pressed, i got 'em

Scott used to be terrified he’d maul you to death with the claws he can conjure at will. Now he’s a glorified can opener.

The fact that you can find practical uses for the traits he used to think made him a monster is one of the reasons he fell so deeply in love with you.

Because when you look at Scott’s claws, you don’t see murder weapons; you see an excuse to never buy a pair of scissors again. His night vision isn’t a way to stalk his prey to you, it’s the reason you always make him get you a glass of water in the middle of the night, because he doesn’t have to turn on any lights as he goes.

Every time you want to shotgun a beer, he brings his fangs out to puncture a perfect hole in the can for you. His overpowered hearing is used to identify expensive sounding noises your car makes. You never have to experience period cramps again when you’re cuddling with him, he just absorbs them with a smile.

Scott gets up from the couch and meanders towards the smell of your cooking. When he gets to the doorway of the kitchen, he pauses, watching you hum softly to yourself as you flit around, putting the finishing touches on your dishes.

“What are you staring at, McCall?” you call over your shoulder, feeling his eyes boring into you.

“Am I not allowed to stare?” he chuckles, crossing his arms.

“That depends…” you throw a dish towel over your shoulder and turn to face him, “…on what your reason for staring is,” you quip, raising your eyebrow.

Scott shrugs. “I’m staring because I love you,” he explains simply.

Ghost was hauled into a humvee for an excruciating 47 minute drive back to base. The first six minutes included Ghost whining in pain, palming his bulge and huffing at the lack of proper stimulation while his three comrades attempted to look anywhere but at him.

Until Ghost finally pleaded, “Lads…ahm dying…hurts…so….gotta…ahm sorry,” before unbuckling his pants and wrapping a shaking hand around his painfully erect cock.

Soap, Gaz & Price continued to avoid looking at him like he might shoot them for trying while Ghost furiously stroked himself, the swell of embarrassment hitting him just as hard as the searing pain.

“s’not-FUCK-workin’…hurts…fucking cunt-it BURNS-“ he grunted, eyebrows knitted together, his hand nothing more than a flesh colored blur around his flushed cock.

“It only works if it’s someone else,” Price interjected darkly, quiet enough that Ghost didn’t register it through his panicked writhing. Soap & Gaz exchanged horrified looks that turned to both men resolutely setting their jaws. They’d heard what Laswell said; no matter how uncomfortable it is for them, the pain is tenfold for Ghost.

The sergeants unbuckled their gloves methodically, spit into their palms and gave each other minute nods, resigning themselves to their fate.

“Ghost, let go,” Gaz commanded in a forced professional voice. Ghost whined, high-pitched and full of every need of his that isn’t being met.

“Ah can’t…ahm sorry-fuck…just tryn’ta-“ he groaned, eyes still squeezed shut, chasing a release he can’t reach. Soap put a hand on his shoulder.

“We’re gonna help you; let go, Lt,” he reassured, swallowing hard. There isn’t a training manual on earth that would’ve given them any guidance on this situation.

“How’ya gonna-ohhhhhhh,” Ghost groaned as Soap and Gaz gripped his cock in unison; hard. Tension rolled off of his body in waves, melting into their contact despite himself.

“Don’t have to do this,” Ghost mumbled, grateful for his mask concealing his expression more than ever. But he’d already started subtly bucking his hips upwards, chasing pleasure in earnest.

“Only way for you to not feel pain, mate. It’s ok; just use our hands,” Gaz explained through a thousand-yard stare. In the front seat, Price shot concerned glances through the rear view mirror but said nothing. Gaz was right; this was the only way.

So Ghost wrapped his hand around his sergeants’ and went to town. It was by far the strangest hand job he’d ever received in his life, but it kept the burning pain at bay as he used their warm palms to stroke himself to completion. He tried not to think about how fucking weird the whole situation was and luckily it was pretty easy given how mindless the drug was making him.

The sergeants didn’t have the same luck. They both looked out their respective windows and ignored Ghost’s huffs of pleasure as they felt warm spurts of liquid ooze over their fingers and tried not to get nauseous.

Gaz chose to cope by pretending his right hand simply wasn’t a part of his body, but rather just a tool Ghost happened to be using. Soap just replayed every instance where Ghost saved his ass in his head on a constant loop, weighing the merits of one handjob against years of getting his life saved.

Price kept his eyes on the road, feeling bad for all three of his men, but not so bad that he couldn’t feel grateful he wasn’t in the back seat with an insatiably horny Ghost who can’t seem to stop cumming for the life of him.

“Laswell, we’re five minutes out; what’s the plan?” Price asked into his earpiece, voice steely.

“We’ve retrieved the doctor and he’s got enough sedatives on hand to knock Ghost out until his symptoms subside,” she explained in her authoritative voice. Ghost let out a groan of relief that wasn’t caused by the two hands around his cock. He wanted nothing more than to be unconscious, possibly forever, for what he was doing to his bloody coworkers right now.

Laswell then dropped her volume to ask “How’s he doing John?”

The wet slap of skin on skin was so loud in the cramped vehicle, Price wouldn’t be surprised if Laswell could hear it through their helmet mics.

“Fine,” he grunted noncommittally, then added, “the sergeants are handling it,”

There was a pause with the line still open.

“John, what’re they-“

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the fucking answers too. He’s fine, we’ll see you in five,” Gaz interjected hotly, reaching up to jam the hang up button on his mic.

“Yeah…” He is determined to not leave you without a climax this time and reaches a hand around to your front, fumbling blindly until he locates the bundle of nerves hidden between your folds. When his rough fingers begin to fondle it, you feel a jolt of pleasure zap your body that causes your arms to buckle beneath you.

“Keep…doing that….and…slower….pleeease”. The whine on that last word makes Gally’s cock ache for release but he focuses on delivering you slow thrusts as he swipes at your clit. You feel the warmth building in your core as each stroke pushes you further to the edge until you’re gripping the sheets beside your head and pushing your thighs together, riding your climax to its satisfying finish.

“Did you..?” // “.....duh,” // “Can I-” // “Yeah go ahead,”

With your permission given, Gally quickens his thrusts for a few seconds, his own familiar wave of pleasure washing over him as his cum spurts into the condom buried deep inside of you.

Neither of you says a word while cleaning up and redressing, too high off the post-orgasm endorphins to trust your mouths not to say anything stupid.

“You fuck better when you’re sober,” you finally state with an air of constructed indifference.

“Really?” Gally raises a well-defined eyebrow at you, his blue eyes wide.

“You’re less sloppy. More…” // “...Focused?” // “...Intentional.”

Gally’s heart is pounding in his ears. Your praise of his sexual prowess seems to affect him more each time you express it.

“Thanks. You’re more…responsive, when you’re sober,” It was your turn to become skittish at his soft-spoken, rather clumsy compliment.

This conversation has been backed into an awkward corner. You cross the room to his door, avoiding his eye contact in the process, ready to make a quick escape.

“‘Night” // “Yeah see you, um, later I guess” // “Yeah,”

The door closes quickly behind you, leaving Gally to curse his lack of verbal smoothness in his now starkly empty hut.

Having fun? you ask with a smirk, undressing

Was…can’t get this last orgasm…been edging for ages he explains bitterly, clicking the slim remote in his hands as you hear the buzzing pattern of the toy change. He lets out a huffy breath when he realizes this pattern isn’t getting him any closer to blowing his load than the last one was.

Need my help? you ask genuinely, stripped down to your panties and his old boot camp t-shirt now.

He sighs with relief. Yes; please, he nearly begs, pulling the toy out of his hole with a loud pop as you join him on the bed.

You reach towards the dresser; Strap? you ask simply. Johnny shakes his head while his hand continues its pumping motion on his throbbing shaft.

In a bit; can ya finger me first? he asks without an ounce of shame, spreading his legs further so you can get in between them once you’ve retrieved the bottle of lube you were rummaging for. You squirt a dollop on your two middle fingers, rubbing it around gently to coat them.

Want me to suck you off too? you ask, inserting your two digits to the knuckle into your boyfriend’s well-prepped hole.

No thanks, baby, just wanna wank, he responds simply, closing his eyes as your expert fingers find his prostate while his continue gripping his dick like it might fall off at any moment.

This is how all sexual encounters sound between you and your beloved Johnny; clear, open communication that leads to everyone getting what they want. How refreshing is it to be in a relationship where there are no egos in the bedroom.

In just a few minutes of the deliberate rhythm that your fingers drum against his g-spot, Johnny’s hand becomes a blur around his member, clearly getting close to that release he’s been chasing for god-knows how long.

God, bonnie; little harder, he moans and you comply instantly, putting more pressure behind your thrusts against his sensitive prostate. That’s exactly what he needs to get there and you smile when you watch his brows knit together and his pretty blue eyes roll back.

Oh god…I love you…feels so-g-oh bonnie fuCK c-cumming he groans and your bend down quickly to take his tip in your mouth while he strokes himself violently through his finish.

He didn’t want a blowjob but Johnny cums hard, (as evidenced by the thick salty liquid filling your mouth right now in strong spurts that you swallow eagerly), and his cock is pointing directly at the cieling; you don’t want to have to deal with a mess.

Ugh…you’re so much better than any toy…fuck, best orgasm all day he groans, sitting up to pull you into a soft kiss. When he pulls away you really look at him, studying his sweat-soaked face and swollen lips.

To you, he’s the most beautiful man in the universe. To him, you’re a goddess, surpassing all mortal beauty standards without having to try. And now that he’s finished what he started, he’s ready to serve you.

What do you want baby? he asks simply, letting his warm hands travel up your thighs. You bite your lip.

Don’t really want anything, Johnny, you say, genuinely. You enjoyed pleasing your boyfriend but you’re not really in the mood to be pleased tonight. Is there anything more that you want?

Johnny grins and blushes at the same time. Wouldn’t say to no to that strap now bonnie, and before the words even fully leave his mouth you’re fishing for your harness in the bedside table.

He starts moving the pillows in place to put himself in his favorite position; ass propped up high, cheek on the mattress, taking you from behind. The only position he can cum without touching his cock in. Clearly he’s going for maximum pleasure tonight.

Grab the big one, lassie, he grunts, draping himself over his pillows as you gasp in shock then immediately pull it out.

You haven’t asked for this one in months, Johnny! you exclaim while getting it fastened onto your harness correctly.

“The big one” lives up to its name. It’s a mean shade of puple, two inches thick and eight long. Everytime Johnny asks you to fuck him with it, he loses his ability to walk afterwards for anywhere from 6-32 hours. But he’s on leave for the next eight days so that won’t be a problem at all.

Been playing with my bum all day, lassie, he chuckles while you reach for the lube bottle again, I’m plenty prepped.

Masturbation is an indulgence Johnny is so grateful you never made him give up. He loves to make it an all day affair when he’s got the time. And he’s had nothing but time today.

His pretty pink hole is gaped so wide it can’t even wink at you when you lean down to check. Fuck, you weren’t lying baby; whatcha been doing all day? you ask in awe, lubing up the strap.

Fingered myself to my favorite video of us, he explains, referring to the porno you two made on your anniversary last year where you took turns sensually fucking each other in missionary while holding hands and sharing what you love most about one another. It’s somehow sappy and hot and thus gets replayed often.

Came twice, had to take a break for lunch. Then I got out the dildos, he continues while you stretch him with four, lube-coated fingers.

Made ya a new video, riding that pink glittery one…fuck, bon, it was amazing; I came all over the fucking mirror, he says, voice dopey as he reminisces. You look over to the mirror, expecting to see ropes of cum dripping down it but its completely clean. Johnny chuckles beneath you, knowing exactly what you’re doing without having to see it.

Christ baby; I’m not a heathen, I know how to clean up, he continues while you lean down to make out with his throbbing hole.

For some reason, the only thing Johnny ever gets insecure about asking for is getting his ass ate. Well, ok, for a few reasons. But it always gets him to relax before you fuck him, so you try to take him off guard with it so he won’t get embarrassed. He groans lowly but continues.

After that tried to cum with all those vibrators; it didn’t work, I got frustrated and then you came to help me, love he moans in a singsong, So I’m all ready for ya honey.

You line the tip of the strap up to Johnny’s entrance, entranced by how it throbs for you, That’s great baby. I had a horrible day at work so I’m just gonna thrust all my stress away.

You both chuckle, yours being a giddy one and Johnny’s being a slightly nervous one of pure anticipation.

Alright, biiig streeetch now baby.

You push the tip forward, parting Johnny’s walls easily. You can’t see from this angle but he’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, the obscene stretch rendering him brainless beneath you.

You pause mid-thrust, letting your boyfriend get adjusted to the feeling of his hole being that full, running your hands over his plump ass gratuitously. God, he’s got a nice ass. Better than yours if you’re being honest.

Deeper, he groans breathlessly, used to the girth now. It never takes him long to want more whenever you penetrate him.

Oh, you want more? Need all that cock deep inside ya? you tease with no real bite behind your words. Inch by inch you sink the strap into your boyfriend who’s hole is gripping it so hard your pussy can practically feel it.

By the time you bottom out with your hips pressed flush against Johnny’s ass, his cock’s hard beneath him again and you already know he’s gonna ruin those pillows with another thick load.

Can feel it in my belly, he whines, no doubt loving that the pillows are pressed up against his abdomen, creating the illusion of an even tighter stretch. Your core dampens with every one of his breathy moans.

Tell me where you can feel this, honey, you ask in a sugary-sweet tone before pulling the strap almost all the way out of him just to slam it back hard. Johnny keens in response, high-pitched and needy. This is usually the part where he loses the ability to form sentences.

You fuck him rough and mean, hips snapping against him while you ruin him on your strap. All the stress of the day just melts away as your boyfriend moans with every thrust, limp and pliable beneath you and still utterly brainless, drooling on the mattress.

Johnny hasn’t been fucked like this in ages. Most of the penetration he’s been receiving from you lately has been romantic and slow, nothing like the violent pounding he’s getting now.

Maybe it’s the change of pace that has his balls tightening, anticipating his release so soon after his last one. His hips spasm beneath you and you know he’s a goner.

C-close…deeper baby pleeeeeasssee, he manages to stutter out through the fog that’s clouding his cognition. You know his body well by now, snapping your hips against him in a fast rhythm.

Tears streak down Johnny’s red face as he takes it as well as he can. He can feel his orgasm coming, powerless to stop the high-pitched moans escaping him as you continue ruining him with the thickest toy he can take.

Deep enough now baby? you ask, voice breathy with exertion now.

Humping your boyfriend hard and sloppy is exactly the thing you needed to purge the day’s headaches from your mind. You grip his hips and listen to his chorus of whines and moans and muttered “i love you”’s.

When you slam the strap as deep as it will go and grind your hips against the sensitive spot inside him, he finally looses it. He can’t get the word out, just forms the letter ‘c’ with his lips before another thick load pulses onto the pillows against his sensitive cock.

You’re drenched in sweat and coming down from your own high. The both of you pause, panting and euphoric, basking in the afterglow.

Wish…I could cum inside you, you stutter breathlessly, massaging his hips and giggling at the thought of filling him up the way he gets to fill you.

Fuck…bonnie….me too, he whispers weakly, voice wrecked.

He won’t be able to stand for hours and he’ll have a stomach ache like no other once his organs find their way back to their original places in his body.

Two days later in the real world but mere moments later for Simon, his eyes blinked open for real this time, darting immediately downwards and finding skin, raw and exposed to the harsh light of day. The dark blue constellations etched into his arms from all his amateur injections administered exclusively with violently shaking hands practically shone in the led light.

With a lethargic turn of his head he locked eyes with the formidable Captain Price. It wasn’t the throb of his headache or the swimming of his vision or the violent overstimulation from experiencing the world more sober than he has in years that caused him to tuck his chin down onto to his chest and shut his eyes tight, willing sleep to claim him. It was the look his Captain gave him.

Anger could be bucked off or rebuked, pity could be scoffed at, tears could be mocked but that’s not what met Simon’s eyes. John Price’s withered face was regarding him with undiluted concern. The kind Simon knows he only reserves for hostages, pulling the hard lines of his face loose to comfort them as much as he can before drawing his gun up, prepared to drop any body that tries to hurt them again as he leads them out of whatever hell they’ve been inhabiting.

If Price is looking at him like he’s a rescued hostage, then he must be one. If his addiction was hidden well before he should’ve enjoyed it more because it will never be out of the open again. And if he’s lucky to be alive then he doesn’t feel like it. Because he had it all under fucking control, he swears it. But no one will ever believe it.

Halfway through your deep clean, a friend of yours calls that you haven’t spoken to in ages. You ask Simon if it’s alright to take it and of course he stutters out a yes. What the hell kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t ‘let you’ talk to your friends?

He starts getting really squirmy after the first half hour of the call. The physical manifestations of his internal rolling boil of anxiety is getting harder and harder to hide. Finally, only when Simon feels claw marks on the inside of his skin from his desires trying to break free, does he look at you with wet, wide eyes and you finally realize what he’s been too-subtly trying to hint at.

This has been really nice, girl, but I gotta go; Si needs me you explain into the phone and Simon flushes garnet and hides his face in his palms until you set down your phone.

‘m sorry, s-sorry. You can call er back, I-I’m good he stutters breathlessly in a tone that plainly tells you he’s lying.

Si, baby; it’s ok. Let’s go lie down ok? you coo, pulling him to the bedroom. When he’s under the covers and safely tucked into your body, he feels safe enough to respond to your gentle prodding.

‘ead’s fucked. Woke up from a nightmare an’ jus don’ feel like myself…s-sorry, know I shouldn’t be s’weak he blubbers, wrapping his thick arms around you and feeling shameful tears well up in his soft brown eyes.

You’re not weak for needing help sometimes, baby. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. I’m always here to help, and I know you know that but I need ya to remember it, big guy. None of your needs are stupid and they all deserve to be met, ok? you reassure to the cruel voices in his head, pulling him as close as the atoms in your bodies will allow and choosing to ignore his muffled sobs, as you know acknowledging his tears only makes him feel worse.

T-thank you…’m sorry…love ya-s’much…sorry ‘m such a bloody mess he mumbles into your hair, the knot in his chest finally unraveling as he allows himself to bask in your affection.

You hold him until his sobs subside and for a good while longer after that as well. Tight enough to force his broken pieces back together, for just a little while. Simon finds the usual wave of guilt he feels for accepting your help and being vulnerable gets weaker every time he does it.

“Wot?” Johnny asks, dumbfounded.

“You’ve seriously never noticed how restless he gets when he’s not near you guys??? He vibrates like a damn rose toy until someone puts their hand on his back or his arm or something,” you explain hotly, still shocked that neither of these men picked up on it. But then again, they are men.

Johnny thinks back to a particularly tense heli ride after a hostage situation had gone south a few months back. The job got done but sloppily with far too many casualties for 141 to feel victorious.

There was Ghost, laden down by some 70-odd pounds of gear and weaponry, eyes fixed straight ahead and right leg bouncing furiously. His gloved hands were busy doing and undoing his vest straps in an endless loop.

“You alright, Lt?” Johnny had asked, putting a bloodstained glove on his bouncing knee timidly.

Instantly the movement had ceased and under his tac vest Simon’s shoulders released some of their tension.

“Alright, Soap,” Ghost had muttered, a shaky sigh leaving his skull mask as he subtly scooted closer to his sergeant.

Kyle remembers the time he’d gotten hit with a tranq dart a few missions ago. One prick to the thigh and he was dead weight from the neck down. He’d been mortified as his body rag-dolled while Simon carried him back to the humvee

“Ghost, am I crushing you brother?” he’d asked in the backseat, embarrassed at the entirety of his body weight pressing down on his lieutenant who weirdly didn’t seem bothered.

“Nah…I’ve been under worse Gaz,” Ghost had barked, keeping his hands wrapped around his arms to keep him from jostling around in the back seat.

“Here he comes….watch this,” you tease, clocking Simon’s bulky frame parting the crowded bar as he made his way over to you.

Kyle & Johnny snap out of their memories just in time to watch you stumble towards him and nearly fall into his arms.

“S-simonnnnn! You made it!” you squeal as he catches you.

The men at the table exchange looks; you’ve been nursing the same pint for 45 minutes but you sound like you’re twelve deep.

“Hey love….had a few drinks ‘ave ya?” he chuckles, the question directed to Kyle & Johnny who arrange their faces quickly into expression of exasperation.

“Very touchy drunk, that lass is,” Johnny sighs, watching Ghost’s body relax as you pull him in for a hug.

“Ah, that’s alright, love; I don’t mind,” Simon practically beams, half carrying you back to the table.

You spend the rest of the night doting on Simon in ways you know he craves but wouldn’t dare vocalize his need for. You play with his hair, trace the tattoos on his arms, lay your head in his lap. The others get in on it as well; sitting closer to Lt than they would’ve thought he wanted and periodically swinging their arms around his shoulders.

Simon’s ecstatic, in his own way. His body is relaxed, his knee isn’t bouncing and there’s a shine in his eyes that his men rarely see. Kyle and Johnny are dumbfounded they’ve never noticed.

“Well I’ll be; she was right about Lt,” Johnny sighs, taking a deep drag from a cigarette and passing it to Kyle. They’d gotten up to get some fresh air, leaving Simon practically purring next to you as you’d massaged his scalp thoroughly. The man was in utter bliss.

“Yeah, she was,” Kyle concedes through a haze of smoke, “why’d ya think Lt never asked us for a hug or something before?”

Johnny rolls his eyes. Kyle could be especially dense when it came to other people’s quirks, despite having plenty of his own.

“Would you beg to be touched if the roles were reversed?” he asks sarcastically. Kyle nearly shudders at the thought, knowing guilt and shame would wash over him if he did.

“Fuck no,” he spits.

“Exactly,” Johnny nods, ashing his cigarette on the brick wall behind them.