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Ghost has avoided directly addressing what was brewing between him and Soap for a while.
The missions always came first, and over the three years he worked with the Sergeant, there wasn’t a reason for the mission to not come first — Soap was a burning, hot-headed soldier, and his status as an omega did nothing to quell the violence he expertly wielded underneath his fingertips.
There were occasions when Ghost’s gaze absentmindedly wandered to his collared neck, wondering if that was the reason he was still unmated. Soap’s eyes met his wildly whenever he noticed, a silent challenge and question wrapped up with a coyly raised eyebrow, and Ghost would simply turn away with a shake of his head. Dismissing the question before it escaped his mouth.
Soap had pushed his luck more than a few times in the past. His questions were often intrusive; asking details about his appearance, about his life, and occasionally, he would ramble on about relationships without specifying his situation with the soldiers they were assigned to lead. He caught Ghost’s gaze during those discussions, looking visibly dismayed when the latter did nothing to provide his thoughts on the matter.
While Ghost was avoiding addressing the tension between him and Soap, the Sergeant always seemed like a man two steps away from digging into the more personal side of his reasoning.
Ghost wasn’t interested in the omega, or any omegas for that matter, too involved in the taskforce to figure out the logistics of having a mate on top of his highly classified career. The only time he entertained that thought was amid his rut, the mating instincts and hormones swiftly stifling every rational thought from his mind; but even that didn’t compel him to seek an omega out to ease the pain from it.
Ghost was used to pain. It wasn’t relevant when he came out of his rut without any regrets, he simply didn’t have the time to concern himself with the preparation that came with inviting someone to his den to join in. It was easier like that, he rationalised. He couldn’t be a good partner to anyone, especially since his work regularly required him to risk his life on duty.
The last thing he wanted to do was to leave someone behind because he was selfish.
Stubbornly, he had pushed well into his thirties with this mindset, but all of it slowly crumbled up at the face of one mission gone wrong in Las Almas.
His relationship with John ‘Soap’ Mactavish wasn’t supposed to go beyond the confines of the field manual. Friendship wasn’t in it, and romantic interest hardly so, but in the face of betrayal, Ghost didn’t have the heart to leave the Sergeant alone. He could’ve rendezvoused with Los Vaqueros in the safe house rather than being cramped up in the Church as he waited for Soap to catch up, but he chose not to. Ghost was many things but he wasn’t a deserter, nor a man who left those under his command behind.
Johnny, he had called Soap the entire night, doing things that surprised him in hindsight. It was life or death back then, and in the bitterness of war, the Sergeant had proven himself a worthy companion. Someone who deserved to have his six covered, as much as he covered for Ghost’s.
Trusting others didn’t come easily to Ghost.
But, Johnny made it easier—wore his heart on his sleeve, made his intentions so abundantly clear that Ghost never had to second guess what he meant. He grew fond of him, far quicker than he could anticipate, and the consequences of it struck him when he found himself in a room, alone with him.
Their next mission was a day after, and in light of the said mission, they were temporarily occupying an empty building that overlooked the site of infiltration. It wasn’t a stakeout necessarily, air and tech support were responsible for monitoring the area, but the nature of the mission had the two of them prepare in advance for the eventual ground operation.
That was to say, Ghost was stuck in a room with the Sergeant for a few more days, taking the first watch to make sure nothing caught them off guard. Soap had a lopsided grin edging his lips when Ghost volunteered, but he didn’t comment further, going along with the suggestion with frightful ease. He was curled up in a standard military sleeping bag, gone to the world a few minutes later.
If it were anyone else, Ghost would’ve thought his boundless trust foolish.
If it were anyone else, his eyes wouldn’t wander every five minutes or so to his sleeping form, finding reassurance in how comfortable he was in his presence.
The night was meant to pass unceremoniously, nothing out of the ordinary was supposed to happen.
Except, when it did.
A sudden strangled whine slipped out of Johnny’s direction.
Ghost whipped his head towards him, frowning behind his mask when he found the Sergeant writhing on top of the sleeping bag, his entire body curled up in the front.
“Johnny”- he started, brows knitted in concern underneath his mask. He was planning to ask what was wrong when a thick, sweet scent hit him square in the face. Ghost’s body tightened, shuddering pleasantly when the omega’s scent almost beckoned him close.
“Fucking hell,” Ghost swore loudly, immediately exhaling and switching to his mouth to breathe, his arm came up in an instant, smothering his nose further before his instincts did all the talking for it.
It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing.
“Ghost.” Soap gasped, his arms furling out before he turned to look at him.
The sight nearly wrecked him.
Soap’s face was crumpled in a neat twist of pleasure and pain, turned towards him with his collared neck bared, his eyes so wide and blue that it was eerily and entirely focused on him; his cheeks flushed an enticing shade of pink.
“You didn’t take your suppressants?” Ghost growled out, digging his back to the wall with force, snapping against every cell in his body that wanted to crawl over the needy omega in front of him.
“Fuckin’ did.” Soap gritted out through his teeth, a pained grunt escaping his lips as his eyes dilated out of focus. “I think it’s a”- his voice got cut off by a shudder that wrecked his body, he twisted further into the sleeping bag, protectively crowding in his stomach, -“flash heat, not an actual one. Fuck”-
A thick mist of scent drifted from his form, and Ghost instinctively took a breath in before his logical mind could stop him.
It was the worst mistake he could’ve ever made.
He smelled heavenly. The ambrosial scent was thick and pungent, making its home in the fabric of his mask, his mouth grew rougher and drier in response. His gaze was heavily set on drinking Soap in, and the Sergeant noticed, a gentle rumble reminiscent of a purr slipping past his tightly pursed lips.
This was bad.
“How long?” His voice sounded rough to his ears, grating through the air. His hand flew to his vest, unceremoniously yanking it off before he dropped it at Soap’s feet. He gaped at him but Ghost ignored the obvious question in his eyes. He was focused solely on unzipping his jacket, rubbing the collar roughly against his scent gland. “How long does it last, Johnny?”
“Just the night, I think,” Soap answered, eyeing Ghost with open lust as more of his scent suffocated the room.
A quick mental tally gave him the conclusion that, as long as the Sergeant rode out the night of the faux-heat, it wouldn't disrupt the mission.
Ghost wasn’t breathing but it didn’t stop his blood from rushing.
The temptation of an omega in heat, his scent thick in an open invitation, and clear interest radiating from his flustered face were borderline dangerous. It didn’t account for the fact that Ghost, somewhere in the repressed circles of his heart, didn’t want to deny Soap either.
“Ghost…”
He yanked the scented jacket from his shoulders, tossing it over Soap’s prone body to smother the omega’s pheromones underneath his own.
“L.t?” Soap’s open bafflement didn’t drown his understanding of the situation, as he gripped the jacket close, draping it around his neck.
While Ghost didn’t have first-hand experience taking care of an omega during heats, sex-ed covered a lot of what was expected and what helped. Although the gesture of doing so was entirely intimate, something only romantic partners and close friends extended—they didn't have many options at the moment. He knew that things drenched with an alpha’s scent eased the pain when they couldn’t get one to join and ride out the worst of it, and he didn't want Soap to suffer when he was right there.
He spared a glance at Soap. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, but he pushed through and stepped closer, raving his eyes appreciatively over the sight in front of him. He wasn’t going to stay, but he could look before he was forced to leave.
A deeper part of him rumbled with satisfaction at how easily, almost instinctively, Soap accepted his jacket. He covered the most vulnerable parts of himself with just Ghost.
The mist thickened, and he felt it sank into his clothes, pheromones curling to tempt him further.
Ghost exhaled roughly, the taste of Soap coiling through his parted lips, settling densely on his tongue. He refused to breathe through his nose and yet the scent beckoned him further, reaching to appeal to the predator that was rightfully buried in the depths of his soul.
He turned on his heels, taking a few steps towards the exit of the room.
But, a heavy hand latched onto his arm, forcing him to a stop before he could.
"You like me," Soap muttered, and Ghost froze when he registered the sergeant's reverent tone, the heat on his arm feeling scalding to behold. "You like me beyond—"
Need wasn't something he could deal with in his state. Not when it was thrown at him, not like this. Soap's voice was barely a whisper, consumed by a refusal to leave him alone.
"—It doesn't matter," Ghost said, interrupting him with shoulders stiff and full of tension. He felt Soap's eyes burning on his back, making the air feel worse, the taste in his mouth whirl sweeter. "Johnny." His heat-ridden scent eroded the carefully constructed walls around his mind, melting through his control with disturbing ease. "Let me go before I do things you will hate me for."
Soap's grip slackened and Ghost took the opportunity to shake off his hold, determined to stride off before his control broke for good.
"Stay." Soap was back on the sleeping bag, curled up pathetically on his side, brows scrunched up tightly in pain. His forehead was glistening with a layer of sweat. "Ghost, please."
No.
"Stay," he pleaded, and his voice twisted into incoherent mutterings. Ghost took a step back, focusing on those whispers only to reveal the softest echoes of his name playing on repeat in his tongue.
"Simon."
Johnny-
"Do you know what you're asking for?" Ghost growled, desperate to find a reason to deny him when he knew he wanted him equally. His heart ached, the thread of desire intertwining with his agency, beckoning him closer to him.
A smile crept up Soap's face, his face awfully bright despite the clear signs of his discomfort.
"I've wanted you for a while now, L.t," he purred, shifting his position to bare his collared neck. An act of submission, and need, so clear and intentional, that it shook Ghost's control to the very core. "Anything ya give, want to give, I'll take it."
Soap looked up, fluttering his eyelashes at him.
"Anything for you."
Ghost swore under his breath. He caught the sight of Soap's face, bright and victorious, as he slammed the door shut, locking it with equal force. The pheromones grew thicker in the room, slipping shamelessly off the Sergeant. Ghost turned towards the omega, staring blankly at the smug look on his face before he inhaled loudly.
Johnny's scent was beyond heavenly. Like a match, it ignited everything in his body, burning through his nose to his lungs in a gradual realisation of how much he wanted him.
Had it been anyone else, Ghost would've denied it.
Had it been anyone but him, he would've been long gone by then.
But he wanted it as much as Johnny did, in ways that he didn't want to admit yet.
Ghost crossed the distance between them, roughly circling Johnny's body before he dropped to his knees, flipping the omega to his front and forcing him still despite the whine that slipped from his mouth at the force of his movements. He tsk'd under his breath at the verbal impatience, roughly grabbing his arse and giving it a small but tight slap.
The sound echoed through the room, filling the silence until a thick wave of aroused pheromones drifted between the space. Ghost moved, bracing his comparatively larger thighs tightly around Johnny's sides, pinning him firmly between his legs. He slid down his front with a sigh, centring his weight on his hips, grinding his pelvis lazily into the man's arse.
Johnny tried to squirm, buck his cheeks against his clothed cock, only to draw out a loud growl from Ghost. He forced his palm down on the small of Johnny's back, driving him straight into the sleeping bag in time with his slow thrusts. His breathing was steady, greedily taking gulps of the sweetened bursts of arousal in—freezing momentarily when a particularly enticing squelch accompanied the roll of his hips.
The scent hit him a second later, and he could physically feel a ripple through his instincts; the knowledge that the omega underneath him was wet for him drove him off the edge in the quickest succession.
"Ghost." Johnny's moan was loud, muffled slightly by the fabric of the sleeping bag, his hands pawing at the makeshift nest. Ghost grounded his hips in tight circles in response, grunting roughly as he forced the squelch to invariably grow louder, ruining the clothes between them further into the heat-sodden mess. "Simon, please."
Ghost froze. His palm clenched into a fist over the omega's back, and if he wasn't hard before, he was now. All of his blood rushed to his cock, scrubbing reason clean from his mind as the sweet lull of 'Simon' shook him to the core.
He didn't know how much he was waiting for someone to say his name like that until Johnny did.
"You'll sit still, then." Ghost hooked a gloved finger over Johnny's waistband, yanking it down and away in quick succession. The air misted with more of the pheromones, clinging annoyingly to the fabric of his mask; he gave into the stray thought that wondered how cloying the smell would be straight from the source. He pulled the mask off his face with jittery force, tossing it next to Johnny's head. The air was fresh against his skin; full of the scent of an eager and aroused omega. "And take all of it."
He felt the Sergeant freeze up under him, catching the movement of his neck with his hand, gloved fingers curled tightly around the backend of his mohawk before he turned around—
"All of me, Johnny."
Simon shoved his face into the fabric of his mask, a pleasant rumble rolled off his chest when he drank the sight of the compromised omega in. Johnny was plastered to the ground, a side of his face pressed neatly against the skull mask, while the gloved hold on his dark hair tightened, his bare arse pushed slightly upwards and facing towards him fully; the perfect picture of submission.
Johnny was exactly where he wanted him to be.
Simon placed a hand on his bare cheeks, parting it gently to reveal the slicked-up, leaking entrance. He squeezed one of them, letting go of his hair to soothe the reddened skin that he had slapped earlier. Simon brought his free hand to his mouth, pulling the glove off with his canines, and throwing it next to the mask as a silent offering. There wasn't a need to elaborate; he was offering more of himself to Johnny, it might've not been an actual heat but the symptoms were extremely similar, and from the soft whine that pleasantly resonated from the man underneath him, it had certainly helped.
He did the same with the other glove before holding Johnny with his bare hands, a sigh escaping his lips at the slick warmth in his palms.
"You're all wet for me, Johnny," Simon said appreciatively, spreading the man's cheeks wide to reveal more of his twitching hole. As if responding to his words, a gush of wetness leaked between his cheeks. Simon's lips tugged into a bare shadow of a smirk. "That eager to be bred, are you?"
"Fuck," Johnny moaned, and Simon slipped a hand past the dip of his hips, stroking the man's cock gently between his scarred fingers. He used his position to increase pressure, not denying him when he grinded roughly into his hand. Whimpers and muffled moans spilt out of the Sergeant's mouth like poetry, and Simon plucked him for all his worth; the ever-enthusiastic poet.
"Simon."
His repeated mutterings were starting to sound angrier, an impatient grit accompanying his slurred-out words that made his accent thicker. Simon had no doubt it would've been borderline incomprehensible if Johnny wasn't hanging onto his name like it was nectar made for his lips.
Simon shushed him gently, twisting his palm over his plump cock in a rough motion before pulling away. A loud whine slipped out of Johnny as if he was waiting on cue, sounding equal amounts of impatient, angry and wanting, and Simon couldn't help the laughter that shook his frame slowly, his joy at being desired so deeply making itself known in a soft huff that was audible despite his best efforts.
Johnny fell quiet at the sound, and Simon used the moment to unbutton his pants, letting it fall past his thighs with a sigh.
"You'll get what you want, Johnny."
The pressure around his crotch had grown to be insufferable, almost as intense as his feelings for Johnny; it was a miracle he could hold back at all.
"Gonna keep you full," Simon murmured, forcing Johnny down with a hand pressed firmly on his back. He pulled out his cock from his boxers, nudging it between his cheeks in a smooth glide. "Stuffed full of my cock and come, the entire fucking night."
Johnny shivered underneath him, and he smirked, rocking into slick between his cheeks, and thoroughly coating himself in his wetness.
"Just like you wanted."
The tip of his cock kissed the edge of his spine, smearing pre-come plentifully over his shirt. The Sergeant wasn't a small man by any means, his status as an omega was often surprising to most because of it, but underneath Simon it was practically negligible, their size difference providing a neatly arousing view.
As if to perfectly fit Johnny's physical stature, Simon was built larger than the average alpha. It wasn't unusual for him to tower most people by default, but the fact wasn't anything of note until this moment, where his cock fit snuggly between Johnny's cheek, a tight fit despite the man's lax posture. The root of his cock, right where his knot would eventually inflate, didn't even fit the full length of the omega's arse. He didn't think it was possible to get harder at this point, but his body surprised both of them, fattening his erection further.
"Bleedin' Christ, L.t." Johnny groaned, clenching his cheeks deliberately, enough to incite a loud grunt from him, a rush of slick accompanied his movement, drenching his cock in thick fluids. If it was a tight fit before, it was worse now. "You're going to ruin me."
Simon thrusted harshly into him, not missing the interested twitch from his hole.
"Worse, love." The pet name came out easily, resisting the urge to smile when he saw the omega preen submissively because of it. He fisted himself with one hand, lowering his chest to the man's back, placing an arm in front of Johnny's head as he braced his weight on it, aligning the head of his cock to smear pre-come all over his entrance. His rim caught the cockhead, and Simon gave in to the pheromones that ignited his mating instincts, pressing slightly into the wetness that grasped eagerly at the intrusion. "I'm going to ruin you for everyone else."
Johnny moaned at the stretch, and he took the opportunity, angling his hips to slam fully into the eager wetness. A wet smack sounded the room as a jolt of pleasure throbbed through his cock when he noticed Johnny's breath audibly hitch, his arse was clamming down on him helplessly, spasming erratically to the tight fit. His breath came out in a slightly pained and incredibly turned-on rasp.
"Fucking hell," Simon growled, rotating his hips in a harsh tight circle, balls flushed to his hole, driving the man further into the ground. Johnny had a vice grip on him, the ample amount of slick dripping from his walls providing the barest bit of relief as his muscles shuddered, sucking the full length of his cock in. The tight fit was accentuated by the rolling coil of his guts, Johnny was shaking and squirming underneath his hold, deliberately clenching in time with the throbs of his cock; enough to draw out a gratuitous amount of precome that flooded his insides as much as his heat-ridden state had.
He hadn't even fucked him yet.
Johnny wasn't speaking coherently anymore, his whines were pitched in a varying wavelength that ranged from absolutely delighted to compellingly needy, with the only consistency presenting itself with his name.
Simon, Simon, Simon.
Johnny was reduced to nothing but a symphony of his name.
The possessive bind that jolted through his body from his continued verbal worship moved in time with his cock, flexing unconsciously into his heat as he dug deeper, growing irritated that he couldn't inch himself closer to the source of it all.
A thick whiff of pheromones rushed to Simon's nose, inviting him shamelessly to the feast. He buried his head into the collared nape with a loud groan, sinking his canines into the leather strap, the urge to bite pushing him past the point of reason. Saliva dripped from the edge of his teeth to cover every inch of the leather. He lapped at the skin around the collar, pink tongue twisting to taste the shivering skin, his chest rumbled aggressively as he plunged his canines deeper into the one thing that stopped him from bonding with the man outright.
That collar—normally just a thing of protocol and necessity, grew to be a hateful item in his eyes.
He pulled back slowly, dissatisfied by the cockwarming session, torturously drawing his cock through the tight walls in a slow drag, the tip plugging his hole tightly before he shoved the weight of his pelvis into his rear. The resounding slap was louder than the first, sending a pleasurable wave of rightness throughout his body, made infinitely sweeter by the echoing cry of his name from the omega's mouth. A wonderfully choked moan, delightfully provoking his onslaught.
Johnny was nothing short of a mess, but Simon was worse, he was going to spiral straight into madness.
What followed next was the filthiest show of possession. Hot, heavy, completely misting the room with the stench of sex, he fucked Johnny with strong crushing thrusts, using his weight and gravity to pound his cock into the deepest crevices of the receptive omega, while the rest of his body pinned him to place. Every drag of his was accompanied by a shudder that wrecked through them both, and every slam echoed with a choked-out utterance of his name. Johnny was mouthier than him; squirming, arching and clawing at nothing while his tongue twisted with a continuation of that symphony.
Simon was getting more addicted the more he indulged. He was perfect in ways that directly appealed to his hindbrain, and that lingering doubt about having a mate while on duty was starting to erode the more he made himself home inside his guts. Pleasure was always a dangerous game, and pull in with the complicated feelings about the Sergeant that he held closer to his heart than he should, it was bound to be more than a mess. Nonetheless, he gave in to himself.
He gave in to Johnny.
The collar protected his mating gland but that didn't stop Simon from biting and sucking over the sweet-smelling thing. His canines tore into the man's skin, two steps away from tasting blood, before sucking the spot blind in a disorganised display of possession and consideration.
Johnny was going to have more than a few marks all over his body, Simon was going to make sure he knew who he belonged to. There wasn't a 'backing out' after inviting Simon Riley to take what he deserved, and he was far too stubborn and jealous to let anything else come between him and what he claimed.
As if on the quest to show the omega of his worthiness, he grinded deeply in him after a particularly punishing thrust, moving wildly until he noticed Johnny's voice pitch higher and needier at a particular spot. He angled his hips right until the heavy length of his cock rested against the man's prostate, a feral sound ripping through his throat right before he started fucking the spot hard, slipping his hand down to the omega's hip to lift him to the exact tilt and continuing the brutal pace. Simon was going at it like a man starved, he felt every bit of the deprivation that most spoke of casually, as if allowing himself to let go had crumbled every wall he erected between himself and intimacy.
There was a special kind of need burning in through his body, one that struck his heart again and again with the silent offerings that he built in his favour for Johnny. He wanted him. Body, mind and soul. There wasn't an inch of him that didn't want him. He angled his jaw and dragged his tongue from Johnny's bruised nape to his jaw, wondering why he had hesitated before when the Sergeant had been more than eager to throw himself to the wolves. His brutality softened, the striking furl of pleasure blurring every bit of thought into one, merging the obscene sounds of their bodies intertwined with each other and the cries that overflowed their lips into one.
He couldn't make out where he ended, so maddened by the need to indulge and mate, that he was doing everything his body could just to bury himself into Johnny.
Intense didn't describe the experience, and madness didn't do it justice either, whatever this was toyed with all the worldly experiences mushed into one. For once, heaven and earth aligned in the same plane of existence.
Johnny's insides were tight and thick with his slick, his walls shuddered and clammed in helpless, erratic patterns that were barely coherent, much like the words coming out of his mouth. He could tell Johnny was close by smell first, and then his heat burned with an intensity that welcomed him to the deepest parts of the man, the heavy slap of his balls against the tight, wet arse driving a more erotic vigour from him. Simon pressed him further into the ground, painfully so, and fucked him for all his worth.
It was wet, angry and delicious in the same breath. His thighs flanked the omega's in an unconventional mating press, the urge to knot and trap the man until his insides wept with his come fueling the wildest thrusts. He was close, but he was going to have Johnny ruined before he was.
"Si— Simo—" Johnny spluttered pathetically, barely catching his breath between the gasps and moans. His insistent to talk only spurred the alpha on, intensifying his pace until he could barely emit the first syllable of his name out of his mouth. The deafening wave of his orgasm was close, he could sense it, and an answering heat had solidified in his stomach, dropping in perfect synchronization as he throbbed painfully, seeking the tightness more.
He took the side of Johnny's jaw with his teeth, at the gentle curve between his neck, nipping harshly to muffle his pants, heated breath gathering above them as he spoke of the nickname with desire, need and love that made his voice sound foreign to his ears.
Johnny.
He was sick with the full force of his intensity.
Johnny, Johnny.
He wanted to stay in the deepest parts of him and merge his entire soul with him.
Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.
He was in love.
Johnny shivered violently, bucking his hips fruitlessly into the sleeping bag, his insides pulsed with warm liquid and a vice grip on Simon's cock, forcefully slowing the brutal drag of his length through his walls. He came loudly, the alpha's name reduced to an incoherent mess that spiralled through desperate crying moans.
He was so fucking close.
An intangible mess of curses rushed out of his mouth through gritted teeth, restraint scarcely present when his perception was dragged through the barest part of himself. The need to be close screamed at him, and he relented, thrusting himself deeply in place. His arms circled Johnny's torso, his body lifted to allow some space between them, and he pulled out swiftly to flip the man on his back, relishing in the purely fucked-out look on his face. There was something utterly beautiful about the frost blues drowning in tears that spoke of overstimulation more than pain. He wanted to taste it—take everything that Johnny was willing to offer, and give everything in return.
Simon took his time, finally.
His chest rose as he took in a gulp of his scent, heart bursting with a rare sort of primal pride; the air was dripping with the wonderful cocktail of their pheromones. He took one look at the omega and made a binding decision without any reservations.
Mine.
"Christ," Johnny muttered, his voice as wrung out and hoarse as Simon expected it to be. It drew a soft smile out of him, watching keenly when the man's gaze dropped to his lips, and back up, openly gaping at his expression.
Simon gripped Johnny's hips and pulled him close until he was properly underneath him, crowding him in the position. Another display of his possession, he wanted the omega to focus on him; to the point that he filled his vision with nothing but himself. He wasn't sure what Johnny saw but it managed to make his flustered face brighter, a lovely pink colouring his cheeks.
Just mine.
"Too much?" Simon asked, pushing the head of his cock against the omega's rim, enjoying the soft moan from his mouth when he sunk in enough to stretch the entrance out.
Johnny tilted his head after a second, biting the corners of his lips as he looked down the planes of his abs, settling at the swollen, red cock angled right at his hole, ready to fuck him into oblivion again. A jolt of pleasure rushed through Simon's body when Johnny clenched, a growl tearing out of his throat in warning.
"Far from done, aren't ya?" Johnny grinned mischievously, sinking himself to take more of his cock in, now that Simon's weight wasn't keeping him still. His eyelashes fluttered, drowning in the sly warmth, and he closed his eyes, a moan slurring from his lips at his hypersensitive state.
He felt Johnny's arms wrap around his neck, a purring voice whispering straight to his ear as he was pulled down by muscled arms, "Give me what I want, Simon."
The disastrous need returned with a gripping vengeance.
He opened his eyes, finding himself right in front of the beautiful Scottish man who had consumed his waking thoughts.
"Simon, please," Johnny whispered slyly, and his cock twitched in vested interest. He caught a knowing glint in his eyes before Johnny's lips were upon him, kissing him so softly and slowly that he nearly melted in his arms, not denying himself the burst of emotions that overwhelmed him too much to speak.
He didn't force it. There was a better way to show how much he was affected, one of them just happened to be fucking him until both of them were left bone-dry in satisfaction.
Simon pushed in slowly, taking his time to enjoy the lengthy drag through the warmth that graciously welcomed him in.
He parted away from Johnny's lips to stare down at him, his arms were readjusted to cradle the man's face between them, the position was the right amount of intimate, different from the brutal indulgence before. Johnny's face was wrung pretty and pink, moaning enticingly and urging him on by grinding deeply when he was balls deep. Simon focused on lovingly fucking the spots that drew out the loudest shuddering moans from the omega, making sure he was hitting the precious little gland inside with every thrust.
"Fuck, Simon— Just like that," he mewled, bucking his hips to meet the thrusts enthusiastically. His legs had folded over Simon's back, pulling him in throughout the slow, sensual drag. There was a more focus on Johnny's pleasure, and he seemed to know it well, allowing the gentle thaws of Simon's emotions to curl over him in a passionate display.
"Such a perfect thing," Simon whispered, pulling back his hips and snapping it forward harshly, groaning at the wetness that clammed down on him tightly in response, his entire body shuddering at the motion. "All for me."
Johnny arched his back, whining particularly loudly when Simon increased the intensity in a gradually harsher thrust.
"Aye, all yours," he moaned, arms and legs constricting tighter around him, pulling him closer. "Just yours, Simon."
Johnny's affirmation of what he had decided internally urged him on, growling deeply and fucking him harder, just barely stopping himself from sending both of them sprawling through the floor. He angled his hips, and forced all of his weight onto the man beneath him, pounding directly in the deepest part of the omega with vigour that most alphas would show only during their ruts. Chasing the moans dipped in his name like a man drunk and delirious. A gripping tension had his cock swelling, the root of it inflating in the telltales sign of his knot, barely catching at the puckered rim but enough to convey his body's need to trap Johnny on it, keep him full and bred as he had promised.
Simon slipped one of his hands down Johnny's torso, determined to make him come alongside him, only to stop his movements at an odd protrusion on his stomach. He stopped, buried deep, and pushed himself up, until he was resting on his knees, gazing down at the mess of a man.
"Why'd you stop—" Johnny nearly growled, twisting his body to entice the alpha back into action, pheromones thick and full of irritated arousal. Instead of giving in, Simon tightened his grip on his hips, pulling him more to his lap, and pressed down with his fingers on his stomach, right below the navel. His cock, nestled thick in his walls, moved deliciously under the pressure, and he resumed his pace, gently outlining the protrusion with long, scarred fingers.
Johnny's eyes flickered to his hand, and he watched with interest as he connected the dots, surprise flashing bright through his eyes, mouth gaping wide; his gaze flickered wildly from Simon's hand to his eyes, watching the alpha's cock bulge through the muscle and skin as he moved, shuddering delightfully when he timed the pressure and the thrust perfectly. He didn't have time to comment on it, Simon was hellbent on giving him what he craved.
He was a man of his word after all.
Johnny was a writhing, purring mess as he continued, his palm had extended to cruelly grasp his cock in his hand too, aligning the filthy drag of his length, with frantic twists and friction against his fattened cock, stringing a new wave of coiling heat that demanded both of their attention.
At some point, he had dipped his head blindly searching for Johnny's lips, latching onto them in a wild need, consuming the delicious noises that slipped out as if it were his only chance to. He wanted Johnny badly, every inch of him that he could take.
Johnny jerked roughly in his arms, and he tasted his scent in his mouth, realising he was just as close as he was.
Simon finally gave in, pounding his cock to the hilt while crowding his sweaty, heated body on top of Johnny's, holding him close as their cries merged in a symphony of names and desperate throaty moans. His release coated Johnny's walls in a hot thick mess, his knot inflated and he pushed deeper, finally plugging the man firmly on his cock.
Coming down from that high took a while. His release steadily pulsed into the omega, his guts feeling increasingly tight with every second that passed, yet there was nothing but relief on Johnny's face; so he allowed himself to relax, leaning closer to lazily kiss him through it, inciting a smile against his lips.
"That was," Johnny muttered, sounding as drunk on emotions as Simon was. He leaned in for a messy kiss, cradling his face and thumbing his cheeks gently in absolute adoration. "Fuckin' perfect, sir."
But the night was far from over.
His cock twitched, and Simon groaned abruptly, burying his face into Johnny's hands as a rush of come surged out to flood the man's insides.
"Pretty, pretty man, all for me," Johnny cooed, pulling his face closer. He placed fluttering kisses over the line of his jaw, up the side of his face, and settled gently on his forehead.
Simon wanted to melt in his hands forever.
"I love you," he said in a sigh, feeling his heart calm down as if the words were lodged in the back of his throat for so long that it was a relief to get them out.
Johnny pulled back, considering him for a second, before smiling at him so brightly that, for just this moment, he could've mistaken him for the sun.
"I love you too, Simon."