John knows from the slur to the Scot's words and from the way his sergeant wraps an arm around his shoulder, pointing an unsteady hand at the pub's telly screen.
"A'd suck ye aff if Liverpool fuckin wan that game."
It's obligatory pub chat, discussing your team and subsequently getting the piss ripped out of you for their recent matches.
Simon's still sitting at the table facing the brunt of Kyle's scrutiny for being a casual Man City supporter.
"Willing to stick to that, sunshine?"
John knows he's tipsy when instead of smacking the younger man over the back of the head, he entertains the idea. Even as a joke between lads.
"Aye, a wid."
John wonders if he's too old for 'it's not gay if you're wearing socks' to apply after cumming on the Scotman's face when Liverpool in 2-0.
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SoapxPrice, with Soap being an absolute tease at the most inopportune times, trying (and succeeding!) to rile Price up until the Captain has to excuse them from the middle of something Important (but not So Important There's a Problem) to go "handle" his Sergeant's attitude.
Alright! So sorry this took a minute lol. My autistic virgin arse doesn't get teasing anyways, let alone sexual teasing so trying to write it was a challenge. But here you go!
Cw. Sex, roughish sex desk sex Abuse of power? I dunno If it counts but better safe then sorry .
Price knew that Soap was a tease, he liked to get blood boiling a little, watch people scramble to come up with responses. He mainly just made it his goal to get others angry, and that was fine.
In fact Price actually found it rather amusing, Soap getting Gaz or Ghost all angry and snapping. It was all fun and games.
Well that was until his sergeant set his sights on Price as the next target. Apparently, despite his attempt to keep it secret, Soap had discovered Prices interest in men. So obviously was .. teasing him sexually.
But Soap wasn't being homophobic or anything punishable ⌠he was FLIRTING with Price.
Price who almost every time flushed red, further encouraging the sergeant to tease further. It was not good for Prices patience. Soap would make eye contact, while chewing on pens.
And Price knew Soap chewed on pens anyways, but this was obviously teasing, considering Soap would sensually lick the top of the pen while making eye contact.
And everytime Price would flush bright red before scolding him. Of course he couldn't say it was for the teasing so he scolded soap for chewing on pens.
But of course, the sergeant found other ways to tease. When walking by price in a tight space, he'd âAccidentallyâ brush up against Prices arse or front.
He challenged authority constantly, batted his lashes and occasionally outright flirted. Calling Price a hot piece oâ meat.
He loved to see how far he could push it, even in meetings. And today he was pushing it too far, constantly bringing up counter points to Price's statements, which yes they were good points, but he was deliberately making sure to do it bratily.
He was grinning and being disrespectful every second of the meeting. When he once again spoke over Price with a âNu uh sir, ye wrongâ In a sing songy tone, Price had had it.
âRight Mactavish, that is fucking enough! You have been nothing but a disrespectful brat every second and I have had it!â He snapped standing up and storming over, grabbing Soap by the collar.
âMy office. Now. Riley, you run the meeting you know the gist. Come on, Mactavishâ He growled, tugging the Sergeant by his collar down the hall as Soap panicked slightly, having never seen Price snap.
âAye sir⌠uh was jusâ a bit oâ teasing yeah? Ay'm sorry.. AyâŚ. Iâll stop, âKay?â He stammered as price dragged him.
But Price just dragged him into the office, practically tossing him as he slammed the door. âNo. You shut your bloody face and listen to me MacTavish.â The Scots mouth shut with an audible click, as he stared wide eyed.
âWhat made you think you could do that huh?! What makes you think you can repeatedly rudely interrupt me for absolute bullshit? Well news flash, Mactavish I am still your fucking captain!â
Soap opened his mouth then closed it again, unable to come up with words to defend himself. Price growled grabbing Soap by the collar, ready to continue tearing into him, but paused at the slight moan that left his lips as the collar was yanked.
Price blinked, then blinked again, glancing down the Scots body, spotting the prominent bulge. It seemed perhaps Soap wasn't just teasing, but actually wanted something out of it. And enjoyed being put in his place.
A smirk crossed his face, this he could work with. If Soap needed to be put in his place to get him to behave, price could put him in his place. âOn your knees.â
Soap blanched at him, clearly baffled âSorry what?â
Price pushed his knee into Soaps hard cock. âYou need to be put in your place right? Get on your knees, nowâ
Soap was unable to bite back the moan that spilled from his lips as he knelt, looking up, eagerly, at his captain through his lashes.
âPlease sirâ He whimpered.Price grabbed the others chin, titling his head up, before pulling out his dick and Soap leapt on it, licking and sucking with feavor.
Price groaned softly, tugging the others hair to pull him off, before lifting him up and placing him on the desk. âStayâ He order receiving a quick nod as he turned to his drawers.
Sure he wanted to teach soap a lesson, be a bit rough and commanding, but he never could bring himself to be too rough. The idea of taking soap no lube, unstretched and the pain it would cause the scot was far from arousing to him.
He wanted to make soap squirm and submit, but not hurt him. Especially considering this was horribly under negotiated and he really had no clue of boundaries, best to grab his lube.
And hopefully Soap would be too well fucked to question why price had lube in his office drawer.
He yanked the pants of the scot, who was turning pink, down. Waited a few seconds to ensure there was no protest or being told to stop, before snapping the cap open and spreading a small amount of lube on his fingers.
He pressed them past the tight ring of muscle, not really intending to open the other up, but just checking that he was lax enough that Price would burn but not seriously hurt him.
He pulled out earning a whine from Soap, so he pinched the soft white thigh Infront of him, as he bent Soap backwards, hooking the sergeants knees over his shoulders.
The string of begging caught him off guard âOh fuck oh fuck please please please price. God please sir. I- I'll be good. Pleaseâ And how could price deny such a sweet request?
He smeared a bit of lube on his dick before pushing in hard in one go and setting a punishing pace, pulling back and slamming in hard.
Soap was a half moaning half sobbing mess. The only coherent words he was spitting was please and fuck.
Price hadn't thought it would be as arousing as it was to him, but fuck he was so far gone, so string tight already.
He pulled out quickly, cumming across Soaps stomach, and he was pretty sure the scot came too.
Price leaned against his desk catching his breath, gently carding a hand through the Scots hair, soothing him.
"Look up the word idiot in the dictionary and you know what you'll find?"
It's not the first time Johnny regrets testing Price's patience. He had caught sight of the captain's last nerve and decided to cha cha across it, rather clumsily.
"Me?"
Being raised by a Scottish mother left him with good reflexes, it's the only reason he's able to duck before Price can cuff him over the back of the head.
"No. The definition of the word idiot, which you fucking are."
Price doesn't look up from his phone, lazily scrolling through it as he keeps a hand on his pint. Stuck in the indecision of whether to finish it off and buy another or stretch it out before leaving.
"Sergeant, I hope you're talking about cigarettes."
The captain only looks up when he finds the toe of Soap's boot pressing between his legs, raising an eyebrow in reluctant amusement.
"Aye, don't huv a lighter, though. Want tae come ootside with me tae smoke?"
Price is quick to pocket his phone, downing what little is left in his pint glass as he follows Soap outside. Both of them ignore the lighter with MacTavish etched across it that sits on the table, abandoned.
"Thinkin yer jist wantin me fir some young arm candy, sir."
John would smack the sergeant over the back of the head, if his wrists weren't bound to one of the wooden headboard slats.
Unfortunately, he's limited to glaring at the Scotsman who's half heartedly grinding on his cock. Knees bracketing John's hips, as he keeps a hand planted on the captain's chest, pawing at the dark hair covering his tits.
"MacTavish, I'm barely older than you."
Johnny always been a sly git for as long as John has known him, that doesn't come to an end just because he's getting his hole.
The other man his quick to run his hand through John's hair, across the streaks of grey that have been rapidly appearing by his temple.
"Aye, bit ye luk it. Which makes ye luk lik a dirty auld man when am wae ye."
It's not true. Even with the greys in John's hair and the wrinkles around his eyes, he still looks close in age to Soap.
That doesn't stop the heat from flooding to his cheeks or the pathetic little half jerk of his hips under Johnny's weight. And oh, does the bastard notice.
"That wit ye want, ye want tae be somedy's dirty auld man? Awright doll, message received."
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If there's anything other than his arse that John admires about Johnny, it's his shameless, bordering on intrusive, drunken questions. And the way his slurred words and heavy accent leave Nikolai tilting his head at the man like a confused puppy, yet to understand why biting is bad.
"Probably around the time you still had a hand down your drawers, thinking about Batman."
Johnny's an attractive drunk. Flashing his teeth at anyone around him, a shameless flirt. His restraint melts away under several vodkas, and he can't hide the way he snorts when he laughs. John would call it boyish charm if the man were any younger; now it might just be attraction on his part.
"Bold ae ye tae assume a still don't. Man's git a fancy motor an wee panties, if he saved me a'd be gaggin fir it."
And then he's off, hips swaying as he downs what's left in his glass and saunters towards the bar. His jeans are sinfully tight around his backside, and his t-shirt stretches over his shoulders like the fabric is one soft tug away from ripping clean off of him.
John would be embarrassed to be caught staring if not for Nikolai's breath, hot against his ear as he murmurs,
"You like? I think that one needs to be kept on a leash."
Everyone around them is too drunk to notice his hand slip under the table and tug at the pilot's belt. Belt, leash, whip, across the years of their relationship, John has found that it has many uses.
