Chapter Text
It had been a long fucking day. You were exhausted, overstimulated from just about everything as a result of your schedule. You placed the key into the door only to find that it was already unlocked, resulting in a perplexed look on your face. Stepping into the hallway, you were on high alert as you closed the door behind you and dumped your gym bag onto the wooden floor, next to the array of coats hanging from the wall.
Upon entering your living room, you were greeted by four curious pairs of eyes.
“Dad,” you sighed, relieved that you had a familiar face to recognise. “You’re home.”
“Hello, darlin’,” he replied, standing up from his seat on the couch to walk towards you and engulf you in a bear hug. “Got finished a bit early. Brought some of the guys round for drinks. Don’t mind, do ya?”
You gave him a gentle squeeze in response, and replied as you pulled back from the embrace. “Not at all,” you smiled, glancing over the unfamiliar men once again. “Bit of warning next time, though. Thought someone had broken in.”
“Who’s this beauty then, Price?” One of the men questioned.
Your father swivelled around, shooting daggers at the mohawked man who had deliberately teased him. “My fuckin’ daughter. So paws off, prick, you listenin’?”
You watched as the man in question lifted both palms defensively and yielded. “‘Course, Captain.”
During their conversation, you’d taken the liberty of observing the other men in the room.
The first you noticed was an olive skinned man, the most youthful of the group, and the one who'd sat closest to your father. He seemed polite, and offered you a friendly smile and a backwards nod in greeting. Another man sat to the right of him, and you’d instantly recognised him as the notorious Ghost, from the skull-mask he donned and the dark stare he bored into you with. The last man, of course, was the one who’d previously spoken with your dad. Mohawk, thick brows, chin and mouth stubbled with facial hair.
“Well,” you began, running a slightly nervous hand over your head as you paced your way towards your bedroom. “I’ll leave you all to it.”
"Aw, c'mon lass," Mohawk replied, his words only accentuating his thick Scottish accent. "Not even gonna do some shots with us?"
Your father, who had situated himself back into his seat, whipped his head in the Scottish man's direction once again. "She doesn't drink, Johnny."
You did indeed drink. Your dad just liked to pretend sometimes.
"Sounds like you're on thin ice to me, Soap," chuckled the one who had previously smiled at you. "I'd shut up."
You witnessed Soap sigh defeatedly, before leaning back to kick his feet onto the coffee table. His eyes had never left yours the whole time. "You sound about right, Gaz," he chuckled. "I'll leave ya alone now pet."
-
Throughout the rest of the night you were forcibly subjected to the noisiness of the drunken men sitting in your living room, fantasising of ways you could make your dad pay for bringing a pack of hyenas into your home. Through the thin wall you heard every bark of laughter, every slam of overexcited palms on the coffee table – not even the noise cancelling headphones you wore were enough to suppress the racket.
When you waltzed out of your room with a touch of passive aggression, slightly stomped your way into the open kitchen, they didn't stifle themselves. In fact, they barely noticed your presence in their inebriated states.
You rifled through the fridge for something, but nothing you actually wanted was there. Truth be told, you weren't even hungry. You just wanted to make a statement.
And what a bust that was.
So you settled for some apple juice, setting it onto the breakfast bar that faced towards the men over on your sofas, the ones who were soiling your furniture with their careless, intoxicated messiness.
You swiped a glass from the cupboard behind with force, holding onto the object with a grip that threatened to shatter it then and there. When you'd turned to set it next to the juice carton, the pair of eyes that met your glare were unexpected.
The other three men were all too distracted by their heated conversation to notice that the man known as 'Soap' was eyeing you like a piece of meat, a look that sent a shockwave from the base of your spine to the top of your neck's nape.
The possibility of a certain situation twitched at the back of your mind as you held eye contact, opening your juice to pour it into the glass blindly. You jolted at the carton purposely, spilling the sweet, sticky liquid over the fingers that held the glass's rim.
Oops, your face said, as you brought the wet fingers to your mouth and sucked the apple juice off of each digit one by one, painfully slow.
You watched Soap's eyebrows twitch in response, eyes flicking down to watch the display you were putting on.
Rolling your eyes at his bewitched expression, you removed your fingers from your mouth and swivelled around to put the juice back into the fridge, already bored with your game of seduction.
Military men were so unbelievably predictable.
"Sweetheart!" Came the cackled cry from your father's mouth, remnants of his laughter still lingering among his words. He was significantly more piss-drunk than in your previous interaction. "Come 'an have a drink with us, will ya? Feel bad you bein' stuck in your room like a loner all night."
"What's with the celebration, anyway?" You asked, intrigued as you paced over with your juice and planted yourself into the empty space next to Ghost. You briefly made eye contact, sharing a similar indifferent gaze before you looked at your dad for your answer.
"We just… had a great turnout– I suppose… I mean, confidential stuff really, love," he chuckled, taking a swig of his whiskey.
"Course," you answered with a meek smile, noticing that a silence had fallen within the room. "Give us some of that whiskey, then."
And just like that, the room was bustling with the uproar of the wasted men, bar Ghost, yelling obscenities towards one another and exchanging banter, with inside jokes you'd only understand if you were part of their squad. You helped yourself to plenty of whiskey to help ease your patience with the noise, chasing it with your apple juice to avoid the disgusting taste and afterburn. Whiskey was the worst, but it was alcohol.
The buzz took a while to hit you, so you were forced to listen to the men around you whilst completely sober for a period of time. For a brief moment you'd wished you stayed in your bedroom, to avoid the torture of hearing suggestive jokes, countless innuendos and complaints to the other men about using certain language in front of you from your father.
By the time you felt the whiskey touch your senses, a play fight had ensued between your dad and who you'd learned was 'Gaz'. Your head felt a little lighter, making it all the more easier to witness the pathetic display of masculinity happening before your eyes.
As expected, the men started to take their fight a little too seriously, resulting in the mediation of the silent, six-four, giant of a man who'd sat next to you.
With the three of them busy, you glanced over at Soap, who'd already been distracted from the fight by your presence the whole time. And then you remembered the burn of his stare you'd felt for almost the entire time you'd been amongst the men. There was a certain darkness in his eyes that engulfed your stomach in somersaults, unsettled you in a way that was exciting you just a smidge too much.
Your legs were crossed, the long nightgown you wore had been pulled snugly over your knees to secure your modesty. But somehow you found yourself pulling at the hem and inching the material over the soft skin of your thighs, observing the man's eyes as they fluttered down to see.
A small, playful smile crept over your lips as you continued to inch the gown upwards, completely thrilled by the idea that the three distracted men could quickly become undistracted any moment; the idea that this man you barely knew was so easily reduced to putty in the hands of your seduction.
You uncrossed your legs, lifting one up to place a foot on the sofa cushion and tilting the elevated knee to the side slightly, exposing just a sliver of the red lace that covered your pussy.
The other men had snapped out of their complication almost as fast as your leg had thumped back to the ground, knees closed tightly together as you peered innocently towards them. The last person you looked at was Ghost, and your stomach dipped anxiously as you analysed the unreadable, yet somewhat knowing expression in his eyes.
Had he noticed?
No, you were too quick.
"Dunno about you, boys, but I need a smoke after that," your dad slurred through his panting breaths, shoving playfully into Gaz as he made his way towards the door. When he passed you, he ruffled your hair a little and fumbled in his pockets for his cigarettes.
"After gettin' your arse kicked?" Joked Gaz, following along with a muted Ghost towards the kitchen. "Comin', Johnny?"
"I need a piss," Soap replied, waving them off as he got to his feet. "I'll be out in a sec."
"Don't drink all my whiskey, you," your dad warned with a point of his finger, eyebrows raised.
And you were alone in the living room, left to the peaceful silence that their absence had gifted to you.
Your mind wandered for a while, mulling over the thought of the face you'd made Soap pull whilst you'd teased him with his comrades – one of those being your fucking father – just a few feet across the room from him.
Yes, you'd admit it. Soap was extremely satisfying to look at. Stubbled chin, strong jaw, gorgeous eyes, godly accent – but you were playing with fire orchestrating mind games with your dad's friend. Although, he certainly seemed to have enjoyed the show.
And yes, it was a little disappointing that he was taking his sweet time to finish his business in the bathroom. You did kind of, sort of want to see what would happen if you were left alone with him, even if only for a few minutes.
When he eventually emerged from the toilet, you'd given up on waiting by the sofa, already by the sink and placing your empty glass into it.
As you glanced over your shoulder at the sound of the door, your eyes met. His expression was hard to decipher, one that seemed to tell of the wrestling thoughts running rampant through his head.
Feigning momentary disinterest, you turned your attention back to the sink. You heard no sound of movement from Soap, figuring he was anchored in place.
Maybe it was the alcohol in your system. Maybe it was the thrill of the risk. You were unsure what it was that possessed you to edge yourself over the sink just a tiny bit and hitch the skirt of your nightgown up, revealing the cheeks that swallowed the lace of your thong between them.
The sound of the front door slamming shut caused you to drop the fabric down once again, expectant of the footsteps of your returning father and his associates. But the room was empty, you observed.
Soap had left.
Fair.
-
After your behaviour by the sink, you'd taken the opportunity to slink off into your bedroom and appreciate the welcoming sight of your bed. Of course, you couldn't quite sleep just yet with the party that continued on in the next room, so you'd aimlessly scrolled through your phone for an hour.
Not long after that, the noise had died down to the odd grumble of conversation here and there. You couldn't recognise your father's voice within said conversations, and you deduced that he'd pulled his usual pass-out-from-being-old-and-drunk move.
Your tipsiness had dissipated quite a bit over the course of the past hour, leaving you with just the perfect amount of drowsiness to cosy up and nod off with.
You hadn't even realised you'd fallen asleep until the sensation of a hot hand grazing its way over your side startled you awake. As you went to gasp, the same hand flew up to cover your mouth, somewhat gentle.
You were shushed. "Everyone's fast asleep," came the low hum of a familiar Scottish accent. "Don't wanna wake 'em up do ya, love?"
The voice had instantly lulled you into a sense of safety, and as you slowly came around from the haze of sleepiness you relaxed your rigid muscles.
You hummed in agreement.
"I figured this was my only chance of getting you on your own," he purred into your ear, hand still flush against your mouth. "But I'll go, if that's what you want."
You relaxed further back, moulding your body into the curve of his own as you brushed your ass against a hardness just behind it. That was your answer.
Soap moaned in the form of an exhale, directly into your ear, and with his closeness you breathed in the intoxicating scent of his musk. Your cunt involuntarily clenched around nothing, already stimulated by the compromising position you were in.
"Fuck, please.. tell me to go," he begged, pressing his hips into the curve of your cheeks. "I'm fuckin' dead if we go any further…"
You whimpered at the increased pressure, nudging his hand away from your mouth. "But I want you to stay," you muttered, swaying to rub yourself against him.
"Why'd you do this to me?" He asked, trailing his hand to the strap of your nightie and sliding it along the edge of your shoulder. "You're fuckin' cruel, you know that?"
You whined under your breath when his hand caressed the swell of your bare breast, melting against the warmth of his body as he slowly rutted himself against you.
"Mm, I know," you sighed, squeezing your thighs together to relieve the ache between them. "Guess I'm a bit of a slut..."
Burying his face into your neck, the man relished in the sweet scent it held whilst he guided his fingers down and along your clothed stomach. "Fuckin perfect, is what you are," he grumbled, planting a sloppy kiss to your neck. It tickled you a little when his hand settled on one of your ass cheeks, but ached as he then squeezed at it with aggression. "And this. Had to leave the kitchen before I ruined you over that bastard sink."
"Wish you would've," you moaned out at the thought, which was a little too loud for the older man as he moved to cover your mouth once again with his free arm. It jerked your head further back, deeper into his hold to make way for the slightly awkward position. Soap humped himself against you nevertheless.
"See, didn't exactly want daddy dearest walking in on us, or else I would've," he replied, extra muted as if simply mentioning your father would make him more likely to be caught. "He finds out – I'm done for.."
Your cunt throbbed at the idea of being walked in on – the terrifying possibility of your dad seeing you fuck his close friend seemed to spur your horny brain into overdrive, thrilled by the fear. Or better yet, the idea of Ghost and Gaz walking in on you, locking the door behind them and waiting for their own turns to abuse your pussy.
You may have had just a slight thing for trains.
"It's gonna have to be our little secret," proposed Soap, using the hand on your cheek to slowly spread them both apart and expose your hole. "Think you can keep it?"
You nodded against his hand, a muffled moan escaping slightly through the gaps in his fingers. He lifted his hand to hear a vocal answer from you. "Mm… my lips are sealed," you whispered, voice hoarse as you tilted your head to lap at the skin of his hand, inviting him to stuff your mouth and stifle any sounds with his long fingers.
Soap gave you two of his digits, the middle and the ring as you eagerly sucked them in deeper and used your tongue to coat them in saliva.
"Christ," he grunted at the sight and sensation, unable to resist crashing his other hand down onto the sensitive flesh of your ass. The slapping sound that followed was too loud, despite the muffling the quilt provided, and his regret quickly showed in the form of a muttered curse of shit . Oops.
With a swift flick of his wrist, Soap whipped one side of your gown’s skirt up and over the bump of your hip — an action that proved to be difficult under the thick duvet that engulfed the two of you. Fingers toyed around with the lace of your underwear, with each brush along your upper thigh sending spikes of electricity through over the surface of your skin.
The force he used to rag your thong down to the middle of your thighs almost ripped them off completely, the material scratching you as it was pulled. The hand in your mouth was slowly retracted and Soap gently slapped the side of your cheek with it a few times, before shuffling in his position to fiddle with the zipper of his jeans — the sound of which excited you.
Remaining still, you waited as the absence of his clothed erection was soon replaced by the scorching heat of his bare cock fitting its way between your thighs, which you widened a little to accommodate the movement. And when you closed them once again, felt the hardness pressing against your slit, you hummed with enthusiasm.
“Oh, Jesus. Your thighs… fuckin’ heaven.”
With your ego successfully stroked, you thanked yourself for struggling so many times in the gym.
Snaking one hand down, you brushed the tips of your fingers over the head of his cock, appreciating its thickness whilst you applied pressure to it to satisfy your clit with slow, backwards rocks into him.
“Oh, you are fuckin’ nasty, you,” Soap commented, beginning to thrust himself forward to meet you in the middle. Each time your skin gripped at his cock in just the right way, he bit back any sound that threatened to escape from him. “You often let strange men into your bed?”
“That’s… ah, confidential,” you replied with a smirk, tilting your neck further to send an invitation towards his mouth.
Catching on, his lips found the spot just below your jaw and he began to nip at the flesh there. You gave only a whimper in response. Then Soap suddenly pulled back from your neck. “God, you’re wet,” he commented, seeming pleasantly shocked as he used his hand to nudge your thigh open and teased his cock in the wetness spilling out from your pussy. “Oh,” he exhaled through his nose harshly. “I want to fuck you so bad.”
That sounded a lot like hesitation to you.
“What’s stopping you?” You questioned, low, angling your upper body to peer at the face behind you for the first time. “I want it..”
“I want it too, believe me,” he heaved, eyebrows knitted in frustration as he battled with his doubts. “Just can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to stop myself from cumming in that perfect little cunt of yours.”
His words completely bewitched you. “It’s safe, promise,” you assured him. “I’m on the pill.”
Soap didn't look any less concerned. "We shouldn't… it's wrong. You're Price's fuckin' daughter…"
"But I want your cock so bad, Johnny…"
Using his name, one you'd learned only a few hours ago, was a tactical choice. You somehow knew it would shatter any chance of resisting you that he had; knew you'd unlocked something undeniably primal within him as he cupped his hand over your mouth once again and shoved himself inside of you.
The size of his cock and sudden intrusion stretched and burned at you, making you grateful towards yourself for already being soaked enough to bear it. And grateful to Soap's hand, which muffled the cry that had torn its way from your throat.
The force of which his hips slammed into you was relentless, unforgiving as he pounded deeper and deeper until your whines were a consistent string of stifled song. Your eyes rolled as far back as they could in their sockets, hands desperate to find purchase in his forearm with little success.
Your eyes, widened in a mix of pure disbelief and ecstasy, watched as Soap pressed the palm of his other hand to the wall, stabilising his balance in an attempt to reduce the creak of the bed frame. He hung his head as he fucked you with a strained face, lips squeezed tightly together to keep any sound of his pleasure at bay.
Soap slowed his pace after a while, mouth agape as he released a series of low pants with each forceful thrust into your heat.
"Gonna take my hand off your mouth, darlin'," he spoke, almost breathless. "Think you can keep quiet?"
You shook your head in reply. You'd always been an honest person.
Soap chuckled, releasing his grasp on your face and pulling his length out of you. "Think I know what'll help with that."
The bed beneath you dipped as the man fidgeted, kicked the trousers from his legs and lifted the quilt to situate himself between your legs. With you now on your back, you were able to fully appreciate the handsome face that hovered over yours, and the eyes that held a fierce hunger towards you.
The eye contact didn't break once as Soap pushed your nightgown up, just enough to reveal the entirety of your lower half, and guided his cock into your neglected pussy once again.
This time he silenced your blissful sounds by pressing his lips to yours, absorbing every whimper and cry with his mouth and eager tongue.
And with one hand on the wall, one hand slipping softly over your throat, your father's friend was fucking into you more intensely than before.
Your senses were overwhelmed, leaving you no choice but to squeeze your eyes shut and submit to the complete and utter rapture. Soap's warm, tender kiss; the remnant taste of whiskey in his mouth; the feeling of his hard, throbbing cock rubbing every sweet spot inside of you…
You wanted to scream, deafen every pair of ears in your apartment – no, in the whole block – to feel just a little control over the onslaught of emotion Soap's cock, hands, mouth was bringing you.
When your eyes snapped open, they instantly locked onto his own. His icy-blue orbs held a mutual fear with your own as the sound of shuffling just outside your door became horrifyingly more apparent. Your lips disconnected.
Soap was holding his breath.
And you were so undoubtedly, unfortunately aroused by the situation that your hips gyrated all by themselves. Soap's eyes only widened in disbelief, observed your mouth forming an 'o' and he panicked, pressing his palm over it with a power that could only be fueled by complete fear.
Despite said fear, he pressed your foreheads together and began to rock into you steadily, deep, eyes boring into your own as if to wordlessly say: I can play that fucking game too.
With heavy lids you fluttered your lashes at him, muted squeaks escaping from you and into the air every so often with the odd thrust of his pelvis. At one point the footsteps just outside your door increased in volume, as the unknown person clicked the door to the bathroom just centimetres from your own shut.
Soap gave a short, harsh pump into your cunt just to watch you squirm and struggle beneath him, only urging you to shush afterwards with the hint of a smirk on the edge of his lips.
So you clenched, walls clutching around his cock so impossibly tight that you caused his smug demeanour to crumble, smirking lips pursing as he shifted to focus on keeping his own mouth shut.
You arched your back to put a weight into your hips that sank you down deeper onto his throbbing girth, one hand smoothing over your chest whilst you toyed around with your folds with the fingers of the other. Widening your legs slightly, you kept the arch in your back to give you room between your bodies and rub circles into your aching clit.
Soap whimpered at the sight, momentarily dropping his guard as the hand you'd pressed against your chest swiped at the strap of your dress and pushed it down from your shoulder to match the other side.
At this, Soap disconnected your touching heads in favour of sitting up straight to tilt his head back in ecstasy, thick brows furrowed; bottom lip almost invisible behind the bite of his teeth.
He shifted his grip on your face for more comfort, thumb and fingers now grazing each of your cheeks thanks to the sheer magnitude of his rough hand, using it to hold you in place as he hooked a finger of his free hand under the material that barely covered your breasts and eased it down over them.
Your nipples were hard with arousal, tender and pretty alongside the silver of the metal bars that ran through the two of them. Soap must've somehow missed your piercings despite feeling at your breast earlier, as the look on his face was nothing short of animalistic.
"Jesus fuck, you're hot," he growled, as under his breath as he could manage, completely mesmerized by the way you looked underneath him. Fingertips played with your nipple, prodded at the metal between it and rubbed. Your eyebrows raised and twitched at the sensitivity, the knot in your stomach only intensified as, the entire time, Soap had not stopped fucking his cock into you mercilessly.
You only massaged at your clit faster, chasing your release as flames of pleasure licked at your abdomen and caused goosebumps along the line of your neck and arms. The man inside of you felt your increasing desperation, keeping his hand firmly cupped over your lips and sealing your sounds beneath it. His hand left your breasts, taking your wrist and interrupting your assault on your clit. You whined and bucked your hips, all but freezing in place as you watched the man shift your hand to the side and purse his lips to release a rope of his spit. You moaned heavily as the liquid dripped directly onto the spread slit of your pussy, dribbling its way down and over your clit as Soap placed your hand back where he found it and began snapping his hips once again.
His saliva was the perfect lubrication as you tortured your clit, sliding your fingers around feverishly until your muscles were tensing in the familiar signal of your imminent orgasm.
As you came, you convulsed violently around Soap's thick cock, squeezing his sides between either of your thighs and rubbing yourself through the waves of bliss. His thrusts were slow and forgiving, gently riding you through as you came down from the high.
"Fuckin' beautiful," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief as he freed your mouth and smoothed both hands over your breasts. He kneaded at them, enjoying their feel as you gave quiet, breathy moans in response. “You’re gonna make me cum hard.”
“Mm, I want to feel it,” you purred, watching a bead of sweat trickle its way down the man’s temple. You rolled your hips along with his own, meeting him in the middle with a brutal slap each time you connected. “You want to cum inside too, don’t you?”
In reaction, he only choked out a mix between a whimper and a grunt.
“Don’t you, Johnny?” You reached up to grab him by the shirt he’d kept on, tugging him down until your faces were mere inches apart. “Don’t you want to fill your friend’s daughter with your cum?”
Lunging forward to connect your lips, his fingers locked around your throat with an aggression you hadn’t seen before as he tongued his way around your mouth. He’d wanted to shut you up, you assumed, to stop you from reminding him of just how wrong he was for sleeping with - no, defiling his captain’s daughter. But he couldn’t ignore his wrongdoings as his muscles flexed, as his body turned rigid against your own in the midst of the vicious orgasm that was abruptly devastating his entire frame.
Swallowing each other’s moans, the man spilled into you, searching for every ounce of pleasure with his steady pumps. With his mouth on yours, you couldn’t miss the way he’d whimpered desperately into your mouth over and over again. You continued to kiss him through it, helping him come down from his high with his stubbled face cupped between your soft hands. When you separated, he collapsed his face into the space between your shoulder and neck and took ragged breaths in an attempt to stabilise himself.
Just as you both began to settle, you were startled back to reality once again by the thump that swung open your door and the flash of light from the hallway.
“What, in the living fuck, is this shit?”