#gazsoapghost

The corner of Kyle's mouth twitches, lifting up just enough to give Simon a flash of his dimples, "Oh sod off, you liked it. You know you did."

Letting out a slow breath, Simon tugged down his black face mask just to kiss him there; it was one of his favourite parts of the man, if he were to be honest with himself, "maybe." He lets out a little annoyed grunt as Kyle drifts away to pull a glass down from the cupboards just to fill it with tap water. "Didn't really get the end o'it though," he mumbles mostly to himself as he watches Kyle lean back against the kitchen counter, sipping at his water, "all'a them stayed dead, 'cept that doll one."

"Yeah well, tha's the point. S'a commentary on grief, mortality, and regrets. Doesn't work if they don't stay dead, it'd undermine the messa—" Another loud whine comes from the other room, interrupting Kyle, who simply huffs and shakes his head. They're both quiet, until the sounds peter off again. The glass cup clinks quietly as Kyle sets it down on the counter behind him, keeping his fingers resting loosely around the rim, "think our toy is properly warmed up for us yet?"

Simon lets his gaze drift from Kyle just long enough to glance at the clock on the stove, they've been gone for the better part of two hours, closer to three. "Hm. Wouldn't hurt nothin' t'leave it a bit longer," he says after a moment, "but we can check in on it if yer worried about it."

That earns him a scoff and a light punch to the arm, not that he finds himself bothered all too much about it, more pleased that Kyle's close enough again that Simon can rest his hands on Kyle's hips; it feels a bit wrong almost, the material of his shirt far too soft and expensive to be sullied by something like Simon's rough, scarred palms, though he supposed Kyle didn't mind, if the cheeky smile tugging at his lips and deepening his dimples is anything to go by. "Jus' don't want it gettin' impatient and breakin' somethin' again."

In the end, the potential annoyance of having to once more clean dozens of little shredded bits of silicone from their sheets again is what gets Simon to press a soft kiss to the corner of Kyle's mouth, before leading him out of the kitchen and towards their bedroom. "Still don't know how the fuck he managed ta to tha'," he grumbles.

"Christ knows," Kyle murmurs in turn, "lucky he didn't swallow chunks of the bloody thing."

"If he had you would've been the one taking him ta hospital, you gave him the bloomin' thing."

They bicker back and forth, drifting closer and closer until they're in their room, and Kyle is backing him up against the door with huffed, "pillock."

"Dickhead," Simon grouses in turn, sounding more fond than legitimately chastising. He barely gets the word out before Kyle's pulling on the back of his neck, forcing Simon's head lower as he catches his mouth in a messy kiss; even so it feels more like coming home than walking through the front door did. His hands return to Kyle's hips, Simon uses his thumbs to carefully untuck Kyle's shirt from his trousers, distantly he's aware of his blazer slipping from his arm and falling into a little crumpled heap on the floor.

Kyle's hands drift higher as he pulls back, his fingers work the straps of Simon's mask to take it off proper, tossing it vaguely in the direction of the dresser before Simon drifts forwards and kisses him again like the only air he can breathe has to be filtered through Kyle's lungs first. With each clumsy bump of their feet and press of his hands, Simon carefully guides Kyle backwards until they're both stumbling over each other onto the bed, just parting long enough to adjust for the new angle, Simon on his knees, straddling Kyle who's laid flat out on his back.

A pathetic whimper comes from the other side of the bed, up near the headboard, briefly forcing Simon's eyes open. He only steals a glance, but its enough to have him groaning into Kyle's mouth and rocking his hips down against his lap.

Johnny is right where they left him; arms strapped down, pinned against the mattress, a bridle gag stuffed in his mouth keeping his tongue down and held in place with a leather strap around his head to ensure he didn't just spit it out, there's a thin brown collar around the base of his throat, with long delicate golden chains that draped down the valley of his chest and ended in little clamps that pinched his nipples keeping them pert, the chains were a similar colour to his cock cage — which seemed to now have a steady dribble of precome drooling from it that wasn't there when they left. He makes a sound of protest around the gag as he squirms, trying to force their attention away from each other and onto him.

For now though Simon just focuses on Kyle, letting his hands wander anywhere they can reach as he dips his head mouthing at the crook of his throat. One of his hands drift lower, popping the button on Kyle's trousers and slipping into them just to play with the plug stuffed in his ass, lightly tugging on the flared base to draw it out just enough to push it back in again. "Fuckin' hell," Kyle huffs, his hands fisting the fabric of Simon's shirt, wrinkling it slightly, "tease."

"Jus' makin' sure you're relaxed enough t'play with our toy, sweet'eart." With that he presses a kiss to Kyle's jaw and draws back, "strip," he orders, Kyle rolls his eyes, but does as he's told, shedding his clothes piece by piece, letting them falls as they may on the floor. Simon stands up to move over towards Johnny, who's looking at him with unfocused wet eyes. He pulls open the nightstand drawer, picking up a little golden key that looks even smaller in comparison to his hand.

The bed creaks softly as he sits down on the edge. As soon as his hands drift near Johnny he begins to squirm, trying to push his body up into the touch. "Behave," Simon says, using his free hand to swat Johnny's ass, he whines, but settles enough that Simon can unlock his cock cage and take it off. Without the restriction, Johnny's cock swells quickly, twitching weakly as it grazes the inside of his leg, smearing his skin with his precome. Simon wraps his hand around Johnny's shaft, giving him a few good pumps to make sure he's fully hard, though when Johnny starts to grunt and buck up into his touch, Simon lets him go and swats him again, Johnny's entire body jerks, causing his chains to jingle pleasantly, "don't make me get your cock ring." Exhaling sharply Simon soothes over Johnny's ass with the flat of his hand as Johnny makes a broken sound and lets his head tip back. "S'all yers, luv."

Kyle shuffles closer, settling himself on Johnny's thighs with the ease of a prince taking his throne. He hooks one of his fingers around one of Johnny's chains, winding it around a few times before giving it a light tug, causing Johnny to shudder. "Think it's got much left in it?"

"Nah," Simon lazily undoes his belt as he settles against the headboard, he doesn't bother getting undressed, just shoves down his trousers and boxers enough to fist his cock, "better get as much as you can out of it before it breaks."

Shifting forwards on his knees, Kyle grabs Johnny's cock with his free hand — while the other still plays absently with the chain — and him up and leisurely sinking down onto him with a low sigh. Johnny's arms fight against his restraints, but he otherwise manages to stay put.

Johnny's hands curl into loose fists as he pants through his nose, bracing his feet against the mattress to angle his hips.

"Fuck—" Kyle groans, bracing his hand against the headboard to drop himself harder onto Johnny's cock, filling the room with the wet smack of skin on skin, and the steady rattle of metal, "jus' like that— yeah— shit."

When Simon catches a little furrow forming between Johnny's thick brows, and sees the little abortive twitches of his hips, he reaches over grabbing Kyle by the arm pulling them apart, and causing both men to whine in complaint. "None'a tha' now," he notches the head of his dick against Kyle's hole, letting out a low groan as he gently pushes into him, between the plug and Johnny's cock stretching him out, it doesn't take too much work for him to bottom out, "he's in trouble, yeah? Don't want him gettin' off too easy now, do we?"

Kyle gives a noncommittal grunt, sliding his hands over Simon's chest, squeezing the muscle as he rolls his hips, fucking himself on Simon's cock. "Well then, we ought t'give him a proper show then, yeah? Let him know what he's missing out on."

While Johnny makes a weak sound in protest, Simon just smiles, letting his hands settle on Kyle's hips to guide his movements, "Rog tha', luv."

Thanks for reading!

Soap's in trouble for jerking off into some of Gaz's underwear and Ghost's masks then not cleaning up and ruining them btw, if any of y'all were curious, lmao.

✨My Masterlist✨

🌊My Kinktober 2025 Masterlist🌊

Ghost’s still wearing his boots, a clean pair with the harsh tang of the polish still clinging to the laces. Gaz presses himself against them, unyielding leather and the rough texture of the laces, and groans, spit pooling against Ghost’s fingers. He’d stain his trousers, soak them through and walk out undeniably fucked.

Couldn’t wait.

Gaz splays his legs wide, his entire weight resting on the crest of Ghost’s boot, Ghost’s fingers still hooked over his teeth. Not hesitation delaying his touch, but reverance, a lingering disbelief that he can have what he asks for. Gaz rocks himself against Ghost’s boot, closing his mouth just enough to scrape his teeth against Ghost’s fingers and opening as the man’s gaze snaps over to him once more. Gaz winks, his breath coming in short bursts as his hips roll. Hadn’t thought he could get himself off like this, mouth open, spit beginning to run down his chin as Ghost lightly thrusts his fingers deeper, dragging his aching cock against Ghost’s boots, but he’s always been a trier.

Gaz muffles his moans into Ghost’s fingers, swallowing around the intrusion as he tumbles towards his peak with no more than the weight of Ghost’s gaze on him and the man’s boot against his cock. He shudders as he comes, looking up at Ghost through damp lashes and seeing the dark flush that the eyeblack couldn’t quite hide.

“Up you get,” Ghost murmurs, leaning down to hook his hands under Gaz’s wide thighs and, fuck, he isn’t as big as some of the others on base but he’s not a small man either. Ghost lifts him like he weighs nothing, turning him so Gaz’s legs dangle either side of his own, the dark damp patch at his core entirely exposed. “Think Soap’s been good enough.”

Ghost whistles at Soap, a single clear burst, and drags his fingers roughly over Gaz’s cock making him squirm. “Here. Get him cleaned up and you can get my boot next.”