sarcastic lil sh*t

long term teammates, tolerable conversation, a perfectly adequate, non romantic relationship.

that's what you and Simon had.

you'd known the alpha for years at this point, you had met before the task force, both serving as young sergeants in the SAS . it was an acquaintanceship, passing comments over comms or emailing documents for superiors.

when you'd both been invited into the task force for a secret operative (that turned into multiple), it became something closer. something more subtlety intimate and tension filled. whether it was sharing MREs wordlessly or quietly smoking together behind crumbling buildings, you did it together, and no one was allowed to say a word.

meanwhile, scents and primal urges were never a real problem between you two thanks to the uniform scent blockers and his seemingly obvious un-attraction to you. not like you cared... he was hot, of course, smoking hot. but you had gotten used to alphas preferring omegas.

on your second year in the task force, hed been placed in a simple in-and-out opp in south America. once hed gotten back he started getting more agressive and territorial, even pacing outside your door at night? when price found out hed been scented by a bolivian con-woman he was banished to his quarters until he was civilised. you, being the only beta on the team, were asked to use your scent to neutralise his rut urges, a common request for betas, being the mediator and all. but seeing him in such a viscous (horny) state (even if it turned you on), upset your instincts. so you also made time to help your poor simon bathe and rest and hydrate.

a knock was placed on his door with your forehead as you carefully balanced two trays of tuck from the mess hall, his one being significantly heavier, making you wobble. "hrmph.." you heard him grumble from inside, he sounded like an agitated dog.

"don't start, I'm being so good to you." a firm acknowledgement as you carefully manoeuvred the door open whilst balancing the trays of semi-hot food. he shuffles in bed, covering his nude lower half and peevishly glaring at you from amongst the covers and sheets before sitting up to eat.

the room was moist, and the smell that lingered wasn't something you wanted to think about Simon doing, so you focused on giving him the food and cutlery. you gave him water, ran a bath, tidied up his quarters, and you ended your pottering by opening a window as he finished eating. you cleared your throat and looked at the huge miserable man, who was already piercing his eyes through your head. "you okay, si? need anything else? you look super fucked out."

"tired. horny. angry. no. thank you."

"mhm, your welcome. you're sure you dont need anything else? i can scent you to help with the pain?-"

he grumbled again, low in his chest. the sound flipped your stomach and made a heat crawl up your spin. 'ew? no? now you want to fuck him? when he's acting like a rapid dog?? you're sick.' you mentally scolded yourself as he writhed around uncomfortably in the sheets further before answering truthfully this time.

"all i can smell is you, luv. and its not neutralising shite. i feel like a horny mutt ‘round ye." he whimpered, the most embarrassed you’ve seen him look.

you froze in place awkwardly, standing stiffly at the end of his bed by the window. you hardly thought before retorting, its like your brain didn't even want to process what he'd said whilst stumbling out a petulant reprimand and avoiding the hot eye-contact he was forcing. "nah… beta scents can't make you horny, i think its just your hormones talking-"

"you’re so pretty, wish i could smell ye all the time… wish you’d let me do what i need to, i’ll be so good.." he shuttered as he mumbled, voice course from whining and growling into his pillow for days. you stood frozen in the middle of the hot, sex perfumed room. your face was flushed and your insides were tingly, you don't think you've ever been this pitiful in your life.

he was hunched over himself, still, peering at you like a predator through those midnight eyes. you'd never felt like prey before as a beta. his short, choppy, blonde hair was messy and arousing but less entertaining as your eyes trailed down his plump pecs and solid biceps. his tummy and champagne happy trail protruded slightly and the moist bedsheets were bunched at his abdomen, hardly covering his unrelenting erection.

"you’re being dramatic… you’re not into me like that anyway-" never have you been so flustered and visibly pathetic in your life. you tried to reason with yourself aloud on his behalf when he cut you off. "i am. have been for a long time. can you ‘least sit on my face?… please.. i need this.. you…” he let out a whiny please and fluttered his pretty eyelashes at you…

John Price

“Come here. Stop running.”

You giggle as John scoops you up, falling onto the sofa with you in his arms. Playfully pushing at him, you squirm, attempting to escape, to force him to chase you. John knows this, which is why his arms lock, forcing the two of you into a spooning position.

Perhaps escape is impossible. Once John pins you down, it’s over. You face the back cushions. Even if you did manage to escape John, you’d have to launch yourself over him, and that’ll give him an opportunity to nab you again. You stop fussing, allowing John to think he’s won, that’s he in control.

You know better.

“That’s it. Good,” he murmurs, settling in as if he’s relaxed except his hold on you tells a different story.

You deliberately rub your ass against his crotch until you feel a hardness that isn’t coming from his jeans.

“Stop,” he mutters. “Won’t work.”

Sure, John. Like you ever refuse.

Adding a breathy moan, you repeat the movement, and John’s hands shift to your hips. The man can’t resist, using his hold on you to meet your grinding with light thrusts. John’s breathing increases, and you know you have him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The air stinks of sex. You and Kyle are sticky with drying sweat, breathing heavier than normal, a bit strung out on the rough, passion sex you just had. Kyle’s at your back, one arm thrown over your side, his hand splayed wide just below your breast. He shifts toward you, cradling you against him, your bodies melting together as you cuddle.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, kissing your throat, your ear, your head.

“That why you pounced on me when you walked in the door?” you ask with a smile, eyelids drifting shut, the space between your thighs sticky with Kyle’s cum.

Kyle’s hand drifts up, squeezes, fingers playfully pinching your nipple. “Don’t even need to ask.”

You make a hmph sound, relaxing into him as he gently explores your body, touching everywhere, eventually finding his mess on your thighs. Kyle slips a hand under your thigh and lifts your leg enough that your ankle falls over his shin, leaving you open but not stretched. Fingers part your pussy, tease your clit, trace lines through the cum.

“Kyle,” you whimper as he returns to your clit, circling.

His cock replaces his fingers, hips rocking, shaft rubbing against your pussy.

John "Soap" MacTavish

On the edge of sleep, curled up on your side, a warm presence at your back draws you away from dreamland. Turning into the embrace, you seek Johnny, knowing it’s him by his cologne.

“None of that, lass,” he coos softly, halting your movement, returning you to your previous position. “Come here.”

Surrendering to him, you ease back onto your side, sighing happily as his large, muscled arms sweep over and under you, drawing you flush against him. Johnny’s face nuzzles your neck. He inhales deeply, his exhale almost a moan. Through your clothes, you feel his hardness pressing into your ass.

A big spoon, yet a horny one.

Reaching back, you slot your hand between your bodies, palming his erection. Johnny hiss between his teeth, lightly nipping at your throat.

“Thought we were having a cuddle,” he laughs, lips tracing up to your ear, tongue and teeth teasing.

“It’s never just a cuddle with you, Johnny,” you reply, slipping your hand beneath the band of his briefs, finding him hard and throbbing. You draw him out, open your legs a little, push back to rub the head of his cock against your pussy. “This what you want?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

A small whimper escapes you as Simon turns you onto your side, keeping you close, his hard cock inside you. The man isn’t thrusting, though you’re begging him, pleading him to fuck you. Simon isn’t having any of it. He’d rather your pussy keep his dick warm, every orgasm he gives you slickening the friction, every spasm squeezing. The man is a tease but most of all, cruel. Cruel, for doing this, for making you wait, for stringing sex out until you’re a blubbering mess and only then will he properly fuck you.

“Simon,” you moan. “Please. Fuck, please.”

Acting as big spoon, Simon tucks you against his body, cuddling even while his hand moves between your legs, a small handheld vibrator in his fist, swirling the damn thing over your clit. Your thighs shudder, your pussy clenches, and Simon ups the speed, holding the vibrator hard against your clit until the orgasm punches you in the stomach.

Even as you shake and your toes curl, Simon holds position, acting as big spoon, like this isn’t torture but a cute snuggle session.

You thought it’d be fine; fun even. Simon was a much, he’d professed as much, and you’d always read about how great getting head was. Well, good head at least.

And it was going great at first.

Then your shoulder shifted. And the ceiling was too white. And all of a sudden you were too naked and you couldn’t breathe.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Simon was next to you, hands hovering over your face. His voice was faint, asking if you were okay. If he’d hurt you. If anything was wrong.

And it was all wrong. It was all fucking wrong. You were wrong, but you couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

You can only nod yes and no at his questions. He disappears for a moment and comes back dressed. He wraps you in the blankets, covering you, and then wraps himself around you protectively.

Everything stays fuzzy for a while still as he quietly talks to you. Says that you’re safe. That it’s him and no one else.

That no one’s going to hurt you ever again.

And you believe him. You believe him so much, but it’s not chasing away the feral panic you feel.

But he doesn’t leave. He doesn’t pressure you. Even as minutes turn to months turn to years of him not being able to do his favorite thing in bed, he isn’t upset with you. He never holds it against you.

He asks about it every once in a while, sees if you’re up to it. If it’s something you can handle.

And one day, one final day, you feel like you could do it. Like maybe things won’t be horrible.

And he’s a sweetheart through it all. Slow, careful, loving. He reminds you that it’s him that’s down there. No one else. It’s him that’s touching you.

There’s a small twinge of uncomfortableness at the beginning, but you eventually relax and the heat between your legs grows.

The 141 had long since given up their hopes and dreams of Ghost finding somebody that would soften those rougher edges, allowing them some reprieve instead of the tough shell of a man they faced daily.

They didn’t consider the fact that maybe he had found someone, and that slightly harsh personality would only calm when they were around. And obviously they didn’t know this because Ghost would do anything to keep you away from his life on the field, even if it meant his friends not knowing he was happy. He couldn’t risk the one good thing he had left being dragged into his business on the field.

As happy as Ghost was with the secrecy of his relationship, it did lead to him becoming utterly confused on multiple occasions.

You see since the rest of the guys had given up with their dreams of Ghost and romance, they simply began to assume that the universe was out to get him. If he didn’t have a partner to do these things, they had to come from something else, right?

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

i.

Last night he’d been eating you out like a man starved, licking long stripes up your sopping folds. You’d sighed and pushed him away before with a sheepish comment about how you hadn’t shaved, but you didn’t realise that just made it all the more appealing to him, feeding you reassuring words until he was practically attacking your slit.

He didn’t see the point of being weirded out by something so natural, in fact he revelled in it – and although you were utterly embarrassed, he happily nuzzled his nose into your bush when you’d been working out or had been out all day to soak in that natural musk he found intoxicating.

Anyways, it had just made him hungrier, groaning as he suckled on your clit. His eyes would occasionally flicker up to you, half open with the pleasure he was feeling – you were proud of the fact that he was a munch through and through, though you did feel bad once when you dragged him to a brunch with a couple of your friends and their boyfriends, with him being the only one to answer ‘giving’ when the guys were asked whether they would rather give or receive for the rest of their lives.

He was content in the apex of your thighs, lazily thrusting his tongue in and out of your clenching hole before moving back to your clit. He repeated this a couple more times before slowly feeding you two of his thick fingers, making you squirm underneath him.

“Stop fuckin’ running, love,” he rasped against your leaking cunt as you whined, trying to buck your hips up against his face so you can feel any sort of friction on your clit.

Eventually he gave in, wrapping his lips around the twitching nub, but not before settling a heavy forearm over your abdomen to cease your movement, leaving you with one hand pulling at his locks and the other pawing at the sheets until you felt that familiar sensation curling in your gut that led you to claw at the appendage on your midsection as you whimpered and whined, shattering as you cursed and moaned his name all at once. You were so overwhelmed by the sensations consuming you, you didn't get to hear the groan muffled into your pussy as he finally allowed himself to let go - what sort of partner would he be if he came first?

You continued to lie boneless on the bed as he stood up to get you cleaned up, eyes closed as you allowed yourself to relax during the comedown. Hearing the groan he let out as he moved towards the bathroom you giggled breathlessly before mumbling, "Y'know if you're gonna complain about your poor knees you can just stop eating me out."

You could tell by the silence that your teasing had hit the mark, opening your eyes to follow with another teasing remark whilst he headed over with a warm, damp cloth before you paused as you eyed the damp patch on his joggers.

"Oh my god si, did you cum from that?"

He knelt before you again to gently wipe away the rest of the slick that clung to your thighs - he would've happily cleaned you up with his tongue, but he didn't want to tip you into overstimulation. Avoiding your eyes as the embarrassment rolled off of him in waves, you brought your hand to cup his cheek so he would meet your eyes, "This is far from the first time this has happened and every time I tell you not to get all flustered…it's hot knowing you can feel pleasure just from making me feel good."

Softly sighing as he chucked the cloth into the laundry basket, he nodded as you shimmied into a new pair of panties before slipping into one of his faded band tees whilst he discarded his sullied sweats and boxers and headed to the bathroom to clean himself up before heading to bed.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The heatwave left humid air infiltrating the base from all angles with no reprieve. It was unheard of in the UK, yet temperatures were constantly fluctuating between the mid 20s and low 30s. This had meant that most of the 141 had chosen to wear short sleeves for the rest of the foreseeable future - with the exception being Ghost of course. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt, which was only making him work up more of a sweat as he trained.

Soap and Gaz seemed concerned to say the least, and they did a silent game of rock, paper, scissors before Soap eventually stumbled over to the hulking man at the rowing machine.

"Ah dinnae think sportin' something like that is a good idea in this weather lieutenant."

The masked man in front of him simply replied with a grunt to show that he'd heard him before continuing with his workout.

Looking back at Gaz before deciding that he could at least bargain, he mutters, "At least roll yer sleeves up...don't need ye getting sick."

He paused his workout with a small huff before pushing his sleeves up to his elbows and reaching for the bar to continue with his workout, and Johnny's eyes zeroed in on the red lines on his forearm.

Shooting a look to Gaz, he headed back over before mumbling whilst pretending to pick up weights, "Na chance them marks could hae come fae a lassie."

"Plus he doesn't seem like the type to indulge in hookups," Kyle retorted with a shake of his head before perking up slightly and heading to Ghost.

"Hey lieutenant…did you get scratched by the stray on base too? Tried getting out the other day and it just scratched me for no reason!"

You can see the way Simon's eyebrows furrow under the mask as his eyes narrow - he honestly had no clue what they were on about. Johnny sighs and shrugs at Kyle as Ghost simply leaves them, seemingly spooked by their arbitrary poking and prodding.

"Ye'll get 'em next time soldier," Soap sighs through a slight pout, clapping Gaz on the shoulder.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

ii.

A week after that incident, and you were ass up on the bed, moaning as Simon rutted his hips against yours. His fingers were back working on your clit as tears of overstimulation clouded your eyes, and you desperately hoped that he'd let you feel the waves of pleasure that would usually accompany such an act. He's been teasing you, slowing down and pulling his fingers away once he'd felt the tell tale sign of you clenching around him, and it had made you feel slightly more bratty than usual - who wouldn't be mad if they'd been denied an orgasm time and time again.

So when you'd begun to reach that peak again and he'd taken his fingers away from your aching bundle of nerves to place two in your mouth, you decided to play along at first. You'd looked back, batting your lashes as your soft sounds were muffled by the digits, swirling your tongue around them and sucking softly before biting. Not enough to break skin, but enough to leave a mark that would warn him.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth before landing a harsh smack on your ass and scoffing, "Tch, acting like a fuckin' brat…You know you need to ask for what you want baby."

His condescending tone made you whine and cant your hips back to chase his own powerful thrusts, blindly sticking out a hand in search of his own - and maybe to bring him closer to you too - and you started babbling, "Pleaseplease- wanna cum Si…"

The final straw for him was you blinking back at him with tears of pleasure strung on your eyelashes whilst you searched for his hand with furrowed brows. He groaned and shifted to intertwine your fingers as his other hand snaked back to your clit, pressing kisses against the apples of your cheeks along with whispered praises. His eyes scrunched as he felt you pulse around him, mewling as he hit the soft sponge of your wall that made you go cross eyed, your climax washing over you. You whimper as you feel him filling you, wincing slightly as he pulled out after a moment so he could move to hold you properly, keeping you tucked against his chest until hr brushed his lips against your forehead a few minutes later and gently lifted you into his arms so you could bathe together.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

He was in the bar with the rest of the team when they noticed this time. They'd decided that they wanted to go out for a couple rounds, especially after working so hard in the heat. All they wanted was to sit at one of the sticky bar tables with cold pints placed on those faded bar mats that are more likely to leave rings on the table than the drinks. The buzz of the commentator's voices from the football match playing on a small tv was welcome background noise, and most of the other patrons looked just as drained as them.

He'd casually reached for his beer when all three lads gave him looks varying from confusion to outright worry.

They were staring at the mark on his fingers, indents of teeth that encircled the digits as he wrapped them around the glass.

"What ya staring at?" he muttered, shucking his mask over his chin to take a gulp of the cool pint.

Gaz nudged Soap in the ribs, deciding that neither he nor Price wanted to disturb the silence found at the table, "Jus' thought ye would've had yer dog trained by now…tha's all."

Ghost shakes his head in a confused manner as Price opts to light a cigar - mainly to avoid having to take part in this arguably awkward conversation, but also because he couldn't truly feel relaxed in such an environment without tobacco smoke curling in his lungs.

"Riley's all well n good…you know that."

This time it was Price who elbowed Soap and gave him a pointed look, silently urging him to continue the slight interrogation.

With a sigh he tried again, "'s just… you've got a mark on yer fingers."

At the mention of the mark on his fingers his eyes widened slightly, as if realising what they're talking about and where it came from, before a smirk played on his lips as he set his beer down on the coaster.

"It's nothing…just likes to test me sometimes."

Johnny's brows pinch together before he shrugs and turns back towards Kyle and John to change the subject whilst Simon is left tracing the indents in his fingers with his eyes.

He'd have to think of a punishment for when he got home for causing such a commotion.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

iii.

It wasn't often that you got past your shy demeanour and asked to be in control, but when you did he loved it. He knew you were a switch, but you were usually too timid to voice your wants, but he'd been working with you on that.

Today, as soon as you'd managed to stutter out how you wanted to be on top this time, he'd resolved to show you just how much control he would allow you.

He was lying on his back as you straddled him, cunt drooling on his softened abs as your eyes took in the gorgeous sight of his supine form. You'd looked away as you mumbled something about keeping his arms flat by his sides, and he had to stop himself from grinning at the show of dominance, however small.

You took a deep breath as you began to sink yourself down on his cock, still having to take your time to adjust to the fullness no matter how many times you'd had sex with him - or 'made love' as he called it, no matter how rough.

His eyes caught onto the way the folds enveloped his painfully hard dick, causing the skin at the base to wrinkle slightly as you settled your full weight on top of him with a slight whimper.

He kept his promise of not moving - even when you felt so wet and warm around him - letting you get comfortable until you started to move. First, slow figures of eight, grinding so you can pinpoint that sweet spot calling out for some stimulation. You gasp when you grind at just the right angle and hit it, slowly lifting yourself up to slam your hips back down, working to set a pace you think you can keep fairly consistent.

Simon continues to look up at you with his palms on the mattress, deciding to push you ever so slightly as he mumbles, albeit quite breathlessly, "Talk to me baby…tell me how you're feeling, what you want me to do for you hm?"

You falter slightly as you place one of your hands on his abs, pausing before nodding. Looking at him nervously as if expecting a jab at your feeble attempt to relax into a more dominant role, "So good…want you to look at me Si."

And instead of making fun of you he seems to take the words to heart, locking his gaze to yours. How quickly he followed your command seemed to motivate you further, and you placed the hand that wasn't on his torso to aid your moving hips on his cheek.

"Want you to…to rub my clit please."

He could tell from the way your eyes had scrunched as you spoke that you'd struggled to tell him exactly what to do, so he simply smiled at you before beginning to swipe the pads of his fingers against the slick bud, making you let out a sound that caused his dick to twitch inside of you.

"You don't need to say please for now…I'm here to do what you want."

And after a minute he decided he wanted more than your hand cradling his cheek - as nice as it was, he wanted you to feel comfortable subjecting him to the desires you tried to tamper.

"Hit me baby."

Eyes widening as you slowed your pace, you countered in a slightly anxious tone, "What if it hurts you though?"

His face softens at the obvious care you have for him before he shakes his head to reassure you, "I'm asking you, love. Promise it's fine by me."

Picking up the pace again, you look at him fondly whilst your thumb strokes the apple of his cheek. After a moment you remove your hand and he smiles slightly at the thought of what was coming before feeling practically a tap on his cheek.

"Sorry…I chickened out."

There was a pause as you whined, beginning to pick up the pace.

"Can I try again?" you muttered breathlessly.

He simply turned his cheek towards you, hearing the inhale you took as you whimpered softly before delivering a stinging slap to his cheek that made him moan. His cheeks reddened from both the slap and his slight shame at the noise that had escaped him until he felt your walls choke his cock.

"Wanna hear you again…" was the last he heard before another slap was delivered to his cheek - accompanied with another moan at the ache and a whimper at the feeling of your reaction to the noise.

He could tell you were getting close as your noises became more unintelligible, mostly moans and whimpers mixed with whines of how close you were, and he doubled his efforts on your clit before feeling your cunt spasm around his cock, inducing his own climax.

He sat up so you could slump against him, cheek on his shoulder before mumbling, "Fuck my thighs hurt."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Price had had him and the others doing drills for the first half of the day, heading to the canteen together to eat something before working out for a few more hours and then leaving early. The food was arguably lacklustre, but they weren't going to complain after a morning of stamina training that had left them hungry for anything they were given.

They'd chosen to sit at a more secluded corner with their plates, and Soap immediately dug into his meal whilst attempting to make conversation. Simon sighed at his plate before reaching to push his mask to sit on his nose.

Yet again when he looks up, after shovelling a heaped forkful of the food into his mouth, he's met with wide eyes from both of the men sat with him. They look between themselves like they can't really bring themselves to believe what they see - even if they had been able to swing at him when sparring, they never saw the mark. But mostly it was because he was a good fighter, and never really got hit.

Gaz elbowed Soap again, but after receiving a glare that said "please do not drag me into this again", Kyle decided to speak up this time in order to avoid his wrath.

"Rough time sparring lieutenant?" he murmured around a mouthful, almost as if he didn't want to be heard.

Simon shot him an incredulous look - he thought Kyle was there when he left Johnny flat on his back? They both knew he was quite a formidable opponent, so there was no real reason for them to question his skills.

"It was fine…why you asking?"

Kyle cleared his throat before resting his fork on his plate so his hand was free to gesture to his cheek, "Got a hand print there mate."

That made him pause for a moment, raising his hand to his face with furrowed brows - he didn't notice that this morning, although he had gotten ready in the dark and had a mask over his face as soon as possible - before he sighed and tried to come up with some excuse to distract them for a while.

"Must've took a hit too hard or hit it when i slept."

Although they went quiet again as they worked to finish the rest of the food on their plates, he could tell they still didn't believe him. The guy could never take a hit too hard - too prepared for most situations when sparring - and although they didn't know much about how he slept, they could tell that he must have been lying to some degree because of how quickly he intended to end the conversation.

When they'd discarded their plates, Simon headed to one of the bathrooms and pulled his mask off to see a reddened handprint on his cheek. He didn't think you hit him that hard, but he couldn't deny that he thought it looked good. Too good - he'd have to ask you to do it again next time.

He could tell that it was going to fade in a few days at least - a week or two if he was unlucky - but he could just be more careful around the guys and ice it when he got back tonight. He knew you were going to feel guilty once you saw it, but that was a problem for future him, and he was already planning on how to reassure you as he pulled the mask back on and headed back out.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

iv.

He was right about how guilty you would feel - once you'd seen the handprint on his face, you'd begun to shy away again, to his dismay. This also meant that you had become more hesitant to take control again - and he chose not to bring up how you'd seemed to stare at the mark when you thought he wasn't looking, admiring the mark you'd left like you were almost proud to have left it. He knew you were too nervous to tell him that outright in case he found it 'weird', however that just meant that he had a job to make you feel more secure in your desires.

[You were also utterly embarrassed at the fact that his colleagues had seen the mark, but you weren't going to tell him that.]

To allow you some time to build up your confidence again, it was mutually agreed that he would be the one in charge until you decided otherwise.

And that ended with you here, writhing underneath him as he slammed his hips into yours leaving you dizzy with pleasure. You were very much enjoying the sight of his naked form on top of you, how his control seemed to unravel, the beads of sweat that traversed across his bouncing pecs - and you were especially enjoying the sounds of his grunts and groans that were combated by your own mewls and whimpers.

He was gently holding your face to the crook of his neck as he thrusted into you, which you took as an opportunity to paint his skin with bites of purple and red, hickeys blooming across his neck and shoulders. The noises he made when you gently sunk your teeth into his skin only made you clench around him, propelling you to search for more of those noises.

Once you'd filled your current canvas, leaving his neck and collarbones filled with the evidence of your devotion, you allowed yourself to drag your nails down his back as you practically screamed in pleasure. Desperate cries fell from your lips as you found ecstasy, his fingers dancing over your sensitive clit as you reached your climax.

The way your walls fluttered around him made him let out a small whine as you milked his cock, flooded with his release.

He didn't stop holding you as he slowly pressed his lips to your forehead, then temple, allowing you to come down from that high before he tried to move.

You were content as he held you and you stayed content as he carefully retracted before picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom, and you were content as you slept in his arms that night.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The heat at the base was now unbearable. There had been some reprieve, but now it had come back with a vengeance.

The open windows would just let in humid air. Fans would cool you down slightly, before directing a warm breeze at you. The usual uniform was stuffy and was not fit to wear in this heat, leaving most in short sleeved polos - and when worst got to worst when working out, they'd exchange the polo for a tank top.

Johnny had decided to drag Simon and Kyle to work out - mentioning something about how it would be good practice for missions in hotter countries, as if they hadn't had them already. They both looked over at him and screwed up their faces seeing him in his polo, with Kyle sighing before mumbling, "C'mon man, I know you must be boiling in that…me and Johnny are going to change into tanks while we work out."

As tempting as it was, he decided that he'd hold out for as long as he could - maybe then he could avoid staying so uncovered for so long He had nothing against his team, it was just that allowing himself to exist so freely around anybody was an intimate act to him. The only person he could easily show himself to was you.

He managed to last 45 minutes with his polo on before the heat got too much, sweating as the polo began to cling to him which didn't give it any breathability. He knew he would eventually have to succumb to the heat, but it didn't stop him from feeling so defeated when he did. He managed to slip out to the changing rooms whilst Soap and Gaz sparred, getting rid of the polo and returning donning his tank, not bothering to check how it looked as he wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. A couple of scratches were visible on the back of his neck and shoulders, not to mention the hickeys smattered across his collarbone and neck.

He was already nervous as he walked back into the room, yet it only became worse when he saw Gaz and Soap staring back at him all bug eyed. Were they staring at his scars? Surely they were used to the sight of them - but they hadn't seen his. Were they too hideous, even for men like them?

Soap's voice shook him out of his reverie, "Na wey ye hooked up wi' someone ."

This made Simon pause - a hook up?

Fuck. He'd forgotten about the marks from last night, yet he was still nervous about telling them about his relationship. He knew what they'd say: 'how come you didn't tell us sooner?', 'that's not a good enough excuse for keeping it from us', 'poor lass was being hidden'.

Maybe he was exaggerating, because he knew they would be kind, but a part of him was still scared of putting you in danger. He didn't let himself feel much, but now he felt this sort of love, he wouldn't forgive himself if he were to lose it.

He had to take a large inhale to clear his mind before finally speaking up in reply.

"Not just a hook up," he wanted to pause there, but continued when he saw their faces contort like that made it all the more confusing, "Didn't wanna get her too involved with you guys in case she became some sort of target…but I guess it would be good if you guys knew so you could watch over her too."

And instead of making any comments, Soap simply headed over to him and gave him a firm hug, ending with a pat on the back before he smirked and muttered, "Ye'r bringin' her next time we go tae the pub."

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The next time the rest of the 141 asked Simon if he wanted to go to the pub, he reluctantly agreed - the weight of Soap's stare reminding him of his demand.

They didn't expect you to be so vibrant whilst simultaneously acting so shy. That was the one responsible for the scratches, the bite, the hickies, the slap - and you could barely meet their eyes?

You managed to open up more as increasing amounts of alcohol entered your system, and Johnny desperately wished for some material to embarrass Simon, but instead you told sweet stories about your relationship that caused him to let the smallest smile pass over his lips. No one had ever had kind things to say about him before. Usually people heard that he was closed off, brutal, practically emotionless to some - not a man who had something to live for, something to protect.

Not that anyone noticed the upward curve of his lips with him having the mask on.

"--i'm fine!" you blurt out, completely disregarding that you're nearly folded like a pretzel, pressed beneath the weight of him. and you are, really. you may have underestimated his size, just a tad bit. it's not that it hurts-- it's a different kind of ache and burn in that stretching sensation as he slowly presses into you. "you're just a lot bigger than i thought."

a pause. he stills. doesn't pull out, doesn't speak a word. the only way you know he's mildly amused and no longer concerned? that subtle raise of a brow that makes you bust out laughing because this is all a little ridiculous ; you're sure you'll feel this all too well tomorrow morning.

"i'll stop."

"absolutely not." you reply instantly, earning a semi-impressed look from him. he doesn't think he's ever heard you respond that quickly. "just give me two seconds to adjust. not my fault you're that big."

stubborn, he thinks, in every single aspect of your life. he shakes his head for a moment, one hand braced against the bed, the other running up and down your side in quiet comfort as he allows your body to adjust to the feeling of his.

a gentle squeeze of your hip, then reverence in the way he leans down to kiss your forehead.

"...'s not my fault either, dove."