phoam

It was too easy to get the man wasted, Soap always putting his whole trust in Ghost, always taking everything given to him, in the field, in training, in the little dances they do in the intercoms. Ghost will spare the man a glance, and Soap would follow him like a lost puppy to hell. So it wasn't a chore, really it was quite easy, to place an open beer in Soaps hands as he gestures wildly, or top up his glass of whiskey as he was distracted with a story. Either he didn't care, or just didn't register that Ghost himself had drank possibly a third of the alcohol that the Scot had, following every sip with a gulp of water.

By the time Soap had come back from his second bathroom break, Ghost could tell the alcohol was finally catching up with him. Sure he had seemed tipsy before, leaning too far into Ghosts space, hands skating up and down his arm, across his shoulder as he talked, but the Soap that came back this time, his Johnny, was a version Ghost rarely had the pleasure to see.

Taking a sip of his lukewarm beer, Ghost nudged the glass of whiskey he had refilled towards Johnny as he launched back into his story, a hardly understandable retelling of a training he had done the week before, currently forgetting the fact that Ghost had been training the new recruits with him, and had watched the entire interaction take place. But who was Ghost to remind him of that? Instead, he hummed along as Johnny said something particularly unintelligible, before sliding his gloved hand up across his shoulder, squeezing just a little where it met his neck, keeping him steady and encouraging him along.

15 minutes, 2 and a half more beers, and 4 more fingers of whiskey in, and Ghost had nearly managed to get Johnny into his lap on his dingy settee. Keeping him distracted and talking was getting hard, any time the man trailed off, or began focusing on the other man beneath him, Ghost would ask a question, or pass him a bottle keep him full. Johnny began to squirm again.

Ghost had been watching him tonight, hell for years, and can tell when his toy is reaching its capacity. Ghost had planned this.

Sure, Johnny had seen his face by now, but it was always a struggle bare himself, to really let in. It helped, knowing Johnny likely wouldn't remember the rest of the night. Ghost poured another finger of whiskey into Johnny's glass, reaching around him to grab the bottle, and holding his wrist to keep his glass steady. Their ice had long since melted. Pulling back, Ghost takes one last sip from the bottle, before setting it down and using that hand to fully pull off his black balaclava.

Using the few seconds of shock while Johnny takes in his face, Ghost keeps his hand on Johnny's wrist, bringing the glass up to his lips and making him drink the whiskey in a stuttered gulp. Ghost knew he was pretty, knew Johnny thought so too, that he was a 'right bonnie lad, L. T.', but it was nice to take in the way his eyes widened, and the color drained down out of his face, before rushing back to his cheeks in a furious blush. It was easy to lean in and kiss his subordinate.

Plastered and thrown off his balance, it takes a few seconds for Johnny to get with the program, his hands hovering awkwardly before dropping his glass on the table and surging in to meet Ghost with clumsy enthusiasm. Enjoying the eager display, Ghost simply opened wider and let his Sargent lick into his mouth like an excited puppy.

Deciding Johnny had had enough when the man started trying to crawl into Ghost's lap (a fantasy Ghost will come back to later), Ghost laces his fingers into his hair, tugging on the 'hawk to pull them apart. The whine Johnny let out was pathetic.

Mouth open and panting, the Scot hardly has time to stop pair of dirty gloved fingers from bullying their way into his pliant mouth. Not that he would want to. Eager to please but taken aback by the sharp and tangy taste of the gloves, Johnny chokes back a whine, the sound coming out garbled around the bulky fingers playing with his tongue. Shoving his fingers a little farther back, Ghost enjoys the way Johnny's throat flutters and his eyes roll back.

Ghost uses the fingers he's wedged into the wet mouth to get a grip on his jaw, pulling it down and open, causing the drool his toy couldn't swallow to run down his glove. Ghost couldn't let himself be distracted by the pathetic display, using the fingers on Johnny's tongue to push him down and off their seat, onto his knees before Ghost.

Keeping his fingers in Johnny's mouth, Ghost keeps playing with his tongue and forcing him to drool, while preventing him to swallow. It was easy to nudge the mans legs apart with the toe of his boots, watching as Johnny tried to hold back little twitches and jerks. It was easy, too, to take the toe of his boot and press it roughly against the bulge in his Sargent's pants, watching him writhe and squirm before dragging his foot up to press against his lower stomach.

The flash of panic in Johnny's eyes was worth everything.

Reminded of the increasing pressure in his own bladder, Johnny tried to garble out a cry, a plea to let him relieve himself first, around Ghosts gloved fingers, but they only pressed down harder with the foot between his thighs. Moving his foot back, Ghost keeps one foot inside each of Johnny's legs, keeping them propped open as he squirmed before grabbing the hands Johnny had tried pushing away with, guiding them towards his own hips.

Keeping his jaw open and drooling, Ghost pulled him closer with a grip on his hair as tan hands clumsily begin undoing the belt in front of him, fingers fumbling with the button of his cargos and almost losing grip on the fly zipper, all while Johnny pushed closer, trying to nuzzle as close to the growing bulge as he could.

Impatient with the pace Johnny was working at, Ghost holds him still as he takes his wet hand from Johnny's mouth, pulling an involuntary whimper with it. Ghost made quick work shoving down his underwear, tucking the waistband under his heavy balls as his straining cock flopped out and onto Johnny's unsuspecting face.

The wet head of Ghost's dick rubbed a pretty highlight onto his cheek, accentuating Johnny's pretty cheekbones. Enjoying the way he got to watch the color drain from his toy's face as he took in the size, Ghost used his once-again-free hand to reach down and pinch the hinges of Johnny's jaw. It was easy to encourage his mouth to open with a gentle squeeze, easy to guide his face lower, and easy to grind down on the hot mouth and rough stubble under his taint. It was hard to not destroy the Scot right there.

Quickly getting with the program, Johnny mouths along the musky skin, huffing in the smell he's craved for ages, unsure if he'll ever have this chance again. Ghost sees his eyes roll back as he loses himself in Ghost, sucking and licking long him, massaging each of Ghosts heavy balls with his tongue, cradling the other in his hand. Ghost almost let himself get lost in the pleasure.

Feeling his resolve starting to crumble, Ghost tugged on Johnny's mohawk once more to steer him up and along his shaft, letting the wet and heavy tip paint Johnny's face. Nudging his puffy pink lips, Ghost looks into his eyes, finding them too blissed out and glazed over to even make contact with. Distantly, Ghost wonders if it's from all the alcohol or the domination. He's not sure which answer he'd prefer. Squeezing Johnny's jaw open once more, Ghost bullies the tip of his cock into the lax and hot mouth, drool still slicking his chin.

Ghost doesn't stay gentle long, quickly growing impatient of the kitten lick being left on his tip. With only a tightening grip in Johnny's hair as warning, Ghost begins steadily thrusting himself into Johnny's hot mouth, inching deeper with each press of his hips. The sight of tears budding in his Sargent's eyes was a sight so erotic it made his hips twitch out of control, pushing those tears over the edge as Ghost's cock pressed against the opening of Johnny's throat, cock barely past halfway.

The next thrust pushed Ghosts tip just past the tight fluttering opening, grip going tight as Johnny chokes and tries to back off, achieving nothing with his clumsy drunk movements. Tears started falling as Ghost held them there, keeping him in place as his throat tries to relax, poor lad.

The hand in Johnny's 'hawk goes tight again, gripping hard and fast and ripping a moan from the mans sloppy mouth, relaxing his throat enough for Ghost to quickly thrust farther in once more, the Scot's nose nearly buried in coarse blond curls. Watching those hazy eyes go clear as panic floods in, Ghost lets himself get away with shallow thrusts, stuffing the last inch in, millimeter by millimeter.

Head far too clouded, and arms far too heavy to even try to push back, Johnny just held tighter to his superiors thighs, nails digging into rough fabric as his throat spasmed around the twitching cock making itself home. Continuing to rock back and forth, Ghost gradually pulls out and thrusts back in more and more of his dick, rubbing against all the grooves of his toy's throat and mouth, enjoying the scrape of teeth at his base.

Ghost gradually begins to set a brutal pace, never quite pulling out more than half way, constantly bullying Johnny's throat with his weeping tip. Every thrust forced a wet groan from him, the fact they Ghost couldn't tell if they were sobs or moans made him that much harder. The tears, noises, and the sight of his eyes glazing back over made Ghost's tempos stutter for a moment, bringing him too close too fast. He had spent too long planning tonight for it to end so soon.

Slowing his pace to stave off his own orgasm, but no less brutal given the size of himself, Ghost continues his onslaught, murmuring soft praise to his Sargent, taking him so so well. The words do their job, Johnny's eyes fluttering open to look at him as he keens despite the constant abuse. The sweet look on his face almost makes Ghost feel a little bad for what he plans on next. Almost, but not quite.

Finally pulling back enough that his tip leaves the tight hold of Johnny's throat, he rubs his leaking tip along Johnny's tongue. He wants him to be able to taste what comes next.

Keeping his Johnny's hair tight with one hand and grabbing his own cock to keep steady, Ghost finally lets go of the bladder he had been holding the whole night, letting himself release over the Scot's tongue, watching as his eyes shoot back open with panic and horror at the hot liquid filling his mouth and shooting down his throat.

The struggle Johnny gave was clumsy and half-hearted. Dizzy from the copious alcohol fed to him and only being able to choke breathes from through his lieutenants sweaty pubes, he can barely lift his heavy arms to push back, the fight finally draining from his body as Ghost drains himself into him.

The hand holding his cock steady makes its way to Johnny's face, petting his swollen lips before bring his fingers up to pinch his nose, making him splutter around the cock in his mouth. With now way left to breath, Johnny was forced to rapidly gulp down stream after stream to get a gasp of air before his mouth is filled again. Rivulets of gold ran down his chin, adding to the mess of tears sweat and spit gathering on the Sargent's neck and soaking into the collar of his shirt.

It was tempting for Ghost to keep them like this, to let himself go completely with his subordinate completely at his mercy, gulping him down like a mutt in a drought. But Ghost had planned this out, he had work to do.

Cutting off his stream with a groan, he felt Johnny lick and slurp up anything left, sucking just that little bit more out of his tip before being pulled off with a whine. Moving his hand from Johnny's nose, Ghost ran his gloved fingers across the mess of his chin, scooping up globs of spit stained gold and pushing his fingers back into Johnny's mouth, still hanging open.

Gripping his jaw once more, Ghost angled his debauched face up, taking in the messy excuse of a mouth below him before adding to it, spitting directly onto Johnny's awaiting tongue, wringing another whined moan from his toy.

Hauling him up with the grip he had on Johnny's jaw, Ghost steered them back towards the discarded glass and 12pk, forgoing both and grabbing the neck of their whiskey. Not once did Johnny try to move away or close his mouth as Ghost manhandled him, dragged him over and tipped the bottle into his mouth. Johnny's lazy and pliant mouth struggled to swallow the burning liquor before Ghost dipped down, licking up the mess spilling from the sides of his mouth before shoving his own tongue inside of the gaping mouth.

The crude taste of himself mixing with the whisky on Johnny's tongue ripped a possessive growl from Ghost's own throat as he pulled himself back up, dragging Johnny along with by the grip still in his mohawk. It was hard to shove Johnny away, but it was a necessary evil if Ghost wanted to continue, and he shoved the Scot onto the bed in the corner, turning back to his table to finish his discarded beer before downing another. The crude taste of himself mixing with the whisky on Johnny's tongue ripped a possessive growl from Ghost's own throat as he pulled himself back up, dragging Johnny along with by the grip still in his mohawk. It was hard to shove Johnny away, but it was a necessary evil if Ghost wanted to continue, and he shoved the Scot onto the bed in the corner, turning back to his table to finish his discarded beer before downing another.

It was too easy to get the man wasted, Soap always putting his whole trust in Ghost, always taking everything given to him, in the field, in training, in the little dances they do in the intercoms. Ghost will spare the man a glance, and Soap would follow him like a lost puppy to hell. So it wasn't a chore, really it was quite easy, to place an open beer in Soaps hands as he gestures wildly, or top up his glass of whiskey as he was distracted with a story. Either he didn't care, or just didn't register that Ghost himself had drank possibly a third of the alcohol that the Scot had, following every sip with a gulp of water.

By the time Soap had come back from his second bathroom break, Ghost could tell the alcohol was finally catching up with him. Sure he had seemed tipsy before, leaning too far into Ghosts space, hands skating up and down his arm, across his shoulder as he talked, but the Soap that came back this time, his Johnny, was a version Ghost rarely had the pleasure to see.

Taking a sip of his lukewarm beer, Ghost nudged the glass of whiskey he had refilled towards Johnny as he launched back into his story, a hardly understandable retelling of a training he had done the week before, currently forgetting the fact that Ghost had been training the new recruits with him, and had watched the entire interaction take place. But who was Ghost to remind him of that? Instead, he hummed along as Johnny said something particularly unintelligible, before sliding his gloved hand up across his shoulder, squeezing just a little where it met his neck, keeping him steady and encouraging him along.

15 minutes, 2 and a half more beers, and 4 more fingers of whiskey in, and Ghost had nearly managed to get Johnny into his lap on his dingy settee. Keeping him distracted and talking was getting hard, any time the man trailed off, or began focusing on the other man beneath him, Ghost would ask a question, or pass him a bottle keep him full. Johnny began to squirm again.

Ghost had been watching him tonight, hell for years, and can tell when his toy is reaching its capacity. Ghost had planned this.

Sure, Johnny had seen his face by now, but it was always a struggle bare himself, to really let in. It helped, knowing Johnny likely wouldn't remember the rest of the night. Ghost poured another finger of whiskey into Johnny's glass, reaching around him to grab the bottle, and holding his wrist to keep his glass steady. Their ice had long since melted. Pulling back, Ghost takes one last sip from the bottle, before setting it down and using that hand to fully pull off his black balaclava.

Using the few seconds of shock while Johnny takes in his face, Ghost keeps his hand on Johnny's wrist, bringing the glass up to his lips and making him drink the whiskey in a stuttered gulp. Ghost knew he was pretty, knew Johnny thought so too, that he was a 'right bonnie lad, L. T.', but it was nice to take in the way his eyes widened, and the color drained down out of his face, before rushing back to his cheeks in a furious blush. It was easy to lean in and kiss his subordinate.

Plastered and thrown off his balance, it takes a few seconds for Johnny to get with the program, his hands hovering awkwardly before dropping his glass on the table and surging in to meet Ghost with clumsy enthusiasm. Enjoying the eager display, Ghost simply opened wider and let his Sargent lick into his mouth like an excited puppy.

Deciding Johnny had had enough when the man started trying to crawl into Ghost's lap (a fantasy Ghost will come back to later), Ghost laces his fingers into his hair, tugging on the 'hawk to pull them apart. The whine Johnny let out was pathetic.

Mouth open and panting, the Scot hardly has time to stop pair of dirty gloved fingers from bullying their way into his pliant mouth. Not that he would want to. Eager to please but taken aback by the sharp and tangy taste of the gloves, Johnny chokes back a whine, the sound coming out garbled around the bulky fingers playing with his tongue. Shoving his fingers a little farther back, Ghost enjoys the way Johnny's throat flutters and his eyes roll back.

Ghost uses the fingers he's wedged into the wet mouth to get a grip on his jaw, pulling it down and open, causing the drool his toy couldn't swallow to run down his glove. Ghost couldn't let himself be distracted by the pathetic display, using the fingers on Johnny's tongue to push him down and off their seat, onto his knees before Ghost.

Keeping his fingers in Johnny's mouth, Ghost keeps playing with his tongue and forcing him to drool, while preventing him to swallow. It was easy to nudge the mans legs apart with the toe of his boots, watching as Johnny tried to hold back little twitches and jerks. It was easy, too, to take the toe of his boot and press it roughly against the bulge in his Sargent's pants, watching him writhe and squirm before dragging his foot up to press against his lower stomach.

The flash of panic in Johnny's eyes was worth everything.

Reminded of the increasing pressure in his own bladder, Johnny tried to garble out a cry, a plea to let him relieve himself first, around Ghosts gloved fingers, but they only pressed down harder with the foot between his thighs. Moving his foot back, Ghost keeps one foot inside each of Johnny's legs, keeping them propped open as he squirmed before grabbing the hands Johnny had tried pushing away with, guiding them towards his own hips.

Keeping his jaw open and drooling, Ghost pulled him closer with a grip on his hair as tan hands clumsily begin undoing the belt in front of him, fingers fumbling with the button of his cargos and almost losing grip on the fly zipper, all while Johnny pushed closer, trying to nuzzle as close to the growing bulge as he could.

Impatient with the pace Johnny was working at, Ghost holds him still as he takes his wet hand from Johnny's mouth, pulling an involuntary whimper with it. Ghost made quick work shoving down his underwear, tucking the waistband under his heavy balls as his straining cock flopped out and onto Johnny's unsuspecting face.

The wet head of Ghost's dick rubbed a pretty highlight onto his cheek, accentuating Johnny's pretty cheekbones. Enjoying the way he got to watch the color drain from his toy's face as he took in the size, Ghost used his once-again-free hand to reach down and pinch the hinges of Johnny's jaw. It was easy to encourage his mouth to open with a gentle squeeze, easy to guide his face lower, and easy to grind down on the hot mouth and rough stubble under his taint. It was hard to not destroy the Scot right there.

Quickly getting with the program, Johnny mouths along the musky skin, huffing in the smell he's craved for ages, unsure if he'll ever have this chance again. Ghost sees his eyes roll back as he loses himself in Ghost, sucking and licking long him, massaging each of Ghosts heavy balls with his tongue, cradling the other in his hand. Ghost almost let himself get lost in the pleasure.

Feeling his resolve starting to crumble, Ghost tugged on Johnny's mohawk once more to steer him up and along his shaft, letting the wet and heavy tip paint Johnny's face. Nudging his puffy pink lips, Ghost looks into his eyes, finding them too blissed out and glazed over to even make contact with. Distantly, Ghost wonders if it's from all the alcohol or the domination. He's not sure which answer he'd prefer. Squeezing Johnny's jaw open once more, Ghost bullies the tip of his cock into the lax and hot mouth, drool still slicking his chin.

Ghost doesn't stay gentle long, quickly growing impatient of the kitten lick being left on his tip. With only a tightening grip in Johnny's hair as warning, Ghost begins steadily thrusting himself into Johnny's hot mouth, inching deeper with each press of his hips. The sight of tears budding in his Sargent's eyes was a sight so erotic it made his hips twitch out of control, pushing those tears over the edge as Ghost's cock pressed against the opening of Johnny's throat, cock barely past halfway.

The next thrust pushed Ghosts tip just past the tight fluttering opening, grip going tight as Johnny chokes and tries to back off, achieving nothing with his clumsy drunk movements. Tears started falling as Ghost held them there, keeping him in place as his throat tries to relax, poor lad.

The hand in Johnny's 'hawk goes tight again, gripping hard and fast and ripping a moan from the mans sloppy mouth, relaxing his throat enough for Ghost to quickly thrust farther in once more, the Scot's nose nearly buried in coarse blond curls. Watching those hazy eyes go clear as panic floods in, Ghost lets himself get away with shallow thrusts, stuffing the last inch in, millimeter by millimeter.

Head far too clouded, and arms far too heavy to even try to push back, Johnny just held tighter to his superiors thighs, nails digging into rough fabric as his throat spasmed around the twitching cock making itself home. Continuing to rock back and forth, Ghost gradually pulls out and thrusts back in more and more of his dick, rubbing against all the grooves of his toy's throat and mouth, enjoying the scrape of teeth at his base.

Ghost gradually begins to set a brutal pace, never quite pulling out more than half way, constantly bullying Johnny's throat with his weeping tip. Every thrust forced a wet groan from him, the fact they Ghost couldn't tell if they were sobs or moans made him that much harder. The tears, noises, and the sight of his eyes glazing back over made Ghost's tempos stutter for a moment, bringing him too close too fast. He had spent too long planning tonight for it to end so soon.

Slowing his pace to stave off his own orgasm, but no less brutal given the size of himself, Ghost continues his onslaught, murmuring soft praise to his Sargent, taking him so so well. The words do their job, Johnny's eyes fluttering open to look at him as he keens despite the constant abuse. The sweet look on his face almost makes Ghost feel a little bad for what he plans on next. Almost, but not quite.

Finally pulling back enough that his tip leaves the tight hold of Johnny's throat, he rubs his leaking tip along Johnny's tongue. He wants him to be able to taste what comes next.

Keeping his Johnny's hair tight with one hand and grabbing his own cock to keep steady, Ghost finally lets go of the bladder he had been holding the whole night, letting himself release over the Scot's tongue, watching as his eyes shoot back open with panic and horror at the hot liquid filling his mouth and shooting down his throat.

The struggle Johnny gave was clumsy and half-hearted. Dizzy from the copious alcohol fed to him and only being able to choke breathes from through his lieutenants sweaty pubes, he can barely lift his heavy arms to push back, the fight finally draining from his body as Ghost drains himself into him.

The hand holding his cock steady makes its way to Johnny's face, petting his swollen lips before bring his fingers up to pinch his nose, making him splutter around the cock in his mouth. With now way left to breath, Johnny was forced to rapidly gulp down stream after stream to get a gasp of air before his mouth is filled again. Rivulets of gold ran down his chin, adding to the mess of tears sweat and spit gathering on the Sargent's neck and soaking into the collar of his shirt.

It was tempting for Ghost to keep them like this, to let himself go completely with his subordinate completely at his mercy, gulping him down like a mutt in a drought. But Ghost had planned this out, he had work to do.

Cutting off his stream with a groan, he felt Johnny lick and slurp up anything left, sucking just that little bit more out of his tip before being pulled off with a whine. Moving his hand from Johnny's nose, Ghost ran his gloved fingers across the mess of his chin, scooping up globs of spit stained gold and pushing his fingers back into Johnny's mouth, still hanging open.

Gripping his jaw once more, Ghost angled his debauched face up, taking in the messy excuse of a mouth below him before adding to it, spitting directly onto Johnny's awaiting tongue, wringing another whined moan from his toy.

Hauling him up with the grip he had on Johnny's jaw, Ghost steered them back towards the discarded glass and 12pk, forgoing both and grabbing the neck of their whiskey. Not once did Johnny try to move away or close his mouth as Ghost manhandled him, dragged him over and tipped the bottle into his mouth. Johnny's lazy and pliant mouth struggled to swallow the burning liquor before Ghost dipped down, licking up the mess spilling from the sides of his mouth before shoving his own tongue inside of the gaping mouth.

The crude taste of himself mixing with the whisky on Johnny's tongue ripped a possessive growl from Ghost's own throat as he pulled himself back up, dragging Johnny along with by the grip still in his mohawk. It was hard to shove Johnny away, but it was a necessary evil if Ghost wanted to continue, and he shoved the Scot onto the bed in the corner, turning back to his table to finish his discarded beer before downing another. The crude taste of himself mixing with the whisky on Johnny's tongue ripped a possessive growl from Ghost's own throat as he pulled himself back up, dragging Johnny along with by the grip still in his mohawk. It was hard to shove Johnny away, but it was a necessary evil if Ghost wanted to continue, and he shoved the Scot onto the bed in the corner, turning back to his table to finish his discarded beer before downing another.