#nikprice

You get sweet, soft praise from Nikolai while he fucks your throat like a toy. He holds your head gently, but fucks into your throat like a beast.

"Shh, sweet girl. Take papa's cock, just like that..." Nikolai praised, holding your head down against his pubic bone.

You gargle around his cock while Price ruts into from behind.

Price is not as sweet to you. He roughly smacks your ass and pinches your thighs when you're not tight enough for him.

"Don't bother praising her, Nik. We both know the little slut likes when Daddy and Papa fuck her nice and rough," Price groans, delivering a firm little swat to your clit.

He's an expert in the art of bringing a girl home from the bar, putting his mouth to use before his balls are slapping off of her arse, and then she's out the door.

Long ago, did he master the art of deflection when swarmed with "Why don't we go out sometime?" or "Maybe we could see each other again?" type questions. He isn't looking for a relationship; he wants to get his hole and see them gone.

It's sleazy, but it works for him.

He's slept with every kind of lassie, wee or big, shy or downright nasty and no matter the woman, he'll have his fill.

So, it bewilders him when he's letting the last shot of tequila, thanks Gaz, settle against the various Jack and Cokes in his system, and the person he can't tear his gaze from is none other than Captain John fucking Price.

There's nothing distinctly effeminate about the man.

He's rugged. Burly.

His voice deepens as he swats at Nikolai's arm and insists that the man is misremembering a shared tale. His arm flexes when someone walking by catches him with a stray elbow, and he can see the man mouth the word cunt from across the room.

He's hairy, dark brown hair dusted over his arms and a beard that would scratch up someone's inner thighs if he truly let his mind wander. He's got a decent arse, probably has to jump to get jeans over it. A fucking thick cock too if the stolen glance Johnny caught in the men's room isnanything to go by. He was curious, sue him.

But he's a man.

And God, does Johnny want him.

Wants to hear the captain bark an order in his ear as he's dragging a dry, calloused hand over Johnny's cock, on the fine line between painful and painfully good. Wants to feel himself split open as the man bottoms out, just a little too rough in a way that he'll feel for days after.

Besides the obvious problem, Johnny's heterosexuality, there's Nikolai.

It's not much of a secret that the two share a bed, and perhaps a life.

Nikolai's friendly, always willing to offer pointless conversation, a good spar that can land even Simon on his back, a clap on the shoulder that's just a touch too heavy.

He wonders which of them prefers to take the reins in the bedroom. If they're gentle and soft, or if someone walks away with scratches running down their back and purple bruises blooming on their hips.

How they'd take to a third?

Johnny has to physically shake his head to rid himself of the thought, stumbling out into the carress of the night winds and pleading with his hands to cooperate as he tries to light a fag.

He's a straight man. Grade A heterosexual male. He likes women; he's only ever liked women. The way their tits bounce when they walk down stairs. Tight denim stretched across their arses. The creases around their eyes when they call him sunshine.

Fuck.

And Kate

Ghost sandwiched between Price and Nik. Roughly pushed into Nikolai's arms where he's reclining on the bed like an emperor of old and tugged up onto his hands and knees. Thighs splayed wide because Nikolai is a big man, and Price needs the space between their legs to eat him out well and proper.

Price pauses only to test Ghost's slack rim with his fingers. Slips one in to the second knuckle to tug him open for a glimpse. Snug and soft and warm inside. "'S a right shame. Havin' a fat cock like yers and all it's good fer is swinging 'tween yer legs."

"Tha's not wha- ungh- what you said when- wh-when I had you over your desk," Ghost mutters, cheeks burning. Damns himself to helplessness by attempting to reach back and drag John off so he can form a sentence without stuttering through moans, only for Nikolai to sweep his steadying arm out from under him with one lazy bat of a giant paw. Snaps Simon's wrists up as he flounders, and he falls face-first into the soft fat of Nik's tits.

He loses track of the time he spends alternating between rutting against Nik's thick belly and shifting his hips back into the rasp of Price's beard and his wicked tongue. John a single-minded, unrelenting force behind, and Nikolai the steady, soothing bulwark to rest against, crooning sweetly when his captain sinks inside at last and Simon chokes at the stretch. Panting into the sweat-damp curls on Nik's chest. Lips skating across a firm nipple whenever he breathes; until he's far enough gone to seal his mouth around it in an attempt to self-soothe.

It's sweltering. Nik warmer than a furnace, his free hand firm on the nape of his neck to keep him tucked against his breast, his cock nearly as wet as Simon's own; a solid brand curved against his hip. More so when John's pace shifts as he gets closer to the edge and he plasters himself to Simon's back in order to grind deep - a relentless pressure against his prostate that leave his knees weak.

He comes, slack-jawed and wheezing John's name.

It doesn't stop John from continuing to fuck into him, the slap of his balls against Simon's taint nothing short of obscene.

"Uh-uh-uh- Joh-hh-nn!"

"You can- mmh. You can take it," John says, petting over where his prick is stretching Simon's hole thin. Transfixed by the easy way in which his body gives. Clenching in pulses; on every out- and inward stroke, as if he can't decide whether he wants John out or to keep him hilted. Lube and pre-cum drips down to wet the curling hair on his balls and John chases that sensation too, cupping Simon's scrotum to pet over the glistening curls.

Thrashing with what little give he has doesn't help, so Simon turns his pleading eyes on Nik.

"Play nice, solnyshko," Nikolai murmurs, shifting his gaze from Simon to John, talking about rather than to him. "He's been very good for us."

John sighs but acquiesces, pulling out until only the fat tip of him is left inside. Fisting from root to where they're connected in lazy, slick strokes. Every brush of his weathered knuckles against Simon's pale arse causing the man's muscles to spasm.

Simon twitches like he's been kicked when Nikolai worms his hand between them to swipe at the cum smeared over their bellies, nudging against the sensitive head of his cock in the process. The smile Nikolai offers in apology is warm and amused, toothy in a charming way. From the corner of his eye Simon sees him reach out, fingers glistening, to press a wet thumb between John's lips. Sees his Captain’s eyes go half-lidded and pleased. Keeps watching with rapt attention as Nik hooks his thumb behind John's teeth to drag him closer, replacing the digit with his lips and tongue – all filthy and wet and sharing the taste of Simon between them.

Oversensitive as he is, the belated twitch of his prick and dribble of spend weeping down his glans is more pain than pleasure. His hips stutter of their own accord, dragging his soft cock against the damp hair of Nik's stomach. He flinches back, and impales himself another few inches on John's cock instead with a weak cry.

"Fuck!"

The rumble of Nikolai's laughter is thunderous with his ear pressed against his sternum and he's too worn out to bristle at being gentled by fingers carding through his hair.

Nikolai clicks his tongue. Tugs at Simon's hair to get his eyes back on him.