More sleeping with Simon because it's a guilty pleasure.

So, imagine drunkenly stumbling into his room, right?

Your room is locked as it always is, so like any sane but highly inebriated person would, you unlock your door, strip down to the bare minimum, go into your draw and throw on whatever big shirt you can get your hands on first, as always, and climb into bed. You can worry about brushing the taste of liquor away later.

You don't really care about the warm mass in your bed, just pulling closer and closing your eyes. Probably the heated pillow you've been begging Gaz to buy you because he owes you big time after the cake incident. You're sure of a headache tomorrow, so you try to just enjoy the little peace you can right now.

When you moved to this city, you had a whole plan. Finally finish your degree, hold a small-time job to get by, maybe get a decent flat, make a few friends.

…becoming homeless was not in that plan.

Yeah you got good tips from the bar, and you had found an okay flat, but what you hadn’t accounted for was the building being condemned—throwing you out on the street within days.

To your landlords credit, she had no idea the “quick check” on the gas main would result in this, and was apologetic, but still. You were out of a house and there was nothing she could do.

Now you were scrambling. You were new in town, had no friends, and as okay as your bartending job was, the income wasn’t enough for half of the flats in the area. You kept putting in applications but you just weren’t hearing back from the places in your budget. You’d been living in a shitty hotel room for the past week, but you weren’t getting paid until next week and funds were running low. You had to find a new solution.

You knew it was probably bad, but you closed anyway! And no one used the bar after close so really…what was the harm in sleeping in the stock room? You asked to close and open (your manager thought you were insane) so that no one would know. Honestly it was the perfect set up! No rent…no commute. It was fine! You just needed some time to get on your feet and then you would be out of here. No one would know.

Someone knew. Fuck. It was your meddling regulars again, the military boys who sat in the back. You’d finally fully closed down the bar, locking the door before starting to count the register (you’d learned your lesson). They’d actually left kind of early tonight and it wasn’t super busy, so you’d get some nice rest tonight before opening tomorrow. Unfortunately the bar was a restaurant in the early hours of the day…there truly is no rest for the wicked. No matter, there was a granola bar and sleeping bag totally calling your name.

You did your last checks that all the doors were locked and then changed into your sleep clothes you brought with you. You were brushing your teeth using the bar sink (yeah there was a bathroom but who could be bothered) when a knock came at the door.

Before you could stop it, your heart jolted in your chest. Were you being robbed again? Okay, stupid, a robber wouldn’t knock. You got nervous again when you thought about your manager catching you having an unauthorized sleepover with the kegs.

The toothbrush fell out of your mouth and a foamy “fuck” came out as you danced around for a moment trying to decide the best course of action.

“‘S that you in there? It’s Johnny! Left me keys!”

You could see him leaning against the glass window and cupping his hands to get a better view inside.

Fuck! You’re in your pjs! And your mouth is covered in toothpaste! Maybe it wasn’t your manager but now your hot regular was gonna know you were sleeping at the bar!

“Cannae believe you’re still here, hen! Late night, eh? Lemme in, will ya, love?” You can hear muffled through the door.

You’re so screwed, you think as you move to the door. You don’t really have a choice right now. First, how suspicious would it be if you didn’t answer and secondly, you liked Johnny…you didn’t wanna leave him on his ass without his keys. So humiliation it was.

You open the door.

“Oh thank god, hen, was worried I’d—“ he stops and takes you in. “…Why are we in jammies, hun?”

You struggle for an excuse. “Uhm…team bonding…sleepover?”

He leans to look around you, “…and where is the team?”

“They…uh…got bored?” Your voice raises multiple octaves. You never were a very good lier. Okay, pivot! Deflect! “Your keys, right? Let me go get them!”

You rush over to their table and start searching around for his keys. It doesn’t take long to find them strewn on the chair Johnny is normally in.

Johnny is taking in the bar. He creeps in to investigate, spotting your toothbrush in the sink. He gives a glance to where you’re leaned over the table and keeps going, sneaking away into the back of the bar. What he finds fills him with dread, a little home tucked into the back of the stock room. A sleeping bag, a backpack, a pack of granola bars, a flashlight…not much else. His heart clenches. Have you been living here? While they were coming in and having you serve them, you’ve been homeless?

He grabs the backpack, whips out his phone, and storms out of the stock room, sending a quick text to Price to come pick them up.

By the time he’s back you’ve grabbed his keys and are looking around for him. “Johnny? Where’d you go?”

You spot him emerging from the back and see the backpack. Your heart sinks. He knows for sure now. He saw your little set up.

“Ah, me keys! Thank ya, love.” He takes the keys from you and you just let it happen in shock.

He puts a large hand on your back, pushing you in front of him, “c’mon, love, I’m takin’ you home.”

“Home?” You say incredulously, looking over your shoulder at him, too confused to actually contest him.

“Aye, our home. You’re coming to live with us.”

The cool air of finally being outside finally kicks you into drive. You stop against his pushing, turning to face him and arguing, “I can’t!”

“And why’s that?”

“Be—because! I barely know you! And I…can’t…pay rent money…” you trail off and look to the side.

“Who said anything about rent money?”

Before you can protest more, a car you know to be the boys’ pulls up on the curb. Inside you see the remaining members of his team.

“Oh, you brought the party van, great,” you say under your breath. Like you hadn’t been embarrassed enough tonight.

The passenger door opens and Ghost steps out, holding the door open and offering you his seat with the jerk of his head.

“Hop on in!” Johnny says brightly like this is a normal occurrence. Who knows, maybe it is. Maybe this is a con they run often…preying on poor, homeless youngins and then killing them. You know it’s not true.

Still, you shake your head, “no way! I’m fine here!”

Ghost scoffs, “right, because the amenities are so appealing.”

You get defensive immediately even though you know he’s right, “they are!”

He gives you a deadpan stare, “name one.”

You’re finding the words, “the…the…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Get in.”

You’re being kidnapped. Still, you’re stupid (tired) enough to comply. You slide into the front seat while Johnny, Ghost, and Kyle are squished in the back. You spare a glance at their captain even though you’re incredibly embarrassed. He gives you that smile again. You look at your lap.

It feels like in no time at all you’re being ushered into a warm home and being shown the shower. It’s the first hot one you’ve taken in a while which is nice, and when you get out someone left their big, black sweatshirt out for you. If you happened to raise the collar to your nose to get a deeper sniff of the cologne that’s your business.

By the time you’re back in the living room, someone has made a warm meal and they force you to sit down and eat. Throughout it all they never once bring up your situation or make you feel embarrassed. Finally, they put you into a room with an incredibly comfortable mattress and comforter.

It takes you a while to name the fuzzy feeling inside you. You realize it’s what it feels like to be taken care of…maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Hybrid!Reader who’s never had anything to themself.

So it’s a big shock to you when the 141 bring you home and you have your own room.

Price and the rest of the boys had been telling you that if you were good you wouldn’t have to be under 24 hour security anymore. No more padded room. That’d you’d live with them and be able to do what you wanted, when you wanted. It didn’t sound real. Soap and Gaz held your hand the whole ride to the house. Simons hand rested on your knee from the passenger seat, John’s warm eyes smiling through the rear view mirror.

“My own….” You stuck your nose up at it, uncomfortable at the feeling that still and it’s foreign concept as you look around the space. It’s decorated to a degree, more homey than the hotels you’ve seen on tv. Decorated with soft tones of blues and cream. Some books on the hand crafted desk.

You couldn’t get used to it. Still ending up balled up in the corner on the floor if one of the men weren’t with you. It was hard to get you used to it.

“Soon enough you’ll get your own check honey.”

“My own… check?” More foreign words you didn’t understand, you titled you head to the side in confusion. “Aye Bon, yer own cash. Can buy what ye want, blow it all of food if ye want.”

Your eyes seemed to twinkle at that, you knew exactly what cash was. Your old owner used to say, “They say people makes the money go ‘round, it’s the money baby. Always the money, cash, dinero. Look at how I got my hands on you doll? Can get an-y-thing you want with money.”

But you weren’t greedy, wasn’t taught to be, wouldn’t spend it all even if Soap encouraged you to because he’d spend his last on you, even if Simon and Gaz told you to buy the whole store when they bought your clothes, everything can be taken away with a snap of your fingers. Your old owner proved that to you more than enough times. Being stuck in a padded room after missions because you were a danger proved that to you.

But it was one thing, one singular thing that caught your eyes one day John told you to get a couple things from the store. Your first time doing the mundane on your own.

You didn’t have the courage to buy it, not yet at least, but you took a flyer. Fingers gliding over item you were saving for every chance you got. Immediately hiding it away when any of the boys came to your room, clutching it tight when you went to sleep.

“What is it?” Simon asked at lunch.

Johnny cocks a brow, “What’s wha?”

“What’s the thing she’s been eyein for ages mate, Christ.”

“They’re gettin cuter by the day, all knackered over it today too.” Gaz hums, daydreaming that slow and tired blink you’d done in training earlier. Ended up leaned against Ghost and sleeping while the other recruits had to train as silent as possible, all not to disturb you.

“They won’t spill, even tried taking it in ‘er sleep, little thing growls more than me when she’s mad ‘nd tired.” Price snickers.

Inspired by Weekend by Sza.

You just know something is up with your boyfriend Johnny. You guys recently moved in together and you are noticing things that you’ve never notice before. Just since you moved in together you’ve discovered:

You know when one family member comes into your room then another follows and soon it becomes a whole house meeting. Yeah but with your polycule.

One nap. You decided to take one nap and suddenly you can hear a chip bag? You shuffle around and feel that the bed is significantly warmer than it was before. Sitting up and rubbing your eyes you look at the surroundings.

Beside you, Kyle is laying down on his phone and raises an eyebrow at you. His lays a hand at your lower back, sliding under your shirt to make skin to skin contact, gently rubbing in a circular motion. “Rise and shine, sweetheart.”

On your left near your TV you can see Johnny hooked his PS to the thing. He had his headset on joking around with some friends over voice chat. He glanced back once he heard Kyle’s voice raising both his eyebrows to blow you a kiss before returning his attention to game.

In your bathroom is a rare sight. It’s beautiful though. Price teaching Simon the right way of shaving without hurting himself in the process. Been a while since you saw Simon’s face. Just as beautiful as the last time you saw it. The cleft lip, crooked nose, missing tooth, hole in the side of his mouth. Imperfectly perfect in your eyes.

You were home. You laid back down under the covers with content.

Johnny hadn’t been the same since he took a bullet to the head. When he woke up nearly 4 months after the accident he felt like his body was no longer his own. His muscles had atrophied, leaving him weak. They were almost sure he’d never walk again, but he had proved them wrong. 

The hardest part wasn’t his new traitorous body. It was losing everything when everyone was still right there. To be in everyone’s orbit and no one’s at the same time. And of course the military had sent him home with honors that meant jack shit all to no one. He’d just assume pawn them off to pay next week’s rent. 

And then there was that other thing too, his neighbor and her wailing newborn.

Garish light bleeds in through the flat’s threadbare curtains, bathing Johnny’s bedroom in a pale red. He was really going to have to get thicker curtains because of course the feckin bar’s blaring lights had to shine directly into his bedroom. And some earplugs, definitely some earplugs. 

He rolls away from the window listening to you pace the floors of your flat with the squalling bairn. The walls were so thin he could hear every step, every lullaby, every desperate fucking plea uttered from your lips. He wondered some nights when you slept, because he was pretty sure that little banshee never stopped. His ma would say the babe was colicky, she needs a warm rag on her belly. 

Johnny should get up, go over and tell you that. But his head is fucking splitting and he doesn’t want to bother with getting his cane. But his head wouldn’t stop splitting down the seams if someone didn’t get that baby to be quiet. 

this is so good i could honestly read a whole series. i love their dynamics <3

bc I literally kept swallowing wrong and dying all day?? like three times???

cw: teasing and dick sucking. rivals! soap x (141!)reader.

“You good?” Soap’s voice was somewhere between concerned and gleeful, which told you he was enjoying this way too much. You finally managed to stop hacking, smacking your chest once and coughing up the last of it.

“Yeah. Swallowed wrong,” you rasped, blinking back tears.

“Second time today,” Ghost muttered from where he stood near the microwave. “He’s keeping count.”

“I am,” Soap said, too chipper. “Twice now. Same little noise every time. Like a fuckin’ whimper.”

“Wasn’t a whimper.”

“No? Imagine we could find out, if you let me try.”

You glared at him. “Unfortunately, MacTavish, you’d need something bigger to make me choke.”

Ghost snorted a laugh, taking a bite of what he'd been warming up.

Soap sputtered. His ears went pink. “I—fuckin’—hell, alright then!”

“Really Tav, all worked up now,” Ghost muttered, amused as all hell. “Better put some weight behind your threats next time.”

Soap pointed a finger at you. “You. Me. Later.”

“You bring the dick. I’ll bring the lungs.”

And typically that's where it'd end. Both of you happy to get your little bantering session out so early in the day...

But Soap had not let it go...

And you didn’t expect him to lock the door to his barracks as you were dropping off his clothes from team laundry. You also didn’t expect to be on your knees twenty minutes later, back pressed to the metal wall of the wall, Johnny MacTavish above you looking downright feral.

“You still got that mouth on you?” he asked, undoing his belt with one hand, the other tipping your chin up. “Or you gonna be too busy swallowing?”

You grinned, eyes bright and hungry. “You gonna live up to the hype, or was the act the only thing you’re good at?”

He huffed a laugh and quickly stroked himself up, though it didn't take much, as he was thick, flushed, and leaking. You had to give him credit, he wasn't small by any means, but fuck if you'd give him the satisfaction.

Still, he caught the way you eyed him and smiled, “Don’t tap out, now. I’ve got somethin’ to prove.”

So fuck it. You took him in slowly, or as slowly as let you. Let your tongue drag and let him feel every inch of the wet heat of your mouth. He groaned, cursed, his hand braced on the wall above you. When you relaxed your throat and sank down, nearly to the base, you felt the tremor in his legs.

“Christ,” he breathed. “That’s it, fuck—take it. C’mon, love, choke on it for me, just once—”

But you would not. Not even when he rocked his hips forward and hit the back of your throat again. Not when his fingers found the back of your head, not when spit coated your lips, dripping to your chin. You just blinked up at him, smug and easy.

He groaned, desperate, and thrusted his hips once in earnest. “Still not gagging, then?”

You popped off him just long enough to grin, breathless. “Told you. Not big enough.”

He growled and shoved back in. “We’ll see how long you last.”

And when your throat finally fluttered, just a little, when your nose brushed his thick curls and your hands curled tight in his cargo pants, he cursed loud enough that Gaz definitely heard it two rooms over.

And Gaz definitely smirked at you two finally getting the fuck on with it.

bc I literally kept swallowing wrong and dying all day?? like three times???

cw: teasing and dick sucking. rivals! soap x (141!)reader.

“You good?” Soap’s voice was somewhere between concerned and gleeful, which told you he was enjoying this way too much. You finally managed to stop hacking, smacking your chest once and coughing up the last of it.

“Yeah. Swallowed wrong,” you rasped, blinking back tears.

“Second time today,” Ghost muttered from where he stood near the microwave. “He’s keeping count.”

“I am,” Soap said, too chipper. “Twice now. Same little noise every time. Like a fuckin’ whimper.”

“Wasn’t a whimper.”

“No? Imagine we could find out, if you let me try.”

You glared at him. “Unfortunately, MacTavish, you’d need something bigger to make me choke.”

Ghost snorted a laugh, taking a bite of what he'd been warming up.

Soap sputtered. His ears went pink. “I—fuckin’—hell, alright then!”

“Really Tav, all worked up now,” Ghost muttered, amused as all hell. “Better put some weight behind your threats next time.”

Soap pointed a finger at you. “You. Me. Later.”

“You bring the dick. I’ll bring the lungs.”

And typically that's where it'd end. Both of you happy to get your little bantering session out so early in the day...

But Soap had not let it go...

And you didn’t expect him to lock the door to his barracks as you were dropping off his clothes from team laundry. You also didn’t expect to be on your knees twenty minutes later, back pressed to the metal wall of the wall, Johnny MacTavish above you looking downright feral.

“You still got that mouth on you?” he asked, undoing his belt with one hand, the other tipping your chin up. “Or you gonna be too busy swallowing?”

You grinned, eyes bright and hungry. “You gonna live up to the hype, or was the act the only thing you’re good at?”

He huffed a laugh and quickly stroked himself up, though it didn't take much, as he was thick, flushed, and leaking. You had to give him credit, he wasn't small by any means, but fuck if you'd give him the satisfaction.

Still, he caught the way you eyed him and smiled, “Don’t tap out, now. I’ve got somethin’ to prove.”

So fuck it. You took him in slowly, or as slowly as let you. Let your tongue drag and let him feel every inch of the wet heat of your mouth. He groaned, cursed, his hand braced on the wall above you. When you relaxed your throat and sank down, nearly to the base, you felt the tremor in his legs.

“Christ,” he breathed. “That’s it, fuck—take it. C’mon, love, choke on it for me, just once—”

But you would not. Not even when he rocked his hips forward and hit the back of your throat again. Not when his fingers found the back of your head, not when spit coated your lips, dripping to your chin. You just blinked up at him, smug and easy.

He groaned, desperate, and thrusted his hips once in earnest. “Still not gagging, then?”

You popped off him just long enough to grin, breathless. “Told you. Not big enough.”

He growled and shoved back in. “We’ll see how long you last.”

And when your throat finally fluttered, just a little, when your nose brushed his thick curls and your hands curled tight in his cargo pants, he cursed loud enough that Gaz definitely heard it two rooms over.

And Gaz definitely smirked at you two finally getting the fuck on with it.

bc I literally kept swallowing wrong and dying all day?? like three times???

cw: teasing and dick sucking. rivals! soap x (141!)reader.

“You good?” Soap’s voice was somewhere between concerned and gleeful, which told you he was enjoying this way too much. You finally managed to stop hacking, smacking your chest once and coughing up the last of it.

“Yeah. Swallowed wrong,” you rasped, blinking back tears.

“Second time today,” Ghost muttered from where he stood near the microwave. “He’s keeping count.”

“I am,” Soap said, too chipper. “Twice now. Same little noise every time. Like a fuckin’ whimper.”

“Wasn’t a whimper.”

“No? Imagine we could find out, if you let me try.”

You glared at him. “Unfortunately, MacTavish, you’d need something bigger to make me choke.”

Ghost snorted a laugh, taking a bite of what he'd been warming up.

Soap sputtered. His ears went pink. “I—fuckin’—hell, alright then!”

“Really Tav, all worked up now,” Ghost muttered, amused as all hell. “Better put some weight behind your threats next time.”

Soap pointed a finger at you. “You. Me. Later.”

“You bring the dick. I’ll bring the lungs.”

And typically that's where it'd end. Both of you happy to get your little bantering session out so early in the day...

But Soap had not let it go...

And you didn’t expect him to lock the door to his barracks as you were dropping off his clothes from team laundry. You also didn’t expect to be on your knees twenty minutes later, back pressed to the metal wall of the wall, Johnny MacTavish above you looking downright feral.

“You still got that mouth on you?” he asked, undoing his belt with one hand, the other tipping your chin up. “Or you gonna be too busy swallowing?”

You grinned, eyes bright and hungry. “You gonna live up to the hype, or was the act the only thing you’re good at?”

He huffed a laugh and quickly stroked himself up, though it didn't take much, as he was thick, flushed, and leaking. You had to give him credit, he wasn't small by any means, but fuck if you'd give him the satisfaction.

Still, he caught the way you eyed him and smiled, “Don’t tap out, now. I’ve got somethin’ to prove.”

So fuck it. You took him in slowly, or as slowly as let you. Let your tongue drag and let him feel every inch of the wet heat of your mouth. He groaned, cursed, his hand braced on the wall above you. When you relaxed your throat and sank down, nearly to the base, you felt the tremor in his legs.

“Christ,” he breathed. “That’s it, fuck—take it. C’mon, love, choke on it for me, just once—”

But you would not. Not even when he rocked his hips forward and hit the back of your throat again. Not when his fingers found the back of your head, not when spit coated your lips, dripping to your chin. You just blinked up at him, smug and easy.

He groaned, desperate, and thrusted his hips once in earnest. “Still not gagging, then?”

You popped off him just long enough to grin, breathless. “Told you. Not big enough.”

He growled and shoved back in. “We’ll see how long you last.”

And when your throat finally fluttered, just a little, when your nose brushed his thick curls and your hands curled tight in his cargo pants, he cursed loud enough that Gaz definitely heard it two rooms over.

And Gaz definitely smirked at you two finally getting the fuck on with it.

life happened today and uh I didn't get to write as much as I wanted... 😞 so uhhh have this draft? I can't decide if I should switch Nik and Kyle...

cw: Smut! porn no plot. poly!141 and Nikolai. voyeurism. hand job. draft. age gap mention? Idk. Morally ambiguous? Idk? If I need to add more lmk

The trio had slid into that slow, honey-thick rhythm, Johnny riding Nikolai lazy, Ghost kissing every inch of him he could reach, the three of them moving in a soft, breathless tangle of limbs and heat.

They were beautiful. Unselfconscious. (is this a word?) Vulnerable. And safe.

On the other couch, Price felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

He sat rigid, elbows on his thighs, fingers steepled, eyes glued to the scene as if blinking might shatter whatever spell the three of them were weaving across the room.

His breath came shallow and controlled, holding himself together, though he couldn't place why.

Kyle watched him more than he watched the trio before him.

“Cap'n,” Kyl murmured quietly, leaning closer, “you’re wound tight as a spring.”

Price didn’t look away. “Sergeant, I shouldn’t be—”

Shouldn't what? Be watching his husband get ridden by a man half his age? Watching his most deadly and trusted operator kiss his subordinate breathless while it happens? Shouldn't be watching as his husband's hands grip the younger man's ass, gold band glinting with the rhythm of skin against skin?

“It's what we all wanted, yeah?” Kyle whispered.

His hand slid, slow and warm, onto Price's inner thigh.

“You’re allowed to feel something.”

Price's breath stammered.

On the couch, Johnny gasped, a soft, sharp sound as Ghost's mouth closed over his nipple.

Nikolai whispered something against his palm where he'd been holding it against his lips.

Price's fingers twitched and his thigh tensed beneath Kyle's touch.

Kyle's hand stoked gently, almost soothing.

“There,” he murmured. “Right there.”

Price let out a breath.

“Come on, Captain,” Kyle whispered, leaning in, voice almost apologetic in how gentle it tried to be. “Let me help.”

He moved very slowly, telegraphing every inch of motion, until his fingers brushed over the bulge in Price's pants.

Price shuddered. “Gaz—”

“You want to,” Kyle said softly. “I can feel it.”

Price swallowed hard. His eyes flickered closed briefly. “They’re—They look—”

He opened them again, watching the trio’s bodies move together. Watching as Nikolai took Johnny's fingers into his mouth, eyes never leaving the Scot's, just to tease.

Kyle's hand cupped him through his pants.

“You love him." Kyle whispered. “You love them. It’s alright to let some of it out.”

Price's breath broke as Kyle unzipped him, slow and careful, and Price didn’t dare stop him. Didn’t even move.

And he didn't look away from where Johnny was moaning into Ghost's mouth while Nikolai's hips thrusted up slow and deep into him.

Then finally Kyle wrapped his hand around Price's cock.

Price exhaled sharply, a groan stuck at the back of his throat.

“Good,” Kyle whispered. “I've got ya, Captain.”

Price's eyes fluttered, and that was when Nikolai finally looked up.

He spared a brief, steady, impossibly warm glance. Never faltering in his rhythm. He saw Price, saw the tension in his shoulders, saw Kyle's hand on him, saw how much Price held back every second of every day and Nik softened.

A small, tender smile ghosted over his face.

Meant only for John.

Then Nik pulled Johnny closer, kissing him as he thrusted slower, but deeper into him, giving Price something gentle to watch instead of something that would overwhelm him.

Price inhaled sharply the acknowledgement, that deliberate way Nik always knew what he needed, hitting him harder than the arousal.

Kyle felt it.

“Mmm,” Kyle whispered against Price's ear. “He sees you. That big soft heart of his always sees you.”

Price's hand clenched in the couch cushion.

Johnny moaned again, louder this time, hips rolling desperately between Nik and Ghost.

Ghost's voice cracked into a low, broken moan, kissing and nipping at Johnny's throat.

Price's breath stuttered.

Kyle stroked him slowly, coaxing every strangled moan out of him.

“Look at them,” Kyle murmured. "They like when you watch, don't they?"

Price nodded, chest tight, voice shaking: “They do.”

“And you like watching, don't you?”

Price's head tilted back, watching them through his lashes as Kyle squeezed him gently.

“You deserve this,” Kyle whispered. “Seeing them happy. Feeling something. Letting Nik wreck them. Being part of it.”

Price let out a strained groan, hs hips finally jerking into Kyle's hand.

The smallest surrender.

Kyle kissed Price's shoulder.

“Good,” he murmured. “There you go. Just… let me take care of you a little.”

Price's breathing broke into uneven pieces. His voice was barely a whisper. “Fuck—Kyle, don't stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

Across the room, Johnny cried out and Ghost grasped into his hair. Nik turned his head, eyes meeting John's again as the Sergeant came across his chest.

Price came undone quietly, his hips bucking and a deep groan leaving him as he came into Kyle's hand.

Kyle stroked him through it. “That’s it,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, Captain.”

Nik's gaze flickered again, a soft curse leaving him as he spilled into Johnny.

Johnny and Ghost never noticed, Price's unraveling—or if they did they didn't show it—too lost in each other’s mouths, too breathless between Nik's arms.

But Nikolai noticed.

And Kyle noticed.

And Price, fuck. He'd have to try that again.

The five of them would pile into bed after the cleanup, and the only one unsure of himself would be Price - the Captain has never been good at letting go, at relaxing. At allowing himself any sort of reprieve.

So his boys put him in the middle, all of them naked or nearly so, skin on skin, too hot for the blanket forgotten on the floor, and they tell him that they love him in every way but with words.

Johnny is tucked into one side of him, taking up an impossible amount of space, face pressed into his neck so that his breath is hot on his throat, leg thrown carelessly over Price's, and he passes out like a soldier used to sleeping anywhere and anywhen he could.

Simon is pressed along Johnny's spine, a second skin, his fingers curling delicately into thick chest hair as he drifts off, that big hand cupping Price's heart, feeling the heavy thump thump thump of his Captain's life beneath his palm.

Kyle is facing away from Price, but he's using the Captain's arm as a pillow, and he's locked their fingers together, palm to palm, and his cold toes are pressed against Price's calf.

Nik is on Gaz's other side, one of his arms snaked under their pillows and out at the top, fingers sneaking into Price's hair to hold onto him. His other arm, is stretched across all of them: over Kyle, and Price, and Johnny, gently resting his hand on Simon's hip.

It's too hot, and Price is already getting a little sweaty where there is skin against him (all over), and he feels like if he pulls away, they'll peel off like the grossest velcro known to man, and his arm is already starting to fall asleep under Kyle's cheek (and is the sergeant drooling??), but.

It's also the most incredible thing he never thought he could have.

He shocks himself by falling asleep quickly, his chainsaw snores added to the racket, an awful, discordant harmony.

that is exactly what this needed

simon didn’t think he was a high maintenance partner. his wants weren’t exceedingly high, his needs were simple.

simon didn’t ask for too much.

all he wanted was for johnny to stay. that wasn’t too much to ask. he knew it was a simple request and johnny always went above and beyond for him.

john mactavish was the perfect partner and as smug as simon riley sounded, he knew that the sergeant wouldn’t leave.

caution: choking hazard!

kyle "gaz" garrick x gn!reader

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

tags/warnings: fluff, humour, friends to lovers, requited unrequited love, near death experience, non-sexual choking, swearing.

rating: mature

word count: 2.1k

available on ao3 for all registered users