beth

You had never had a ‘first’ anything. It was a point of insecurity for you for quite a while. Growing up was twice as hard being the chubby virgin– lose weight and you become a skinny hypothetical whore, seek sex and you’re still a whore, just fat. There was no winning. As you grew up it was easier to shove that judgement down, but it always lingered. Especially once you were old enough that girls you knew in high school were getting married and having children, and you were sharing a city apartment with a college friend.

You had many good things. You had a wonderful job working as a registered nurse at PTMC. You had a black cat– named Binx, obviously– who was a licensed cuddlebug. You had a full bookshelf and a nice espresso machine. But of all the good things in your life, Mel was the best. 

Mel came into your life when you were getting your nursing bachelor’s. She was knee deep in medical school, and while you were close to graduating and getting a job, she still had four years of residency to look forward to. At the time, you had a spot secured after graduation at PTMC, and you offered to put a good word in for her, but she was determined to start at the VA. You didn’t blame her. They had a fantastic opportunity for her there, and her brain was so big and beautiful under that braid… you supported her choice. Part of that support was promising to stay friends, and going in on an apartment so she and Becca didn’t have to struggle alone. You would have a steady income to help keep her afloat on those criminal student wages so Becca could stay in the living facility, and Mel could be sure there was a bed awaiting her every night. It was the least you could do. Now she was at the hospital with you, and you went home together. Carpooled, saved gas. That was a good thing. Very good.

You hadn’t tried dating. It was too daunting. At some point, the idea of ‘getting out there’ lost its luster. You figured that if love was meant for you, it would happen naturally, and without you searching high and low for it. That was ridiculous validation-based psychosis prescribed through Disney films, you swore it. Someone should study it. Mel hadn’t either, but it seemed more for her a matter of no time available to try. Either way, things were comfortable. You had a cozy place and a best friend who you cared about more than anything in the world. Except just one teensy little issue… love had happened very naturally. Unfortunately.

How were you supposed to resist it? Mel was everything that was right about the world. She was kindness in a bottle, with all the spark and genius of lightning, and all the intuition of a wise old sage, and the strength of a warrior encased by the soft and gentle heart of a fucking child. She did nothing but accumulate more knowledge and experience to make herself a more understanding and universal person. It was genuinely making you distraught. How could anyone be so good? How could anyone be so strong as to look at her, those sweet eyes and her pouty lips, and think to themselves, Yeah, she’s whatever? It simply cannot be done. And it was ruining your life.

Well, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but it was certainly hard– because nothing felt different. You were so incredibly safe beside Mel. You didn’t struggle to communicate, and you didn’t clam up. You could joke and tease and burp. You could be honest and complain aloud. There was no barrier created by passion that held you back from sharing every bit of your life with her, and because of the lack, you felt like a monster. You lived in her house and cooked her dinner, and you were in love with her, and you never said a word. It was the same as living with an imposter. A pathological liar. The guilt was crushing. 

Like, take right now for instance. You were sitting on the couch after an excruciating shift– fourteen hours– with your head in her lap as she half-dozed under the buzzing gleam of the television. She was raking her fingers through your hair, studying the indents, and she just showered with that linen-scented body wash that made your mouth dry. And you let it happen. You let every passing moment happen without telling her the truth. You did nothing but live in her house and pretend like you were her friend. So when she prompted, “You’re quiet tonight,” you were at a loss to explain yourself. Coward is as coward does. 

“I’m just tired,” you muttered.

“Mm,” she hummed, “Me too.”

On the television, some mind-melting reality show was keeping the doctor awake. Two people were slobbering over each other in swimwear, and Mel cocked her head to the side, sniffling softly. You watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips before she wondered aloud, “You still haven’t kissed anyone, right?”

You blinked up at her. Blonde waves made a shield over her cheeks as she peered down in return. You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Me neither,” she sighed, scratching her head. “Kinda sad.”

“I guess,” you swallowed. 

Mel gave your head one more pat before cocking her head to the other side, seemingly thinking. You watched in some phenomenon similar to slow motion as the velvety skin of her cheeks bled pink, and her nostrils flared. Your heart seized as she muttered softer, “I always wanted to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, hand stilling on your head. “To know what it feels like. It probably isn’t any good without practice, I imagine. Bumping noses and stuff.”

A strange feeling spread through your limbs, making everything tingle like sand was filling you head to toe. You pulled yourself up, pajama shirt scrunching carelessly, and turned your back to the television to look at her. “That makes sense.”

Mel’s lashes laced together as she blinked. “I can ask you anything, can’t I?”

Your heart made a sound. Something like ba-dunk. “Of course you can.”

“You won’t make fun of me?”

“Mel,”

“Because it’s not like I want you to be super serious, but I want you to listen and not judge me, I know you wouldn’t but I still have to ask–”

“Melly,” you chuckled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I won’t make fun of you. You can tell me anything in the world.”

The doctor nodded apprehensively before tucking some of that torturously blonde hair behind her ears. A nimble finger pushed her frames up her nose. “I just… I was thinking about it, and maybe…”

You sat still, ba-dunking. 

“I was thinking maybe I could– we could, um, kiss. Maybe we could kiss.”

Oh. “Kiss.”

“You’re judging,”

“I am not judging.”

“You look pale.”

“I am,” you breathed deep, "surprised."

“Did I freak you out?”

“No,” you winced, rubbing your eyes and laughing. Ba-dunk, ba-dunk. “I just didn’t expect that!”

Mel flushed profusely, tangling her hands together. She looked humiliated. “It was just an idea, like, to get it out of the way, because neither of us have and it’s like, safer, I guess, and I just wanted to–”

“I’ll kiss you,” you blurted. 

Mel blinked the same way Binx always did when you asked him to get off the counter. That sort of Did I just hear you right? blink. “You will?”

This was wrong. So, so wrong. You were in love with her and you were going to take advantage of her curiosity to fulfill that need. You were going to kiss an innocent woman and lie to her fucking face. Oh God, were you going to. You were a bad person. You were extremely horny, too, but mostly just a bad person, especially when you leaned in a bit. 

“I don’t really know how,” Mel murmured sheepishly, adjusting on the couch to slide nearer. When her knee brushed your leg, you shivered. So much for acting normal all the time. “I mean, I think you’re supposed to tilt your head in opposite directions. And keep your mouth shut the first time.”

You blinked robotically, moving on autopilot. Bad person. Bad person. Ba-dunk.

“Are you sure you want to try this? It’s your first kiss. You’re, like… giving it to me.”

In some stroke of idiocy, you whispered, “I think it’s a good idea.”

Mel’s face was scorching red. “Okay. Um… I guess I’ll just… lean in first.”

“Okay.”

You could smell her body wash like chloroform, making you woozy and weak as it curled inside your throat. She was so warm like this, and as she tilted her head to the left– her favorite direction, don’t ask why– you tilted to the right. When she pressed her lips to your mouth, you paused to examine the results. Warm, yes. Definitely feels like skin– you touched skin all day long with your patients, so it wasn’t a particularly special feeling. But what was special was the pressure. Mel seemed to push against you, her plush bottom lip lodged between both of yours, mouths linked like steps. It was like a suction cup that tasted of leftover ice cream. You let out a small breath that rustled the baby hairs above her mouth, and she pulled away with startled eyes. You didn’t move a muscle. It was plain, and it wasn’t particularly good, but you were trapped. Ensnared in the clutches of more. 

Mel scrunched her nose and said, “Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Try a different way.”

“What?”

“We’re too stiff,” you explained, feeling like a beast. You shouldn’t be asking for more. Hell, you should be on your knees begging for forgiveness. But she was so dejected, and you wanted her mouth inside your mouth. “I’ll– I’ll, um–”

“You should sit on my lap.”

An involuntary laugh slipped out. “Mel, I’m twice your size.”

“It’s okay,” she glanced away. “I… it would be nice to feel… more of you. If we’re really going to practice.”

You swung your leg over her thighs and plopped down decisively, watching if she groaned under the weight. She didn’t. In fact, she spread her legs a little wider to slouch, leaving you lording over her. Bad person bad person bad person ba-dunk BA-DUNK. 

“We should really go for it,” you suddenly suggested, mind reeling with ease. Your eyes lidded, and so did hers. Your hands slid over her shoulders, and hers over your hips. 

She nodded like she was being overtaken by something. “Okay.”

“Even if it’s bad. Like you said, it’s practice.”

“Just practice,” she agreed. 

When you leaned in, it was with far less restraint. You tilted to the right again, and this time Mel kept her mouth open. You felt the sting of her teeth against your bottom lip as she tried to find the sweet spot of where the spaces slotted together right. Her tongue was slippery and thick, pressing against the roof of your mouth as she tried to tangle and only licked. You laughed and pushed your fingers into her hair, cradling them behind the curvature of the skull and craning her back. Your gut lurched as she squeezed your thighs, and suddenly nothing was embarrassing. After a moan into her mouth, you found something that felt right– a sort of ebb and flow, where you pushed and she pulled, tongues dancing and teeth knocking, making you giggle, making her squirm. 

“Mel,” you panted, mentally recording the feel of her jaw opening in your hands. 

“I think this is good,” she evaluated. 

“I think we should keep going,” you groaned, smearing a wet trail of kisses down her neck. “Practising.”

“Yes,” was her best work. 

It was wrong, right? It felt good. She was so much softer than you expected, and so much stronger. She seemed fascinated with squeezing every abundant inch of you with her steady hands, hands that probably should have been a surgeon’s but stuck to emergency care. You tugged at her hair as you belabored a sensitive patch behind her ear that had Mel’s chest rising and her toes curling. It had gotten to the point where none of this was safe at all, and you were rolling your hips in a frenzy for friction, and she was clawing at your face to bring you back to the original agreement. 

With her eager mouth against yours, Mel fell subject to the parasite in her heart and confessed, “I’ve been– wanting to– kiss you, mmf– for so long.”

You could barely think between smacks. “Me? You– mngh– really?”

“Mhm… God… yeah.”

“Me too,” you whimpered, breaking it to take a look.

Mel was a proper mess. Hair static from tugging, mouth bitten red, tank top tugged unruly and eyes sheening with a mist that landed somewhere between tears and hunger. You combed her hair back and let yourself be a bad friend. “I’m in love with you and I never said anything because I was scared.”

The doctor gazed up at you for promptly one second before grabbing your face and dragging you back down, making you yelp. You smushed your mouth to hers happily, and somehow she slipped the words through your teeth: “Thank God.”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” she laughed, wriggling you until she was able to shove you down onto your back. Mel crawled over you in a careful heat. “This was the best excuse I could use. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You didn’t have time to laugh because she smoothed her hands right up your shirt, spanning them greedily over your ribs. “Mel!” “Yeah?”

“You love me?” You flushed– finally. 

“I love you.”

“I want more,” you smiled.

“More firsts?”

“Please.”

Mel barely contained her joy and all but mauled you, pressing your back into the worn leather of the couch and boxing you in. Her shirt was easy to slide off, but it took quite a while to snap your focus back at the sight of all her chocolate beauty marks against that cream skin. Your shirt took more work, but the reward was greater, because Mel practically cried over how beautiful you were under there, all that body you hid away (“and for what?!” she exclaimed). When she was brave enough to slip her hand between your legs, all bets were off. You were about to be the worst person possible. 

“Fuck, please,” you whined. It was pathetic, really, how quickly you folded without even an ounce of pleasure yet. “Touch me, Melly.”

“Now this I can do,” she smirked. “Doctors. Anatomy. Y’know.”

It was funny because she was right. Her fingers nudged under your cotton barrier and notched against your clit like a magnet, no searching necessary, only seizure. Her lips smothered yours again as those same pulse-taking digits encircled your nub softly, offering a cruel amount of pleasure with barely any of the ferocity she used above the neck. 

Your nails dug into her shoulders as she made quick work between your legs, but half the credit could be attributed to the sudden cockiness she let loose as she caressed you. “Have you thought about this before?”

“All the time,” you gushed. “I think I’ve been getting off to you for years.” “Oh my God, like, in your room? The one next to mine?”

“I don’t– ah– have another!” You gasped. 

“That’s so good,” she said mournfully, “and so sad, baby, I could have done it for you.”

Your eyes crossed like a cartoon. “Fuck.”

Mel chuckled and cupped your mound with her palm, testing the puckering center of your cunt like a button. “Baby? Is that a good one?”

“Anything,” you babbled, hips bucking. “You can call me anything.”

“Baby,” she began, sliding a finger into your sopping walls. “Honey,” she added, beginning to thrust. “Oh, sweetie,” she concluded and she plunged a second finger in, seeing as you were wide open and absolutely begging for it. 

You writhed and gripped her wrist, holding her in place as she fucked you with her fingers. Sugary tears collected in the corners of your eyes. Your fingers were never long enough, but hers were a different story. She was tickling the corrugated muscle inside you like piano keys. You moaned weakly and fluttered around her hand. “Melly!”

“What should we do, sweetie? Do you want to cum? Or wait?”

What kind of question was that? “Cum! Please!”

Mel’s teeth sunk into your warm cheek as she pierced you again and again, a brutal curving thrust that had your knees trembling. By the time you were grabbing onto her for dear life and gasping for air, she knew she’d made it happen. 

Mel dragged her slick fingers out from between your folds and shoved them in her mouth, nuzzling into your neck as she tasted you. Her anguished moan made your stomach flip. You shifted helplessly, the ache between your thighs barely quelled, and you asked, “What do you want me to do to you?”

Mel’s eyes flicked up from her resting place in her neck, and she grinned. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you swallowed, still panting. “What do you want?”

She grinned wider. “To fuck you.”

You blinked. “Like…”

“Mhm.”

“Not fingers? O-or my mouth, or–”

“Later. Do that later. I just,” Mel breathed in the scent of your skin before continuing, “God, I really just want to scissor you. So much.”

It was maybe the dorkiest thing she’d ever said– and this is Mel we’re talking about– but it worked on you. Everything she did worked on you. You made no objections as she shimmied your panties down your legs and allowed hers to follow, and you selfishly ogled the soft, puffy folds of her pussy as she clambered over you again. 

Mel giggled and braced her arms on the cushion beneath you, and she asked, “It’s just like kissing, isn’t it? Tilting our hips to either side?”

You floundered, because Mel was recreating about ninety wet dreams in that moment, and you struggled to speak. The doctor leaned down to kiss you much softer than before, and she whispered, “You want this, right?”

You melted, obviously. “Yes.”

“Okay. Then let’s practice.”

Turns out this was an even easier rhythm to syncopate. Maybe it was because you were both so wound up, but it only took a few seconds of brushing her cunt against yours to fall prey to the blissful smear of arousal. Mel’s sharp hips rocked against the sweet spot between your lips, and there was enough cushion on you to stop it from being bone-grindingly close; her soft, throbbing clit kissed yours again and again as she clung to your thigh and rocked, rocked, rocked…

“Holy shit,” you gasped for air. 

“I thought it only worked in porn,” Mel grunted.

“You watch porn?”

“Sometimes I have to,” she gritted her teeth, “Jesus, you’re so wet.”

“You’re so good at this,” you sighed. “Sure you haven’t done it before?”

Mel stroked your face as she grinded her hips in a blessed circle, catching the flesh just right. “Only with you.”

When Mel came, you wished you had a camera. Perverted, yes, but understandable. Her mouth parted in a picturesque little ‘o’, and the pinch between her brow was characteristically adorable. Her face screwed up like the wind had been knocked out of her, and her body stuttered against yours, rutting weakly, like the pleasure was squeezing her insides. You, on the other hand, deflated like a balloon, gushing and whimpering nonsense about feeling so good you could die. Mel slumped over you, reveling in the thick little puddle of slick that connected your two at the hips. 

The television was still running. It was a new episode, and Mel turned to glance at it, smiling like an idiot. You tried to regain breath and dignity beneath her, but it was hard when she stroked your sides and placed little kisses over your chest. 

“There’s a lot we have to try,” Mel muttered, careful not to move just yet. “When you get your strength back.”

“Don’t act like it’s just me,” you quipped, smirking. “You’re spent.”

“Give me a couple minutes. I just lost my virginity, you know.”

“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, and the reverberation made your hips twitch with sensitivity. 

Mel peered up at you, and you could’ve sworn, just for a second, that she looked just the way she did when you met her. Perfect, and in love. Maybe it really had been forever, even then. Maybe you were just smart enough to be a nurse, and just stupid enough to spend eight years pining over a girl who loved you back the whole time.

“I love you again,” you cooed, coaxing her hair back. 

Mel glowed. Humans don’t glow, but she’s something entirely different. “You can say that again.”

Price doesn't make many, doesn't make them often, but the ones he does are heavy enough to make it necessary to... extract them before missions. Honestly, any of the men making up the 141 would be lying if they said the sight of their Captain looking a little heavier, moving a little slower, didn't have them a little hard. Excitement is palpable in the air in the days leading up to deployment, each man waiting to be called to the captain's room, each man spending hours with his cock fisted in tight fingers. Too many for one person to deal with when they need to hop on a plane, but spread between three people? Well, the saying is "don't put all your eggs in one basket" for a reason.

Ghost sits on his knees, nose pressed into the thick dark curls at the base of Price's cock and drool dripping from his swollen lips. He stares up at Price, hums around the intrusion and shakes his head to try and nudge the the tip further down his throat. He sucks hard, swallows, works his tongue over the thick length. He can feel the first few eggs starting to line up. Soft jellied things that inch their way down the long thick cock on their way to his stomach. He always gets to go first, Price's second in command, the one that needs the most hand holding through the process, the one that has to swallow where the others can simply bend over. Not that Price minds. Ghost's throat works just as well, and the hard suction helps to get things moving.

The first egg works its way down his length, bulging against Ghost's tongue. Ghost bobs his head, laves his tongue against it, tries to coax it further, further, until he can push his head to the base again and swallow. The first egg stretches past his gag reflex, bulges his throat. He swallows, tries to keep the lack of oxygen from making him panic. It's just like taking a shot. Relax the throat and swallow. The gelatinous blob crawls down his throat, he can feel every slow centimeter it moves before the slick that follows seeps around the edges and slicks his throat. Then it rolls down easy and settles heavy in his stomach.

The remaining slick tingles in his throat, warms him to his core. His cheeks burn, his cock twitches eagerly. One down. Price pats his stomach, plenty more to go.

The second egg makes its way down. Again Ghost bobs his head, sucks down oxygen while he can and tries to ease the egg into his throat. His lips drag up Price's length, and the egg pops out onto his tongue. It fills his mouth, presses against his hard pallet, soft and squishy where his tongue pushes against it. Ghost wraps a hand around Price's length to stop the next one, and tips his head back. He opens his mouth to show his captain the soft jelly egg before it slips down his open throat. Price hums, his lips quirking up into a smile as he scratches his fingers through Ghost's short cropped hair. Ghost rests the tip of his cock against his tongue to let the slick that follows pool in his mouth, numbing his throat.

"Putting on quite the show lieutenant," Price rumbles. Ghost shrugs, swallows, drags his tongue from base to tip before taking him back in his mouth. Price's boot is wedged between his legs, giving his lieutenant something to grind his aching cock against while he works. Price has always been diligent in the care he gives his subordinates, pays them back properly for all they care they give him. The short cant of Ghost's hips, the flutter of the larger man's lashes, feels like a reward for that care.

Ghost's irises are swallowed by his pupils, his attention solely on the eggs that slip down Price's shaft. The only answer, if it is an answer at all, from him is to push his head down Price's cock once more. He keeps his mouth open, his tongue licking along the underside of Price's length as he slurps at it, filling the room with obscene sounds. Putting on a show, just like his Captain said.

"Steamin' 'ell," Soap groans.

"You'll get your turn," Price tells him, his fingers still stroking through Ghost's hair. His thumb moves to swipe at the slight wetness under Ghost's eye, barely there tears from the rough intrusion of his throat. Ghost swallows a third egg, his eyes locked on his captain as it bulges out his throat. "Good boy." The words, succor sweet, make Ghost's eyes roll, his hips bucking against Price's boot in response.

Ghost's eyes dart to the sergeants. Gaz's fingers are wrapped tight around his cock, head lolled to the side as he watches his lieutenant throat his captain's cock. Ghost knows he's plugged, the only one of the two that ever shows up prepared. The only one that gets to take the big eggs, the last ones in the line that make him shoot ropes of come over the floor. Drooling is a good look on him. Beside him Soap's fingers plunge into his sopping hole, diligently working to open himself up, lucky in a different respect that he has a warm cunt to hold his clutch in.

Ghost nearly chokes as a fourth egg taps his gag reflex. His eyes water, his breath coming quick through his nose as he attempts to swallow the gelatinous sphere. He whines- moans around the egg, feels Price press his boot more firmly against his cock. It's a distraction, one that makes him gag, spit pooling around the edges of his mouth, his stomach rolling at the intrusions already weighing it down. Price's eyes are firm when he meets them, unyielding. The fingers gripping his hair tighten, force him to keep his nose buried in Price's coarse pubic curls and swallow.

Price only lets him off when he's sure the egg has settled firmly in Ghost's stomach. Ghost's tongue lolls out, drool dripping off of it in thick rivulets as he pants. His eyes are still misty with unshed tears, his fatigues boasting a growing wet spot where his cock leaks against them.

"Loosen Garrick up," Price orders, patting Ghost's cheek. The lieutenant nods, and turns his attention towards Gaz, as Price wraps his own hand around his cock to halt the descent of his eggs.

One look from the captain has Soap scrambling to find his position. "Better for the Captain's back," Gaz had told him one as he'd helped him kneel on the edge of the bed. Price pushes his legs together, settles a big hand on the base of his neck to push his face into the mattress as his legs bracket Soap's. Soap reaches between his legs to spread the folds of his cunt, letting his superior officer see the slick dripping off of him. Price hums, sliding his hand down Soap's back to squeeze his ass and spread him further.

"Thought you'd want them in the back," Price confirms, his thumb stroking over Soap's tightly puckered hole. Soap swallows thickly, resists the urge to push back into the feeling, and shakes his head.

"Feels be'er," He mumbles. Another hum from Price as he inspects his sergeant's hole.

"Does it?" Price grunts, nudging the head of his cock against Soap's entrance.

"Yessir," Soap groans, feeling the burning stretch of Price's fat cock spreading him open. The pain makes his eyes roll, the heat of it coursing through his body with the roll of Price's hips. He can feel the next egg already making its way down the shaft, no longer held back by Price's tight fist and oh-so-eager to lodge itself in Soap's warm hole.

Price pulls out, leaving just the tip of his cock inside, before pushing in again. The bump of the egg stretches Soap's hole wider, and he lets out a groan. It rubs against his g-spot, pushing at his gummy walls with each stroke. Maddening. The friction of it, the pressure, makes his cunt feel hot. His cock tingles, stood at attention and begging to be touched. Soap wraps his fingers around it, giving it short strokes as he feels his folds wrapping around Price's cock. Christ he always forgets how different it feels when he takes a clutch this way. Always forgets the way slick drips and foams out of him, the way his stomach tightens and his cunt clenches greedily.

Pressure builds behind his dick, his stomach pulling tight. The way the egg pushes against his g-spot... There's no suction helping it along like with Ghost's mouth, just the repetitive motion of Price's thrusts. The soft egg slips into him as Price pulls out, nestled tight against his entrance before Price pushes it deeper with a spurt of slick. Soap's eyes roll feeling the foreign body roll against his walls, pushed tight against his cervix by Price's cock. Price circles his hips, grinding the egg against that deep aching spot inside of Soap as he waits for the next egg to drop. It shoots like electricity up his spine, tightens the molten heat behind his stomach.

Soap presses his face against the mattress in an attempt to muffle the moan the feeling punches out of him. He presses his hips back into Price's thrusts, his eyes rolling and his jaw slack as he feels Price's cock trying to push the egg deeper, forcing his cunt to accommodate both of them. He can feel the next egg catching at his entrance, trying to push its way into his clenched cunt. Price's thumb rubs at his hip, his fingers tight to hold him in place.

"Relax Sergeant," a firm reminder of his place that makes heat prickle over Soap's skin. He can almost hear the way it makes Price smile seeing his skin pink up. Price bats his fingers off his cock and wraps his own callused fingers around it, stroking him quick and dry. It hurts, Soap's moans hiccuping out of him as he tries to catch his breath. Price presses his weight down against him, forcing the arch of his back. "Can always force it," Price rumbles low in his ear.

Soap stiffens, jostle by the hard slap of Price's hips as he forces the next egg inside. He grinds his hips down into Soap, rubbing the egg against his soft spot and stroking his cock. Soap knows the wet feeling immediately, the dribble of heat out of him, the low chuckle from Price as he pulls back. He doesn't need to see the wet shine on Price's thighs, to recognize the way his muscles unspool for his Captain.

"There you go," Price patronizes, "just have to loosen you up." The second egg slides in alongside the first, a third already pushing against his entrance. It feels bigger, but it always is, a steady size increase that always leaves him and Gaz loose and dripping. This one though, Christ how long has Price been cooking these things. The way Soap clenches around the fat intrusion is involuntary, it hardly stops the egg. The squish of it doesn't make up for the way it stretches him open, or the way Price groans. It nearly locks their hips together, Price grinding his already thick cock inside of Soap as the egg makes it's slow descent into his wet channel.

Price pulls back, moaning as the egg is pulled by Soap's tight cunt. Lodged just inside his entrance, and forcing Price to pull out entirely just to deposit the thing inside of him. Soap's legs shake, the burn of being held open by the egg making heat wash over him. Price releases his cock to spread his folds with two hands, whistling low at the way his cunt gapes around the egg. Two thick finger press against the egg, forcing it to nestle itself with its siblings before those same fingers are jabbing against Soap's soft spot.

Soap tenses, feels his cunt try to clench around them with minimal success. He swears into Price's bedspread, his stomach rapidly tightening with another orgasm. It's too much, he feels loose, full and empty at the same time. The eggs are heavy, pushing against each other, pushing against his cervix, against the back of his cock, and Price's fingers are precise. He can feel his walls starting to flutter when Price shoves the full, girthy length of his cock back into his hole. The next egg popping into his stretched cunt with embarrassing ease as Price fucks him.

The fingers are around his cock again, stroking the short length as Price pushes a fourth egg into his sopping cunt. The walls of his cunt feel raw as hot slick fills the space between eggs. The warmth soaks into him, makes his limbs feel like jelly as it forces him through a second shuddering orgasm. Price's fingers grip his hair at the base, pulling his face from the bed to watch the way he sticks his tongue out for the man. Soap gets a glimpse of Ghost pulling his come covered cock from Gaz before his captain spits on his tongue and lets him collapse back on the bed. Soap rolls onto his side, pushing a hand between his legs to hold the eggs inside as Price turns his attention to Gaz.

"You're up," Price tells him, a firm hand grabbing Gaz's ankle to drag him closer.

"Can't give me a breather?" Gaz asks with a smile. Price shakes his head.

"Saved the best for ya, should be thankin' me."

“Should be thanking me for letting you put those things in me,” Gaz retorts before adding on a quick, “Captain.”

Price lets out a huff of laughter and pulls Gaz to rest in front of him, his hands pushing up under the sergeant’s knees to fold him in half. Gaz can feel the way the pressure on his stomach forces Ghost’s come out of him, the warm slick dripping down his ass. Price is quick to catch it on the head of his cock, spreading the come over Gaz’s loosened hole before pushing in. Gaz winces a little, letting out a breath as he forces his body to relax. The burn and pressure of the new stretch knocks the wind out of him. Price may not be as thick around as Ghost is normally, but with an egg already primed… Gaz shudders feeling the ridge of it, the fat knot in the middle of Price’s cock that catches on his hole. Price wastes little time grinding it into him, working his hole back to the puffy softness that Ghost had fucked it to, until the egg can slip inside. 

It happens all at once. The egg catches at the thickest point, and then slips inside in a single movement. Gaz’s eyes flutter closed, his head dropping back to enjoy the feeling. The egg slips over his prostate and he gasps, jerks his hips against Price’s cock and forces him deeper. The first one is always the easiest. He opens his eyes to glance at Soap watching his fellow sergeant toying with his still gaped cunt. If Soap got an egg big enough to leave him open, big enough that Ghost is eyeing him, then Gaz’ll be in for worse. The first is just a taste of what’s to come.

That doesn’t make it any easier when it finally leaves Price’s cock, when he’s filled a second time with slick. Although he thanks his lucky stars for the way Price’s slick seems to seep into him, radiating warmth that makes his cock twitch. The egg nestles itself deep inside him, just deep enough to avoid settling where he really wants it. He won’t have to worry about that for long though. The tell tale bulge of another egg forces itself against his loosened hole. Even at the small end of it, it feels bigger than the last, and given the way Price grunts, pulls his cock out to try and force the thing in, it must be. 

Gaz wraps a hand around his own cock, squeezing the base. Damn thing is drooling worse than Soap does, just the prospect of his ass being stretched out is enough to get him going, but to actually feel it happening? To feel the way Price pushes the tip of the egg against the ring of muscle that swallows his cock? It’s divine. It burns, he can feel the way his ass is opened around the girth of the egg being forced inside. He imagines the swell of it, the way his skin stretches to accommodate, how wet it all must look as he’s stretched open around the egg. Each centimeter of it is thicker and thicker, until he reaches the thickest point and Price gives that last thrust the pops the whole thing inside. Gaz’s back arches off the bed feeling the egg settle so completely inside of him. He feels loose, barely aware of Price’s cock except where his head bumps against his prostate.

The only problem is Price pulling his cock out. Gaz clenches around the egg, the intrusion holding him open and plugging him up all in one go. Price attempts to pull out, and the egg lodges itself against Gaz’s opening, unwilling to leave the warm hole it’s found itself in. Gaz whines, opens his mouth to moan as Price relents to the thing and presses his hips tight against Gaz’s, grinding the egg into him. The thick gelatinous egg makes its slow, maddeningly slow way through Price’s cock, catching against his prostate and rolling against it for what feels like ages. Gaz’s grip around his cock tightens near painfully, his teeth grit against the waves of pleasure that course through him. Fucking hell. There’s sweat starting to bead on his forehead as slick fills him, another attempt to get the egg inside. 

The last few are the hardest for his captain, Gaz knows this, knows they don’t always come out nicely. That’s all too clear with the way the next one in line already presses against his entrance. The second egg isn’t even out, still grinds down in aching pleasure against his sweet spot, and he’s supposed to take another already? Price pulls out as best he can, using Gaz’s muscles against him. Milking his cock in Gaz’s clenching ass to ease the fat egg into him. Gaz’s breath catches in his throat, chokes him as his cock dribbles pre-come over his fingers, desperate to play a part in the desperation being fed to it. Price thrusts back inside, pushing the egg deeper, and Gaz feels the next in line press painfully tight against his hole. “Captain,” Gaz gasps, his voice cracking as Price batters his sweet spot, making sparks fly over his skin. Price leans his weight onto Gaz’s legs, his grip tightening as he fucks his cock into him, trying to coax the next egg down the line. Gaz shudders, his stomach flexing, tensing and untensing under Price’s weight.

“No tapping out now Gaz,” Price grunts, “know what you signed up for.”

“Not tapping out,” Gaz let's his eyes roll back, his nails digging into Price's shoulders, “feels good, fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the molten heat in his stomach churn with each electric shock of pleasure from his prostate. Price rolls his hips, grinding against it, and the second egg finally fills him. Just in time for the next one to stretch him. He winces a little, his ass hurts, his cock twitches, the egg pushes and pushes. He’s forced open, held open by the egg. Too big to prep for, and only aided by the stretch of the last one. Lukewarm lube is dripped from the bottle in Price’s hand over his hole, only just easing the stretch. The slick heats up so quickly, warmed to near boiling by the heat of Gaz’s skin alone. The egg stops at the thickest point and holds him open.

Price’s thumb rubs against the ridges of his entrance, appreciative, and Gaz’s face burns. He wishes he could see it, wishes he could see the eggs ruining his hole the way he could watch Soap. It must be a pretty sight, his ass spread so wide around the egg’s middle he can feel it pressing under his balls. If he was on his knees he might ask for a picture, he still might. Price slides his hand back up over Gaz’s thigh, pushes it firm against his stomach and Gaz hitches a breath.

“One of you’s gonna take the whole thing eventually,” Gaz shudders, Price’s voice tugging at an unnamed greed deep in his chest, one he’s sure the rest of the team shares, “be fat with my eggs.” 

The next egg pops inside with a harsh slap of Price’s hips, and snaps the grip Gaz has on his cock. His back arches, or attempts to under Price’s hold, pleasure coursing through him as ropes of come hit his chest. Gaz moans open mouthed and needy, the sound tearing itself from his throat. His cock twitches and spits, drooling against his stomach as Price wipes it with his hand. They all know the drill, opening his mouth for his captain to help clean him up is the least Gaz can do really. Price’s fingers pushing his come into his mouth as he grinds his cock into him, easing the heavy egg down to join its siblings. Gaz’s muscles shake with the effort of maintaining position while Price abuses his insides, his tongue slick and dextrous as it works over Price’s fingers. He doesn’t need the praise that Ghost does, Gaz knows by the look in Price’s eyes that he’s good for him. 

He’s loose, gaping. He can feel the slide of Price’s cock against his rim, a friction that stirs the heat still lingering in his stomach. A whine pushes against Gaz’s lips. That can’t be all of them. He only got three, Soap and Ghost both got four. Eleven is an unlucky number, missions go south on eleven. Gaz lifts his head from the bed to look at Price, his eyes fixed on the softened planes of his captain’s stomach. He drops his head back with a sigh, fine, eleven. He lets his hands fall from Price’s shoulders, starts to get his head on.

Price gives a hard thrust into him, then another, and another. Feeling the eggs rub against his prostate is one thing but having that targeted jab to it over and over again makes his mind go fuzzy. All Gaz can do is grip the bedspread and try not to scream. It’s too much and not enough, his cock twitches with interest, still hard from the roll of the eggs inside of him, and his brain seems to melt out his ears. Then he feels it. Even just the head of it feels as big around as the last egg. Slow moving and just starting to nudge at his ruined hole. Gaz’s eyes go wide and his breathing quickens, his lips already moving in a needy, “yes, yes, yes, please captain, please.”

The egg presses so tightly against his hole that it shortens Price’s movements, his thrusts getting shallow as the egg attempts to invade Gaz’s body. He tries to angle his hips, to push into the feeling, but Price holds him down. Gravity works to his advantage, the head of the egg just nudging into him, only to pop out on the next move of Price’s hips. Gaz whines, it feels pathetic, it feels good. He whines as the egg stretches him a little and leaves, stretches and leaves, over and over as it slowly works more and more of itself in with each thrust. He can feel the weight of it, the unyielding mass of the thing. Bigger than any Gaz has taken so far, maybe the biggest he’s ever taken. He wants it, wants to be ruined by it, to have his ass stretched for days afterwards so his captain(and perhaps the lieutenant and sergeant he works with too) can fuck him again. He wants to feel the splitting stretch to worry that he might need to see medical.

The egg spreads him wider and wider, each thrust of Price’s hips battering it against Gaz’s overworked hole as he chases the end of his release. Stretch and relax, stretch and relax, Gaz’s head spins with the warm ache of it, the shallower and shallower thrusts as the heavy egg moves down Price’s shaft. And pops inside of him in one sharp movement that has Gaz screaming, his cock dribbling out a second round of ruined come as his legs shake. His body pulls tight and he sees stars, feeling the rush of Price’s come fill him. The warmth of it burns against his insides, sinking into his muscles until he’s left pliant and hazy. 

Price pulls out, and almost as quickly is prodding at his hole with his fingers. Gaz feels held open, but that’s not from the hand inspecting him, it’s from the fat egg that Price pushes deeper inside of him. Price hauls his leg over to the side, flipping Gaz onto his stomach. He holds a hand out to Soap.

“He’ll want a picture of this,” the smile in Price’s voice makes fresh heat bloom over Gaz’s skin as he dutifully pushes up onto his knees. The snap of a phone camera could make him eager for another round if he wasn’t so focused on the way that last egg was rolling to meet its siblings. Four. Four was a good number. Price tosses Soap’s phone onto the bed next to Gaz’s head and he quickly grabs for it, staring down at the way his usually tight hole holds itself open to let everyone see his pink insides. Greedy for more, Gaz thinks to himself, zooming in to try and get a look at the egg inside of him. He’ll be putting that one in the group chat.

“Right,” Price grunts, “grab your rucks, plane won’t wait forever.”

“Cannae wait for me to get mah pants oan?” Soap jokes, swatting away Ghost’s hand. Price hums.