18+, simon ghost riley filthy thoughts because i can
simon's obsession with your cunt is the filthiest secret he keeps, the one that makes his hands shake when he thinks about it in the middle of briefings.
he can't fucking help it. ever since that first time - your naked body spread out on his bed, begging for his touch - has been completely, utterly hooked. addicted. he can't get enough of the way your pussy feels clenching around his fingers, his cock. the way you taste when he buries his face between your thighs, the sweet musky smell that drives him insane. especially how you look when you're turned on, swollen and glistening for him.
it's gotten bad. really fucking bad. he'll spend hours just playing with you, watching your face as he works you up, sees the pleasure build until you're writhing and moaning his name. loves feeling your slick coating his fingers, how fucking wet you get for him. and god, when you squirt - when you soak his face and hand because he finally pushed you over the edge - that's his favorite part. that's when he feels like he's won something.
he's even started recording it. little videos of you coming apart on his fingers, your pretty pussy spasming as you cry out his name. watches them when he's away on missions, craving you like the worst kind of addiction. it's the only thing that gets him through those long, lonely nights, knowing he'll be home soon to bury his face between your legs again.
on longer ops, he's gotten even more depraved. he steals your panties before he leaves. tucks them into his pocket, pressing them to his nose when he strokes himself. loves that faint scent of you, a desperate reminder of home, of your body waiting for him.
johnny and gaz have no fucking clue. none of the task force knows that their stoic, professional lieutenant is completely pussy-whipped. they'd never believe it if they found out. but simon doesn't care. as long as he gets to keep indulging in his favorite pastime, he'll keep his shameful little secret to himself.
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you've got used to simonâs silence when he's deployed. no calls. no texts. he simply vanishes from your shared life.
before his last mission, youâd pressed a small, matte black disc into his palm.
âwhat thâ fuck is this?â heâd grumbled, eyebrows knitted together.
âpocket pussy,â youâd deadpanned back. âbest one i could get. you fuck it, i feel it. means i know youâre still alive⊠and we can both get off while youâre gone.â
his ears went red, but heâd tucked it into his bag without another word.
now, almost every night, you feel him.
thick fingers parting your folds, brushing over your clit until youâre soaked and trembling. then comes the stretch - his cock pressing into you from halfway across the world. you recognise every ridge, every vein, the perfect shape of him.Â
sometimes he fucks you hard and fast, like heâs angry at the distance, hips snapping until your back arches and you cum with his name falling from your lips. other nights heâs slow, teasing your clit with absent circles of his thumb while he edges you, leaving your legs shaking and your voice hoarse from begging even though there's no way for him to hear you.
youâve even felt him in the middle of the day - once when you were doing the big shop, having to pretend to be closely examining the nutritional information on a packet of cereal whilst your legs trembled. once in the shower, knees buckling as he thrust into you without warning, the stretch absolutely obscene.Â
but every time he uses that little black disc, relief floods you.
"Hurry up, Soap!" Gaz complains. "I want a turn with her before we have to go!"
"She has other holes!" Soap grunts, his hips harshly slamming into you.
"Easy, boys. There's more than enough of that pussy to go around." Ghost laughs. His hand comes to pet your cheek, his thumb parting your lips.
High-pitched, squeaky moans are forced out of you with each harsh thrust. You clench around Soap hard enough for him to curse, his hips stuttering.
Gaz practically body slams Soap out of the way to get to you, or more adequately, your sloppy, dribbling pussy. "Shh, easy, honey. It's just me."
Gaz's thrusts are deep and harsh, making you repeatedly sob and cry out his name. Your whole world narrows down to Gaz and his cock. Nothing else really registers with you.
You sob at the loss when Gaz pulls out of your spent, swollen pussy. You whine, confused when no one moves to replace him.
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something something reader is a bartender at a popular little pub, and night after night you are hit on by men so plastered you often have to sigh and call over one of the guys you work with the idiots end up vomiting all over themselves (sometimes itâs worse than vomit but thankfully you can count those incidents on one hand)
you think by slipping on your grandmothers old wedding ring, it will sway men from hitting on you at work. And it does, thereâs still some that try to test their luck, but the minute you flash that pearl on your finger theyâre scurrying off to find their next target.
Cue four new regulars, four attractive military men that always flash you a polite smile and leave you a nice tip. Price comes in more than the others, claiming the stool near your register for himself, Ghost doing the same the rare nights he slinks into the pub. Soap and Gaz come in together some weekends, sitting themselves in front of you with big grins on their faces as they watch the game on the tv overhead.
Theyâre all sweet, a little cocky at times but nothing that one of their grins or sly remarks canât make up for. They ask how their favorite girl is doing when they return from longer missions, genuinely listening as you fill them in on the things that have happened since theyâve been away.
Perfect gentlemen.
Until one night you forget your ring, having had to rush your shower and sprint out the door to make it to the pub before the nightly rush.
You filling glasses when you hear the chime of the bell and a familiar laugh fill the pub.
âWas wondering if Iâd see you boys tonight.â You smile, motioning for them to give you a moment as you serve the other patrons.
When you slide back over to them, you immediately reach for their usual glasses, grabbing your cloth to wipe them off, when a hand clamps around your wrist and you jump, nearly dropping the glass as Ghost turns your hand over in his.
âTrouble at home pretty?â Price comments, concern etched on his face and it takes a moment for you to catch on, and you canât help the little giggle that spills out.
âOh! My ring⊠Itâs kind of a funny story. I uhm.. Iâm not actually married.â You laugh, expecting them to laugh along with you, but all you feel are four pairs of eyes piercing into you.
âCome again?â Gaz asks, voice a tad deeper than usual and you ignore the chills it sends down your spine.
âI started wearing it so some of the drunkards would leave me be, kind of forgot about it, just became habit.â You chuckle nervously, hand still in Ghostâs grasp and heâs eyeing you in a way youâve never seen before.
you would hate this, simon thinks. if you were here, you wouldâve long since slipped out the back, probably dragged him along too, wouldâve been laughing at these false mourners with their crocodile tears while the two of you shared a fag. itâs a beautiful service, yes, he can hardly imagine the money your parents put into itâthe coffin alone mightâve fed a family of four for monthsâbut none of it means anything. these people didnât care about you before, and they donât care now. theyâre here merely because itâs expected of them, maybe they knew you ten years ago, or are related to someone who did, or perhaps they prayed for you when you left for war. whatever it might be, you werenât theirs and they arenât yours.
youâre his. his, and johnnyâs, and kyleâs, and priceâs. youâre theirs, not these strangersâ. his stomach aches, watching them snivel and flaunt their supposed grief. you once told him how much you hated the little town you grew up in, with its small-minded people and its contagious misery. you said that the only way you would ever return was if it were in a box.
well, the jokeâs on you, because that box is empty. there is no body to bury. maybe the jokeâs on them, actually. even now, they cannot have you. not like simon and the 141 doâall these people have is a watered down memory of you.
âyou think they told âem?â johnny wonders aloud, blue eyes stormy as he watches your mother pet the flag folded atop your casket with frail and trembling hands. âthat itâs empty, i mean.â
âi doubt it.â kyle answers before he can, bitter and unimpressed. âno one wants to talk about how their kid got blown to bits â i wouldnât.â
not enough pieces left to bury, is how the reports tell it. you were lost in some foreign city whose name no one cares to remember. itâd take years to fish out all your bits and pieces, and, by then, the worms will have gotten the best parts of you. thus, theyâll bury this empty casket and youâll be remembered as a hero. theyâll forget the way you laugh, and how you drool in your sleep, and that your fingers are always cold as ice, but theyâll remember that you died bloody, and theyâll call that good enough.
itâs not. you deserve more than this. simon wishes he could give it to you.
he listens to your fatherâs speech about the life you lived. you were an unruly child, according to him, constantly running him and your mum ragged, driving your teachers up the wall. you made an impression, is what he says. nobody was surprised when you decided to enlist. from the moment you were born, you knew exactly what you wanted to be.
simon hears john scoff, because the captain knows, like he does, that itâs all a load of rubbish. you didnât do it in search of glory. you left out desperation. all you wanted was to be free of this place, these people. you took the only route that promised separationâyou just happened to be very good at very nasty things. your success in the military was wholly coincidental.
but they donât interject. this isnât about them, or even about you. this is about loose ends that need tying up. theyâre only here to make sure that itâs done right, that you are put to rest and left to do so in peace.
the four of them carry the casket to the cemetery when the service is through, saying nothing of how light it is. they watch them lower that empty box into the ground, they give their respect to your family, and then they leave. theyâve done their duty. theyâve seen it through. they donât have time to linger.
the drive to nikolaiâs bunker takes thirteen hours, but john makes it in ten. theyâve wasted enough time, theyâve waited long enough. thereâs so much still left to be done.
the pilotâs waiting for them when they arrive, already geared up, eyes bright and eager. he doesnât like to be grounded any longer than heâs got to be. âtook your time, eh?â
âyou know how funerals are,â john laments, âwe made it as quickly as we could.â
simon doesnât stick around to chat, too wound up, thinking too much about a marble slab with your name on it. he offers nikolai a brief nod before slipping past him and into the cavernous hangar, skirting past the well-loved helicopter, the bags waiting at its tail, and to the office, where he finally finds what heâs looking for.
âwell? howâd it go?â
âit was lovely. youâll be dearly missed.â
you laugh at his wry tone, unperturbed, and very much intact. all that tension bleeds out of him once your arms coil around his middle, that sweet grin soothing the beast within him. he kisses you hard, and you taste like cheap cigarettes and something sweet â not decomposing just yet, contrary to popular belief.
an unsavory trick, heâll admit, but a necessary one. shepherdâs put an impossibly steep price on your head, and the only way to shake him is to make him believe youâre already dead. the explosion that allegedly killed you was convenient, though your extended family was anything but. however, it certainly did you a favor, getting rid of that baggage. killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.
he doesnât tell you about their lackluster performance, or about what pitiful excuses they made in your stead. he knows you would not care to hear it. come sunrise, the six of you will be hundreds of miles from here, and none of it will matter anyways.
âyou alright?â your eyes soften as you look at him, cold fingers biting at his cheeks.
he hums, his hand falling to your throat so he can feel the fluttering of your pulse beneath his fingertips. âiâm okay.â he reassures. âjust donât make me bury you again, yeah?â
you grin, standing on your toes to knock your head against his, and it brings a smile to his lips. âyeah, si. promise.â
âletâs go, lovebirds!â johnny shouts from somewhere in the distance. âweâve got a plane to catch!â
Pt. 2 to this.
Careful what you wish for.
TF141 x reader
+18 mdni
TW: Heavy smut warning !!!!
Honestly, you didnât know what had completely possessed you to suggest such a thing. Maybe it was the crushing lack of sleep, or perhaps the raw adrenaline of finally making it back to the safe house alive. But before you even realized the gravity of what you were doing, you were standing entirely bare in front of four hardened men whose intense stares burned into your skin with a nasty, unyielding need.
A volatile mix of too much testosterone and months of touch deprivation had completely sealed your fate. You knew exactly what they had in store for you.
With a slow, deliberate movement, you freed your hair from the towel, allowing the damp, dark strands to cascade down your bare shoulders. You watched with a smug satisfaction as the four of them stood entirely frozen, practically vibrating with tension as they waited to see who would dare make the first move.
Deciding to set the pace, you sauntered over to Gaz. His eyes were darting frantically between your bare breasts and the floorâa nervous little lamb caught in a trap. You stepped directly into his space and wrapped your hand firmly around his clothed erection.
A sharp, ragged groan tore from his throat the second you palmed the thick length of him through the fabric. A wicked smirk caught the edge of your lips as you watched him completely crumble from the faintest touch.
âAww, I think little Gazzy boy is enjoying this, hmm?â you teased in a low, mocking tone. The taller manâs face scrunched up with pure pleasure, his hips instinctively bucking a fraction of an inch into your palm.
The other three just stood there, completely entranced as they watched you handle their teammate through his tight cargos. Almost in unison, their hands instinctively dropped to their own fronts, desperately trying to relieve the uncomfortable, suffocating tightness in their pants.
Before Gaz could pull away, you smashed your lips into his. A soft moan escaped your throat as his tongue immediately fought yours for dominance, tasting of raw hunger and desperation.
The dingy room only offered an old, weathered mattress resting flat on the floor, but it was more than enough for what you had planned for your boys.
âStrip,â you commanded, pulling back from the kiss just enough to look Gaz in the eye.
Without a single second thought, he scrambled to tear off his heavy tactical layers. You turned your attention to the remaining three, who were already standing there with their dicks practically in their hands, and gave them a sharp, commanding gesture to do the exact same.
As the clothes began to fly, you caught Simon about to pull his balaclava over his head. You stepped in immediately, your hand arresting his movement.
âAh, ah, big boy. I want you to keep that on. Can you do that for me?â you murmured. You pulled the dark fabric back down into place, locking your gaze onto his wide, dark eyes before leaning down to press a slow, deliberate line of kisses down his heavily scarred chest.
Ghost could only nod eagerly, his massive frame shivering as he stood there, wanting nothing more than to completely lose himself in your touch.
As you continued to trail sloppy, hot kisses down Ghostâs chest, a strong pair of hands suddenly locked onto your hips from behind.
âAre you sure about this, Sergeant?â Priceâs deep, raspy voice rumbled directly into your ear. His hot breath tickled your skin as you tilted your head to the right, leaning into his touch. âBecause once we start, there wonât be any backing out. Not after you let us in.â
âI think I know what Iâm doing, Captain,â you cockily retorted, though the sudden friction of his thick cock rubbing right against your bare ass sent a violent shiver straight down your spine.
Price didn't hesitate. His heavy hands traveled up from your hips to the swell of your breasts, his thumbs ruthlessly pinching your hyper-sensitive nipples. Your back arched instantly from the pleasure of it, which only served to push your aching body closer into Simonâs space. Ghost took full advantage, his thick fingers slipping down between your thighs to tease your soaking folds, extracting a breathless string of moans from your lips.
âAye, donât you two go having all the fun here,â a gruff Scottish accent cut through the dark room. Soap stood just a few feet away, his eyes wild as he stroked himself, completely transfixed by the sight of you already coming apart under your superiors' touch.
âEasy, MacTavish,â Simon growled darkly, his fingers still rhythmically playing with your slick, needy entrance. âWhy donât you and Gaz break her in for us?â
He looked down at you through the eyeholes of his mask, a dangerous glint in his stare. âSheâs going to need all the preparation she can get.â
Ghost chuckled darkly, finally pulling his hand away and stepping back to let his two sergeants have their way with you. The pure gravity of his remark stirred an unsettling, intoxicating wave of excitement deep in your stomach. Before you could even process it, Price let out a low laugh and delivered a harsh, echoing smack to your bare ass, causing your entire body to jolt forward.
You didn't even have time to register the shifting movement in the room before Johnnyâs hungry hands locked onto your waist, lifting you effortlessly and pinning you flat against the weathered mattress.
Soap flipped you onto your stomach with terrifying ease, his rough hands immediately kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he admired the stark red handprint left behind by the captain.
âWhatâs it gonna be, Gaz? Heads or tails?â Johnny joked darkly, his voice thick with a heavy, predatory amusement.
Gaz didn't bother answering with words. He walked over to the head of the mattress and dropped to his knees, lining his swollen tip up mere inches from your face. He reached down, tangling a fistful of his fingers into your hair while his rough thumb stroked your cheek.
Any trace of his previous nervousness was entirely gone, replaced by a dominant, sinister look that made your insides coil tightly, leaving you completely soaked.
âNah, I think heads suits me just fine, Soapy boy,â Gaz murmured, a dark grin spreading across his face. Without a shred of warning, he shoved his length deep into your mouth, forcing you straight down to the base.
Your eyes widened at the sudden, suffocating fullness. A muffled gasp caught in your chest as you choked slightly, your throat struggling to adjust to the sheer size of him.
âNot so bratty now, are we, princess?â Gaz mocked in a tone of faux sympathy. Clamping both hands around your head with a crushing grip, he began guiding his cock down your throat at an unforgiving, relentless pace.
Behind you, Soap wasted absolutely no time. He lined himself up with your slick entrance, dragging his swollen tip along your wet folds until your entire body shivered with desperate need. With a heavy, deliberate shove, he buried himself inside you, completely stretching out your tight little walls.
The sudden, overwhelming blend of burning friction and fullness made your eyes roll back, an involuntary moan vibrating directly against Gazâs cock. The tight constriction of your throat made Gaz grunt, his teeth biting into his lower lip from the sheer intensity of the feeling.
âThatâs it, lass. Good little slut for us, arenât you?â Soap grunted. He delivered a hard, encouraging pat to your thigh before gripping your hips in an iron hold, instantly picking up a brutal, rhythmically punishing pace.
You were quite the sightâstretched and thoroughly used at both ends by your fellow sergeants, completely caught in the middle of their raw, unbridled hunger. From the shadows of the room, Price and Ghost could only stand and watch. Their dark eyes were completely fixated on the chaotic spectacle, slowly stroking themselves in heavy anticipation for their own turn to completely ruin you.
Drool escaped the corner of your lips as you continued to take Kyle deep into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you looked up at him through tear-stained, lustful eyes. The visual alone was enough to push Gaz straight over the edge.
âS-shit, youâre fucking enjoying this, arenât you? Such a fucking slutâ he panted, his chest heaving.
You let out a muffled, wicked little giggle around his length in response, which only caused his thrusts to become entirely erratic. His head snapped back in pure pleasure, his face completely scrunched up as he released a hot, heavy load straight down your throat. He kept his hands locked in your hair, holding himself deep in your mouth to ride out his high and ensure you swallowed every single drop of his cum.
Behind you, Johnny was close behind. His brutal thrusts were becoming sluggish and heavy, his deep, guttural grunts echoing off the dingy walls as his climax neared.
The moment Kyle finally pulled out of your mouth, Soap gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your back, pulling his twitching cock out just in time to release all over your chest. You let out a shaky moan, watching the sticky, white substance coat your sensitive breasts. You dipped a finger into the mess, licking it off your skin as Johnny milked himself dry above you.
âThatâs it, lass. Rub it all over that pretty body,â Soap growled, his voice thick and raw. He reached up, his firm hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you into a deep, bruising kiss, forcing you to taste his juices on your own tongue as you submissively allowed him to invade your mouth one last time.
You lay there flat on the weathered mattress, completely fucked out and floating in a haze of pure blissâentirely unaware that you werenât even close to being done.
From the shadows, the two older men stepped forward, stalking over to the edge of the bed like apex predators finally cornering their prey.
âWhy donât you lads go get cleaned up,â Price instructed. His voice was entirely calm, but it carried the unyielding weight of an order rather than a suggestion. Before either sergeant could even think to protest, they gathered their gear and slipped out of the room, quiet, satisfied smirks plastered across their faces.
Then, the door clicked shut, leaving you entirely at the mercy of your Captain and Lieutenant.
You could only let out a weak, breathy whimper as you looked up at the two men standing over you, their expressions dark with a terrifying, unyielding intensity. Your naked body was utterly dwarfed by their massive, towering builds, and the stark contrast only added to the frantic nervousness fluttering in your chest.
You knew right then and there that they had absolutely no intention of being gentle with you.
Dropping to your knees between them, you were completely caged by their sheer size. Their heavy, scarred hands began to roam freely over your already exhausted bodyâtugging at your waist, squeezing your hips, and delivering sharp, possessive slaps to your breasts that wrung helpless mewls of pleasure from your lips.
âCaptain, Iââ
You were cut off instantly by a sharp, stinging slap to your cheek. It wasn't enough to truly hurt, but the force of it was more than enough to put you directly in your place and let you know exactly who owned the room now.
âItâs Daddy to you, little miss,â Price commanded sternly.
His thick fingers clamped around your jaw, his thumb roughly forcing its way past your lips. Driven by the sudden, intoxicating shift in the dynamic, you immediately began to suck on his thumb, your wide, needy eyes locking onto his.
With his free hand, he reached down and pinched your nipple, calloused fingers rolling the hyper-sensitive bud so ruthlessly that a muffled yelp escaped around his thumb.
âUse your words, little miss,â his voice dropped to a deep, gravelly rasp.
âY-yes, Daddy,â you managed to choke out, your chest heaving as you looked up at him through long lashes.
A low, gruff voice from directly behind you pulled you right out of your dazed thoughts. âHereâs how it works, dove,â Simon murmured, his tone cold, commanding, and absolutely unyielding.Â
âSince you were brave enough earlier to pull that stunt, we're going to see just how much you really mean it. You wonât disappoint us, right, little one?â
It was terrifying how easily you crumbled into a desperate, eager-to-please mess the second Ghost gave you an instruction. But before you could even nod, a massive, gloved hand slid between your thighs, finding your over-stimulated nub and pinching it firmly.
âWhat did we say about using your words, princess?â Simon warned, his voice vibrating against your back.
âY-yes, s-sir⊠Iâll b-be so good,â you breathlessly choked out, completely undone by the agonizingly beautiful pressure building all over again.
"Good girl", Simon praised from behind.
Price lay back on the mattress, his dark eyes fixed on your trembling form as Simon lifted you with effortless, terrifying strength, guiding you directly over the captainâs waiting cock.
If you had thought Gaz and Soap were big, you were in for a brutal, rude awakening.
Priceâs large hands clamped securely onto your hips, providing the leverage to slowly and unyieldingly ease you down onto his massive, twitching size. He stretched your tight walls like nothing you had ever experienced before.
Panicking from the sheer fullness of him, you instinctively tried to pull away and escape, but the iron grip on your hips held you completely paralyzed in mid-air, forcing you to take him.
âThatâs it, pretty girl. Nearly there,â Price cooed, his breath hitching as he felt your tight, aching muscles convulsively swallow him down, forcing you to sink all the way onto his terrifying length.
Your aching core finally bottomed out against him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. But just as you thought the worst of the stretching was over, Simonâs massive hands slid around your waist, adjusting your posture and tilting your hips forward.Â
His heavy palm pressed flat against your spine, pinning you in place as he lined himself up directly at your tight backdoor entrance. His tip was already leaking pre-cum with anticipation, rubbing in small, maddening circles against the hyper-sensitive skin of your second hole. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact.
âBe a good girl and breathe in for me, dove,â Simon murmured darkly.
Before you could even draw air into your lungs, a sharp, burning fullness invaded your lower half as he shoved himself straight inside you without an ounce of warning.
Your head flew back, your eyes rolling to the ceiling as a breathless, ragged scream died in your throat. The absolute pressure of having both of your superiors' cocks stretching both holes simultaneously was overwhelming. If it was even possible, Simon felt even larger and thicker than Priceâwhich shouldn't have been surprising given the sheer, beastly size of the Lieutenant.
You were practically seeing stars. Your mind completely whited out as the two older men began a brutal, unyielding rhythm, bullishly pistoning in and out of your poor, tired holes with a relentless, synchronised force.
Your legs were shaking violently at this point, entirely spent and completely unable to keep you steady. But you didn't have to worry about collapsing; two sets of massive, heavily calloused hands held you in an iron vice, keeping you firmly locked in place as they thoroughly broke you in.
âFuckâŠâ Simon started
âThatâs it. Youâre so fucking good for us, little dove,â Simon growled, his deep voice vibrating right through your back. The raw praise only amped up your bliss, making your head spin. With what little strength you had left, you leaned back against his massive chest, hooking a tired arm around his neck to pull him even closer into you.
âKnew she would make us proud,â Price beamed, his eyes completely transfixed on your flushed, completely fucked-out face. He gripped your hips even tighter, brutally picking up the pace from below.
The room was filled with the lewd, echoes of wet friction and heavy skin slapping against skin, completely drowning out your strangled moans.
âF-fuck⊠i-itâs too m-much,â you practically begged, your voice cracking as you felt that familiar, tight knot in your stomach winding up all over again.
But your desperate pleas only encouraged your superiors to push you even harder, driving you right over the cliff.
Before you could even process the sensory overload, your climax tore through you yet again. Your entire body went completely limp against Simon, your muscles twitching helplessly. There was no physical way you could keep this up, but the two men had absolutely no intention of letting you off the hook just yet.
âWhat do you think, Cap? I think sheâs got at least one more in her, donât you agree?â Ghost asked. His breath was ragged and hot against your ear, and you felt his large, heavy hand slide up to wrap firmly around your neck, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to restrict your breath and force your head back against his shoulder.
The sudden restriction of oxygen made your vision blur with stars, your pulse hammering frantically against his palm as your tight, overstimulated cunt convulsed around them.
âThink youâre right, Lieutenant,â Price panted, his dark eyes darkening further as he watched your helpless, choked-up expression.
With that, their rhythm became even more brutal than before, their heavy bodies pistoning in a relentless, synchronized assault.Â
All three of you were completely slick with sweat now.Â
Simon kept his iron grip on your throat, using his other hand to reach around your torso, finding your hyper-sensitive, throbbing clit and rolling it at an evil, unforgiving pace that made you screech out a muffled cry.
At the same time, Price leaned up, capturing one of your sensitive nipples between his teeth and sucking hard enough to leave a deep, dark bruise.
You had never experienced this much overwhelming pleasure in your entire life. Somehow, your body found a second wind, and you crashed into another shattering orgasmâso intense you genuinely thought you were going to explode.
Both men were right behind you. With a final few deep, punishing thrusts, they both let out guttural roars, spilling their hot, heavy cum deep inside your holes, completely filling you to the brim.
As they finally pulled out, your legs gave way entirely. They gently lowered your trembling, spent body onto the weathered mattress before stepping back and standing up.
Lying flat on your back, you could only blink through the haze, admiring their toned, god-like statures. They stood panting in the dim light, their skin glistening with a mixture of sweat and your own slick juices as they proudly admired their handiwork.
âYou did well, Sergeant,â Simon murmured, his voice returning to its usual quiet rumble. âMaybe that'll teach you to not be a brat in the futureâ, he teased, turning to leave the room to grab you a glass of water in a merciful attempt to bring you back down to reality.
âThink this should probably become a regular team-building exercise,â Price panted, chuckling to himself as he followed closely behind the Lieutenant.
You lay there frozen on the mattress, your muscles twitching as you tried to comprehend what the absolute fuck had just happenedâwhile secretly hoping this was far from the last time theyâd break you in.
