat surface in the most private place he could find in a hurry, Johnny had leaned forward, kissed blood off the side of his skullmask and licked his lips. "Ye've never shot cleaner than tonight, L.T. That screams for a reward." he'd said and spread his legs, revealing the plug curving along his taint. "You're mad." Ghost'd answered and Johnny had only laughed.
Now was not the time for leather though, not Gaz's favourite, so Ghost abandons it in favour of the dark green lace harness, fitted perfectly along Johnny's curves, accentuating the plush of his pecs and hips.
Johnny, still obediently holding his position, ass up, regards the option with a huff, "Kyle always calls me a whore when I wear that."
"Isn't that what you are?"
Soap doesn't answer. With a pout on his lips, he glares at Ghost, but readily twists himself so Ghost can adjust the lingerie, tightening the laces in the back so the fabric ripples over Johnny's muscles in that way that breaks Simon's brain on the regular. He's just ordered Johnny to kneel in the middle of the room, hands on his knees, the light of the table lamp highlighting all of Johnny's best aspects, when there's a familiar pattern of knocks on the door.
"Play time's over. I'm sure Gaz brought the big guns for tonight." Ghost says, ruffling Johnny's hair before he goes to open the door for the two last members of his little family.
Price and Gaz step inside and, as predicted, Gaz has a case with him. Behind them, Johnny's breath hitches at the sight.
"Getting nervous?" Gaz smirks, a rare sight that sends shivers down Soap's spine, but he shakes his head. The moment with Ghost, no matter how brief, showed him how worried the others must've been. This is their way of coping and he'll take it happily.
"You satisfied, Ghost?" Gaz asks, barely glancing up to the larger man as he opens the case, resting in Price's patient hands.
"Yes. He's all yours, Sir."
At that, Gaz looks to Soap, "Always was." Then a spreader bar comes into Soap's view, and he can't help the jump of his cock, straining against the fabric of his panties.
Gaz carries on, a cuff, designed to go around the forearms, gets laid out on the table, next to an ankle cuff, and then, the sounds. Gaz has three of them, metal rods, varying in size. But the one he focuses on can be connected to an electrical current.
If a whimper were to escape Soap at the sight, he'd be none the wiser, eyes glued to the device.
"Don't get too excited," Gaz says, "You'll only get it if you behave."
"I promised." Johnny says, even though he knows it's redundant. He holds no power tonight.
Gaz finally turns to him, admiring the view, which has Soap arch his back just a little more, so his meaty torso is on full display against the low light.
"Such a pretty whore for me." Gaz cooes, hands trailing over Soap's shoulders. Soap takes a moment to throw a glare at Ghost, which the man only laughs silently at.
Then he walks over to the table and gathers up the items, bringing them over so Gaz can fix the bar to Soap's thighs, right above the knees, making sure he can still sit comfortably. The ones for his legs follow, then for his arms.
Gaz walks around a fully restrained Soap once, then nods in satisfaction.
"Which one of you offers their cock?"
Immediately, Soap sees Ghost perk up, but he stays silent, waiting for Price to stake his claim.
"I would, but you know my knees aren't what they used to be." He says. Soap doesn't miss the hungry glint in his eyes though, doesn't miss the way his palms rest above his cock, shifting ever so slightly with each breath.
"No matter. Ghost, help him to the bed. Captain?"
Price doesn't need further instruction, he sits down at the edge of the bed, pants shoved to his knees and waits until Ghost has helped Soap to his feet, picking him up (completely senselessly, Soap thinks, but doesn't complain) to carry him the few steps to the bed, slowly, he lowers him, until Price's cock lines up with his hole. Soap takes a sharp breath.
"Getting nervous now, Sergeant?" Price whispers into his ear, beard scratching along his cheek. Soap feels the blush creep up his chest. They don't have to adjust the panties, there's a sufficiently large gap right over his ass, so all Price has to do is line up and push in while Soap's gently lowered into his lap, moaning loudly, if for no other reason than to show off, to show how well Ghost stretched him, how easily it slips inside, even with Price's obnoxiously wide girth.
Once he's seated and comfortable, Gaz steps back into his hazy view.
"Price is not to move and neither are you, is that understood? You let me know when you're about to cum, okay?"
"Yes, Sir." Soap manages to bite out, breath coming shallow. All he wants to do is lean back and let Price fuck him, hell, let Gaz sit on his cock and take him without mercy, he's just about to beg for it when the sound is shoved back into his perception, nudging at his cock.
It's cold against his flushed tip, slips in slowly but surely, the stretch an almost overwhelming burn.
"C-can I at least grind, Sir?" He asks, huffed and flushed and weak. He feels his mind already slipping, already fading back into that comfortable spot where everything is pleasant and nothing matters but the men in this room and their touch on his skin.
He almost misses Gaz's answer, can't focus long enough to really make sense of it until a large hand comes to rest on his cheek, cool and familiar and reassuring.
"You solid, Johnny?" Ghost asks and Soap swears, if Ghost had said anything else, he'd been catapulted straight into a full on haze.
"Yes, Sir." He lulls, half lidded gaze falling onto Ghost's comforting brown eyes, "More than." He throws in a smile for good measure, because he knows Ghost gets concerned sometimes, has seen things the others have yet to experience. But it's okay, Soap's okay. And he feels safe. Safe and hot and needy.
He watches Ghost retreat, but not far, never far, never out of reach and then Gaz pushes in just a little further and Johnny wants to curl in on himself, pleasure pulsing through him at a rapid pace. Price's large hands massaging his pecs is all that keeps him upright, and then there's electricity running through the rod, running through him, not enough to damage, just enough to make him tremble, make him moan and cry and beg for more, for less, for everything and more. Gaz leans forward, watching him grind into Price's cock helplessly, trembling and moaning and whining, chasing a release he knows will not be given. Then there's lips on his own, muffling his moans, kissing him so deeply he thinks he sees stars and now he's really gone, the sensation combined with the softness of Gaz's kisses making his head spin and stealing his voice. He wants to touch, wants to kiss, to worship, to give as much as he's received and in him bubbles a frustration that must've shown on his face because Gaz pulls pack, wiping a thumb over his spit-slick lips, "What's wrong, love?"
Soap gathers his wits, noting some vague change that makes thinking just a little easier.
"Nothin's wrong. Yer so good to me, Gaz, fuck, s-so good, I just-.. Wanna, god, I wanna make you feel good too, wanna, please, need to touch, please. Need to, god, just-"
Hands in his hair distract him, so soft, blunt nails barely scraping over his shaved sides, driving him insane, "Shh," Gaz murmurs, voice sweet, "It's alright. You can touch. Just need to cum for me first, you think you can do that for me?"
"Yes, yes, yes," Soap moans, knowing how fucked he sounds, voice high, no more than breath through lungs, "I just need, just a little-"
"Let me suck him off, Sir." Ghost cuts in, "Please." He tags on. Soap forces an eye open to glance at him, watching that expression of pure lust with hazy glee.
Gaz chuckles lightly, a hand to his mouth, shoulders hunched, "Sure. Go ahead."
And then the sound is pulled from his cock and he almost spills there and then when Ghost wastes no time to walk over, knees thumping heavily on the hard linoleum floor when he's in reach, forcing Soap's knees down so he can reach his cock, taking the whole shaft until his lips brush Soap's balls.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-" Soap babbles more nonsense he himself isn't sure what it means, watching and feeling just how deeply Ghost is taking him.
"I'm gonna cum," he forces out, repeats it probably more times than is dignified, and Ghost just takes him deeper, swirling his tongue along the tip whenever he bobs up, slipping it into his stretched hole every now and then and then Soap sees white, convulsing silently, body shaking and jerking in Price's lap as Ghost continues his unrelenting pace, milking him for every last drop he has to offer.
When the overstimulation hits and Johnny's whining, writhing, mind breaking and he doesn't think he's really getting any audio input anymore but vaguely, he notices Gaz fisting his fingers into Ghost's hair and pulling roughly, exposing that perfect throat and finally ending Soap's torture.
He knows he's being asked a question, hands trailing comfortingly over his body, stroking his hair, wiping sweat off his brow, but he can't say he's really there enough to listen. He's offered a bottle of water and accepts it greedily, gulping down until he's somewhat lucid again.
The restraints are removed of him, hands rubbing at his arms, careful to avoid his wound.
But when Price attempts to pull out, he complains, holding on to Price's hips to keep him still, "You didn't finish yet." He pouts, too out of it to feel embarrassment and it earns him a rumbling laugh from the Captain, "You sure you can take that?"
"Oh, Captain…" Ghost murmurs, still kneeling in front of Soap, "I thought you'd know by now he's gonna have you fuck him just to prove a point."
"He has no power to decide that today." Gaz says calmly.
The shuddering whine that rips out of Soap draws the gazes of all three men. Soap reaches for Gaz, a pout clear on his face “ye promised I’d get to touch.”
Gaz takes his hand, leading it up to his face so he can press a slow kiss to each of his fingers.
“I did, indeed I did.” He looks down to where Ghost is sitting, unshed tears clinging to his pale lashes, but he pays them no mind, “You good down there, L.T.?”
Ghost nods quietly, gaze still hungry, but not for his own desire.
Gaz arranges himself so he is sitting on the bed, Soap still in Price’s lap. Immediately, Soap leans forward, hands wrapping around Gaz’s thighs, feeling him up and caressing his waist and chest like it’s holy. Gently, he pulls Gaz forward, until he’s in reach for his lips to wrap around his dick. Unable to help himself, Price’s hips begin a slow grind, which Soap acknowledges with a smokey moan that sends goosebumps over Gaz’s smooth skin.
Ghost sits back on his haunches and simply watches while his Johnny is taken by his two favourite humans, moaning like a starved man drinking honeyed wine.
Gaz leans his head back, eyes closing, fingers scraping along the sides of Johnny’s head. He doesn’t have to move, Price and Soap’s combined efforts create enough friction, until Soap is choking on his length, getting too eager, too excited, too happy with servicing his teammates. If there is one favourite activity Ghost likes to engage in when he’s passive, when he hasn’t been given instructions and feels no need to insert himself is seeking for the tells in his partner’s faces that inevitably betray just how close they are to the edge. Price is easy to read, his face scrunches up, freckled shoulders tinting pink with a spreading blush. It’s happening already, travelling down his neck inch by inch.
Gaz is a little more subtle, one needs to look out for the scrunch of his eyebrows, the shaking quirk at the corners of his mouth. If he’s really close, he’ll press his lips together, eyes searching for Price, or Soap, sometimes (Ghost feels very special then) they’ll find him. And then Gaz’s heated gaze will burn into his retinas until he’s catapulted over the edge and his eyes roll into the back of his head, accompanied by helpless moans.
Soap, you don’t have to read. Soap likes to make a show of things, to prove just how good you make him feel. All loud moans and scrunched features and pretty trembles and it drives Ghost absolutely insane.
He watches it all play out now, taking it in with hungry eyes and, god it feels so good, like a million little sparks popping inside of his skull, dark brown eyes find him, slender fingers reach out and he follows them immediately, drags a heavy hand over Soap’s back and lets it rest on his neck when he finally reaches Gaz, lips colliding in a sweet, hot kiss and Ghost can feel it, the moment Gaz’s jaw clenches, thighs trembling as he releases everything he has into Soap’s eager mouth.
It feels good, so good to see his team happy, content, to turn his head just in time to watch Price’s face scrunch, the thrusts of his hips turning erratic, jostling Soap where he’s bracing himself on Gaz’s thighs, and then he stills, cock buried deep, and Soap gives a moan so whorish it makes Gaz laugh.
They sit there for minutes that might have been hours if not for the clock on the wall telling them the truth, just soaking up each other's heat, each other's comfort and pleasure, and coming down from that incredible high they can only reach if they're together, content.
Ghost inevitably is the first to move, gathering Soap up from where he's still lying in Gaz's lap, perfect cock resting on his cheek.
“Not yet,” Soap whines, but Ghost can see the strain in Price’s legs, knows how stiff his knee gets if he stays in this position any longer and Soap doesn’t complain when he carries him to the bath and cleans him up.
Once they’re back, Soap demands Ghost undress him and as soon as he's naked, he's crawling into the waiting embraces of Price and Gaz, bundling together in the narrow bed. Ghost gathers up the remaining toys and puts them back into the case, then scoots himself into the only remaining space. Satiated and happy, one eye on the locked door, just in case, he lets himself settle, lulled to sleep by the other's deep, calming breaths.