Ex boyfriend Gaz giving you a hand
The bed rattled beneath his weak thrusts. You didnât know how much more you could take of this, laying limp under Kevin while he fucked you. On nights like this youâd think of Kyle as much as you didnât want to. He would always know when to be gentle or rough. After long hard nights at work heâd be so soft, kissing down your body like you were something to worship. His thrusts were slow but intense, ensuring to keep eye contact until you unraveled under his touch. On other nights, after a fight or after heâs home from deployment it would be carnal and intense. His hand would grapple tightly in your hair, his breath would fan against your ear as he whispered some of the dirtiest things that youâve ever heard in your ear. His thrusts were harsh but even then, managing to keep a steady pace as he slammed into you.
âGonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cumâ You were snapped out of your thoughts by the harsh breathy request. You liked him of course you did, sometimes you just wondered if you rushed into it. You broke up with Gaz because he was always away with work, arguments becoming more and more abrupt. After you broke up you were lonely and your pride was too strong to allow you to run back to Kyle so thatâs how you ended up with Kevin. And he wasâŠfine, he was nice, just different. Your relationship was calm, simple. And, thatâs what you wanted. Right?
Kevin didnât do aftercare and you were ok with that, you guess. Heâs simplistic, he doesnât need to do aftercare. Thatâs just your relationship. âDid you finish?â He asked, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before flopping back onto his side of the bed. You nodded and plastered a smile on your face. âGood.â With that he promptly rolled over and fell asleep leaving you alone with your thoughts, with your memories of Kyle. He would always give proper aftercare, carefully wiping down your sensitive pussy and sticky thighs, whispering sweet praises in your ear, holding you close as you slowly drifted to sleep in your big arms. He was stuck firmly in your head and it was infuriating. You wanted to go over to his flat and punch himâŠand then suck his dick.
It has been two hours since he fell asleep, you were alone here in the dark and desperately horny with a broken vibrator. You sigh and get up and slip out of the sweaty sheets and wander into the cool air of the living room. Your phone was held tightly in your fingers. You stare at your list of contacts, his name still in there, the last in âKâ. One click. That is all it would take to get to talk to him again. Nothing serious, completely innocent. People chat with their exes all the time. Slowly, you clicked his name and then proceeded to pace round the room while the phone rang. He was probably out, with another girl or getting drunk or at work. He could be in the middle of fighting a war and youâre here calling him. What are you doing?
Before you could hang up and get back into bed resuming your normal simple life he picked up. You thought you were going to throw up at the sound of his voice, he didnât even sound angry, completely neutral. âHello?â Deep, familiar, sexy. Your heart skips a beat at the sound of your name coming out his mouth. Pathetic. It felt like when you first started talking to him everything was so exciting for no reason. It was driving you insane. You didnât want to think like this but your mind was against you. You were fighting a loosing battle.
âHi.â You squeak, eventually you stop pacing and flop back onto the couch, fiddling with the hem of your pajama shorts. You were full of nervous energy. âI didnât know if you were working or not. Probably shouldâve checked first.â The words stumble out of your mouth clumsily, not like the sharp wit you were used to using against him.
âYouâre fine, lovey.â He soothes, his voice remaining silky smooth. You donât bother correcting him on âloveyâ, deciding to allow it you also donât admit that you like it a little too much. âHowâs whatâs his name?â He knew his name, you know he knew his name but instead heâs keeping up the unbothered act.
âKevin and yeah heâs fine.â You mumble not going into any more detail then you have to. You didnât call him to talk about Kevin, you didnât even want to be thinking about Kevin right now to be perfectly honest. âHeâs asleep.â
âAh bet he doesnât know about this.â His voice sounds sincere but really you could hear the smirk in his voice. Smug bastard. âThere any reason youâre calling me? This...Kevin not cutting it anymore?â He hums down the line, his voice low and dark making you squirm in your seat.
âNo..â It came out in almost a whine which didnât help your case. You took a deep breath and cleared your throat in an attempt to collect yourself but you couldnât stop the heat from pooling in your stomach. âNo, heâs good, great even. More than cutting it.â A lie, a big fat lie and from the silence down the line you could tell he knew.
âWhy did you call me then?â He pushes. He couldnât just hang up but instead he just keeps poking at you. This time it was your turn to be silent. You knew exactly what to say, exactly what he wanted you to say but instead you couldnât bring yourself to do it. You couldnât bring yourself to say I want you to fuck me or he doesnât fuck me as good as you. âDo you know what I think?â He drawls, opting to break the silence himself. âI think that you want me to make you feel good but youâre too scared to say it. I think, no, I know, your little boyfriend doesnât know what the fuck heâs doing.â His words carried weight, they were dark and promising. âYou need me, love. I know that much.â As condescending as his words were, they didnât make you any less wet, you could feel yourself getting warmer by the minute.
You can feel the fight seeping out of your skin already. You donât want to fight, all you want to do is let him take control. Despite your words your hand slips down to the waistband of your shorts, hesitating as it reaches the elastic. âThis is bad.â You whisper, nervous that any minute Kevin could be walking in on this. You just wanted it so badly. âThis is so so bad. Wrong.â You rationalize though thereâs no point in it neither of you are listening to it.
âItâs one night.â He reassures making your hand which was once lying flat on your stomach slip under your clothes to feel the sticky heat of your cunt that had been collecting. âOne night of you finally getting what you want. Thatâs not bad, thatâs not bad at all.â His words were like poison, infecting your mind. Heâs ruining you and you didnât mind one bit. It was all so gentle, something so slow and sweet but the edge was prominent. You both knew this was wrong and thatâs what made it so good. "You can keep touching yourself, you can. You've just got to listen to what I say, I'll help you feel good." He guides, his orders so firm but so gentle at once. "Keep rubbing your clit, nice and slow like I used to do when you felt like being bratty." You follow his orders quickly and let your hand slide under your underwear, rubbing yourself slowly, slick collecting on your fingers. Your moans were getting louder and more erratic. He was basking in it, you knew he must be. You could tell as his orders were getting more precise. "One finger in, just one." You whined at that, one finger wasn't enough. It wouldn't feel anything like him. Despite your pleas he wouldn't budge. He knew what he wanted and he wanted you to listen to him. He wanted to be in charge again. "Just one, if you keep complaining then I'll hang up and leave you with that pathetic boyfriend of yours." You didn't want him to hang up so you shut yourself up, pushing your index finger in your hole.
Your hips bucked up against your own hand, the pleasure slowly building. Your finger pumped in and out of your clenching hole, an obscene squelching noise following with every thrust. "Please," You begged meaninglessly, you didn't know if you wanted another finger or if you wanted to cum right then or if you just wanted him to be here with you. "Fuck. Feels good." You moaned simply, words feeling heavy as lead coming out your mouth.
"Moan my name." It was clear what he wants, he wants to be the one to own you, the name you moan, the one to share a connection with you. "Moan my name and I'll let you put another finger in, I'll let you finally stretch yourself out a bit." He coos, the offer sounding far too sugary sweet to resist.
âKyle. Oh fuck Kyle please.â You moaned down the line, high and whiny but this time toy hadnât attempted to tone it down you were too far gone for that. His order broke through your haze of pleasure allowing you to put another finger inside of you. You did, both your fingers now sliding in and out of your gummy walls. It was better. Almost like the stretch he gives you, almost
âThatâs it. Youâre always so good for me.â Kyle praises bringing that cool closer to snapping. He knew exactly what to say, what to do. Sometimes it made you wonder why exactly you broke up with him, the nostalgia rose coloured haze clouding your vision. You couldnât concentrate on that right now the only thing you could do is desperately trying to bring yourself to climax. âYouâre getting so loud. Youâre close arenât you?â
âYes, yeah. Close- Iâm close.â You splutter, biting down on your lip tightly to silence yourself. It was 4am now, the house even the city was completely quiet. You just needed to finish, cum without giving yourself away thatâs it. âKyle! Oh fuck Kyle.â You moaned his name repeatedly not to get any sort of reward or to earn something, instead because he was the only thing on your mind.
âGood girl, such a good girl.â His praise is soft and genuine leas dark from when your fingers were stuffed deep inside your cunt. It was like he wanted to crawl through the phone and stroke your hair, kiss your forehead⊠then your sore pussy. You curled into the soft plush of your couch, you needed to get up and shower, wash the cum from your thighs and the guilt from your skin. Act like this never happened. He apparently had other ideas.
âGo unlock the door. Iâll be there in half an hour, someone needs to help get you cleaned up.â
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Post argument sex with Gaz
(Unedited, just wanted to write something after so long of having no ideas)
This man is stubborn, my baby doesnât have many flaws (ignoring that heâs a war criminal) but he refuses admit heâs wrong. He also refuses to apologise because why would he apologise if heâs right? Thatâs a little harsh, he does end up apologising just with his dick instead.
The pair of you get in a stupid fight, something that was easily preventable but still ended up happening.
Youâre pissed off with him, giving him the silent treatment and not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as him that night. You take your pillow and spend that night on the couch ignoring his protests.
You wake up to the feeling of someoneâs lips against your neck and unless you have an insane stalker you werenât aware of, itâs Kyle.
âWhat are you doing?â You mumbled groggily, not bothering to push him away in your sleep addled state. You donât get a response instead you feel his calloused hand move down your stomach and slip under the band of your sweatpants. âKyle-â
âShhh. Let me make things better.â He murmurs and youâre unsure whether this is turning you on or making you want to slap him in the face. Your thought process was cut short when his fingers reached the soft cotton if your underwear, running them across your slit and making you gasp. You hated how good he made you feel but if there was one thing he was good at it was making you feel good.
âYou like that?â He almost growled his face moving to rest against the crook of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of you. His thumb moves to brush against your clit making your hips involuntary buck into his touch. âGetting so mad over nothing,â His tone so incredibly condensing, you can practically hear the smirk on his face. âJust need a good fuck to sort you out.â
âYouâre an asshole.â You spit out though you donât stop him when he pulls both of your pijamas off and slips your underwear to the side. His half-hard cock rubs against your pussy, collecting the slick over his head. âYou donât listen, you just brush me off, youâre never even here.â You rant though your words arenât very effective, interrupted by harsh breaths of pleasure and stifled moans.
âI know, I know lovey.â He coos, almost sounding understanding and he was but you could discuss that later. He finally pushed his length inside you, groaning at the sensation of your tight velvety walls around him. His fingers find his way into your mouth, his index and middle slipping between your plump lips only allowing the sounds of your whines and moans to leave.
He fucks into you slowly, taking in every sensation. The feeling of your tongue against his fingers, the way you clench around him when he hits a spot that makes pleasure build in the pit of your stomach.
You had to remind yourself that you were mad but that was getting increasingly difficult with how he was making you feel. Your head fell back against his shoulder, a string of drool slipping down your chin and your chest rising and falling rapidly as your hips grinder against him to meet his thrusts. A mess. Heâd turned you into a mess.
âYou want to cum for me?â He asks like it was even a question to begin with. He removed his fingers from your mouth and rubbed his saliva drenched fingers against your clit once again, making you whine sharply in pleasure. âYou want to feel good for me?â
âY-yes,â you breathed out, trying to get your words out as quick as possible. âPlease, please. I want it want it so bad.â You babbled, begging as of your life depended on it. The coil inside you felt like it was about to burst. You had forgot about the argument, had forgotten about your annoyance, you just wanted him, you wanted him to make you cum. With one more snap of his hips and circle of his index fingers, you break. You gush over his dick, unable to stop yourself from moaning his name loudly even if it was probably making him significantly more smug.
His hands tighten his hold one you. One arm wrapped around his waste and his other holding your jaw to keep you pressed up close against him. He helps you ride out your orgasm while also chasing his, pumping rapidly in and out of your fluttering cunt. âSo good.â He praises, the words catching in his throat as his own pleasure builds. Even when the pair of you are arguing he always manages to let you cum first. âSo, so fucking good for me.â He grunts as his load spills out into you, filling you up with his hot cum.
That night you feel asleep on the sofa with him still inside of you, snuggled close to each other. That morning Gaz wasnât there, he was making coffee and when he arrived back to the living room he sat in the exact same place and discussed said argument. Communication!
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kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.
featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.
when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.
truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else â soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants â but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.
so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.
he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.
instead, he shrugs.
"not much more to tell, cap."
"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."
and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.
"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."
it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there â in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? â that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.
of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.
the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.
"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.
"why would you wait? there's not enough tâ"
"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."
"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"
"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."
your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile â anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless â and accept his admission gracefully.
"and you want me to let him?"
gaz nods. "if you'd please."
you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."
he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"
"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"
"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."
kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.
you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival â the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity â you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request â of the direction things will take later â given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.
sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.
price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life â a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally â all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.
he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.
"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."
"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.
"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.
"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."
gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."
"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you â warm laundry and anise and jasmine â that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too â the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.
but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"
"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."
"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.
"i know! heyâ i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"
"of course."
"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"
"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.
fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him â that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.
"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.
but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"
"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"
you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.
"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.
"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."
an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."
"aye. i do."
"and i wanna make him happy."
"same for me."
and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.
"so, what'll it be?" you say.
"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."
you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.
"kyle."
"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.
"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."
"yes, sir."
"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."
"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"
this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay â of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another â wrapped up for something simpler.
all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captainâ
flip your skirt over your hips.
a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.
"no panties, hm?"
"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.
"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.
"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."
it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.
the groping continues. sometimes its light â brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.
"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"
"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."
"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices â probably does â and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."
he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.
but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"
he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"
"a-at least three times a go, sir."
"what's the record?"
"eight."
"and the longest you've held off?"
kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."
"tch."
a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.
and you...
you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.
so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"
"just mine, sir. and her toys."
"how about at once?"
kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.
yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.
"one, sir."
he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."
the finger plunges in.
gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.
"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."
"sir?"
"you cum inside her, lad?"
"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."
"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."
his hand inches up.
this time, it's gaz who groans.
loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.
"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."
"y-you're... not wrong, sir. iâ"
"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.
"yeah."
you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.
"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."
his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.
so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.
a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.
"that's a good boy."
he could really get used to this.
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