#priceghost

Price was mean to you today, not letting you get worked open by the sergeants before tossing you to Ghost. You sobbed and writhed, whimpering for him to slow down.

"Come on, love. You can take Simon's cock good for daddy, can't you?" Price teased, his fingers sliding into your mouth.

You whined, but nodded. You could take it, you could be good!

You sobbed out a high-pitched sound when Ghost bottomed out. He barely gave you time to adjust before he was harshly fucking into you.

Ghost and Price both obviously didn’t care that you had cum around Ghost's cock already. They were busy making out over your head.

When you whined for attention, Price just smacked you upside the head and fed his cock down your throat to placate you.

They're at a safehouse, and Ghost is listening to the radio, Price hears him talking to someone, and he's confused because both of his sergeants are conked out asleep.

So, he walks around the corner and finds Ghost sitting on a step with the radio playing and a stray kitten biting his laces while he talks to her. "I don't believe shoelaces constitute part of a balanced diet."

John just sits down on the step next to him and ignores how his knees click. "What's her name?"

"She's yet to disclose name or rank, but given that she's clearly smarter than those two through there, I'd say she's a lieutenant." He responds so dryly that John can't help but snort.

"Ah, I see. Making her way through the ranks at her young age, impressive." He leans forward to pet the kitten, flattening down the tuft of fur sticking up on her head.

"She's a hard worker, look at those paws. Grubby, she's been busy."

The kitten offers them a mewl in response, and he nods accordingly.

"She's stern, reminds me of Laswell."

thinking about being john’s newly-wed, barefoot and warm as an oven, stumbling to the door when you hear his iron foot fall. it’s been months, but you recognize the cadence on the porch. sounds like morning tea and his favorite cigars.

unlocking the door and throwing yourself into his arms, smelling the space above his shoulder, inhaling…petrichor. wet dirt. blood.

that isn’t your husband.

you slowly peel yourself away, stunned when your eyes meet brown instead of blue.

“where’s…”

“right ‘ere, dove.”

you glance over the stranger’s shoulder (who is still holding you up) and find your husband, looking a little too amused that his wife is in another man’s arms.

once you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, before rubbing your shoulder to coo the loud creature of embarrassment before it reaches your mouth in the form of an apology.

“you’ve met simon. he’ll be staying with us for a little while.”

you glance between the two before meeting your husbands eye. “I-“

“im sure you don’t mind the extra stomach, right darlin?”

you swallow.

“of course not,” you glance at simon, who’s face remains neutral, “the more the merrier.”

you meant for meals. they seemed to understand it differently.

now you sleep between the two of them, quilt unnecessary while their meaty limbs keep you sweltering.

the bed is heavy, and you haven’t complained because you’re a hostess, and simon is john’s friend. even when you feel him palming your clothed cunt ‘in his sleep’, you don’t fuss.

instead, you silently turn on your side, trying your best to subtly grab your husbands attention.

but he’s already there, watching. smiling gently, like he does when he says he loves you.

“there there dove. you can learn to share, right?”

john sees simon’s reaction, sighs, and basically tells him sure and to go ahead since you’re already single, anyway. but it’s like—hello? you didn’t give permission for simon to court you? but, apparently, that doesn’t matter, not when it’s john’s assent that simon looks for. next thing you know, you’ve got a big problem knocking on your door with a big heart and a big fucking cock reaching depths that john had never reached with his before. and it’s not like john wasn’t… blessed. it’s just that simon’s drowning in those blessings.

simon flips you to your front to make you sit on your thighs while he drills you from the back, before wrapping his big hand around the back of your neck, holding you in place. he’s using his weight to press you down, makes it easier to stuff you, and he doesn’t even budge when your blunt nails scratch at his thighs in your desperation to find a tether because you feel too full and you’re so overstimulated, already, and everything is just too intense and god, you want this cock so much, damn it.

the next day, simon proudly shows off his scratches to the squad. he tugs his sweats off, leaves himself in his jock, and points at the red welts. says, “cap’s last bird left these.”

when ghost stops in front of him

he's covered head to toe in blood after running through every single person who laid their hands on price; their lives forfeit the second they dared to take his captain from him. ghost looks him over, takes stock of the bruises and the blood and missing pieces

and he sinks to his knees like his strings have been cut, the thud of them hitting the deck ringing out, and he tips forward to bury his head in price's belly

he says nothing, doesn't move to grab him, just presses as much weight as he dares into his torso

and price sighs like he can finally breathe

he unhooks his arm from around gaz and threads his hand beneath ghost's collar, thumbing up the hem of his mask to tangle broken, trembling fingers through his hair. he pulls him in closer, coaxing him to rest even more of his weight on him, and soap and gaz turn in either side of him; blocking them all from the too-sharp eyes around them

gaz drops his forehead on his shoulder, neither of them caring about the grind of his shattered collarbone

soap's hand tightens around his wrist, his other curled around his hip like he's ready to pick him up and hide him away at any second

and at their feet is ghost; their guard dog finally at rest now that he's brought him home

The two of you have been at it all day. Fighting over proper procedure, getting in each other’s face over some slick comment made; it was enough to drive Price up a bloody wall.

It wasn’t until the two of you began scaring recruits with your arguments that Price knew he had corrections to make. You will come to him, belly up, when you’re good and ready. No use scaring you off, not when he’s so close to finally having you under his thumb. So he fixes his attention on his boy.

Price makes quick work of cornering Simon in his office and rips his belt from him, a thick palm closing around them and pushing the tips of their cocks together in messy rut.

“Is that what this is all about? You need to cool your head.” Price huffs in his ear, but the rough stroke of his hand on Simon’s cock has the opposite effect. Heat pools hard and fast in his gut, Ghost holding back a filthy groan as John’s rough hand works them. The sound of footsteps outside the door has them both stiffening. Price grumbles when the person behind it knocks, but before he can answer another voice joins, muffled by the door but very clearly you.

“Captain is out meeting with the brass, you’ll find him later.” He hears you clearly through the door, dismissing who ever knocked. He bites back a disgustingly soft smile at the way your shadow lingers outside the door. He knows you know they are both in there, and he hopes you have your ear pressed up against the door. He has Simon by the front of his hoodie, flattening him against the wall by the door with a mean thrust of his hips.

“Y’see that? Still cleaning up after us, even after your little spat.” He purrs in the other mans ear, a mean smirk tugging at his lips when he feels Simon twitch and throb under his thumb. Simon’s eyes are squeezed shut and teeth sunk in to his lip, smothering even the slightest sound and Price can’t have that.

“Enter.” His voice is unmistakable from your side of the door, a bark of a command that has you stepping inside without another thought. You’re brought to heel the moment you step through, Price’s heavy palm closing around the back of your neck and pulling you close. Simon doesn’t bother hiding his displeasure with mean glare, not that it means a whole lot when he grabs at your hand when Price reels you in close enough.

“In here? You’ll play nice, yeah?” He asks but its not really a question and you and Simon both know it. It was all that needed to be said.

You are close enough to see the moment when Price tightens his grip and Simon’s eyes go glassy. How can someone be so pretty when not even an hour ago he was at your throat, tearing into you over how to treat the rookies. You watch Simon’s tip leak onto Prices hand and are unable to form a single thought after, no clever or witty comebacks now. Price seems to take it as a victory.

He releases his grip to guide all of you to his chair. Backed by a window and a clear line of sight of the door, Price’s heavy palm lands on your shoulder and you go down with no argument. Simon settles next to you and you feel something in your brain pop and fizz out like the static between radio stations. Johns thick thighs settle wide around you both and you can’t help but latch your hand around his calf and feel the muscle cording there.

Simon wastes no time in leaning down and laving his tongue all over Price’s heavy pump balls, his tip nearly purple and dripping from the attention. He makes you do the dirty work though, nudging you with his shoulder and urging you to lick up the pre threatening to drip down your Captain's cock. You lap it up with wet sucks and small kisses, cleaning up after Simon as he drools over John’s swollen sack.

“I reckon you have some making up to do.” John’s grin turns nasty, hands coming up to cup the back of your head and Simon’s. The tip of his cock pops out of your mouth wetly when Simons’ nose hits your cheek. Your lips meet in a wet slide across the tip of Price’s cock, pre stringing between your lips when Price’s pushing makes your lips miss clumsily. Your mouth slides over rough scar tissue on his cheek and you can’t help but press your tongue in as well, sighing at the taste thats uniquely Simon. He makes you swallow his groan, leaning over you to catch your mouth and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. Price makes it messier when he pushes your heads together, angling your heads together at just the right angle, breaking you apart only to push you back together.

“There you go. Kiss n’ makeup now.” He says with a mean chuckle, pushing his cock against your faces. His pre smearing on your cheeks and his tip finding its way between your lips when Simon’s hot and heavy tongue is licking into your mouth. He ruts his hips in dumb little circles as the mix of your drool coats his cock, lips smacking wetly as he makes you both makeout on the tip of his cock.