#nikpricesoap

If the slur to his words wasn't a dead giveaway that MacTavish is feeling his drink, then his death grip on the table for balance might be.

If he were a smarter man, like John, he'd stay sitting to mimic the facade of sobriety. Nikolai would be managing if his voice didn't raise a few decibels at the end of every glass.

After a brief check, Nikolai does zip up his jeans. The ones that he has to jump into to get them past his arse, a sight that John enjoys greatly.

"I feel inclined to ask why you were looking there, sergeant?"

Not that John could blame the man, who wouldn't be staring at the pilot's crotch? And that line of thought has him shaking his head and trying to jump back onto his original train of thought.

"Should be glad a wis the wan who noticed. If it wis a bird, she'd huv been tryin tae fix it wae her teeth, captain."

Johnny has a familiar grin on his face, the one that tells John he thinks he's being sly as he undresses them both with his eyes. Maybe he'd get away with it if he didn't lick his lips at the sight of John's arms. If he flexes, then that's between him and his God.

Nikolai is no help to the situation, offering Soap a wink as he hooks a thumb over his belt.

"Well, it looks like you missed your opportunity."

Nikolai's voice is filthy when he's drunk. The heavy lilt of his accent that worsens as his blood alcohol content rises, the rasp to his voice after a few drunken fags, and a rushed blowjob in the men's room. It's alluring; if he were a siren, John would drown in his desperation to get through the water and into his arms.

It's clear he isn't the only one when Johnny staggers on his feet and takes a moment to breathe before responding.

"Well, if another opportunity presents itsel, the two ae ye can book me the fuck in."

just old school fully tatted up price in a white tank showing off his arms, wearing black nitrile gloves while he inks johnny’s virgin skin, listening to his cut off whimpers as he fights not to squirm. he sits so well for him, even during the sharper lines that make him struggle, just hangs onto the chair and bites his bottom lip, and all price wants to do is find out what other noises he can get him to make, his jeans barely hiding his hardening cock as he drags the tattoo out

price pulling out his glasses for the finer line work, lamenting how he never used to need them but that’s what you get tattooing in the basements of clubs, half cut on alcohol and anything else he could get his hands on. he pauses midway through the tattoo to pull his belt line down and show off the faded, choppy lines in his inner pelvis he did as a dare, snickering to himself as he tells johnny that to this day he has no idea what it’s supposed to be; can barely remember doing it, he was so off his face and it’s so blown out it’s completely illegible anyway

johnny gives a weak laugh and can’t even pretend to look at the tattoo when he’s so captivated by the thick, wild mess of price’s pubes next to the faded ink

he’s completely done for when nik comes in at the same moment, cigar casually hanging from his lips, and crows his own loud laughter at the sight; unashamedly tugging his belt line even lower to get the full tattoo out and confessing he was the one who dared him to do it. he tells johnny as much as he can remember about that night too like he isn’t flashing the root of price’s cock just a hand’s breadth away from his face, his own hand covered in green-black ink from tattoos older than johnny is

but as the tattoo goes on, as they laugh and smoke and talk about the lives they’ve lived as alternative gay men and nik being an immigrant, coming up in communities that don’t want either of them so they built their own, it becomes about more than just lust

johnny admits to facing his own unique bigotry because of his religious upbringing, even as he beats back the twinge of shame at comparing it to what they’ve gone through. he tells them about leaving to go to uni, hoping he would find the freedom and sense of belonging he’s always wanted… just to find out even amongst these “liberated” minds, they have their own cliques and rules about who he’s supposed to be; the gay people he thought he would bond with just as prissy and regimented as his parents, telling him he’s too wild and gives the rest of them a bad name, that they’re better than those gross queers you always hear about

price finishes the tattoo and johnny struggles to bundle up the sharp sense of grief at the thought of leaving these men, of having to walk away from this burgeoning sense of safety and just how right it feels to be with them. he’s quiet as price wraps his chest, the touch gentle but for how rough and real his hands feel on his skin, and he almost flinches when nik throws his arm over his shoulders and asks if he feels up to getting something to eat; such a long session deserves aftercare, after all

his wording is so incredibly deliberate and johnny’s a blushing mess as he pushes out a meek, “sounds good”

just johnny getting taken under leather daddy price’s wing, being shown kink events and drag clubs, these “dirty” places that are more connected and protective of their own, no matter who they are, than anyone he’s ever met. nik showing him underground artists and thrash bands, singers that scream out their rage and their grief and their longing and musicians that break themselves to play with the intensity they have inside them; where he leaves shows feeling like he’d just been in a riot, so loose and bruised and free after seeing this pure display of sound and thought and artistic intent

he learns more about expression and integrity and emotion from them all than his carefully curated art class could ever hope to

johnny realising he was never going to fit in in these “proper” places no matter how much he tried to change himself. he always needed these alternative, sincere men to show him the world he was missing, the one you can only be invited to

he needed to be welcomed home instead of chasing one that would never be his

🚁💰🧼 (horny time)

genuinely can’t stop thinking about johnny trying to fit in with these high maintenance, judgemental college gays - waxing his whole body and going on a cut when all he’s ever wanted is to bulk up - getting taken in by old man nikprice who don’t count it as a fuck until they’re both filthy and disgusting; covered in each other’s spit and sweat and cum, the only reason they’re not still fucking because they physically can’t get it up any more and even then, they can’t stop groping each other’s soft cock and empty, sweat-damp balls

johnny who can’t even get head if he isn’t completely shaved and showered beforehand, staring in pure awe and longing as nik recounts pinning price down and eating his ass the night before when he got back from a three day tattoo convention and hadn’t slept or showered the whole time

all johnny can picture during his tattoo is sinking down on price’s cock, nik’s hand tangled in his hair and guiding him down, until his lips hit that old, faded ink; the two of them sharing that cigar as they indulge in sharing a new sweet young thing between them. he almost starts drooling as he goes even further, thinks about them chuckling to each other about how cute he is as he goes limp once they’re both finally inside him, his head falling back on nik’s shoulder, mouth slack as he does his best to cling to price. they wouldn’t even need to fuck him, just sit him on their cocks as his throbbing hole milks them…

both of them are just so big and hairy compared to his gym rat body, sleek and hairless since that’s what he’s been taught is most attractive. but here are these older effortlessly sexy men, their bulk and rough edges making them even hotter, and they like ruining his perfect hair and skin; the messier they get him, the better

So like, Nikolai, big ol’ Russian brick, with soap, with price, threesome, with soap in the middle, he was being bratty and had a stick up his ass all day and snapped at price and Nikolai while they were in price’s office, so they had to replace that stick with their own stick, or gaz, either or lol, anyways BYEEEE *POOF*

psppspspspssp commmmmeeee backkkkkkk bc asdoifhasjldfhlasdf this ideaaaaaaaa yummmmyyyyy. also thank u bc i love jo v much <3

cw: 18+ smut. porn with like >2% plot. brat sub!soap x nikprice. penetrative sex. rough. soap grade degradation iykwim... smoking afterwards. lmk if more

Price's office was silent. But it wasn’t the silence that came with thought, or even tension, it was the silence of two predators setting their eyes on the same prey.

And that prey was currently sulking against the far wall, arms crossed tight over his chest, jaw flexing like it could chew through the mood he’d just dropped into the room.

“Try that tone again, Sergeant,” Price said lowly, dangerously calm.

“I said I’m fine,” Johnny snapped. “You and your fucking posturing can wait.”

He regretted it before it finished leaving his mouth. But his pride wouldn’t let him take it back. Not even when Nikolai shifted his weight by the desk, slow and deliberate. Not even when Price stood, exchanging one glance with Nik, that look in his eyes.

“Well then,” Price muttered, stepping around the desk. “Suppose that stick up your arse has gone and given you a splinter.”

Johnny’s mouth opened then closed.

“And we don’t want that now, do we?” Nikolai rumbled, voice soft but amused. He was coming closer too. Wide frame cutting off the door, the only escape route.

“Fuck off—”

“No,” Price said, firm. “You don’t get to act up like this and then fuck off.”

“Not today,” Nikolai agreed. “Not after that mouth.”

“Take off your shirt, Johnny.”

Soap hesitated. Stared at Price like he wanted to bite. But his hands moved. Jacket, then tee, peeled off, shivering at the cool air of the office. His muscles twitched like he still wanted to run. He glanced at the door once. It was locked, Nik must have done it on his way in. Not with the heat of their eyes crawling over him.

“Now,” Price said, coming behind him. “Since you’ve been walking around with something so far up your arse you can't sit straight—”

“We think it needs... replacement,” Nikolai said.

“Properly,” Price added. “With something you might enjoy. Just like you're askin' for.”

Johnny scoffed, cocky to the last. “You two think I’ll beg, yeah?”

It's not a criticism. If anything, Nikolai is amused as he offers Johnny a pointed look. In all fairness to the pilot, the Scot has only taken his eyes off the man's tits to give him lip throughout the night.

"Aye, an a could suck a golf ball through a hose pipe. This mouth hus many talents."

Nikolai doesn't choke on his drink like many would, in fact, he's calm as he drains his glass. He's the picture of nonchalance, standing from the table and pulling Johnny away by the scruff of his neck like he's merely an unruly kitten.

The best the sergeant can offer him is a vaguely questioning hum.

"You're going to put your money where your mouth is and give the captain a show."

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.