He hated the military full dress uniform. It's itchy and tight, and it feels wrong in all the wrong places compared to his regular work fit, but he was explicitly told, by Price, that he can't wear full tactical gear to Soap’s sister’s wedding. For Johnny, and for Judith, he will put up with the formal wear for one evening, then he can pack it away for at least another six months to gather dust in a closet somewhere.

"You nearly ready, Si?" Ghost hears Johnny call from the bedroom, because he insisted 'it's easier to put a kilt on lying down', so Simon resigned himself to getting ready in the bathroom, attempting to look somewhat presentable. His tie is refusing to sit correctly no matter how much he tries to fix it, his medals situated obnoxiously on his chest feel like a gloat of his crimes, getting a medal for doing his job and being forced to show it off at formal events. He hates it,it puts the attention on him.

"I guess." He gives up on his tie, deciding that how it looks now is as good as it's going to get as he runs a hand through his curls in an pointless attempt to tame them, though after years under the mask, the curls have a mind of their own and refuse to listen to the wishes of any hair product. Simon just accepts defeat and walks out the bathroom.

Ghost knew that Soap was wearing a kilt to the wedding, it was a conversation they had when Simon asked what he should wear. He asked if Soap was also going to be wearing full dress only to be told:

"My mother would skin me alive if I showed up to that wedding in anything other than a MacTavish tartan kilt and I am more scared of my mum than I will ever be of Price."

So, Ghost should have been prepared to see Soap in a kilt for the first time, knowing that it was happening. Goddamn, was he wrong. Walking out of the bathroom and seeing Soap in a full kilt, white shirt, and black jacket hugging his frame just right, it does something to Ghost. There’s just enough leg visible, that Ghost feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankles for the first time.

"Mum can't complain that I haven't cleaned up for Judy's wedding, can she?" Soap laughs as he bends over to fix his shoelaces, and that's when Simon sees it, more like what he doesn’t see. A lack of underwear under the kilt, the MacTavish family jewels in all their pride and glory, his cock hanging free and heavy. He could put his face right in there, eat Johnny out right now with no issue (other than Mama MacTavish murdering them for being late), but with such a delightful meal in front of him, Simon thinks he could die a happy man. "Steamin' Jesus Si, you look like a fucking wet dream in that suit, I'd devour you right now if it wouldn't make us late."

Soap walks over to him and quickly fixes his tie and the mess that is his uncooperative curls, and Simon has to fight the urge to drop to his knees right there in the room, instead forcing his feet to move, following Soap out the door and to the church.

This is going to be a long day.

Simon can't fucking take it anymore. All he can think about is the fact that the only thing separating him from Johnny's cock is nothing but a skirt and a full wedding reception. He'd been patient through the entire ceremony and through the first couple hours of the reception, but he can't wait any longer. If he doesn't get his hands under that fucking kilt soon, he's going to stab someone.

He watches from the side of the room as Johnny dances with his sister, the pair laughing as Judith steps on his feet; Ghost would probably find it just as funny if he wasn't bricked up and leaking all over his underwear. It reaches a point of, in Johnny's words, ‘too horny to think anything other than gay’, that he has to do something about it. The solution? Ghost strides over to where Johnny and his sister are dancing and barks out at him to follow.

And Johnny, the ever loyal soldier, follows without question, passing his sister off to dance with their father before striding after Simon, trailing behind him through the corridors of the church  to the now-empty chapel, the rest of the wedding guests in the banquet room for the reception. 

Johnny is barely in the room before Simon has the door closed and the Scot pressed against the mahogany wood. He sinks to his knees, forcing his way under the kilt and he's met with the thick musk of Johnny's sweat. Moaning as he noses at Soap’s balls, Simon licks at the seam between his thigh and crotch, the salty ambrosia melting on his tongue as he explores every crevice he can reach, Soap’s hand on his head trying to guide him to his cock.

"Please, Simon." Johnny's whines only spur Ghost on, licking and sucking on any and all exposed skin his mouth can find, painting Soap’s thighs in an array of purple bruises. The heavy weight of Soap’s cock against his face, leaking precum down his cheeks, has him so lost in desperation that he finally takes the cock head in his mouth, moaning whorishly at the salty desire dripping onto his tongue.

"Should've done this this morning, maybe you wouldn't have been such a moody brat then," Johnny says as he lifts the kilt just enough to run his fingers through the unruly curls of Simon’s hair, grabbing a handful tightly to control him. "Such a cock hungry slut, you couldn't even wait until the reception was over, can't go a few hours without being filled like a whore."

Moans and whines echo off the walls as Soap bullies Ghost’s throat with his cock, the rough pace making his eyes water as the tears threaten to spill, spurred on by the delightfully degrading words being spat at him. He can't help whining in displeasure as he's pulled off of Soap’s cock, guided to stand by the hand still tightly holding his hair, and roughly dragged to the nearest pew.

"You want to act like a whore, then I'll treat you like one."

Soap pushes him down onto a pew, his back against the hard wood of the seat as Johnny makes quick work of removing his trousers and underwear leaving him bare from the waist down. He forces his legs open, hooking one leg over the back of the pew he’s lying on, the other over the pew in front and the cold air against his cunt makes him realise just how wet he is. "Look at you, dripping for it, so desperate for my cock."

The painful pleasure of Soap’s hand hitting his cock knocks the air from his lungs, the wood of the pews digging into his legs as he tries to force them closed, it earns him a displeased tut from Johnny and another slap to his already sensitive cock. 

"Take what you're given like the good boy I know you can be." Soaps fingers easily slide into his slick hole, with Simon’s symphony of moans echoing off the hallowed walls. The sunlight streams in through the stained glass windows, painting Ghost's body in a heavenly array of colour. "Look at you, a work of art laid beneath me, God watching as I defile you in His house."

Ghost can feel the tears forming in his eyes as Soap’s fingers hit all the right spots inside him, the impending orgasm building.

"Do you think He's jealous? Jealous that I have death falling apart in my fingers, moaning my name, worshipping me in His house." Johnny leans in close to whisper in his ear, Simon’s whimpers and whines entangling themselves in the praise. Every word and sound enunciated by the wet sound of Soap's fingers in Simon’s slick hole, his thumb stroking his cock. "Go on, Mo ghràdh, show him how you sing your praises."

His orgasm rushes through him, Soap's fingers never stopping their assault on his cock and the overstimulation has his legs shaking against the pews. 

"Too much, please." Words tumble out his mouth as Simon struggles to contain his noises. The oversensitivity on his cock after his orgasm never relents, even after Johnny removes his fingers from him. Ghost watches through half lidded eyes as Johnny licks his fingers clean from Simon's slick. "Johnny, I can't, no more."

"You'll take what you're given, doll." Soap lifts up his kilt to reveal his hard, leaking cock, the underside of the kilt stained with precum. Simon watches as his lover gathers slick from his used hole, using it to ease the glide on his cock. He can't control the stuttering of his hips as Soap rubs his leaking tip against Simon's cock, pleas and whines escaping his mouth. "I haven't even had my fill yet, didn't realise I was dating such a selfish little slut."

"No, please, want you." He knows he sounds pathetic, his voice barely above a whine, a whimper, but he can't find it in him to care, not when the thought of Soap's cock inside him, his lover roughly using him as he pleases, sings so loudly in his ears he can't begin to care about how loud his moans are. "Use me, please."

"Oh don't you worry, doll, I'll treat you right." Simon's eyes flutter shut at the slight pressure of Johnny's cock entering his hole, the full feeling hitting just right as his lover's hips meet his, giving him no time to adjust before Johnny sets a rough pace. The sound of skin on skin echoes off the walls, accompanied beautifully by the tenor of moans leaving the pair’s lips. "Should keep you bred all the time, nice and full with my seed, my perfect little cumdump for me to use. Always nice and wet for me, bend you over any surface and have my way with you, leave you dripping with my cum."

"Yes, please, yes-" The air knocks out his lungs as Soap grabs his thighs, folding him in half, his knees against his chest, Soap's cock hitting deeper than before, his mind blanking from the pleasure as he feels Soap's fingers enter his mouth in an attempt to silence him.

"Don't want the entire church to hear how much of a whore you are, wouldn't want them walking in, seeing you begging for my cock." Soap's pace never relents, the pain of his lovers hips slamming against his, and the burn in his thighs adding to the cacophony of blinding pleasure building in his core. "A big, strong lieutenant whimpering and whining for his subordinate's cock, brought to tears by having a cock in his hole, and what a pretty hole it is for me to use. For only me to use."

All he can do is make muffled moans as the weight of Soap's fingers in his mouth, pushing on his tongue. The degrading praise of Johnny's words flood his brain as he whines pathetically around the fingers in his mouth, his second orgasm rushing through him, his slick squirting out of him soaking the underside of Soap’s kilt, the relentless pace never slowing, the overstimulation shivering through his body.

"Look at you, my own fountain of youth, only I know how to make you flow." Soap's pace stutters as he buries himself so his hips are flush with Simons as he cums deep inside, the tip of his cock grinding against Simons cervix. "Gonna fill you up, breed you nice and full."

Soap begins to pull out, Ghost instinctively wraps his legs around his lover's waist to stop him, wanting him to stay inside, but his mind comes back to the present as he remembers where they are. He tries looking around for something to wipe himself with, not wanting to go through the rest of the reception with cum dripping out of him.

"You got a tissue?" Soap chuckles at him before throwing his underwear and suit trousers at him.

"No, you want to act like a whore, then you can deal with the consequences." He watches in disbelief as Soap fixes the kilt to make it look presentable, and not like he's just fucked the daylights out of his boyfriend. "And maybe if you're good, I'll treat you when we get home."

Simon accepts that he's going to have to leave the mess that's currently leaking from his hole and begrudgingly pulls on his underwear and dress trousers. If his treat is even half as good as what just happened, then it'll be worth ruining his underwear.