#babbyyyy

Unfortunately, missions like this were routine. They’d been through many hostage situations before, countless negotiations for a person or group’s life. Going through the motions was relatively easy, as long as they had a plan. And when didn’t Price have a plan? 

“Why’ve we stopped?”

“Soap’s takin’ a little longer to clear this room.” Price responds in a hushed tone, not turning toward Gaz when he speaks. He keeps his eyes forward, and his head clear. “That’s all.” 

Once Soap has scanned the room, he retreats, footsteps silent as he returns. Blue eyes meet another set, shaking his head at the other captain. And just like that, they’re moving forward again. 

The heavy thud of Ghost’s footsteps hit the roof, and even though the three men are on the top floor, Price still chuckles at the sound of Simon’s weight. “Bloody oaf.” 

Holding up his left fist, the trio come to a halt as Johnny approaches the door to another room, one at the very end of this hall. They’ve cleared every floor in this building, and haven’t found a single soul. But they know the person they’re looking for is here… somewhere. 

“In here!” It’s immediate, Soap is shouting before he even clears the room. His first mistake. 

As soon as his voice hits the air, a flurry of men are on him. A handful charge at the soldier, two of them shooting at the open door. Immediately, Price and Gaz duck, storming the room in crouched positions. Three of the men engage in hand-to-hand with the soldiers, Price successfully shooting the two men with guns. Johnny’s knocked to the ground with a crooked nose, though his situation is handled quickly when Gaz takes care of the man that threw the hit. While turning to check on his comrade, Price takes a blow to the back of his head, turning to elbow another man in the face before grabbing his vest and hauling him over his shoulder, throwing him to the ground. A quick shot to the forehead is what ends the fight, Gaz’s hand becoming bloody as he takes out the last man.

It’s then that it dawns on him, Johnny’s words. In here. Immediately, his head whips around the room, attempting to find the person they’ve come to save. It’s then that he locks eyes with you. His chest rising and falling steadily, breaths ragged and heavy.

You.

The perfect image of you, once again.

In the corner of the room, surrounded by dark shadows and dust, sits your small frame. Tied to a rusty chair, your hands and feet are bound, your arms and legs bruised with your face bloody. A small, pleading noise seeps from you, bleeding around the edges of the gag stuffed into your mouth. 

He almost can’t believe it; he’s shocked. So much so that it stops his movements, turns off the soldier part of his brain. Which is astonishing. 

“Sir?” Soap asks, still on the ground. 

The sound of Johnny’s voice snaps him out of this strange haze. Without responding, he’s rushing toward you, gait long and large as he marches across the floor. He can’t bring himself to say anything as he kneels, hands reaching for the fabric wrapped around your face. Staring into your terrified eyes, the gag is the first thing he removes, your mumbles insistent before him.

“John.” 

His hand finds your face, your cheeks, holding you tenderly. John’s eyes are full of concerned bewilderment. This isn’t how he last left you. 

Quickly though, he’s working on untying you, fingers taking apart the restrains on your hands and ankles. Now that he’s closer, he can see more of your injuries. You have a split lip and a bruised cheek, the sight horrifying him. Your knuckles are bloody, and so are your wrists. The ties cut deep into your skin, you must’ve tried so desperately to get away. 

“C’mon, love.” Reaching out, his fingers find your armpits, urging you to stand. He watches you wince, a small grunt coming from your chest. “I know, I know it’s not easy.” His voice is soft and reassuring, and he wouldn’t be touching you so openly if he wasn’t already aware of the absolute angel that you are. 

“Boys,” Turning, he addresses the two men, gesturing for their presence. 

“Cap.?” Soap asks, still trying to catch his breath.

John releases you of his hold, allowing you to sit while he stands. Removing the gear around his waist, he hands them to Johnny and Gaz. “Take these.” 

And they don’t question it; all they do is add it to their packs. 

“I’m gonna need your cover.” All he has is his pistol, but with what he has in mind, he won’t be able to reach it too quickly.

“I’ll be on your six.” Gaz nods, “Ready?”

“Almost.” Turning, he comes back to you, kneeling before your limp form. “Ready, darling?” 

Looking into his eyes, those deep blue hues you’ve missed so dearly, you nod. Listening to your small whine again is painful for him, but it’s for the best. He needs to get you to safety. 

Situating his back to you, he keeps himself crouched, tapping his shoulders as a signal for you. With a deep breath, you reach for him, sliding your hands over the broadness of his body. Leaning forward, your arms loop around his neck, your legs spreading to wrap around his waist. And then he’s bending forward, reaching down to hold the bottoms of your thighs just beneath your knees. 

“Hold on.” He grunts, standing slowly as he feels you cling to his body. Once fully up, he shuffles you further along his back, turning his head and asking, “You alright, love?” 

“Yes.” Your face is right beside his, and you can smell him again. It’s beneath the scent of gunpowder and sweat, but it’s still there. He’s still here. 

“March on.” He orders, and the boys follow their command. 

Stepping forward, you gasp quietly at the sight of the fallen men scattering the room. Price’s head turns to the side then, his voice speaking firmly to you.

“Close your eyes.” He says, stepping over their bodies. “You don’t need to see this.” And just like Soap and Gaz, you do as you’re told.

Leaving the building is easier than he thought it would be. He expected more men to storm the levels, but it’s just as empty as it was when they cleared it. Carrying you down four flights of stairs is easy for him, your weight a sort of comforting presence. He doesn’t feel like it’s a nuisance to care for you, he wants to.

“Oi,” Soap shouts over the wind. “What’re you doing?”

“Just signaled for the helo.” John answers, setting you down. He keeps an arm looped around your lower back, helping you to stand. 

“It’s too early for that!” Johnny argues, and Price doesn’t like the way he’s yelling in front of you. “We’re not done yet!”

“She needs somewhere to go!” John spits out in response, glaring daggers at his teammate. And you can feel the muscles in his chest and stomach flexing as he shouts, can feel his arm tighten around your lower back. 

“By herself?!”

“I’ll be with her.” 

Internally, you light up, leaning further into him. 

“Captain,” Ghost states, having cleared the building’s exterior. “We need you.” 

Not too far in the distance is the helicopter, its blades whirring even above the wild wind. Glancing up, Price takes note of its approach, knowing he’s got about a half a mile hike to meet it at the landing pad. 

“Finish it without me.” Eyes flashing between his teammates’, he nods firmly. “You can do it.” Soap opens his mouth to argue again, but John is grabbing him by his tac vest before he can get another word out. With his voice deep and expression stern, he says, “I’ll be here. Just finish it.” 

Following his orders with an aggravated sigh, Johnny returns it with a, “Yes sir.” 

After that, John doesn’t wait. Sweeping you off your feet, he holds you in his arms this time, jogging lightly toward the now landed chopper. He’s missed this; well, not this - but the way you feel in his arms. Internally, he’s reveling in the way you cling to him. He’s saved you, yet again.

Half a mile is nothing for him, and your weight doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. He holds you tightly, not wanting your injured body to move too much. Honestly, he’s not even sure how you got into this mess. Briefly, John wonders what would have happened to you if he hadn’t come, but he shakes that thought right out of his head. He needs to stay focused. 

“Alright, here we are.” John’s voice is deep and harsh, still in military mode. “Easy does it.” Crouching, he sets you carefully on the bench, laying you down. Immediately, you try to sit up and assess your surroundings, but a gentle push urges you back onto the seat. “Stay there.” 

Aside from his name and a simple yes, you haven’t said anything to him, and that sparks worry in his mind. Kneeling beside you, he immediately begins checking you for wounds, any type of injury. And clearly, you have many. 

“Christ,” He murmurs, shaking his head. “What did they do to you?” 

Reaching for a med kit, he slides it out from beneath the bench, popping it open so he can clean and bandage you. It’s not his best work, but it’ll do for the time being.

“Don’t think you have any breaks.” John states, still doting on you. And quietly, you let him, feeling smitten all over again. 

Closing your eyes, you let yourself take a breath, feeling safe in his hands. How on earth was he the one to come save you? What magical being blessed you with this outcome? 

“This is the best I can do until we get you back to base.” Looking up, the memory of his last name pops back into your brain. The tag on his uniform jogging your memory, Price. 

“You’re likely to be in shock.” Pulling out a thin, metallic-looking pack, he unfolds it to reveal a blanket. “C’mon, let’s sit you up.” 

With a hand on your back, he helps you move upright, wrapping the foil around your shoulders. Still on his knees, he sighs, looking up at you. But your gaze is elsewhere, your head tilted toward the floor. 

Moving onto the bench, he settles in beside you, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you into him. He can’t help it; he feels so deeply for you. He knows you’ve been through so much, even before this event. So, he doesn't ask any questions, aside from one.

“You alright, love?” Turning, he kisses your head, lips pressing into your hair as he keeps himself there. 

“Yeah.” You reply shakily, and even though the circumstance is less than desirable, he’s happy to hear your voice again. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be alright.” John whispers over your hair, “We’ll get you out of here.” 

The very same words he said on the night you met. 

“But… you already paid.”

“Keep it.” He insisted, digging into his pockets. Pulling out a handful of bills, he gave you those, too. “And this, too. Get out of here.” 

When he’d asked for a woman of your features, he didn’t expect you to be as beautiful as you were, or as young as you were. It broke him, the knowledge he now had. A woman so young doing whatever she could to keep her head above water, barely in your early twenties and just trying to support yourself. 

“I… I don’t… I don’t know how.”

The most innocent, stunning thing he could have fathomed was standing right in front of him, broken and lost. He needed to help you, he felt it was his duty to. You had little to nothing, aside from what John had given you. But he continued to overextend himself, doing his best to find a woman’s shelter that would take you in, and then paying the expenses. Just room and board, and the drive there. He was the first man in your entire life to show you such kindness. And now here he is, showing it to you again.

“Those men can’t hurt you.” John now whispers into your ear. “Not anymore.” 

They’d tried to bring you back, the men running the establishment. It just so happened that they also ran the largest cartel in the country, a prime target for the team. And now, the head of the group is being captured as you sit resting against the captain’s chest.

It’s not that the others didn’t have a heart, they were all worried for you, too. But with John constantly at your side, it was clear you were being taken care of. Even when the rest of the team goes to their respective rooms, shedding their gear before hopping in the showers, Price doesn’t leave. Gunpowder and sweat and dirt cover his body, some of it smeared on his face, but that’s not his priority right now. 

“Does she have any breaks?” He asks from the corner of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His brow and lips are in a permanent frown, concentrating on the way the medics handle you. 

“Doesn’t seem like it.” The one cleaning your wounds answers. 

Another washes your body in a sponge bath-like fashion, stripping you down to your underclothes to do so. For your privacy, they ask John to leave the room for this, but you protest with a rapid shake of your head.

“Stay,” You stutter out, turning your head toward him. “I want you to stay.” 

“I’m here, love.” Feet propelling him forward, he kneels beside the table you’re on. Grabbing the hand you reach toward him with, he kisses it. “I’m gonna stay.” 

Looking up at the medics, he inquires, “Where will she be?”

“Block D, hall 3 in room 18.” 

“Deep in the building, eh?” He comments, glancing back down at your pretty face. “I’ll take her there.”

“It’s protocol that we -”

Cutting them off, his voice is deep and stern, that rough accent making you sigh. “I said I’ll take her there.” 

And when you’re properly cleaned and given a fresh set of clothes, that’s exactly what he does. After convincing him that you can walk, he trots down the halls with you at his side. His own quarters are in block C, so you won’t be too far away from him. 

“Here’s the room we’ve secured.” He states, unlocking it with the key the medics gave him. “It’s only temporary,” Shoving open the door, he allows you to take a look inside. With hesitant steps, you walk in, still listening to him. “But it’s safe. I promise you.” 

It’s not much, not at all. It’s super small with a single bed against the back wall, with nightstands on either side. To your left in the corner sits a desk with a chair, and… that’s it. But right now, it’s more than enough. You’re not staying at a luxury hotel, it’s just a place to keep you safe. 

“Alright,” John’s voice prompts you to turn around, watching as he grabs the handle to the door. “Here’s the key,” Reaching out, you take it, wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m off, darling.” 

“Wait,” Your hand reaches out, falling on his arm. “W-Why?”

“I need to put my gear down, love. Get all this grime off me.” 

He’s met with silence, and pleading puppy eyes. Your hand is still on his bicep, stepping a little closer to him. You hate to be a nuisance, but you really can’t help it. The thought of being alone right now is terrifying to you.

John’s sweet eyes flicker back and forth between yours, a small and gentle smile growing on his face. “You wanna come with me?” 

Taking the key back, he makes sure to lock the door before ushering you away to his room. His hand falls to your lower back, his body towering above your own as he strides forward beside you. In barely two minutes, you’re at his door, watching him unlock and open it for you. 

The captain’s room is far bigger than your own. Nothing huge, but a nice size for sure. There’s a queen-sized bed off to the left with dressers on either side, and across from his bed sits a full wardrobe. In the far right corner is his desk, with a window above it. Your room didn't have any windows. 

“Make yourself comfortable, love.” John nods toward his bed, and is met with your sweet smile. “Ah,” He grins, reaching out to gently tap your chin. “There she is.” 

His words and gestures make your cheeks warm; you’re so flattered by him. And as he starts to take off his boots and gear, you make your way over to his bed, sitting on the edge. 

“J-John?” Even though he’s been sweet, you can’t help but feel like a burden. 

“Yeah, love?” He uses that word so often with you.

But he doesn’t look up. Kicking his boots off, he leaves them at the door, trotting over toward the wardrobe as he begins removing his gear. 

Swallowing timidly, you stare up at him, watching him undress.“Thank you.” 

Grinning, Price huffs out a chuckle. Sliding off his long-sleeve, he tosses it into a nearby clothes bin. “No need.” 

“What do you mean?” For some reason his words prompt a sense of sadness inside you, with almost a hint of insecurity. 

“Just doin’ our job.” Casually, he shoves down his slacks, stepping out of the cargo material. But then he’s turning to you, those blue eyes piercing your gaze. “If I knew it was you, I’d have been there a lot sooner.” 

At this point, he’s in his boxers, reaching out to grab and sling a clean towel over his shoulder. When he turns back to you, your breath stalls. You’ve never seen him so bare. But it doesn’t feel… sexual. The air is calming and friendly, intimate. You feel honored to know he’s this comfortable around you. 

John looks deep into your gaze, leaning down in front of you with a sigh. For the first time, nearly his entire body is on display. The curly hairs on his chest, the ones trailing down his navel, the chorded muscles in his forearms and the bulges of his biceps. His chest looks firm, and you know he’d be warm. The muscles in his stomach are outlined, too, flexing slightly as he breathes. 

“Alright now,” He says, “I’ve gotta do this part myself, yeah?” It makes you chuckle, feeling bashful before him. “I’m off to shower, but I won’t be long.” Standing, he throws a little wink your way. “Promise.” 

Though, he wishes he could take you into the shower with him. He knows the medics did a fine job washing you up, but he’d do it again in his own way. Slide his hands along your body, kneeling on the ground while lathering you with soap and kissing your belly. He wonders if you’d let him kiss you again, if maybe he could touch you. But he doesn’t ever want you to think that’s what this is. That he’s just helping you for… that. 

When John is finally gone, the room seems darker, stiffer. Leaning over, you turn on his nightstand light, the soft yellow hue comforting you. He’d closed his closet, cleaning up his space before leaving. You wonder if he’s always like this, always so tidy and clean. With the smell in his room, it seems so. There’s the faint hint of tobacco, something you’ve never seen him smoke but you now assume he does. But overall, the scent of sandalwood fills your senses, that and scotch. He has a full decanter on his desk. Alongside an antique radio, maybe one he’s used for correspondence. 

What smells even more like John is his bed, it’s like it’s calling to you. Scooching further up, you settle in, keeping yourself above the covers but laying your head on his pillows. The inhale you make is intoxicating, it’s him.

The smell lingered in your room when he visited you at the brothel, too. 

Price didn’t touch you when you first met. He couldn’t bring himself to. You were a beautiful girl, and you still are, but your youth stuck in his mouth like glue. How could a woman so young work in a place like this? But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t see the appeal. You’re a gorgeous thing, with a body that curves in all the right places. From the length of your hair down to the twinkle in your eye, you were so charming, and you didn’t even know it. 

“How old are you, love?” He finally asked, still standing near your closed door.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you glanced up at him nervously. “Twenty-three.”

At this, he huffed out a laugh of disbelief, eyes falling to the ground. 

“How… how old are you?”

He hesitated, raising his brows in a sarcastically amused way. “Nearly twice your age.” 

That was the night he refused your services, and offered you every ounce of material payment that he had. And he promised to come see you again. He told you to take care of yourself, and that he’d be back. He’d help you find a better life. 

And he made good on his promise. The very next day, he was back in your room, claiming to pay for your services but not laying a finger on you. All you did was talk, discussing your lives and ways to make them better. He offered his help, his knowledge, being that he was twenty-plus years your senior. It was incredibly relieving to have such a dominant male figure in your life that was also kind, and loving. John didn’t care because he had to, or because he knew he’d get something in return. John cared because it was in his nature to. 

“Have you ever been with a woman before?”

“Plenty.” John chuckled, eating the dinner he’d packed for the two of you. 

Smiling, you glance down at your plate of food. “I mean… here? In a place like this?”

This time, his answer is said with a low sigh, nodding his head as he mumbles quietly, “Plenty.” But then he’s lifting his head, waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “But none of them have ever been as lovely as you.” 

It was on the third night that you made a small advance, helpless to the attraction you had for him. He was incredibly handsome, smart and kind, skilled and strong. Saving up money for your escape was going to take a few days, but you didn’t mind, not as long as you had his company. 

He accepted it, allowing you to crawl slowly onto his lap. You were entirely clothed, and so was he, but it did nothing to dull the heat in your bellies. You straddled him, bringing his uncertain hands to your hips. Your movements were careful and calculated, you didn’t want to overstep with him. And you didn’t. With your delicate hands finding either side of his face, fingertips petting at his finely-groomed hair, he leaned in. John’s hands were gentle and kind, and so were  his kisses. 

Gradually, he built up the nerve to move his hands, fingers sliding along your lower back and caressing your covered skin. The first night you met him he smelled like sweat and smoke, but every night since then, he’d smelled fresh. He kept his appearance up for you. And kissing him then allowed you to smell and taste the freshness of his breath, the hint of bourbon on his lips. 

“You don’t deserve this.” He mumbled against you, eyes still closed as he pressed his lips to yours. 

“I deserve you.”

John never saw himself as a man that would spend nights in brothels. But that night, he did. 

It was the next day that he took you to the woman’s shelter, about forty miles north of where he stayed. During the week he cared for you, he made it his mission to keep you safe, to make sure no other men would lay their hands on you. But watching you walk away that day, it really killed him. He couldn't protect you anymore, but he had to keep his faith, faith in his plan and the fact that this was the best route for you. He did his best for you. 

Snapping out of your haze is the abrupt opening of John’s door. It’s him, walking in with only a pair of sweats hanging on his waist. His navy blue boxers are peeking out along his hips, the hair on his chest gleaming with a small hint of dampness. 

The mutton chops along his cheeks lift up with his smile, how cute. He likes seeing you all cuddled up on his bed. With a small grunt, he settles in beside you, resting his back along the wooden headboard of his bed. And then you do something that makes his heart soar; you lay your head on his lap. 

Looking down, he grins, brushing your hair out of your face. “Haven’t been gettin’ into any more trouble, have ya?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Comes your quiet reply, trying to force humor into your voice. 

Looking up, you admit quietly, “I missed you.” It’s been six months, and you didn't know if you’d ever see each other again. 

Inhaling sharply, he replies with a sympathetic nod, “I missed you too, angel.” Gently, he pets your head, doing his best to ease any of your worries. “Still just as beautiful, aren’t you?” 

It was hard for him to let you go, and honestly, he’s glad you wanted him to stay with you, whether it be in his or your room. If he were here by himself, he knows he’d just be thinking about you.

Internally, you ponder your reaction. He’s been a bit flirtatious since your reconnection, and it makes you buzz inside. And honestly, it makes you want to reciprocate. Taking a beat from your first sensual act, you lift yourself, gradually crawling onto his lap. 

With a big smile, he watches you move, feeling your limbs wrap around his body in a firm hug once you’re fully straddling him. Those strong arms hold you tight against his chest, feeling your face nuzzle into his neck. Breathing in his scent, you sigh. Now, you really do feel safe. 

Lifting your head, you inhale a breath, taking in the sight of him. Of his bushy facial hair and pretty blue eyes, his smooth lips and clear skin. Just like before, when you first did this, you can feel his muscles resting beneath you. And with him shirtless, they’re more prominent than ever before. The hair on his chest makes you grin, the muscles in his chest and abdomen firm and warm, just like you remember them. 

“John…” Fingers gliding over his beard, you release a heavy breath. And he does, too. 

“I know,” He says, licking his lower lip. “C’mere.” 

With his hand on your cheek, you let him guide you in, meeting his lips. It feels like a mini zap of excitement but it also feels like home. His scruffy facial hair rubs against you, trailing over and tickling your lips as you accept him. 

When both your palms find his face, his right hand drops back down to your waist. Gently, he squeezes you, a light moan vibrating across your lips. A great sensation of satisfaction overcomes him. He’s contemplating keeping you this time. And you’re hoping for the exact same thing.

Now that he’s in your arms again, you don’t want to let him go. And if you have to, then you don’t want to have any regrets. You want him; even if it’s just for tonight, you want him. 

John moves his lips over your own nice and slow, taking his time with you. He’s soft and gentle, listening to your quiet hums and eventual moans as they spill into the room. Repeated connections make your insides stir, your fingers curling into the hair along his jaw as he continues to make you breathless. 

Amidst the excitement of it all, your hips begin shifting over his lap, testing the waters of your intimate act. And to say he’s shocked by this would be an understatement. With everything in him, he wants you to continue, wants you to do it naked, but instead, he stops it. Feeling his hand plant firmly along your hips, he successfully ceases your movement. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He tells you gruffly, looking into your eyes. “You won’t ever have to do that again.” 

“Do what?” You’re whispering, the moment feeling tender. Like it could shatter at any moment. 

“Fuck a man for payment.” His words are blatant, raw. 

“I, I don’t…” Gulping, you release a shaky breath. Everything leading up to this point has given you the impression that he finds you attractive, that he’s interested in you. So, why is he rejecting you? “You don’t want me?”

His response is immediate. “Don’t ask me that.” John doesn’t ever want you to feel pressured into that, not in general and especially not with him. 

“You don’t?”

“Princess,” Releasing a harsh breath, those cerulean eyes bore into your own, a sense of longing swirling within them. “Of course I do.” 

“Then be with me,” It comes out before you can stop it, but you don’t regret it. “Please be with me.”

Shuffling on his lap, you move in even closer, holding his handsome face in your hands. 

“I’ve missed you so much, John. I, I’ve never had someone like you in my life.” All he can do is stare into your eyes, and his stare is full of so much genuine love for you. “I know I can be a burden, I know you’ve had to take care of me, but… I like it, I really like it, baby.” 

A heavy breath is forced out of his nose at that word, the first time you've ever called him baby. 

“You’re never a burden.” He tells you firmly, shaking his head. “You’ve never been a burden to me.” And it’s true. Everything he did, he did willingly. “I want you to depend on me. Because I’m here.” 

“I know you are.” And now, you’re whispering, bringing yourself in to rest your forehead against his.

The dim glow of the room makes the moment feel that much more special to you. His fingertips continue to caress your back, now dipping beneath the edge to feel your skin. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to do this.” 

“I know that!” You state passionately, “Who says I have to? I haven’t, ugh.” Closing your eyes, you release a quiet yet frustrated breath. “I haven’t done that in months.” 

“Good.” John’s response is stern, “That was my hope for you.” 

Sliding your hands down his face, they land on his chest. “John, it’s okay if you don’t want me. But I need you to know that I want you; and if I could, I’d keep you.” 

Your words stir every emotion inside his chest. It’s all he’s been wanting to hear, all he’s fantasized about since the day you left. He can’t count how many times you’ve floated into his head, day or night, friendly or sexual; it’s like you never truly left him. 

“Well, who says you can’t?” Leaning up a bit, he moves into your space, hands becoming possessive as he grabs you. 

With a small breath, almost a gasp, the edges of your lips turn up into a grin, fully leaning into him. 

“Think you’re gonna leave again?” He asks gruffly, dominant hand rising to the back of your neck. Now, he’s less than a hair’s breadth away from your face, dark blue eyes dipping down to your lips before returning to your twinkling orbs. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Yeah…” Looking between your eyes, he gives his head a single shake. “I don’t want you to either.” 

Pushing you forward is the force of his hand on the back of your neck, your lips meeting once again. This time, the hand on your hip urges you forward, John sighing heavily into the kiss. Both hands remain on his handsome face as you let him move you like this, rolling your hips over his. 

“You sure you want me like this?” That low voice asks with a laugh. “Old captain in the military?” 

“You’re exactly what I want.” 

Not allowing a response is the movement of your mouth, the gentle slide of your tongue. Your body movements seem urgent but the way you kiss him is tender, languid and sweet. And now that you’re truly mouthing at him, the tent in his pants is more than apparent. 

Your collective motions have become heated, John’s kisses becoming passionate and sloppy. Timidly, his hands wander down to your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your outer thighs. Because you know he won’t do it himself, at least not yet, you reach down to slip your longsleeve up and off your head. 

“A burden,” Price huffs, eyes dipping down to your chest. “Do you know how lovely it is?” Another sloppy kiss, another heavy breath. “How lovely it is to take care of a little girl like you?” 

“John,”

Pressing yourself to him again, he feels the softness of your chest over his, and he groans. You’re still wearing a sports bra, but with how eager you were to take your top off, he knows he’ll be able to rid you of that soon. 

“It’s perfect, so perfect.” Sliding one of his hands down, it lands on your backside, massaging you kindly. “Feeling needed by you.” 

He hasn’t been wanted in this way for so long, longer than he cares to admit. Women in brothels weren’t the same as you, they didn’t want a relationship with him. But you yearn for him, he can so clearly see it. 

“I couldn’t stand to see you leave.” 

“I know,” Remembering that day hurts your heart, you were convinced you’d never see him again. “I didn’t want you to go.” 

“You’re a strong girl.” He expresses, his praise heating your body. “Could’ve made it without me.” 

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave again,” Rolling your hips over his lap, you can feel the occasional pulse from his tip. “Please don’t go, not again.” 

“I’m not,” John’s lips have barely left your own, only for a short breath and a handful of words. “I’m not going anywhere, princess.” 

Securing one strong arm around your lower back, he changes your positioning. With gentle movements, the captain turns, laying you down on your back in the center of his bed. 

“I’ll show you what it’s like.” He promises, kissing your cheek while settling above your body. “Show you how a real man treats a woman, yeah?” 

Smiling, you run your hands up the sides of his face, fingers carding through his hair. 

“Yes, baby.”

“Oh,” John groans low, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. “I like the sound of that.” Making his way down your throat, your collarbone, and now to your chest, his eyes find yours once again. “Can I take this off, love?” 

Thick fingers toy with the edges of your sports bra, your expression going soft as you nod. You love hearing him speak to you like this. And after you’ve given him permission, he’s sliding it up and off your beautiful body, hearing your small breaths hitch. 

“Oh, Christ…” Immediately, his eyes are on your breasts, leaning back a bit so he can cup you with both hands. “Such a beauty.” 

Diving back down, his open mouth finds your chest, giving your soft flesh sloppy yet passionate kisses. Gasping, you find yourself arching against him, into him, cradling his head as those smooth lips wrap around the peak of your breast. 

“John, yes…”

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Licking the pad of his thumb, he then rubs it against the nipple he hasn’t yet sucked. Glancing up, he witnesses your euphoric expression, your head tossed back and lips open in a silent moan. 

Happy with this, he gives your solar plexus a kiss, continuing to work his way down. He gives time to every space he can reach, using his mouth to appreciate your breasts, your ribcage, your belly and pelvis. Occasionally, he’ll nip at your thin skin, but never enough to leave a mark. 

“What about these?” Pressing his lips to the hem of your sweatpants, he speaks his inquiry gently, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it. 

“Yes, John. Yes, please.”

As he slides them down, he continues his worship of your body, licking the sweet flesh of your grabbable thighs. When your pants are discarded, and you’re entirely naked for him, he leans back to take it all in. 

Laying a hand over your lower belly, he rubs up and down, sighing. “You’re perfect.” 

“Baby…” Your own hands find his forearm, caressing him. 

“I want you all to myself,” Bringing himself back down, he shuffles between your legs. “You know that?”

“I know.” You confirm, your words light and airy as his breath fans over your naked sex. 

“Darling, she’s so pretty…” And he’s talking about your pussy, the way it flutters when he spreads your delicate lips. “Can I touch her, love? Looks like she’s waiting for me.” 

The gentle roll of your hips is all it takes for his tongue to drag up your sensitive center. You never expected him to ask permission like this, and for each little thing. But you understand it; he doesn’t know what you’ve endured in the past, and he wants to be a gentleman. He won’t take what isn’t given to him. 

The rough hairs of his beard scrape against your inner thighs, rubbing over your skin as his mouth moves. It’s continuous, the firm drag of his tongue up your center while his first and middle fingers keep you spread. And the taste of you on his tongue is making him go mad, your tangy-sweet flavor finally available to him. Settling in, he savors it, wrapping his arms under your legs and over your pelvis, grabbing onto your hips when you begin to wiggle beneath him. 

Every shudder, every little whimper, he pays attention to. If it’s the last thing he ever does, he wants to make sure you feel good. 

“Oh, right there, huh?” He inquires cockily, feeling you jerk in his touch when the tip of his tongue dances over your clit. “Right above the hood…” And then he’s doing it again, fingers tightening their hold while you writhe from it.

Your moans are wanton, desperate, your hips rolling up toward his face whenever he leaves to take a breath. But it makes him smile all the same, your neediness. 

“J-John,”

“Gotta be quiet, love.” He mutters, leaning in to suck on your lips. “Mm… boys are right down the hall.”

“I-I can’t, I…” 

You can feel your thighs shaking, and so can he. Pinning your legs down, his broad shoulders keep them open, his mouth incessant as he continues to taste you. He switches from tongue-fucking your center to swirling the tip of it around your clit, but when he suctions his mouth to that little bundle of pleasure, that’s when you lose it.

“Baby, babybabybaby.”

He’s sucking on you, and doing so sloppily. The soft wetness of it echoes throughout the room, your fingers curling into his plain bedspread as you do your best to relax. 

“Quiet, now.” He chastises gently, feeling the tremble in your lower belly. With sweet touches, he pets at your upper pelvis, soothing you. “Quiet for me.”

Your small cries are nearly helpless, every desperate whimper spilling from your lips. He’s licking your clit, that wet, warm tongue rolling against it. And everything about it is so perfect, the way he’s touching you, the way he’s handling you and speaking to you. 

“John, I’m gonna,” Releasing an airy laugh, you finish with. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“C’mon, then.” He encourages without a lick of hesitation. “Why don’t you do it for me, eh? Right in my mouth.” 

“Fuck me,” Reaching down, your fingers find his hair, curling into those gorgeous brown locks. 

Rutting up, he lets you use his face, rolling your hips over his mouth while he lays his tongue out for you. The entire act has his body vibrating with energy and excitement, and you haven’t even touched him yet. It’s the fact that he’s pleasuring you, that’s what’s really getting to him. 

When you really start to shake, his hands lower to your backside, squeezing you harshly as you reach your peak. He’s groaning into you, listening to your shrill cry. And with as loud as it is, he can tell you’re doing your best to be quiet.

Clinging to him is what keeps you grounded, what keeps you from floating too far away. It shivers through your body, blooming from your hips and spreading everywhere. When you start to jerk too much, or move too far away, his hands are back on your hips, keeping you down. But he works you through it; he’s patient and continues to lick you, even when your body begins to come down. 

“Precious thing,” His face is wet with you, his beard; you can tell from the feeling of it rubbing along your inner thighs. 

Opening your legs wider, you inhale a steady breath, keeping your eyes closed as you relax. Below, John licks his lips, placing one last, tender kiss before climbing over you. 

“Come on,” He coos, kissing your cheek with slippery lips. “Come back to me.” 

Even through his sweatpants, you can feel how big he is, how heavy he’s hanging between his legs. “John,” You whine from it, opening your eyes to find his. Reaching up, you caress his face in your hands, even though it’s wet with your slick. “Please.”

“Please what, gorgeous?” 

“Please fuck me.” 

He’s surprised by your wording, he’d assumed you’d say something softer to him. But he likes it; it shows that you’re becoming more comfortable like this.

“Christ,” With a grunt, he’s sitting up and leaning back on his heels. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

Grinning, his fingers curl into the hem of his pants and boxers, sliding them down his muscular legs. You giggle when he side-steps out of them, his weight dipping on the bed. But your giggles quickly subside when you see him, leaking and red. 

“Oh…” Leaning up with a small moan, you reach out for him, your delicate fingers wrapping around his shaft. “Baby.”

“You like it?” He wonders aloud, glancing down. 

He’s thick in your hand, and lengthy. He’s cut too and nicely trimmed, a small bit of hair still remaining. Which you like; John’s body hair makes you feel hot inside. 

“Yes.” It comes out as a small whine, a breath of disbelief. You can’t believe you finally have him like this. “Baby… you’re so big.” 

“You flatter me, angel.” He grins, shaking his head. But that cocky attitude fades when you swipe your thumb over his tip, his sticky precum sliding over his reddened head. “Fuck me.” 

Huffing out a few breaths, he lets you do this, lets your hand stroke him languidly. “I, uh…” Glancing up, you give him your sweetest expression, prompting his stutter to continue. “Don’t, I don’t have a condom, sweetheart.” 

“That’s okay, baby.” 

“Still want me?”

“Mhm.” Your reassuring smile is a gift to him, a breath of relief falling from his lips. 

“I… hate to ask, but…” Clearing his throat, he reaches down, stopping your motions. “Haven’t got anything to worry about, have I?” Now that he’s thinking about it, he probably should've asked before going down on you. Hindsight is 20/20, but your answer reassures him all the same.

“I’m clean, baby. They tested me at the shelter, came with the health program you paid for.” Something about your words make him feel proud, knowing he was able to successfully care for you. 

With a blissful grin, you reach out for him, grabbing his shoulders and gently guiding him back in. Slowly falling back to the bed, he settles above you once again. John’s talented lips find you again, his naked pelvis resting above your own. His kiss is brief, eyes glancing down as he angles himself between your legs. 

“I’m so thankful for you.” Whispering into his ear, you grin, kissing the shell of it. 

With a low breath, something like a groan, John buries his face into your shoulder, the sloped tip of him rubbing against your outer entrance. 

You haven’t had sex in more than six months, and your traumas are definitely still there. But everything about John screams safety to you, safety and security. And you want him to have you. 

Lifting your legs, you rest the soles of your feet on his bedding, your arms encircling his neck. John’s humid breath fans against your shoulder and throat, a small moan floating from his chest when he truly slides in. His tip stretches you, but not painfully so, thanks to his extensive foreplay. But the deeper he dives, the fuller you feel, and from the emotions of it all you think you could cry. 

“John,”

“I know, sweetheart. Almost there.” He coos lovingly to you, releasing a heavy sigh when his pelvis meets the sensitive space between your legs. “That’s it, that’s it, darling.”

Fingernails scraping into his back, you whine when he rolls his hips, not at all pulling out but just grinding into you. Both of those large arms slide beneath your back, holding you tightly against his muscular frame. 

“Like that,” That gruff voice tells you, his hips now retracting. “Those cute little whines.” 

“Baby, more.”

“Eager thing,” He comments, returning to your warmth at a slightly quicker pace. 

“I’ve been eager for you since the day I met you.” Comes your breathy admission, nails trailing down his sculpted back. 

His pace is passionate, sensual and sweet - exactly highlighting tonight’s mood. Every time he leaves your sex he’s diving back in like he’d never get a taste of it ever again. Even without force, he’s hitting you deep, throbbing against your warm channel whenever he feels you clench. 

“H-Harder, baby.” You’re whining, gasping beneath his weight. “Please.”

Lifting himself slightly, John’s left hand reaches down to your hip, putting his entire weight into keeping you still. With his other, he lifts it to rest on his forearm, breaths ragged and heavy as he shoves himself into you. And he does it exactly as you requested, not going fast but applying more pressure and intensity. 

“Oh, I’ve wanted you.” 

“I want you, John. Please, let me see you ag -” But then you’re crying out, feeling his tip punch against your sensitive spot. “Again, please let me see you again.”

“You’re staying here until I say.” He declares, “You’re staying with me.” 

Absolute relief washes through your bones, your limbs tingling with continuous waves of pleasure and it’s from him, all of it is from him. 

“We’ll move your things.” John promises, grunting with every thrust. “In here, we’ll bring them here. Keep ‘em with you and me.” 

“Really, baby?”

“You think I’m gonna let you out of my sight? Darling, you’re mine.” The rough drag of his length along your walls is debilitatingly blissful, the wetness from his tongue and your high aiding in the smoothness of his thrusts. “You’ve been mine from the start.” 

It’s overwhelming, his words and the things he’s doing to your body. You’ve wanted this for longer than you can remember, to be held in a man’s embrace. But not any man, not a man that treated you like a commodity. A man like him. Who cared for you, mentally and physically, who did his best to protect you and nurture your well-being. To keep you with him, to help you grow and in turn, help him. 

“L-Love you, John.” Head snapping up, those stunning blue orbs search for your own.

What did she say?

Meeting his eyes with an all too tender expression, you repeat fully this time, “I love you so much.” 

Your name is breathed out of his mouth, the hand on your hip leaving to find your cheek. He cups you firmly, lowering himself to meet your lips. And you like it better like this, when you can hold him. 

“Sweetheart,” The crack in his voice makes your lips break out into a wondrous grin, his emotions seeping out of him. “I loved you then,” Kissing your cheek, he leans in, pressing his forehead to your temple. “And I love you still.” 

And John absolutely basks in the presence of your love, in your sweet words and the way you cling to him. You’re his now, his to care for and protect. And he hopes he can give you that, he knows he can give you that. 

“I’ll treat you right, angel.” He’s devoted to you; a woman has never had such a hold on him before you. “I’ll keep you safe, keep you happy, yeah?” 

Fingers curling into his hair, you lift your hips, meeting his every thrust. And it makes him choke on his own breath, makes his throat go dry from how harshly he groans. 

“Let me be that for you, let me take care of you.”

“John, yes. I want, I want that. Want to be with you.” 

“Then you will be.” He can feel the way you pulse around him, the way your nails scratch at his skin and the way your lips suction to his neck. It’s all-consuming, you’re pulling him in. He’s falling into an abyss that he never wants to be free of. “I’ll give you the goddamn world, princess.” 

“Just don’t go.” Moaning, you feel the muscles in his stomach tense, the erratic jut of his thrusts. “Please don’t leave me again.” 

Forcing himself into you a half a dozen more times, and he’s spilling inside, shoving himself in as deep as he can go. And even through all the ringing in his ears, he hears one thing. Only you. 

Thoughts of what could be flash through his mind, a life with you. Pleasure bursts through his core as he rides out his high, rocking his hips into your center, keeping your body close. You’ve left at least a handful of hickies on his chest, marks he’s eager to see in the morning. But he can wait for that, his goal right now is to cherish you. 

Painfully, he’s reminded of the image he was met with when he rescued you. Gagged and bloody, bruised from top to bottom while tied to a rusty chair. He’ll never forgive himself for letting that happen to you.