Archive of Our Own

The night began like any other--a quiet evening with nothing to do on the most recent base, somewhere near Amsterdam.

Because of course they were near Amsterdam. What happened next could only ever happen in Amsterdam.

Gaz and Soap had brought out the vodka, and like moths to a flame, the four of them gathered in the darkened common room, passing the bottle and swapping complaints. A mouthy recruit, a broken piece of important gear, a mission fallen through like desert sand in Price’s fingers.

Conversations moved to personal matters.

“Becca wrote me off through text, can ye fockin’ believe that?” Soap asked incredulously, swiping at his phone screen. “Not even a phone call, just a text message. Who does that?”

Gaz scoffed, half-piss-drunk already, and passed the bottle to Price. He spoke with half a forgotten cigarette, bummed from Ghost’s pack, smoldering between his lips.

“At least you got some,” he muttered, cruder than he would be without the bottle. “Haven’t seen so much as a stray tit in more’n six months.”

Price offered them both a wry, weary half-smile, head tilted.

“I hear ya,” the captain muttered, lifting the bottle to his lips.

Ghost watched them all with impassive eyes, hidden behind that unreadable balaclava, but there was something dancing there in the orange light of the nearby table lamp, and Soap caught it like a cold.

“Ye got somethin’ for us, Lt?” He asked, that sly grin spreading lazily across his face, flushed from the alcohol.

Ghost angled his head.

“Maybe,” he said flatly. “Are you cool enough for it?”

Soap’s eyes widened, and he rose to the challenge like Dracula from his coffin.

“The fock ye mean, ‘are we cool enough,’ ye right bastard? What’ve ye got up yer sleeves?”

Gaz tossed his half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray. “I’d like to know, as well.”

Price nodded, handing the bottle to Soap, who stared at Ghost as he took a mini-swig.

“Spill it, lad,” Price said, rough with not enough sleep and too much stress.

Ghost inhaled, slowly, through his nose, and then let it out just as slow.

“I might know a place,” he admitted calmly. “Sort of a… club.”

Soap furrowed his brow incredulously, groaning, “We don’t need a goddamn nude bar, Lt, we need to get laid.”

Gaz snorted a laugh at that, slouched in his seat, eyes half-closed.

Ghost leaned forward a little, gesturing with waggling fingers. Soap passed him the bottle. He nudged up the bottom of his mask and took a few short swallows before capping it and setting it aside.

“It’s a different kind of club, Sergeant,” he said cryptically. Then, after a pause, “Specialty. And I… happen to know the owner.”

Price narrowed his eyes at that. Soap looked at Gaz, uncertain and curious in equal measure.

“If they got beer, m’in,” Gaz muttered.

〜 🍎 〜

Nobody was quite sure how they ended up in the back of the cab after that. Three of them piled into the backseat, Ghost in the front, showing the driver directions on his phone.

It took all of ten minutes before the four of them were standing in the parking lot, looking up at a massive pink neon sign that looked suspiciously like a cock and balls.

Cupid’s Corner.

Soap turned and looked at Ghost right in his eyes.

“Is this a gay bar?” He demanded.

“No,” Ghost replied. The smirk was undeniable in his voice. “It’s an everything bar.”

And with that, Ghost started towards the door, leaving the three of them to exchange concerned and confused glances.

The receptionist--immediate alarm bells for Soap, Gaz, and Price: What kind of bar has a receptionist?--looked up as they entered.

“Checking in?” She asked.

“Aye,” Ghost replied. “Riley.”

She tip-tapped away on her keyboard, and Soap leaned over and nudged Gaz in the ribs.

“What the fock?” Is all he whispered.

Gaz just shrugged, shaking his head in equal disbelief.

“Is that S. Riley or M. Riley?” The woman asked.

“S,” Ghost replied smoothly.

The receptionist’s mouth quirked into a pleasant but knowing smirk, and she lifted a box of multi-colored paper bracelets from just out of sight, setting it on the top of the desk above her head.

“Welcome back, Mr. Riley. Do you want me to send word down to Joshua for you?”

Ghost took a yellow one and slid it on, giving the woman a sharp nod, then turned and looked at the others.

“Green means you want people to come talk to you. Doesn’t matter what you’re doin’,” he explained. “Yellow is that they ought to ask first. Red means no interactions whatsoever, unless you initiate.”

The three of them exchanged another round of confused looks.

“Fock it,” Soap muttered, and reached for a green one. Gaz and Price took a yellow. They all slid their bracelets on, making sure the knots were snug.

The receptionist looked up again, a tiny, meaningful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “Three guests, then?”

“Aye,” Ghost replied, glancing at her. “They’re with me.”

“You can go in,” she said evenly, buzzing them in. The door to the left, marked with the same logo from the neon sign, clicked and shuddered as the lock disengaged.

Ghost glanced over his shoulder at them as he walked over and pushed it open into a darkened hallway, the sound of gentle jazz music echoing into the reception area.

Price shook his head. I have to see this.

The other two followed after him. Down a short hallway, they could see gentle red-orange lights, pulsing steadily, and hear the easy chatter of a room full of people. Not loud, but constant. The jazz played on.

“Ghost,” Price asked, his voice apprehensive. “What are we about to walk into?”

Ghost didn’t look at him.

“Debauchery,” he replied.

〜 🍎 〜

He hadn’t lied.

It was like walking into some kind of sinful paradise. A strip club but turned up to eleven and then the knob broke off.

People meandered around the central circular bar, some talking, some moving.

Some were fully nude. Others topless, bottomless, in lingerie, dressed in leather. Harnesses, full-body gear.

In the center of the room, behind the bar, a performance was at its height--Three people. A woman on her back in a fabric swing, a man between her legs, her face buried in the crotch of another woman. Much to Price’s relief, they were the only people having full-on sex in the main social space.

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and teakwood, but also, of course, sex. Sweat and musk and bodies.

Ghost paused in the threshold, allowing them to come up behind him and take it all in.

“Bloody Hell…” Soap breathed.

“This is… definitely intense,” Price muttered from Ghost’s other side.

As they turned and took in the sights and… smells, a woman strode by wearing absolutely nothing but a lace thong.

“I’m stayin’,” Gaz announced, completely shameless.

Price nodded slowly, watching as she passed, scratching his chin. “Yeah… I could hang out for a while.”

A low rumbling chuckle emerged from Ghost--a rare but easy sound, dark in all the right places for the setting. “That’s the spirit, lads. Let’s go see if we can’t find my mate, Joshua.”

“Bloody Orthodox name for a man runnin’ a sex cult,” Soap grunted.

“Not a cult,” Ghost corrected sharply. “A club.”

“I need a bloody drink,” Price announced, and peeled off towards the central bar, trying his hardest not to look up at the woman who was being split in half above the bartender’s head.

The others followed after him. They sat at the rounded counter, the four of them pressed shoulder-to-broad shoulder like they were in the back of an exfil van.

Beside Soap, there was a woman with her hands threaded through a man’s hair, who was kneeling on the floor at her feet.

Not a lick of fockin’ fabric on either of ‘em.

On the other side, Ghost sat beside a man in a full suit, tie loosened, a red band on his wrist.

And then, like a whipcrack through the easy jazz and the soft-spoken chatter, there came a voice.

Booming, pitched higher than it was clearly comfortable with.

“SIMON!”

An incredibly large man--muscular tattooed chest on full display, tailored black slacks, comfortable loafers, brown-blonde hair slicked back, a headset in one ear and a radio on his belt--came barreling out of nowhere and knocked Ghost straight off his barstool, swinging him one way and then the other like he weighed nothing at all.

“Jo-” Ghost grunted. “Joshua.”

“SOLDATJE!” Joshua proclaimed, grinning ear to ear, grey eyes sparkling like silver. “You should’a called and told me you were comin’, gorgeous! I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve been-” Ghost paused as Joshua buried his handsome face into the soldier’s neck and inhaled deeply. “I’ve been busy.”

Joshua came up for air and kissed Ghost right on the forehead. “Mmm,” he hummed in satisfaction, “Smells like gunsmoke and grumpy.”

Ghost’s eyes shot back to where his team was sitting, watching. Price’s eyebrows had disappeared up under the brim of his cap, eyes wide. Gaz was sipping from a beer, not watching particularly close, distracted by everything else going on in that insane room. Soap’s mouth was unabashedly hanging wide open.

You might wanna close that before people get any ideas, Johnny, Ghost chuckled to himself.

He cleared his throat.

“Joshua,” he said again, gingerly prying himself loose from the immense man’s muscular arms. “These are my mates.”

Joshua finally glanced over, scanning the trio. The man’s face--high cheekbones, soft but prominent jaw, a dangerous splash of silver glitter around his eyes, popping them out like flashlight beams--suddenly flushed a deep pink.

He looked over at Ghost again.

“You… brought your friends?” He asked sheepishly, almost… touched.

Soap and Gaz looked at each other.

This guy is the owner? Soap thought, flabbergasted.

Ghost is letting someone hug him? Gaz marveled.

Price was first to step forward, holding out a hand for a shake.

“I’m John-”

Is this a fucking boardroom meeting, Price? Ghost thought.

But Joshua stepped forward in a confident stride, smiling like the sun, a light sparkle of glitter painted across his broad chest, and clasped Price’s hand with both of his own--huge hands that engulfed Price’s--and shook slowly and gingerly.

“Captain John Price,” Joshua finished for him. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Price looked sidelong, eyes narrowed slightly at Ghost, who gave no reaction one way or the other.

Gaz hopped down from his seat, receiving an equally gentle two-handed shake, and a soft, “Sergeant Kyle Garrick,” from Joshua.

Soap stared at Ghost for a long moment, a silent exchange passing between them.

Really? Soap asked.

Yes. Ghost replied.

This guy owns this place? Soap pressed.

This guy. Owns this place. Ghost insisted.

“And you must be Sergeant John MacTavish,” Joshua said, reaching out with both hands for Soap, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but slowly reached out with one hand anyway.

The man’s grip was shockingly gentle, warm, and… not sweaty, unlike what Soap had been expecting. Everybody here looked sweaty.

“Joshua Grey, gentlemen. Green bracelet?” Joshua asked, grinning, eyebrows lifted. “Any luck with that yet, poppet?”

Poppet?

“Uh… no?” Soap mustered.

Joshua tsked. “Shame. Have you been waiting long?”

Soap angled his head. “Waitin’ fer…?”

Joshua blinked at him, confused for a moment, and then laughed, warm and genuine.

“Do you know where you are, schatje?”

“A fockin’ sex den,” Soap replied, brow furrowing.

Joshua laughed again, louder and heartier this time. A deep, enthusiastic belly laugh. When he slapped his knee, the team couldn’t help but notice--a green bracelet on his wrist.

“Indeed!” He declared, and then turned and clapped Ghost on the shoulder. “Shall we?”

Ghost gave a curt nod. “Sure.”

Joshua slid his hand up Ghost’s shoulder to the back of his neck and squeezed lightly, turned, and began leading the way toward the back of the room, holding the soldier close to his side. A subtle shimmer across his back caught the soft light as he moved, like stars shining on the dark ink painting his skin, just enough to make the eyes linger.

Price strode after them. This guy is… a bit odd, the captain thought, eyes narrowed.

Soap’s eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates, but he followed quickly. If I get separated, someone might try to put me on a fockin’ leash.

Gaz trailed behind, glancing at a stain on the floor and absently wondering if it was from what he thought it might’ve been from, or just a drink someone spilled.

Joshua led them down a short, dim hallway, lined on all sides by thick velvet curtains. As the others followed, they could see, clear as day--Joshua’s fingers pushing up the back of Ghost’s mask, curling into the short hairs, brushing up and down the sides of his neck. And, even more otherworldly, the lieutenant’s shoulders slowly losing their tension.

Joshua pulled one of the curtains aside and gestured them into a room.

Soft purple lights, a wide sectional sofa that spanned half the room, a silky-looking ottoman that could have doubled as a bed for a small horse or a large dog, and an impressive flatscreen dominated the space.

Gaz immediately found a seat in the corner, in the only armchair that could be found, slouching into the overstuffed leather with his beer and gazing glassy-eyed up at the idle flatscreen--displaying stock images of an empty tropical beach.

Soap sat on the far end of the couch, shoving a full-sized, heart-shaped, faux fur pillow out of his way. Price stood at the back of the room just beside the sergeant, leaning on the black velvet wall behind him.

Ghost plopped down into the center of the curve of the sectional, elbows on his thighs, and Joshua leaned casually in the doorframe, a towering mass of raw masculine power.

“I think I’ll go grab us some drinks. Tea for everyone?” He asked, grinning languidly. And then he was gone, the curtain swishing shut behind him.

Soap was the first to speak--because of course he was.

“Alright. Ghost. Where the fock have ye taken us? The bloody Twilight Zone?”

Ghost looked up from where he’d been staring at the floor, and glanced over, blinking once.

“A hardcore sex club,” he answered dryly. “Keep up, Johnny. There was a woman getting railed five ways to Sunday above the bar.”

Soap’s voice rose in pitch just as much as in volume, “Aye, L.T., I fockin’ saw ‘er! Heard ‘er moanin’, too, ye right cunt! Ye didn’t prepare me for that!”

Ghost just shrugged. “I didn’t know what the performance would be like tonight. Sometimes it's quiet.”

Soap’s eyes practically fell out of his head. “‘The performance-’ What did ye jus’ say?!”

Price huffed, “I don’t think that was his point, Ghost.”

Ghost leaned back into the sofa and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

“Aye. I know what his point was,” he muttered, folding his hands over his stomach. “I get it. First time’s a bit of a head trip. But… Well, you’ll see. I trust Joshua.”

Gaz let out a short bark of a laugh. “Yeah. He’s certainly got you meltin’ like butter in July, doesn’t he?”

Again, another shrug from Ghost. Didn’t even make an effort to deny it.

Price and Soap exchanged a look of total and utter incredulity.

And then the curtain opened again, and in walked Ghost’s towering, sparkly Adonis, holding a tea tray like the world’s most sexual butler.

He set it on the ottoman and slid onto the couch beside Ghost, pressing against the man’s side. He leaned in close, full lips brushing against the side of the soldier’s mask where his ear would be.

Ghost nodded, just once.

Joshua sat forward and motioned to the tray--a plain silver kettle with steam flowing gently from the spout, five small mugs, and an array of individual teabags.

“Help yourselves, gentlemen. I forgot to ask what kind you’d all like, so I grabbed a bit of a variety.”

Ghost leaned forward and picked up a bag of Taylor’s, pouring himself some hot water and dropping the bag into his mug.

Joshua glanced around at the other three.

Soap, sitting straight as a board, arms crossed. Price, a mirror-image of him, but standing against the wall.

Gaz… staring at the slowly rotating images of tropical beaches on the screen.

The club owner frowned.

“I apologize,” he said finally, his voice firm and sincere, “but I simply can’t allow you all to sit here so stiffly. What did you all come here for, to sit like statues and leave with blue balls? Absolutely not.”

“They’re not used to this,” Ghost said, almost softly.

“Clearly,” Joshua agreed, standing up. He pulled his radio off his belt and tapped a few of the keys, then set it on the couch beside Ghost, who didn’t even glance at it.

Soap watched with eyes slowly growing wider and wider as the owner of a hardcore sex club crossed the room and sat down next to him, hands folded comfortably on his knee like an old friend.

“Soap, right?” He asked, his voice low and warm.

Soap felt his mouth go dry. Joshua really was something to look at up close--those eyes like liquid moonlight, the subtle shimmer around them, just enough to draw attention and make it hard to look away. Full lips, flawless skin.

And the way Joshua was looking at him, too--all warmth and patience and concern.

He nodded. Words had escaped him.

“What’s got you sittin’ like that? Simon told me you’re a loose cannon, but here you are in my club lookin’ like you’ve got a stick up your ass,” Joshua teased, smiling reassuringly. The man leaned in closer, and Soap could smell him--Herbal, fruity, like lemons and cinnamon. Sinful.

Soap swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure when he’d eaten a golf ball, but he definitely felt one in his throat.

“I don’t... know,” he admitted, surprised at himself for the vulnerability in his voice.

Joshua’s eyes--as soft as a freshly washed blanket, and twice as warm--burrowed into him and made his hands sweat. He was so close.

“Do you need some help to relax, schatje? Is that what it is?”

That teasing, husky lilt to the man’s voice had Soap’s cock jumping in his jeans before he had any idea how or any real will to stop it. It didn’t help when Joshua tilted his head low towards Soap’s ear and rested a large, impossibly warm hand on his knee.

Joshua waited just a moment, breath hot and minty against Soap’s cheek. Then he added, his voice just a hair above a whisper, “Maybe a massage?”

Ghost hummed pensively from across the couch, “He’s quite good with his hands, lad. I’d take him up on that.”

Joshua grinned roguishly, his thumb tracing a burning arc back and forth across the top of Soap’s kneecap.

Price watched with his hat pulled down low over his brow. He saw everything--even the things that Soap probably didn’t want him to see, like the way that shadow in his pants was shifting.

Gaz had started to notice a few things, too, like the way Ghost had shifted forward on the couch, elbows on his knees. The lieutenant was watching intently, fingers laced beneath his chin.

And just as Soap thought maybe he could recover some of his composure, Joshua got impossibly closer. Something hot and wet and soft slowly traced up the curve of his ear, and dear god help him, Soap let out the kind of sound he didn’t even know he was capable of making--soft and breathy and obscene.

Joshua chuckled beside him, and the low, balmy sound sent a shudder of something needy and filthy down his spine. It landed heavy and immovable in the pool of his gut, which had begun to coil tighter and tighter.

“Is that a yes?” Joshua asked. His voice had become unthinkably deep and sultry.

Soap took a deep breath and tried not to sound like the shameless and degenerate creature he felt like in that moment.

“Yeah. Alright.”

Ghost laughed and it was almost as bad--almost as gorgeous--as Joshua’s.

No, Soap thought. Ghost’s laugh was way worse. And above him, Price took a deep, slow breath, and let it out through his nose like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh too or ask if he was okay.

And Joshua leaned in further, large hands finding a home on his forearms before trailing up, fingers briefly hooking the hems of his sleeves, and then resting easy on his shoulders.

The first few squeezes were too shallow, not enough to force out any of the tension that had begun to build in his muscles. But then Joshua shifted, pressed his thigh against Soap’s, and dragged the pad of his thumb straight up the back of Soap’s neck. He felt himself leaning back into the touch without remorse.

Joshua hummed in approval, echoed moments later by a sigh from Ghost, who leaned back into the couch again with his mug of tea and nodded faintly.

Price cleared his throat and pushed off from the wall, leaning down to grab a mug and poured himself some hot water, dropping a Taylor’s bag into the water, finding a seat on the other side of Ghost.

“So…” Price began. How long have you…?

Ghost didn’t even look at him.

“Whenever I can,” he confirmed. “For about… five years.”

Price nodded slowly, looking back at Soap, who had melted back against Joshua’s chest. The tattooed, faintly shimmering giant slid his hand down Soap’s side and cupped his ribs, applying just the slightest pressure. Soap shifted, and now the man was sitting in Joshua’s lap. He seemed rather content to stay there as Joshua’s hands drifted down over his shirt and rested momentarily on his stomach.

Price’s teeth ground together hard, and he wasn’t sure why. Worry, maybe. He wasn’t sure this whole thing was a good idea. But Ghost kept giving green lights, and Soap had consented, and Joshua was shockingly gentle and kind for an immense tattooed beast who hung out in a dark building full of sex and vice.

Part of him thought, maybe, it was envy. Joshua’s hands had been warm and surprisingly soft when he’d shaken them, and he wondered, ever so briefly, in the back of his mind, what it might be like to be where Soap was in that moment, with those soft hands touching his shoulders and arms and Joshua’s lips pressed against the sensitive flesh just behind his ear.

“Do you mind if I go under your shirt, schatje?” Joshua murmured.

Soap shook his head.

“Words, baby,” Joshua teased. “Can I touch you, yes or no?”

Soap nodded, breathing out, “Yes.”

Joshua nuzzled his shoulder, pressing soft, hopelessly hot kisses along the back of his neck. Those gentle hands slipped down just a little further, caught the hem of Soap’s t-shirt, and slipped underneath without a moment of hesitation, moving slow and steady over the planes and curves of Soap’s abs, his ribs. Soap sighed sweetly and let his eyes fall shut.

His fingers brushed over Soap’s nipples and Joshua let out a low, pleased hum when he felt the way the man shuddered against him.

“Like that, do we?” He cooed, flattening his palm over one of the sensitive buds.

Soap nodded slightly, and then flushed and bowed his head when Joshua laughed again, barely a purr.

“You’re doing so well, doll,” Joshua praised, slipping a hand free and using it to cup underneath Soap’s jaw and lift his head. He pulled Soap back, flush against his chest, his other hand mercilessly teasing Soap’s nipples.

Gaz’s tipsy haze snapped in half at the half-gasp, half-keening sound Soap made, his head jerking toward them.

At first he thought he’d imagined it--blamed the vodka still swimming in his stomach--but no, that was Soap, moaning under Joshua’s hands, thighs pressing tightly together. His glass nearly slipped in his hand.

Ghost clocked him instantly and, as if to make it worse, tugged off his mask and tossed it onto the couch, settling back next to Price with his tea like this was just another Tuesday. Gaz blinked hard. He wasn’t sure if he needed another drink, or to stop drinking entirely.

Either way…

This is happening.

Oh, fucking Hell, this is HAPPENING.

“Oh, Hell yeah,” Gaz blurted before he could stop himself. All eyes--except Joshua’s--turned to him. He didn’t flush. He didn’t even blink. He just motioned at Soap on the big man’s lap and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Soap couldn’t fucking help it. He laughed. A little breathless, a little muted, but a laugh nonetheless.

“C’mon, Kyle. Really?” He asked incredulously, rolling his eyes, but Joshua chose that exact moment to plant an open-mouthed kiss against the side of his neck and suck just hard enough that Soap moaned louder and wondered if there would be a mark. Part of him kinda hoped there would be, give him a little memento of this insane evening to be sure it was real in the morning, but he didn’t say anything.

Joshua detached and gave the spot a quick flick with his tongue, earning a low, breathless sound from the man in his lap, and then lifted his head.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?”

Ghost hummed his assent, deep and easy.

“Oh, definitely,” Gaz said with a chuckle. Soap laughed, too, nodding as best as he could with Joshua’s hand cradling his jaw.

Joshua’s eyes flicked over to Price, who shifted, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Something wrong, Captain?” Joshua asked gently. 

Price’s jaw worked once, twice, before he shook his head. “Not wrong, no.”

Joshua tilted his head, watching him with that intense, easy warmth that never seemed to waver. “You look like a man standing guard. There’s no danger at the door, Captain. I have security.”

Soap huffed, muffled by the way Joshua was still nosing into his neck. “That’s just him, ain’t it?”

“Maybe so,” Joshua said softly, fingers pinching and rolling Soap’s nipple until he hissed through his teeth, “but even the best captains need… leisure.”

The words hung heavy. Price exhaled through his nose, steady but uneven at the edges. His eyes flicked over his men--Gaz leaning forward, practically sparkling; Ghost sunk into the sofa, gaze locked on Soap’s shifting body; Soap himself flushed and pliant in Joshua’s lap. All of them unhurt. All of them safe, unafraid.

And him, sitting there like he was carved from granite.

“Bloody Hell,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You lot really mean to drag me into this, don’t you?”

“Oh, no. No dragging,” Joshua said firmly, sincere. His palm slid lower over Soap’s chest, rubbing and groping across his stomach. “There’s always the door. No shame in that. Or the safeword. ‘Angels.’”

Joshua turned his head and nibbled at Soap’s ear. “Did you catch that, mijn schat? ‘Angels’ stops everything. No questions asked. ‘Stop,’ would work just fine, but… Just so you know.”

Soap nodded, panting, and glanced sheepishly at Price, then closed his eyes again.

Beside Price, Ghost reached over and patted his captain’s knee, resting his hand there. Price stared down at it, shocked when it didn’t quickly retreat.

“Just sit and enjoy the show, Captain,” Ghost muttered, his eyes never leaving the sight of Soap squirming on Joshua’s hips.

Gaz snorted. “Think you’ve already got the best seat in the house.”

Soap laughed again, squirming as Joshua’s fingers twisted just so. “Aye, an’ ye’re starin’, sir.”

“M’alright,” Price repeated.

Joshua seemed satisfied with that, turning his attention back to Soap, sliding his hands down both sides of the man’s thighs and rubbing his thumbs along the inseams of his jeans.

“You’re makin’ some lovely noises,” Joshua prompted. “I wonder if I could make you sing like a bird?”

Soap panted out another laugh, shivering. “Like to see ye try.”

“Would you, now?” Joshua asked, pushing his hands deeper into his lap, earning yet another faint shiver.

“Aye, I reckon I would,” Soap challenged, despite the shake in his voice.

“I see,” Joshua said, smirking. “Why don’t you show me what you want?”

Soap paused, his brain catching up to the banter. When he did, his hands fumbled clumsily with his belt, earning yet another soft chuckle from Joshua and Ghost, and now, Gaz, too.

“Eager, eh?” 

“Shut yer face, Gaz,” Soap bit back, trying to stifle the grin on his face. “If you were sittin’ where I am, you’d be lookin’ like a fool, too.”

Joshua slid his hand up Soap’s chest and cupped his throat, gentle but firm.

“You do not look like a fool,” he insisted. “You look very beautiful, actually.”

Ghost hummed in approval, “He’s not wrong.”

Soap finally slid free of his pants and pushed them down, guided by Joshua’s free hand, all the way to his calves, allowing him to hook Soap’s knees on his and spread his legs wide.

“Yeah,” Gaz teased roughly. “Very pretty.”

Four sets of eyes traced the proud curve of Soap’s erection as it stood at attention, twitching into the man’s own stomach and bobbing stiffly.

Ghost grinned to himself, and couldn’t stop himself from thinking just how adorable the sergeant’s flushed cock was.

Joshua wasted no time. He nodded to Ghost briefly, sliding his hand back up Soap’s leg and wrapping his hand around the hot length, rubbing his thumb over the slit. Soap’s hips jerked and he breathed out heavily, fully emptying his lungs.

Ghost stood up, brushing a gloved hand over Price’s shoulder as he went. He opened the plastic box mounted to the wall beside the light switch, retrieving one of the miniature bottles of lubricant and the packet of tissues.

“Is that what’s in those boxes?” Price asked, using the opportunity to distract himself from the heat growing in his pants and the sounds Soap was making as Joshua teased his head.

“Mmhmm,” Ghost replied smoothly.

“Lube, condoms, gloves, tissues,” Joshua explained, his voice muffled against Soap’s neck again as the man rutted into his hand, hands braced on Joshua’s thighs. “Every room. Complimentary.”

“You keep ‘em stocked?” Gaz asked, eyes locked onto where Joshua’s fingers were curled around Soap’s hard shaft.

“Indeed, we do,” Joshua replied, grinning. He glanced up and met Price’s eyes for a heartbeat, then turned his attention to Ghost as the man passed him the bottle of lube and set the tissues down on the couch beside him.

Ghost lingered for a moment, and then took a seat at Joshua’s side, thigh pressed to thigh, leaned forward. His eyes drifted up from Soap’s lap to his face, taking in the flush of his cheeks, that glassy look in his eyes, his lips parted as he sighed and moaned softly.

“Aye, you do look right pretty, Sergeant,” Ghost repeated teasingly.

Soap scowled at him, but not for long--Joshua applied a generous helping of lube to his fingers, warming it up between his palms, and then spread Soap’s legs a bit wider, wrapping his slick fingers around the man’s cock and cupping his sac, laughing wickedly at the sound he made: breathless, pleased, and grateful. Joshua felt himself twitch in his slacks.

Ghost laughed, too, resting a hand on Soap’s thigh, the skin burning through his glove like a furnace.

“And eager as fuck, aren’t you?” Ghost probed, leaning in. He slid his hand up Soap’s thigh to his hip and moved in close, taking Joshua’s place in the man’s neck, nipping and sucking.

Soap let out a loud, low moan, choked at the end, and rocked his hips desperately into Joshua’s fingers, trying and failing to muster up a laugh.

Joshua leaned into the other side of his neck, murmuring, “Y’alright, dollface?”

“Aye, I’m right focked,” he moaned. “Keep goin’.”

“Much obliged,” Ghost chuckled, biting down on Soap’s ear, earning a sharp gasp and a full-body shudder.

“Right, fuck,” Gaz groaned, slouching in his armchair and working sloppy fingers at his fly, pulling himself free and sighing in relief as his rock-hard cock was finally given some relief from the discomfort of confinement. Joshua cast an encouraging look at him--soft smile, eyes half-lidded--and tossed him the bottle of lube. It hit Gaz in the chest after an embarrassing fumble, and he applied just enough to start the process, stroking himself in time with Joshua’s hand on Soap’s length.

Price’s hand shifted, slow, deliberate, to palm at his thigh. Then higher. His mouth tugged down into the faintest scowl, but the pads of his fingers pressed firm against the growing heat under his trousers. A moment passed before he gave in fully and palmed himself, rocking his hand back and forth over the head of his constrained dick.

A rough grunt that he couldn’t quite bite back had all eyes on him this time, and just as Gaz was about to open his goddamn mouth and ruin it, Joshua cut in --

“John,” he began, and the fact that he reached so casually for a first name rather than ‘Captain’ like he had been just made it all the harder for Price, “If you’re going to do something, do it right. Isn’t that what they teach you boys in the army?”

Price’s jaw ticked, and then, another nail in the coffin.

On the upswing of Joshua’s strokes, Soap moaned again, sweet and high up in his chest, trembling, and for a split second, those baby-blue eyes of his sergeant peeked open and he saw, God help us all, the man laid utterly bare and raw for all four of them to see.

You watchin’ me, Cap? Those eyes called to him.

Fuck.

Yeah, Johnny. I’m watchin’.

Joshua’s eyes pierced him like twin missiles but behind the intensity, Price couldn’t help but feel a softness.

Gaz was biting hard on his lip, trying not to breathe too loud, but Joshua stuck out a loafer and nudged his boot, cooing, “C’mon, pretty boy, let’s hear you.”

The sergeant laughed breathlessly, eyes locked on Joshua’s hand, and he mindlessly mimicked the twist of the man’s wrist. Soap and Gaz cried out in unison, and a rumble of shaky laughter was shared between the four of them. Price suddenly felt an immense tugging at his chest--he wanted to be part of that laugh.

And that did it.

Price unzipped his pants and pushed his waistband just beneath the curve of his ass, slouching into the couch and taking his cock into his palm, melting into a slow and lazy pace, earning a round of soft but enthusiastic praise from the room, which only spurred him on further.

The captain shut his eyes and listened to the sweet sounds coming from the two sergeants, the rustle of fabric, the absolutely erotic wet sounds of lubed flesh slicking against flesh.

“Fuck,” he croaked.

Gaz couldn’t fucking figure out where he was supposed to look. Soap’s face was darkened by arousal, eyes glassy, mouth open, the most filthy little noises he’d ever heard pouring out of him like water from a faucet. Ghost’s face was right by Soap’s, a faint wolfish grin on his lips as he whispered into the sergeant’s ear. His gloved hand, powerful and commanding, sat firmly on Soap’s bare thigh, black fabric on pale, flushed skin, squeezing intermittently, and just across the ottoman from him, Price. Fucking Captain Price, cock in hand, eyes closed, clearly enjoying every little moan and sigh.

He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to look but his eyes kept moving back to that gloved hand. He couldn’t believe how much it was driving him fucking crazy to see the lieutenant’s fingers digging into the flesh like that, like he was trying to eat Soap with his hands.

Joshua’s eyes scanned the room, like he would always do whenever he was in a group scene, and…

Oh. Oh, hello, Hungry.

He nudged Ghost, jerking his head subtly towards Gaz, who was staring, but definitely not at Soap. Not anymore.

Joshua watched Simon’s eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, the flecks of green and gold, those pupils suddenly narrow and then widen like a dog catching the scent.

Joshua felt an excited huff against his shoulder, a sharp exhale like a release of sudden tension.

He watched Simon’s lips, that beautiful mouth that could pant and beg and command and shout like the most perfect Switch he’d ever met in his life. He watched the way those lips formed a familiar, predatory curve. He’d always loved that look.

Gaz’s eyes flicked up from where Ghost’s hand had relaxed against Soap’s quivering thigh, finding… Joshua’s eyes on him.

Both of their eyes on him.

Oh God. I’m caught.

His hand halted on his cock. For a solid thirty seconds, he couldn’t breathe.

Joshua smiled, soft and sugary.

“You poppetje,” he cooed at Gaz, slowing and loosening his grip on Soap just enough to make the sergeant whine like a squeaky screen door and buck his hips, desperately seeking more. Utterly fucking shameless. Joshua’s other hand left Soap’s throat, letting the man’s chin hit his chest, opening his eyes to look down at his own lap. Another loud, unfiltered moan.

Joshua pointed two fingers at Gaz. Turned his wrist to the ceiling and curled those fingers. Twice.

Come.

Gaz’s eyes went wide. He took a shaky breath that reverberated like a gunshot in the whole room, full of apprehension and terror and need.

Ghost leaned back, slow, like a king on his throne, legs spreading open and hand rubbing his thighs with just the right amount of languid energy that the invitation was unmistakable.

Even so, Joshua spelled it out.

“Why don’t you come make yourself useful, liefje?” He asked, pointing those two seductive fingers down between Ghost’s boots, angled out welcomingly.

Ghost’s grin widened at the thoroughly delicious shudder that visibly ran through the sergeant.

Oh, yes. That’s perfect, Ghost thought, gloved fingers already drawing his zipper down, drinking in the way Gaz’s eyes followed the motion like he was drawing a gun.

Joshua lifted his eyebrows, watching the man in the armchair, frozen like he really did have a rifle leveled at his chest. He lifted his chin, studying, and then tightened his grip on Soap’s cock, running his thumb over the slit again.

Soap bucked, letting out a breathless laugh at his own lack of self control, turning his head into Joshua’s neck and biting his lip.

“It’s alright, baby,” Joshua murmured, and nobody was sure who he was talking to. Maybe all of them.

Gaz was up and moving as soon as blood had returned to his feet, and then he was back down again, knees on the soft, purple carpet, eyes fixed on where Ghost’s hand had disappeared into his fly, watching with rapt attention as the man finally--finally--pulled that beautiful cock free, joining the rest of them.

That beautiful, borderline menacing cock, and what immediately caught Gaz’s attention and simply would not let go, was that matte black ring with a ball in it, a Prince Albert piercing hanging tantalizingly from the head.

Gaz couldn’t fucking believe himself. His fucking mouth was watering. It didn’t help that this close up, tucked between the lieutenant’s knees, he could smell him, too. Fresh soap, fresh clothes, but undeniable masculinity hanging heavy and warm in the air between those powerful thighs. 

Ghost--fucking absolute bastard he is--gave himself a few good strokes, agonizingly slow, like drawing back the curtain on an orchestral show, and Gaz--god fucking help him--felt his breath hitch in his chest, and blinked far too fast, like he was trying to wake up from some terrible nightmare--or an unbelievable dream.

Joshua’s voice was warm and low, encouraging, filthy-sweet.

“Ever had a mouthful of cock, poppetje? Ever felt one swelling heavy on your tongue?”

Gaz swallowed around the lump in his throat and barely managed to shake his head, watching that son of a bitch Ghost slide his gloved hand up and down his impressive length like he was alone in this room and had all the time in the fucking world.

“Words, schatje,” Joshua chastised softly, reaching down to rub Gaz’s shoulder. “Use that pretty voice.”

“N-No,” he admitted. His voice sounded so fucking needy and he hated it and couldn’t hide it.

Ghost’s grin widened, ravenous, but Joshua just hummed, soft and thoughtful.

“Let me show you how, then,” he said. Like an offering. Like an invitation. Suddenly Soap was whining like a kicked puppy as Joshua lifted him by the hips and descended to his knees beside Gaz on the carpet. The club owner made quick work of Soap’s bootlaces, pulling them off and setting them neatly to the side of the couch, then pulled the sergeant’s pants the rest of the way off and folded them, setting them just as neatly on the sofa beside Soap’s hip.

Then he grabbed Soap’s hips and pulled him to the edge of the couch, pushing his legs open wider and giving himself total and unrestricted access to Soap’s cock. The poor man above him had melted back into the couch, tomato-red despite the soft purple lighting, one arm thrown over his eyes. Ghost’s hand had pulled up his shirt and tucked the bottom into his collar, and gloved fingers were roaming over bare flesh, light dustings of wispy blonde hair catching the soft light.

“Here,” Joshua said, leaning in to draw Gaz’s attention back down to him. Soap’s cock hung heavy in the space between them, but Joshua was looking at him.

“Start slow,” Joshua instructed, his voice lowered just for Gaz. “Cock likes a little worship. Everybody loves being kissed and sucked a little before they’re swallowed.”

Joshua puckered his full lips and pressed them straight to the tip of Soap’s slickened cock, and the man’s thighs jolted, threatening to snap closed around Joshua’s head, but Ghost grabbed one and Joshua grabbed the other and together they held him open.

“See?” Joshua teased, placing a few more down the bottom of Soap’s shaft and against his sac, then licked a slow stripe back up the full length and suckled, just lightly, on the head.

Soap might as well not have been there, but he was moaning like he was being stabbed in the best way and Gaz couldn’t help but think What if I could get Ghost to make that sound?

He turned his attention back to the lieutenant, whose hand had stilled on his cock and was just watching him now. He pushed himself forward, damn near looming over Gaz on the floor, and, pinching the base of his shaft, lowered himself towards Gaz’s mouth.

“Big cock up close can feel like you can’t possibly take it, huh, liefje?” Joshua said softly, his hand gliding up the back of Gaz’s shirt and cradling the back of his neck. “But once you’ve got the taste, that weight pressing on your tongue… you’ll be begging for more. It’s intoxicating. You’ll see.”

Gaz nodded, and leaned forward.

Price watched from his spot across the couch, the speed of his hand getting away from him. He couldn’t fucking believe this was happening. That he was going to allow it to happen. Christ alive, if anyone ever found out-

But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? Nobody ever would, would they? They were tucked away, in a completely different world, a world with leather and velvet and color-coded consent bands and fucking blowjob lessons.

God, part of him never wanted to leave.

He watched his sergeant’s lips find the head of his lieutenant’s cock, hesitant at first. He saw Gaz’s tongue dart out to wet his lips, a little shiver in his shoulders as he tasted the man’s sweat on them. Joshua, beside him, was clearly an expert.

Soap was writhing and bucking his hips, brow furrowed and eyes squeezed shut, both hands on the back of the man’s head and Joshua didn’t let up. Bobbing his head, making the most fucking depraved sucking noises, dragging his lips up and down, constantly changing rhythm and depth like some kind of torturously talented incubus in perfectly tailored slacks.

Fuck, Price thought. I can’t take this anymore.

He stood up and crossed the room, trying to ignore the way Ghost’s eyes snapped up to watch him approach. He settled back down on the couch beside Soap, leaning in and pulling the sergeant against his chest.

“Relax, lad,” he breathed, more husky than he’d intended, but Soap did. He melted beautifully against him, and wrapped his arm around his captain’s ribs, half-clinging. His hips still bucked, his thighs still shook and tensed, but he laid his head down on Price’s shoulder and panted into his neck.

“Well, hello, Captain,” Joshua greeted lightly, like they were standing in line at a cafe. “Couldn’t resist coming to watch me swallow your sergeant’s cock?”

Price took a deep breath and nodded faintly.

“Aye, Josh,” he breathed.

Joshua chuckled.

“Joshua.”

“Joshua,” Price echoed, correcting himself.

“Thank you,” Joshua drawled, and his voice was almost certainly sweeter than the most exquisitely aged whisky in the captain’s entire collection.

Price reached for himself again, but Joshua’s hand was already there, and then so was his mouth, and the captain suddenly understood very intimately why Soap was having such an impossible time keeping still.

Joshua’s mouth was heavenly. Hot and smooth and slick and suckling in all the right places and - Oh, dear Lord have mercy, does he have a tongue piercing?

He did, and he made sure to use it expertly, dragging the dark knob along the flare of Price’s head and then down, rubbing it against the base of his cock as he took the captain straight down his fucking throat like it was the most natural thing he’d ever done.

“Bloody fuckin’ Hell,” Price choked, squeezing Soap’s hip just to have something to hold onto. The sergeant laughed, breathy and needy, right in his ear.

“Och, he got ye, too, eh? That wee ball o’ his… a real killer, that.”

Price just cursed under his breath, because Joshua--that evil, beautiful man--had found that little spot about halfway down his shaft where he was especially sensitive. He was mercilessly rolling that wicked little ball back and forth over it, and Price found himself bucking and panting like a hormonal teenager, a hand fisted at the back of Joshua’s head.

Beside the pair, Ghost had leaned back fully into the couch, hands behind his head, watching with pupils blown wide open as Gaz experimentally drew his lips up and down the length of him, licking and sucking but not yet confident enough to open his mouth and take him.

Joshua’s hand on Gaz’s neck seemed like just barely enough to keep him grounded, and Ghost decided that the man needed a little more. And besides, Joshua was distracted, having moved from Price back to Soap, keeping them both squirming helplessly with his hands and his mouth.

So Ghost reached down and cupped his hand around the back of Gaz’s head. The man’s eyes snapped open like he’d heard a bomb go off somewhere nearby, immediately locking with Ghost’s, who lifted an eyebrow.

Gaz didn’t pull away. Ghost nodded at that, and gently guided Gaz’s face down to the head of his cock.

“I- I don’t-” Gaz rasped, eyes flicking from Ghost’s face down to the ball bearing in his cock.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Ghost assured him. Then, because he simply could not help himself, “Not if you don’t want it to.”

Gaz’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he looked down at the piercing again. Ghost swore he could hear that little ‘gulp’ just before he opened his mouth and allowed the lieutenant to guide himself between Gaz’s lips and rest on his tongue like a soft, wet pillow.

The shared moan that followed was entirely involuntary. Gaz’s mouth filled with heat and the taste of that musk he’d been smelling and he understood what Joshua had meant about ‘intoxicating.’ And Ghost? He watched Gaz’s lips stretch around him and then seal closed, felt the warm flat of his tongue working at the underside of his tip.

“Good work, Sergeant,” Ghost praised, somewhere between a terrible growl and wonderful purr, and Gaz’s forgotten cock, still slick with lube and precum, twitched hard between his thighs. He reached down and wrapped his hand around himself, letting the motion of his head match his hand, slowly sinking down further with each descent.

Ghost’s hand remained on the back of his head, commanding and patient and guiding.

Joshua buried his nose into the coarse dark hair at the base of Soap’s cock, staring up at the sergeant. His head had long since fallen back against the couch and hadn’t risen again. Price held him steady around the waist with one arm, his other hand white-knuckled on the armrest as Joshua’s hand schlick-ed up and down along his length in the exact rhythm of the bobbing of Joshua’s head.

Joshua was watching a lot of things. The tense-and-release of muscles, the weak jerking of hips and knees, the ragged rise and fall of breath beneath Soap’s chest. He slid back nice and easy, dragging the ball in his tongue straight up the underside of Soap’s shaft and letting it catch on the flare, thoroughly drinking in that hitch in his breath and the stutter of his hips as he followed the motion.

“Josh- Please,” Soap whimpered. Price’s eyes snapped up from Joshua’s face to Soap’s. Protective, always. Joshua made note that he’d have to get the captain to finally, truly, let go. Before the evening was over, he’d find a way.

Joshua didn’t fully pull his mouth off to correct him, allowing Soap’s dick to slur his words, “It’s Joshua. What’s got you whining so sweet, dollface?”

Soap nodded at the correction, jerking his hips forward into Joshua’s welcoming mouth. “Fock- need to- Need to come…”

That familiar heat and thrill coiled tightly around Joshua’s lungs.

“Say my name like a good boy and you’ll get what you’re begging for,” he replied sternly, not unkind, and sank the man’s cock deep down his throat again.

Soap groaned in frustration, “Joshuaaaa…”

There it is. That’s what I like.

He nodded, relinquishing Price’s length from his hand and grabbing the sergeant by both hips, holding him firmly in place.

I’ll take it from here, dollface.

Soap’s hands gripped his hair like a man drowning at sea as Joshua unleashed the full extent of his many years of cock-sucking skill. Wet, loud, messy, full-body sucking, soaking that man’s entire length in rivulets of saliva and precum. Every obscene slurp and wet pop only fueled Joshua’s thrill--he adored it, the mess, the noise, the symphony of pleasure he was conducting.

With his eyes, he gestured to Price, who hesitated. But then he saw Soap’s hips straining desperately forward, saw the ecstasy written across his flushed face, and his grip firmed. One strong arm locked around the sergeant’s waist.

“Quit your squirmin’, Sergeant,” Price ordered roughly, voice low, controlled.

“Ye focker,” Soap groaned, clawing at Price’s shoulder, rocking what little bit he could. Joshua dug his fingertips in, briefly wondering if he was being too rough with the poor man. But then Soap’s breath caught hard in his throat, and he lifted his back in a beautiful, perfect arch that gave Joshua’s top three orgasms he’d ever seen a run for their money.

Joshua began preemptively swallowing just as Soap’s release started to flood the back of his mouth.

“That’s a good lad,” Price breathed, without thinking, the words slipping out hoarse and quiet, right into the sergeant’s ear--and Soap shuddered, letting out another panting, whiny little sound at the praise.

Fucking beautiful, Joshua thought. And Price, too.

He kept at it, bobbing his head through Soap’s jerks and whines, milking him until the pleasure broke and twisted into oversensitivity. 

Price’s arm, still banded around Soap’s waist, held firm through it all. He felt the man go slack against him, boneless and sated, his head lolling back. Price’s jaw worked, throat tight--he’d never thought he’d like watching one of his sergeants completely undone like that, but Christ, Soap looked utterly spent. And he looked happy. That felt good. Better than it probably should’ve.

Only when Soap was panting, trembling, squirming above him did Joshua finally relent, sitting back on his heels. He swiped a fingertip across his chin beneath his bottom lip and sucked it clean with a flourish. A smug little smile curled across his swollen lips, and when his eyes flicked up to Price, he saw approval glinting there too.

Gaz was watching the man above him, too. Ghost’s jaw was ticking, his arms and fists flexing, and his hips had started to twitch. And holy Hell, did that feel better than any fucking commendation, any high-mark on combat readiness simulations or training courses or range tests. Seeing the hardass lieutenant bite his lip and just barely keep himself from groaning only spurred him on, and when he found himself gagging about halfway down, he squeezed his eyes shut and pushed further.

Ghost’s hand tightened on the back of his neck and he looked down at Gaz with those piercing eyes, but for a split second, he could almost see concern in there.

Gaz realized with a surge of confidence that that look made him so hard he fucking ached, and something filthy and hungry woke up in his chest and he tried again to push his head down further.

Beside him, Joshua chuckled warmly.

“Such an eager boy,” he praised, his voice dropping to a growl. He pushed on Gaz’s back, right between his shoulder blades, his other hand lifted his chin. “Open up, you can take it all for him. We all know you want to feel him deep.”

Gaz allowed himself to be pushed and pulled into place, and opened his throat the best he knew how. Ghost’s cock, Prince Albert and all, slid down nice and easy despite the way his throat was spasming and his eyes were watering. And, God, Joshua was so right. There was just something wickedly satisfying about that feeling--having his throat stretched open by something so warm and hard and unyielding.

“Hoh-” Ghost breathed, then jammed his fist into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut.

Gaz felt that hungry thing snapping and barking and lunging at the sound, and he pushed to take more, finally sheathing all of Ghost’s cock deep in his throat.

“Oh, look at you,” Joshua cooed, petting his hair. “Such a good boy. Want to show everybody how hungry you are?”

“Holy shit, Gaz,” Soap laughed, winded, eyebrows lifted. “How the bloody Hell did you manage that?”

“With just a little guidance,” Joshua answered, helping the man back up off of Ghost’s shaft. “You like that, baby? Getting your throat stretched?”

Gaz blinked the tears away and nodded, glassy-eyed. “Fuck,” is all he said, then he was leaning forward again, taking Ghost back into his mouth.

Ghost felt quite the swell of pride in his chest--it was one thing to watch someone suck your cock. It was another thing entirely to watch them get drunk on it.

He gripped Gaz’s shoulder harder, chest tightening, cock aching like he’d been tied in a vise. Every shiver, every tremble from Gaz only made it worse--the way his throat clamped down and still welcomed him, the small whimpers that escaped past lips slick and warm, the way he pushed eagerly deeper with each motion. Ghost’s throat worked on its own, hands twitching, hips jerking slightly of their own accord.

A growl slipped past his teeth, low and instinctive, and he realized with a jolt that he hadn’t been able to think about anything else for the last few minutes. The careful control he’d been clinging to was about to be snapped in a heartbeat.

Ghost’s pulse hammered in his ears. He couldn’t wait any longer. Every restraint, every measured motion, every pause had built to this moment--and now all he wanted was to bury himself fully. To take what he’d been wanting.

His arm flexed, yanked Gaz down hard. The sound the younger man made was delicious and cruel and sinful, and he slid his hand up and cradled the back of Gaz’s head in both hands, rutting up into that tight, wet heat he’d been craving. Gaz’s hands fisted in Ghost’s trousers, eyes fluttering. Fully-formed tears finally spilled over down his cheeks.

“Simon!” Joshua cut in, grabbing Ghost’s hand and prying it free, letting Gaz fall back on his heels, spluttering and red in the face.

“Be nice! It’s his first blowjob,” Joshua scolded firmly.

Ghost immediately felt a pang of regret and disappointment, even as his cock continued to strain for release.

Price was ready to get up and call a cab to take everybody home, but Joshua was already crouched by Gaz’s side, rubbing his back, cooing gently in his ear.

“Are you okay, baby? Was that too much? Too hard?”

Gaz coughed, just once, and nodded. “Th-That was… good…”

Joshua’s displeasure immediately fizzled into heat and anticipation. He knew that voice. That dazed, raspy tone of someone who’d just discovered something better than anything they’d experienced in a long, long while, and was too stunned and delighted to describe it in the words it deserved. He slid his hand up Gaz’s spine to the back of his neck.

“‘Good’?” Soap echoed, just barely audible.

Ghost heard it, too, and suddenly his own guilt swung right back into shameless craving, cock jumping at the thought of having another go at that tight, eager throat.

“Yeah?” Joshua prompted, voice just barely above a growl. “Then maybe you should open wide and take it like a good boy, then. How’s that sound?”

Gaz nodded, a little faster than the first time, and shifted his knees forward, moving further between Ghost’s legs.

“You sure?” Ghost asked, voice like silk dragged over gravel.

Gaz nodded again, earning a squeeze around the back of his neck from Joshua.

“Use your words,” he ordered firmly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Gaz breathed, hoarse from the rough treatment, trying not to look up at Ghost and failing spectacularly.

His eyes were red and watery, eyelashes clumped together. Ghost’s chest clenched with that terrible possessive feeling he always tried to ignore, and he reached down and grabbed Gaz by his short cropped hair and pushed the head of his cock against the man’s lips. He didn’t even have to tell him to open his mouth, because Gaz instantly, as if by instinct, stuck out his tongue and shifted further forward, panting.

Ghost would have loved to let him hang there, maybe make him whine and beg for another taste, but he was wound up so fucking tight that he thought he might burst into flames if he didn’t feel the sergeant’s hungry throat squeezing around him again in the next two seconds.

He pulled Gaz down and held him in place again with both hands, fucking into his throat with desperate abandon.

He once again set a harsh pace, holding Gaz’s head in place as he thrust his hips forward. The sound of his balls slapping against Gaz’s wet chin filled the small velvet room.

Joshua watched from where he was crouched, heart pounding, eyes flicking back and forth between Gaz’s expression, Ghost’s cock sliding deeper, and the way Ghost’s arms were flexing.

He leaned in to Gaz, voice dripping with pure, smug delight, “Good boy. Such a hungry slut. Keep your tongue out… Now moan for everyone. You like being used, don’t you, boy?”

God, yes. I might come just from this, Gaz thought, stunned.

And that encouragement was all Gaz needed to start making the filthiest fucking sounds any of them had ever heard--gagged, choked moans and soft pleading sounds. It drove Ghost into a frenzy.

Soap’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, his mouth hanging half-open.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, and saw Price nod faintly at his side, jaw clenched. Price’s hand twitched as if he might reach to stop it… then froze, unsure what to do. Those certainly didn’t sound like ‘Help me’ noises.

Gaz was a mess, utterly. The front of his shirt was soaked with saliva and tears, his forgotten cock straining and leaking steadily like a broken faucet between his thighs. All he could do besides choke and moan was hold on to Ghost’s pants, knuckles white and muscles trembling.

Joshua sat back, utterly captivated, grinning.

God, look at them. I could drown in these moments and die happy.

Price sat beside him, brow furrowed, studying for those familiar signs of distress in his team, but… He didn’t find any.

Soap looked on, slack-jawed, utterly gobsmacked. Post-nut clarity had come in hard and he was wondering how the Hell Joshua had maneuvered the situation so all of this could even happen. Ghost’s hips jerked, lost rhythm, and Gaz pushed forward, picking up the pace like a relay baton.

Soap’s lungs stalled in his chest. Fuck, he is into it, isn’t he?

It was Ghost’s turn to make noise, then. He let out a rough, low moan, fingers twitching.

“Fuck… Fuck, Gaz, I’m-” He panted. “I’m fuckin’ close.”

Joshua leaned in, kissing the sensitive flesh behind Gaz’s ear, marveling at the way he shivered but didn’t lose focus. “Are you gonna swallow for him, poppetje? Or do you want him to paint your pretty face in his cum?”

Gaz’s throat tightened. He lifted his arm and wrapped it tightly around Ghost’s middle, holding them together.

“Fuck,” Joshua said, his voice soft, almost reverent.

“Fuck,” Ghost said at the exact same time, rough and fucking carnal. 

Joshua pressed himself in close against Gaz’s side and whispered, “He’s gonna fill your throat, then, baby. It’s gonna be a lot more and come a lot faster than you’d expect. Don’t choke.”

It took two more good ruts from Ghost’s hips and the man’s hands tightened into claws in the back of Gaz’s shirt, his entire body trembling as every muscle coiled tight and then snapped all at once, spilling pulse after pulse of hot cum down Gaz’s throat.

The sergeant choked, squirmed for a second, but he was held tightly in place. Joshua was right, and it filled his mouth faster than he'd expected. He started to swallow instinctively, then eagerly, eyes screwing shut as Ghost’s release filled his stomach.

Just as he felt his lungs start to burn, Joshua reached out and pressed his hand flat against Ghost’s chest, and the hands on the back of Gaz’s head released. The lieutenant slumped back into the couch, chest heaving.

Price finally managed to stop squeezing his knee so hard his knuckles ached, and Soap took a deep, slow breath and swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to process what he’d just witnessed.

Ghost slowly pushed his softening cock back into his underwear. He didn’t bother to zip himself up yet, just took a deep breath and patted his thigh.

“C’mere,” he grunted.

For a moment, Gaz stayed where he was. And then Joshua hooked his arms under his shoulders and helped him stand. He couldn’t help himself but to chuckle when Gaz’s legs failed him and Joshua needed to take his full weight. He helped him onto the couch--onto Ghost’s lap, where he was welcomed with a pair of arms around his waist and held in place against Ghost’s raggedly rising and falling chest.

“You steady?” Ghost asked.

“Yeah, mate,” Soap interjected, uncharacteristically soft. “That looked like a lot.”

“Fuckin’ Hell, you two,” Price muttered, shaking his head in masked disbelief.

Gaz inhaled deeply through his nose and sank further into Ghost’s chest. “Yeah. M’good. Need… just a minute.”

“Good,” Joshua said gently, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Take your time, liefje. Have some tea. It’ll help your throat.”

Gaz hummed faintly at Joshua’s words, nodding. He shifted in Ghost’s lap, kept steady by one tattooed arm firm around his hip. For a moment, he looked like he wasn’t sure if he should get down already or not. But then Ghost pulled a blanket down from the back of the couch and wrapped it around him, using the corner to dry Gaz’s neck of saliva.

Price couldn’t help but notice how they both seemed to melt into the couch together, and for the first time in, maybe, ten long, stressful months, Ghost looked like he might fall asleep in a room that wasn’t locked down and guarded by half an army.

And then he noticed something else--

Joshua. Looking right at him as he dragged a paper towel over his neck and chest, drying himself off. And those grey eyes like liquid moonlight--something lurking, leering right at the surface. Joshua caught Price watching and turned, palms to the floor, crawling like a mountain lion through the brush.

“Joooohn,” he growled.

“Joshua…” Price answered, warning and curiosity tangled together.

Joshua rose, hands sliding onto the captain’s knees, heat radiating up through the denim. He laid his head in Price’s lap like he owned it.

“Tell me something, John,” he purred, fingers twitching like they already had a plan. “Have you ever… fingered yourself?”

Price’s jaw locked, but his ears betrayed him, flushing hot. “…Yes,” he admitted, the word dragged from gritted teeth.

Joshua grinned, sitting back on his heels. “Did you like it?”

Price’s gaze flicked toward Soap, who was staring holes in the side of his head. Then back to Joshua. “…Yes.”

Price watched, helpless under the spell of those moonlight eyes, as Joshua’s hands reached for his dick again.

“Have you ever let anyone else...?” He trailed off.

“No,” Price grunted, almost defensively.

If Joshua had looked ecstatic before, now he looked like he was having a religious experience.

“Well, why not?” He asked, voice dripping with caramel-sweetness. “If it felt good…”

Price’s hands twitched, reaching down to Joshua’s hands. He wasn’t sure if he was going to shove him away or pull him closer.

“Not gay,” Price said, openly defensive.

At the other end of the couch, Ghost snorted loudly, but Joshua shushed him, his hands going still. “Sexuality is a spectrum, John,” Joshua said, very seriously. “Labels aren’t meant to trap, they’re meant to help us define ourselves so other people can understand better. Do you want me to finger you or not?”

Price blinked like he’d been slapped. He took a moment, caught his breath, and then glanced at the others.

Soap, grinning lazily, laughed, “Go on. If he’s shite, just have him suck your cock. He's right fockin’ good at that, ain’t he?”

Ghost angled his head in Price’s direction, giving a short nod, a clear encouragement to go with Soap’s.

Gaz blinked, a bit surprised by the sudden turn in the room, but smiled welcomingly.

“Judgement-free zone,” Joshua said, holding up his hands in surrender. “No hard feelings.”

Just when they were all certain the captain would stand up and refuse, call it a night, insist on going home…

He took a deep breath through his nose and nodded, shifting his weight to push his pants down around his ankles. Joshua lit up like a firework, like he’d been starved for weeks and someone had just told him his favorite food was in the breakroom.

The man crouched and began unlacing Price’s boots, pulling them off and setting them aside, neat. Price shifted, lifting up his legs, and allowed Joshua to pull his pants and briefs the rest of the way off, too.

“Soap?” Joshua asked, lifting his gaze from Price’s face up to where Soap was seated. The sergeant’s mouth opened, then closed, like Joshua had just asked him a riddle rather than his own callsign.

“Aye, Joshua?”

“Can you go over and grab me a glove?” Joshua asked, smooth as anything, and then glanced up at Price, angling his head comfortingly. Soap returned with a handful of black latex and handed it over to Joshua. He slipped his fingers into one of the gloves and flexed them against the latex, making sure the fit was comfortable and proper.

Joshua folded Price’s pants and put them on the coffee table, winking at Ghost, who reached over, claimed the miniature bottle of lube, and tossed it towards Joshua. He caught it cleanly, popped it open, and began to pour a generous amount onto his fingers.

Price watched, his mind buzzing. He allowed himself to be spread open as Joshua leaned forward and brushed his palm up the inside of his thigh, that hungry grin softening into something tender and patient. He pulled just a little on Price’s hip, angling him just so, and circled his entrance for a moment, watching the man’s reaction.

Price tried not to give too much away, but the way his brows drew together and his breath caught gave Joshua all he needed. He dripped more lube directly onto the captain’s hole and murmured, “Deep breath, love.” He watched closely as Price’s chest expanded and then pushed one finger inside, sinking in deep.

Fuck, he is tight, Joshua thought approvingly, pressing a soft kiss to Price’s thigh to soothe him as his muscles tensed and squeezed Joshua’s finger.

“Breathe,” Joshua reminded him again. Joshua felt the moment he had him--that helpless little jump, the strangled curse dying in Price’s throat, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the couch.

He angled his finger again, slower, more deliberate, and this time Price couldn't hold the sound in. A low, broken noise, caught halfway between shock and relief.

“That’s it,” Joshua purred, circling the warm bundle of nerves he’d found, savoring the way Price’s head fell back against the couch behind him. “That’s where you need me…”

Price’s hand shot down, grabbing Joshua’s wrist. Not pushing him away, but holding on, betraying his need for an anchor against the sensation. His breath came rough, uneven, the muscles in his thighs trembling with the effort of holding something inside.

“Slow,” Price warned, trying and failing to find a voice that commanded some kind of authority. But Joshua listened anyway, easing off and thrusting his hand gently--slowly, as Price had asked so politely.

“Slow it is,” Joshua soothed. “That’s good. You just tell me what you need.”

He pushed in, dragging the pad of his finger over Price’s sweet spot again, silently reveling in the way he groaned, low and helpless, hips rolling into Joshua’s hand.

“Fock, Captain,” Soap breathed from where he sat, not two feet away, watching with rapt attention. He’d never seen anything like it. He never knew he wanted to see something like it. But now that it was happening right in front of him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He saw the shift in Joshua’s posture, the way he edged closer, the way his eyes didn't lose their shine, but sharpened like a technician finding what was broken. Soap understood, suddenly, why Ghost had brought them here to meet this man, and how, exactly, Joshua had managed to get him to mewl like a kitten.

He was some kind of sexual sorcerer, and he'd put a spell on them all.

Soap scooted closer, his hands twitching. Price’s fist was clenched on the edge of the couch so tightly that his knuckles had gone bone-white, and every inch of Soap’s spine tingled with the urge to reach out and loosen his grip. To help him sink into it, like Price had helped him just minutes ago.

And when Joshua’s eyes found his, in a brief flash of confidence spurred on by that dangerously skilled club owner’s knowing grin, Soap did. He reached out and carefully pried Price’s fingers from the upholstery.

Price’s head snapped up from the back of the couch, eyes narrowed as he turned to look at his sergeant, who offered a sheepish grin but didn’t release his hand.

And then, from the other end of the couch, in a voice rough and relaxed, Ghost murmured, “Just relax, Captain.”

And Price did. Without thinking, he felt his hips sinking deeper into Joshua’s hand, his shoulders losing tension. Joshua watched him closely, taking the opportunity to breathe deeply, watching Price’s chest rise and fall in a mirror of him.

“That’s good,” he praised. “Keep breathing like that. Just feel it.” Joshua withdrew just slightly, added more lube to his fingers, and gradually added a second. The captain clearly felt the stretch; his eyes fluttering, his grip on Soap’s hand tightening. The Sergeant gripped him back, scooting closer and sliding an arm around his waist.

“Does it hurt?” Soap whispered, his brow furrowed in concern.

Price shook his head, his back bowing slightly, a guttural bared-teeth gasp dragged from his throat as Joshua continued to finger him damn-near perfectly.

“Quiet, Sergeant. Don’t distract him,” Ghost chastised from across the couch, just starting to come down from his high with Gaz still tucked securely under his arms like a precious treasure. It was a strange pose for Ghost, holding someone in his lap, but he held it so naturally that it felt wrong to question him.

“Sorry,” Soap murmured, looking down at Price. He watched Joshua’s hands work between the captain’s legs as Price’s heavy cock twitched, leaking against his stomach, flushed and neglected. Soap reached out and wrapped his hand around it, stroking slowly at first.

“God- Fuck. Shit,” Price hissed, letting go of Soap’s other hand to put his hands underneath him, pushing off the couch to slide his cock through the warm circle of Soap’s fingers.

“Oh, that’s good,” Joshua praised, not skipping a beat. He added more lube to his hand and Soap’s, taking the opportunity to add a third finger to Price’s entrance. He sank them deep, earning a loud, growling, “Fuck!”

“There he is,” Ghost commented, amusement clear as day in his voice even though no one was looking at him to see the grin.

The entire room watched as Price melted, fucking up into Soap’s hand as Joshua’s fingers pumped deeply in and out until the captain’s legs were shaking, his head thrown fully over the back of the couch. He gripped Soap’s shoulder like a lifeline, the other hand clamped down on the edge of the couch again, not nearly enough to keep him grounded.

“You gonna come for us?” Joshua asked sweetly, brushing his hand up the inside of Price’s thigh, reveling in the shiver he felt beneath his fingers.

“God, yes,” Price groaned hoarsely, chest heaving. “Fuck, yes.”

Soap tightened his grip, eyes wide as he drank in the sight. He found a pace to stroke his hand up and down Price’s length as the captain’s hips lost any semblance of rhythm or control. Joshua fucked his fingers in and out of Price’s tight hole in the same tempo, equally mesmerized by both Price and Soap. It was always interesting to see people discover the pleasure of new things when they came to Cupid’s Corner.

A deliberate graze against Price’s sweet spot and he moaned from deep in his chest. His hips pushed up into Soap’s hand as his orgasm washed over him, making his legs jerk and his toes curl. Soap watched the captain’s release erupt from his cock and over his hand, coating his fingers and knuckles with thick cum.

“Bloody fock,” Soap breathed, stroking until Price reached for his wrist and pried him off.

“Too… Too much, lad,” he said, squeezing Soap’s wrist reassuringly. Price looked down at Joshua, but Joshua wasn’t on the floor anymore. He was sitting on the couch on Price’s other side, rubbing the captain’s arm.

“Good?” The club owner asked. The shit-eating grin on his face made Price think that maybe he already knew the answer, but he had to admit--the man had earned every bit of smugness.

“Aye, yeah,” he mumbled, surprised at how wrecked his voice sounded. “I’d say pretty fuckin’ good.”

Joshua beamed, squeezing Price’s arm. “I aim to please,” he preened.

“You don’t say,” Ghost said.

Price shot him a look, too content and soft to be stern. “You knew what was gonna happen when you brought us here,” he accused.

Ghost stared at him for a moment.

“I did,” he admitted with a shrug.

“Ye clever bastard,” Soap grunted, still staring at the rapidly-cooling cum on his hand.

“Oh, just lick it,” Joshua teased, reaching for the sergeant’s wrist. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of his palm to the tip of one finger, lapping up the captain’s cum. He hummed shamelessly, openly pleased.

Soap watched in wide-eyed envy, his eyes flicking to Price, who was, perhaps, too spent to care. He brought his hand to his mouth and gave it a taste, his face flushing a deep red as he proceeded to clean his hand completely, wiping the saliva off on the couch cushions.

“Did you finish?” Joshua asked suddenly, his eyes fixed on the curled-up form of Gaz, still wrapped in a blanket on Ghost’s lap.

Gaz shook his head. “Am I next?” He asked with a smile.

Joshua mirrored it back to him. “I think you are,” he confirmed. “And because you’ve been so patient, and so sweet, I’ll let you pick what you want to do.”

Gaz didn’t look at anyone else. He shifted, let the blanket fall away, and carefully removed Ghost’s arms from around his waist.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said confidently.

Joshua lit up again, positively delighted. “How?”

“Slow,” Gaz said. Absolutely certain.

Joshua was practically vibrating.

“Oh-hoh-hoh,” he chuckled. “You want to be spoiled.”

Gaz’s face slowly split into an enthusiastic grin. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Yeah, I do.”

Joshua got up from the couch, reaching for Gaz’s shoulders. He guided the man onto his back on the center ottoman and set to slowly, reverently relieving him of his clothes.

“You want praise, mijn schatje?” Joshua whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Just don’t call me pretty,” Gaz said playfully, shivering as Joshua freed his legs from his boxers. “I’m not a little girl.”

“You’re right,” Joshua replied sweetly. “You’re not a girl. You’re a beautiful man.”

He spread his hands flat over Gaz’s chest and stomach, feeling the muscles shift under his hands as he groped and soothed his charge. “Have you done this before?”

Gaz shook his head. “Never,” he said. “But I saw what you did for Price.”

At his name, the captain lifted his head and looked over, blinking tiredly as he took in the sight of Joshua hovering over Gaz on the couch across the room, Ghost seated just beside them, watching.

Soap tore his eyes from the scene to look at Price. “You look fockin’ knackered,” he murmured.

“I am. Haven’t come that hard in ages,” he replied, finally having the wherewithal to tuck himself back into his pants and zip them up. “Feels like I got hit by a truck.”

“Oh, fuck…”

They both looked over again, and Joshua had Gaz’s knees hooked over his shoulders. He’d already worked three fingers into him, a focused and intense look in his eyes. Gaz threw his arms over his face, biting back a loud moan as his hips jerked.

“Such lovely sounds, schatje,” Joshua praised. “Doing so good for me.”

Gaz nodded, panting. “Holy shit…”

“Feels good?” Joshua breathed, twisting his wrist and dragging his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves he’d found inside. He watched the man gasp and jerk, his body unsure if it wanted to lean into it or pull away. Joshua grabbed his thigh and held him in place.

“Don’t squirm away from me,” he teased. “I think you’re almost ready.”

Gaz shuddered, laughing softly at himself before Joshua pulled his fingers out and he found himself groaning with need. “God, fuck…”

“Relax, I’m right here,” he soothed, pulling off his glove. Gaz lifted his arms and watched as Ghost handed Joshua a condom. He ripped open the package and quickly slid it down over his shaft, making sure it was on fully before he crawled up over Gaz and leaned down, kissing his cheeks again.

“Ready?” He asked, eyebrows lifted. “You can always change your mind.”

Gaz shook his head and grabbed Joshua by the shoulders, shifting underneath him to get more comfortable. “Get on with it.”

“So bossy,” Joshua whispered approvingly. “I love it.”

Gaz’s hands tightened into fists as Joshua lined himself up, rubbing his thighs.

“Deep breath,” he cooed, and pushed forward, slow and steady. A hitching, shaking breath melted into a pleased, surprised groan. The difference between Joshua’s fingers and his cock was night and day. Fingers were dextrous, precise instruments, but as fucking amazing as three fingers had been, there was no comparing that to the blunt, purpose-built tool currently sliding into his ass like it had always belonged there.

He gripped the couch, gripped Joshua’s hips, his sides, his shoulders, scrambling for a good handhold.

Finally, Joshua leaned back and took both of his hands, gently pinning them down at his sides.

Gaz squirmed, just a little, but made no attempt to break free. It felt secure, exactly what he’d been grasping for.

“There you go,” Joshua murmured, mercilessly rolling his hips forward to grind himself deeper inside. “Do we like being held down? Just a little?”

Gaz nodded faintly, dazed and overwhelmed. His entire body buzzed, skin flushed, acutely aware of the three other pairs of eyes all watching him take it up the ass for the first time.

Joshua began a slow, indulgent pace, dragging in and out until Gaz was panting in rhythm, completely lost in it.

“Tell me what to do,” Joshua permitted softly. He released Gaz’s wrists, and watched the man's face very closely as he gently wrapped his hand around Gaz’s throat, careful to apply just enough pressure to hold him in place without actually choking him.

Gaz’s hands instinctively gripped his wrist, but didn’t try to push him back. He pulled Joshua’s hand down, applying the pressure himself. Joshua tightened his grip on the inward stroke of his hips, earning a choked, desperate moan.

“Be careful,” Price ordered from across the room.

Joshua didn't look up from Gaz’s face. Before he could respond, Ghost replied instead.

“He is being careful. Relax, Captain.”

Soap leaned over to Price. “I'm pretty sure we wouldn't be hearin’ Gaz make that sound if he was actually bein’ choked,” Soap pointed out under his breath.

Joshua had picked up the pace, just slightly. Enough that Gaz was too consumed to care what sounds he was making. He squeezed his eyes shut as he focused entirely on the newly familiar sensation of Joshua’s hard cock sliding in and out.

The hand around his throat tightened again.

“Look at me,” Joshua purred, forcing Gaz to turn his face up towards Joshua’s.

Gaz opened his eyes again, hazy and glassy, and looked up at Joshua’s smiling face.

“You're doing so well, poppetje,” he praised softly, punctuating his words with a sharp jerk against Gaz’s hips. “So tight and eager. You like it?”

Gaz groaned, guiding Joshua’s hand away from his throat. The man wrapped his arms around Gaz’s head, cocooning him until the room shrank and went dark and the only thing Gaz could see was Joshua’s face.

“Yeah,” he gasped, sliding his hands down to Joshua’s ribs. “I like it.”

Joshua grinned. “You said you’ve never done this before,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the younger man’s temple. “But you sure know how to take it.”

Gaz saw a shadow move outside of the bubble of Joshua’s arms. He looked over and there was Ghost, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, staring down at him with intense, unreadable eyes.

Joshua groaned above him, arms shaking. “Oh, schatje, you can’t squeeze me like that,” he chuckled. “I’ll be done before you know it.”

Gaz watched as a smile crept onto Ghost’s face.

“Tightened right up for me, eh?” The lieutenant breathed, taunting. “If your throat hadn’t been so good, it’d probably be me on top of you right now.”

Jesus Christ. He wondered, instantly, how that Prince Albert would feel--would he be able to feel it inside?

Ghost reached out and threaded his fingers through Gaz’s hair, turning his head back towards Joshua. “Pay attention, princess,” he rumbled softly.

Joshua was beaming from ear to ear. He recognized that look on Gaz’s face, he would have known it anywhere. The man’s legs shook, he buried his face in Joshua’s shoulder, mouth wide open around a stream of muffled, desperate moans.

“Harder?” Joshua cooed, and was met with a shaky nod. He wrapped his hands around Gaz’s head and held him in place as he picked up a new rhythm, fucking into him hard and fast. The inside of that tight hole was damn near perfect--soft, warm, wet silk, just a hint too tense. He couldn’t help but imagine how it’d feel if Gaz let him toy with his hole for a few weeks.

Joshua nearly lost his rhythm entirely when teeth sank into his shoulder--not hard, not painful, but surprising. Oh, it’d been so long since he’d been surprised. The teeth clenched around his skin as Gaz spasmed underneath him, making a mess of his own stomach.

The tight, impossible squeeze, the bite, the thought of training that perfect ass--Joshua tucked his head and gave one, two, three last, good thrusts. He spilled himself into the condom, mumbling soft, worshipful nonsense against Gaz’s ear.

“So good, good boy, feels amazing,” he gasped.

Beside them, Ghost let out a deep, low laugh, sending a shiver through the room.

“Fockin’ hell,” Soap laughed. It felt like, slowly, the tension began to seep out of the room.

〜 🍎 〜

Price lounged on the couch with a cup of tea in one hand, the other resting on the back of Soap’s neck where the sergeant was still leaning against him.

He hadn’t moved, just claimed the spot and offered to share some of the chips Joshua had brought them. They were fresh, hot and seasoned. Price thought it was good enough payment for allowing the boy a cuddle.

Gaz sat across from them on the ottoman, quietly pulling off Joshua's vape while the man in question stood in front of the television, tailored slacks, belt, radio all back in place. Ghost was beside him, drinking from a water bottle.

“Have you seen that movie--what was it?” Soap spoke up around a mouthful. “It’s got Ryan Gosling in... He’s a detective?”

“Nice Guys,” Gaz supplied.

“Aye, that’s the one,” Soap said, snapping his fingers.

“I love Ryan Gosling,” Joshua breathed softly. Shameless swooning.

Ghost glanced at him. He stepped away from the screen.

“You would,” said the ghost, teasing.

He passed by Gaz on his way back to the couch.

“Loves every man with a half-decent ass,” Ghost told Gaz as he ran a hand over the man’s hair. Gaz leaned into it, grinning, and offered him Joshua’s vape. Ghost took it, pushed up the mask, and pulled on it.

“Oh!” Soap shot halfway upright before Price gently guided him back down against his shoulder. “What about Bullet Train?”