Kail Rose

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You’d just gutted the last hostile in the safehouse—clean, brutal, throat to navel in one fluid slice with your knife. Blood sprayed across your tac vest, warm and bright, and you didn’t even flinch. Just wiped the blade on your thigh like it was nothing and shot Simon that sharp, feral little smile he’d kill to see every day.

He’s been hard since the first scream.

Now he’s locked in the shitty barracks shower, water scalding his back, fist wrapped tight around his cock while the image of you tearing that man open loops in his head. You, the newest member to join 141. The one person who can go toe-to-toe with him and actually make him sweat.

He pictures you turning that knife on him.

“Want one from you..” he mutters under his breath while is free hand traces one of the old scars littering his skin. “Fuckin’ mark me proper.”

His hand moves faster. He imagines you straddling his hips in full kit, that same knife pressed under his jaw, the tip just breaking skin. A thin line of blood trickling down his throat while you grind down on him, wet and hot through your fatigues. You’d lean in, teeth at his ear, voice low and deadly..

“Bleed for me, Riley.”

Simon groans, hips jerking. He can see it—your fingers smearing his own blood down his throat and chest, over the old scars, claiming new territory. You’d ride him while you carved your initials just above his heart…something only the two of you would ever see. Every time he looked in the mirror he’d remember exactly how you looked soaked in someone else’s blood and still greedy for his.

His fist tightens. He’s close already, breathing ragged.

“Fuck—“ he hisses, “mark me. Make it hurt.”

He comes hard, thick ropes striping the shower wall, the fantasy still burning behind his eyes; you licking the fresh cut you just gave him, tasting iron and claiming him with your mouth while he’s still twitching inside you.

Simon slumps against the tile, chest heaving, cock still half-hard at the thought.

One day he’s going to ask you for real.

And he already knows you’ll say yes—after all, you’re just as crazy as he is.

-Unclench your jaw, drink some water, take your meds.

-Perfect is the enemy of done. You know that, I know that, so let’s all try and believe it.

-All the tiny cryptids have declared today as “NO”. I agree with them.

Which is how the team ends up cramped in the back of a van, knees knocking together and bodies tense from the way you've been...coping.

"Baby, please, hold on a bit, yeah?" Kyle grunts, sweating nervously on top of the general heat in the van. Of course the A/C is broken. He grabs your hips, trying to stop you from straddling his thigh and failing miserably "base is a few hours out, then I can help. Just...not here."

"Hours. Kyle." You hiss, wrenching his hands off to grind against his thigh and hissing through your teeth at the pleasure "fuckin. Hours. I'm not waiting."

"I know, I know baby—" he tries to soothe, already chubbing up at the desperate little whines you make, still fully in gear while you seek pleasure. You tuck your forehead against his neck, inhale the scent of him, strong after such a long op and easier to focus on amongst the smell of the others.

The others, who make no attempt at being polite while they watch. Soap is already rubbing himself through his pants and ghost looks moments off from pulling himself out. Price snorts at the half-effort gaz puts into pushing you off, head tilted back and breathing deep to try and control himself.

"Let the sergeants have some fun, garrick. Not like we haven't seen soap do worse."

"That's— that's different—" gaz tries to argue, knowing damn well it isn't. Not when you're holding gaz tight, hips working faster as you find a good spot against his harness to rut against. "Fuckin' hell–! ...okay. okay, yeah, c'mon baby—"

You're all too eager to climb into his lap properly, whining when he drags you hips away to undo various buckles. With a laugh, ghost leans in to help hold you still until gaz can shirk your pants down just enough to slip a hand into your underwear.

"Yeah? Feel good?" Gaz huffs at the way your entire body jerks, one hand circling around his wrist like a vice. No way in hell is he removing that hand until you're satisfied.

It's a testament to how well gaz knows you that he's able to have you on the brink in a few short minutes. Fat tears rolling down your face in anticipation. Your orgasm has you gasping, moaning loud and unashamed while you ride it out, entire body shaking. Gaz kisses you on the temple, lets you down to rest against his chest "there we go, that's what you needed, hm?"

....only for you to groan, hips moving again, much to the shock and excitement of the rest of the team.