GhostOfValorie

“Mmngh- fuck.” Simon wasn’t sure how they’d ended up like this. Tangled on top of Simon’s bunk, drunkenly fumbling with one another’s clothes like teenagers. “S-stop fuckin’ tugging.” Johnny admonished, hand curling around Simon’s wrist to pin it to the bed from where it was fisting his mohawk. “Fuckin’ hurts.”

Simon stared blearily up at him, brown eyes tracking each small movement as Johnny pulled away just enough to glare down at him.

“Soz.” Simon breathed, unrepentant. “’M used to-”

“Women, I know.” Johnny planted his knee outside of Simon’s hip, nudging the man more comfortably beneath him. “But I’m not a woman, so quit it.” Johnny’s hand reached down to finally tug at the hem of Simon’s shirt. Simon propped himself on an elbow, trying to take it from him.

“Fuckin’- Jesus, Simon, lie down.” Johnny pressed a heavy hand on Simon’s shoulder, wrestling the man’s shirt off with no small amount of struggle. Simon growled, whiskey breath fanning over Johnny’s cheek when Johnny finally, triumphantly tore the offending cotton over the man’s torso. For a moment, frustration won out. Then, chest heaving, his eyes widened. Johnny loomed over him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes hooded, descending for one more kiss.

Simon swallowed. “Wait.” He blurted. Johnny pulled back, either from his conditioning to accept an order, or actual care. Simon wasn’t sure which. They lay, suspended in that moment, as Simon tried to gather his thoughts. “Roll over.” He finally demanded.

“No.” Johnny said firmly, teeth nipping at Simon’s neck. Simon’s cheeks flushed pink.

“I said roll over, Johnny.”

“I said no.” Johnny’s hand reached for Simon’s belt, his other hand reaching up to thumb across Simon’s adam’s apple. “Listen,” Johnny sat up, straddling Simon. “You’re the one who wanted to know what it feels like.” He hooked his hands under his shirt, easily pulling it up and over his head. “Don’t be a pussy.”

Simon spluttered. “Pussy?” He repeated. “I’m not a pussy, Johnny, I’ve just never-“

“Aye, and I’m telling you that you’ll enjoy it.”

Simon’s hands settled uncertainly on Johnny’s thighs. Strong muscles flexed beneath his fingertips as Johnny shifted, reaching for his own belt buckle. A pinch and a pull and the tactical buckle fell away. There were only a few pieces of clothing between them. Simon’s cock ached.

Johnny bent, lips finding Simon’s once more. Softly, so gently it felt perverse, Johnny kissed him. His tongue swept gently over Simon’s bottom lip, and when Simon kissed him back he tasted whiskey.

So much whiskey.

They’d had so much whiskey.

How else would they have both agreed they’d always been curious what it feels like to fuck a man.

“Not in a gay way.” Johnny had held up his hands, leaning heavily over the shitty pub table. “Just… is a man’s arse different than a woman’s?”

“Prolly tighter.” Simon had mused, slurring somewhat as he sank back in his own plush bench seat. “Unused, innit?”

“Well but if they’re gay, it isn’t unused.” Johnny had countered.

“Nah, but say a man that’s never done it before…”

It had devolved from there and here he was, lifting his hips as Johnny succeeded in kissing him senseless enough to grasp ahold of his jeans and tug. He shouldn’t be this hard.

“Shit,” Johnny chuckled breathlessly. “Didn’t know a man could get wet.”

Simon craned his neck to find his grey boxer briefs stained with a frankly absurd amount of pre. He hadn’t even realized he’d been leaking. He swallowed, balls tightening and cock leaping at the sight.

All because of a man. All because of Johnny.

He was dimly aware he was once more grasping the man’s mohawk in his fist, stubble rasping against his lips as he tugged Johnny’s lower lip in his teeth.

“Ow! Simon!” Johnny once more admonished the older man. “Jesus, do you leave every date this beat up? Got a blood fetish or nah?”

“How are you this chatty in bed, MacTavish? You got a yapping fetish?” Blue met brown once more, and both men fought back matching amused smirks. Johnny gave an experimental grind in Simon’s lap and Simon’s eyes rolled back.

His hands found the taut muscle of Johnny’s arse, guiding that careful grind once more. Then one hand crept over Johnny’s hip, over his thigh, and hesitantly landed right over-

“Huh.” Simon murmured, palming Johnny’s cock. Johnny, for his part, was too busy bracing his hands on Simon’s thighs for leverage, grinding harder. “Fuck,” came Simon’s strangled response. His palm slid upward once more, carefully gripping Johnny’s hard-on through his jeans. For a moment, the world quieted, and the only thing he was aware of was the weight of the man on top of him and his careful exploration of that still-covered cock.

“Johnny,” it came out more hushed than he’d intended, “take your pants off.”

And Johnny did so, in the showiest possible way. A roll of his hips as he slid his zipper down slowly, a careful shimmy showcasing (unsurprising) satin boxers and those thighs that until just now had been under Simon’s palm.

Then, less gracefully, he leaned back to kick the denim down his knees and tug them off his ankles. Simon’s hand found his mouth and he chortled, endeared entirely by the lack of finesse in the Scot’s seduction attempts.

“Done this before, then?” Simon asked as Johnny settled once more in his lap, resuming his slow, torturous grind.

“Once or twice.” Johnny admitted roughly. “Never got quite this far. Just a little make-out back in college. Maybe a guy gave me a good gammy a time or two.”

They said it together:

“English.”

Johnny leaned close, once more finding Simon’s hand and pinning it over his head. “Blowjob.” He murmured salaciously against Simon’s lips before kissing him feverishly. Simon’s eyes fluttered shut.

His free hand found Johnny’s cock again, this time wrapping around it firmly, the satin sliding against his skin as he gripped that unfamiliar shape and gave it a firm pump, feeling far less confident than the move may have telegraphed. Johnny groaned into the kiss, his fingers lacing with Simon’s and pinning his hand more firmly to the mattress. With a grunt, he reached down and wrenched Simon’s other hand up and away, pinning it alongside its partner.

“Alright,” he panted. “Now the next part might be a bit uncomfortable for you, LT. Don’t get squeamish.”

Simon was about to ask exactly what Johnny meant when the man leaned over him and rummaged through Simon’s night stand. He blinked as his hands were suddenly freed.

“…where’s the lube?” Johnny asked.

“Huh?” Simon blinked blearily. “Lube? Oh, uh…” He wriggled free of Johnny’s pin, hauling himself over the side of the bed and rummaging underneath. “Here.”

He handed Johnny a bottle.

Johnny stared. “LT,” he turned the bottle over in his hands. “…why do you have a liter bottle of lube under your bed.”

“Is that really the most pressing question right now?”

“…suppose not.” Johnny took a bracing breath. “Alright. Skants off.” At Simon’s unimpressed stare, he continued, “you only have one piece of clothing on right now, use that big brain of yours.” He shimmied out of his boxers, and Simon once more found himself staring.

So much like his, and yet so different. Simon couldn’t help it as he cocked his head. Curved just a bit. Thicker than his, but shorter. It looked different than in the showers. He glanced up at Johnny’s face, and found the Scot smirking, an eyebrow arched.

“Shut up.” He flushed.

“Didn’t say anything.” Johnny returned. He gestured for Simon to lie back down and pumped a good amount of lube into his palm. Crawling once more over the supine lieutenant, he buried his face in Simon’s neck, running his tongue up and over his pulse point. At the same time, he gripped Simon’s cock and gave it a slow, loose pump. The slick noise of lube on skin was obscene, and Simon couldn’t help it as his thighs clenched and his hips leapt in Johnny’s grasp.

“Good, sir.” Johnny murmured, his hand sliding down to gently graze Simon’s balls. Then further, and further, and-

“What are you-”

Johnny’s finger pressed, soft and insistent, against Simon’s asshole. His hips leapt off the bed and he nearly headbutted Johnny as he bent near in half.

“Jesus wept!” Johnny reared back. “What did you think I was going to do?” He cried, wrestling Simon back down on the bed. “Take a breath, Simon. Fuck!”

“Fuckin’ warn a guy!” Simon’s face, ears, neck, and chest were no doubt a horrific, deep red.

Johnny couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Sorry, sorry, jeez.” He pumped another palmful of lube over his hand. “Warning you now. A finger’s goin’ in your arse.”

Simon swallowed, forcing his heart rate down to a more reasonable bpm.

“I didn’t think when we had that chat that I’d be the woman in this scenario.” He groused, flush deepening.

“Aye, well if you really think you’d like to get an eyeful of my hairy arse I can air out my bawbag and-”

“That’s enough.” Simon sighed, running a hand over his face. “Alright.” He clenched his jaw, looking askance as he spread his thighs. “Gentle-like, Johnny.”

“So gentle, sir.” Johnny agreed, awkwardly adding another half-pump to his already dripping fingers.

Simon let out an entirely undignified sound when Johnny’s finger once more pressed against his hole and, with less resistance than he’d have liked, breached him up to the first knuckle. Then the second.

Johnny’s eyes were trained on right where his finger had sunk in, eyelashes fluttering as he circled a hooked finger forty-five degrees until Simon felt a sudden and immense pressure. His hips, rather than pulling away this time, pressed down, and he felt his cock twitch. A soft huff of air left his chest unbidden, ending in a soft whine.

“Good?” Johnny breathed, cheeks tinged pink. Simon shut his eyes, unable to take whatever that look was that Johnny was giving him.

He nodded as Johnny began to massage that spot, soft at first, then a bit harder. He gasped when, almost too soon, Johnny pushed a second finger in. But he didn’t protest this time, too busy focusing on how each drag over whatever that was made his cock twitch on his stomach.

“Wonder if it feels like this when a woman does it.” Simon murmured.

“It does.” Johnny said easily. “Had a girlfriend once who loved doing this to me.” Simon heard Johnny swallow heavily, as if remembering the feeling. “…ready?”

“Ready for what?” Simon’s eye cracked open just in time for Johnny to remove his fingers. A zing of panic went through him at the feeling, but Johnny didn’t seem bothered.

Another pump of lube, and Johnny was slicking his cock until it shone in the dim light.

“Right.” Simon intoned. “You’re gonna… shove your dick up my arse.”

Johnny paused. “Look, we don’t have to.” Though that curved, nodding thing between his legs almost seemed disappointed at the prospect of not burrowing into Simon’s hole. And Simon’s hole clenched at the thought of going without it inside of him.

“Seems you’re practically drooling for it, Johnny.” Simon taunted.

“Please,” Johnny scoffed. “I’m not concerned about getting my tadger done in. ‘S easy, you just follow the script.” He once more fell on his elbows, blanketing Simon’s bulk with his own, eyes gleaming. With no small amount of dramatic flair, he murmured, “You’re the bonniest thing in this place.” His voice dropped a half an octave, a devilish smirk curling his lips as he gripped Simon’s calf and wrapped his leg around his waist. Simon felt the heat in his face and his groin spike.

His cock drooled on to his stomach, against his better judgement.

“You’re disgusting, Johnny.” He turned his head to the side. Johnny just hummed and shifted. Simon felt something much larger than a finger or two pressing against him. He didn’t panic this time. At least not outwardly.

“Ready?” Johnny’s dry hand carefully tilted Simon’s face toward him, forcing his gaze upward once more. Simon’s mind fled. He wasn’t sure if he nodded or said something or if Johnny just took his silence as acceptance. But he sure as shit knew when he learned that anal sex could hurt and feel good at the same time.

His abs clenched, his asshole clenched, his thighs and jaw and hands clenched, and he was gripping Johnny’s shoulders for a few hot, stinging, nerve-singing seconds. Right until he felt Johnny’s abs against his cock and Johnny’s balls against his taint.

“All the way.” Johnny’ breathed, his gaze once more focused on where he was involved in the situation. “You took it all the way on your first try. Look. At. That.” Simon’s abs clenched again.

Panic lanced through him once more when Johnny pulled out. That feeling was reserved for one bodily function and it up until this moment it hadn’t been sex.

But then Johnny was back inside again and that pressure and that fullness and that stretch gave way to an odd, pleasurable feedback.

And again. And again. And again.

“Shit-” Simon panted, burrowing his face in Johnny’s neck. He lost count of movement or time or the sense of being a man because this… this was nothing like he’d ever experienced before. His arms wrapped around Johnny’s neck so tight he might have almost broken it had he not felt as though his strength had been sapped entirely.

He knew he was more vocal during this… whatever it was. Experiment? Drunken mishap? This strange new beginning... His eyes watered, blinking back an odd combination of overwhelming pleasure and overwhelming shame as he cried out Johnny’s name when he brushed against that spot again. There was no way, no way that a cock in his arse was making him feel this good. No way he was arching like a fucking whore when Johnny gripped his hair and kissed him.

It was even worse when Johnny’s hand wrapped around his cock, halting its bouncing against his middle and instead sending sparks up and down his spine in a near-constant stream of “Fuck, Johnny- Jesus fucking Christ Johnny” alongside his panting, pathetic whines as he scrabbled to grip Johnny’s hair once more. Teeth scraped his neck in retaliation before withdrawing.

His eyes squeezed shut and he lost himself in the moment, every muscle clenching tighter and tighter until-

“Fuck, Johnny, I-!”

-warmth. His warmth, streaking and immediately going tacky on his chest, shoulder, chin, stomach. And then emptiness and the frantic, groaning, growling addition of Johnny’s release to the puddle in his bellybutton.

Moments passed. Neither of them moved other than to sag, relieved, into and around one another.

The bed springs creaked and Simon opened his eyes. Johnny was tugging out tissues from the box on the nightstand, wiping himself off first, then handing Simon a fistful. Propping himself on his elbow, he diligently swiped at the pearlescent fluid on his pale skin. His mind slowly, slowly found its way back into his skull.

“So,” he cleared his throat once he was mostly clean, “any tighter than a woman’s?”

Johnny gestured for Simon to give him room to recline on the mattress.

“…don’t know.” Johnny finally said. “Never fucked a woman’s arse before.”

Simon whipped his head around to frown at Johnny. “What.”

“Yeah.” Another gesture. Come here. “Never fucked a woman in the arse before.” Simon joined him, hands folded uncertainly over his belly. The bed was hardly built for two, let alone two broad, well-muscled men. Their shoulders were smashed together. And their hips. And their thighs. “Women… well, most of them don’t like when you ask for it, you know?” Johnny chuckled, nudging Simon’s foot with his own.

“No, Johnny, I’m a virgin.” Simon deadpanned. Johnny pillowed his head on his arm, crossing the other to rest just under his chest. Simon fought the urge to stare - at the arm or chest he wasn't certain.

“You don’t say aye?” Johnny’s grin gleamed in the dim light. “And how was I?”

Simon gave Johnny a sideways stare that could curdle milk. “Terrible.” He replied.

“Is that why you were writhing around like you’d been shot in the gut?”

Simon’s eyes snapped closed as he fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Johnny…” He growled.

“I’m done, I’m done.” He chuckled. “…you’re good, though? No pain?”

Simon blinked his eyes open once again. No pain? He wriggled his hips, ignoring the way it jostled Johnny against him.

“I’ve had worse.” He replied stoically.

“Good.” Johnny yawned. “C’mere.” And Simon, for what felt like the tenth time that evening, was caught off guard as the Scot turned and wrapped his arm around Simon’s middle. “Fuck like that, you’re bound to sleep like a baby.” Simon turned so that Johnny was pressed against the length of his back. The man’s thumb swept over Simon’s slightly sticky belly.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cuddler.” Simon stared at the wall opposite him.

“We’ve cuddled before. This is nothing new.” But the heat of Johnny’s breath on his neck felt new. The way Johny took up Simon’s hand in his felt new. The way his heart beat off-rhythm in his chest felt new.

“Whelp, see you in the morning, LT.” Johnny mumbled. “Try not to dream about me, mmk?” He nuzzled just under Simon’s ear.

Simon opened his mouth to protest, but Johnny was already snoring.

“…goodnight.” He murmured, and allowed himself to relax into the sergeant’s warmth. He was asleep in a matter of minutes, Johnny’s fingers laced tightly between his own.