Chapter Text
Having grown up in a rugby family, you were given little choice but to attend all of your brother's games, both as a wee lad, a young man, and, now.
You were there, with your remaining sisters and your mam, for every single one of Johnny's games, back from when he was a wee one that couldn't even do a proper tackle and would fall in the mud, to now, picked to join the national team.
This means, however, that you've spent your entire childhood, teen years and now young adulthood, surrounded by the lads from your brother's many teams, but, especially, the ones he met as a teen and made a lasting friendship with: John "Cap" Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, and Simon "Ghost" Riley, the bane of your existence.
Johnny's had them over for birthdays, holidays, sleepovers... Not to mention the times you've gone to pick him up from training and were allowed into the locker room, only to get an eyeful of too much bare skin on all those men as they paraded around half-dressed; in towels; in underwear, or even in less than that.
It became a matter of time until you gained someone's attention. No wonder, pretty lass like you, with your sweet smiles and playful quips... coming to pick up your bulky winger brother, of course you'd catch someone's eye.
Kyle Garrick is the team's Hooker... but he's also known as a manwhore, the town bicycle, or whatever you wanna call him. The lads all know that if they go out drinking, Kyle is not going home alone, and, worse, they know that Kyle could and would seduce their cousins, sisters, mothers, and girlfriends, if not kept in check.
That's part of the reason why Johnny nearly had a fucking aneurysm when he caught Kyle outside the locker room three days ago, with a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, looking down at you with a smug little smirk on those perfect lips of his.
He knew what was happening, the way Kyle was looking down at you, the way you were looking up at Kyle, smiling all cutely, backed up against the wall, while his own teammate put the moves on you and talked about taking you out, his free hand gently playing with the strap of the dress you were wearing.
Johnny, however, missed the way Simon, who was standing right behind him, stiffened up and bristled at the sight of Garrick flirting with you. You didn't though. You caught it as soon as Johnny cleared his throat next to you with a "Should I pull up a chair and wait fer ye to be done?". Simon's eyes were glued to you, his brow set, his jaw clenched...
That's what he gets.
Simon, whom you've had a massive crush on for years now, who you pine for, whose attention you crave... and who only ever comes to you for a quick lay...
Simon, who rolls over after sex and tosses you a towel while he's putting on his clothes, telling you to 'hurry up' so he can take you home.
Simon, who always stares at you like he's going to eat you whole every time he lays eyes on you.
Simon, who chugs half of the ice cold water bottles he's given during breaks in practice, and uses the rest to douse himself in water to keep himself cool.
Simon, who knows how your eyes always get drawn to his legs and his bulge in his uniform, and rolls up his shorts before doing lifts, just for you.
Simon, who comes to pick you up whenever you call him, tipsy, from some bar or club when going out with friends.
Simon, who sends you 'u up?' texts at 2 in the morning when he's drunk.
Simon, who scoffs and chuckles whenever you breach the 'us' topic.
Frankly, you're not even actually trying to get with Kyle, especially not with his reputation (nothing against him, it's just not for you), but you needed to do something.
You're tired of waiting around for SImon to get his head out of his arse. You're not a toy, you're not going to stick around and be 'friends with benefits' with him, except barely friends, and with little benefits.
He's getting what he fucking deserves.
You didn't anticipate, however, how upset Johnny would be at the idea of Kyle taking you out. In fact, it was poor planning on your end because from the moment Johnny saw you with Kyle, he attempted, multiple times, to convince you not to go out with him... And if the DMs Kyle sent you are any indication, he also tried to talk Kyle out of it.
On the other hand, Simon didn't once try to intervene. Despite the look he shot you on Tuesday, he did not in fact reach out to talk to you, even now, as Friday comes along and you stride into the restaurant, hanging off Kyle's arm...
There's nothing from him. No texts, no DMs, no calls, nothing... So you guess that it's done, over. He got the memo, finally...
Your phone starts buzzing inside your bag while you and Kyle are halfway through sharing your appetizers. Looking down at your phone, you narrow your eyes when you find Simon's number ringing.
Really? Now? You don't think so.
So, you hang up.
Only for it to start ringing again immediately after. Simon. Again.
Grunting, you end up picking up. "What?"
"I'm outside. Let's get out of here."
You're hyper aware, suddenly, that the host has sat you and Kyle by the windows overlooking the car park... And you can see a car with its headlights on pointing right at you.
"I don't think so."
"Then don't think. Just do what I'm telling you."
Bossy, as always, that's how Simon is. Everything is on his terms, never on yours.
"I'm having dinner." You fight him, as always. This push and pull of yours has been going on for three years now... And Simon always wins. It makes him cocky.
"Not with him you're not. So you better get out here before I go in there and embarrass you."
With a sigh, you nod. "Fine, I'll be right there."
Turning off the call, you turn to Kyle, explaining you have to leave. His brows knit together and he looks at you with puppy eyes, asking why, and, short of a proper explanation, you do the same thing you've been doing to Johnny for the past three years: you lie.
"Johnny said he got a bizarre text from our mam and he tried calling her and she isn't replying."
"She's on these new sleeping pills, so she might have just knocked out while watching telly..."
"But he's worried, and he's on the other side of town, so he asked if I could go home and check on her..."
And Kyle, as much of a manwhore he is, he's also a gentleman, and is one of your brother's best friends. If your mam might be feeling sick, he's, of course, driving you home and helping! He was raised right.
As you leave the car park on the passenger seat of Kyle's BMW, you're hyper aware of the familiar Range Rover trailing you down the road, always a couple of cars behind, but always there... always lurking.
You reach your childhood home in record time, and start fumbling for the keys inside your clutch while Kyle trails up behind you to the front door. "I think I've got this from here, Kyle."
"No way, I love your mum like she's my auntie, if she's not doing well, I'm here to help,"
"No, really, it's okay, I'm sure she's fine..."
"Love, really, I'm not leaving you like this, not before I make sure that she's alright-"
Suddenly, a large, pale hand comes to grip Kyle's shoulder from behind, Simon's eyes shining in the darkness of the night, barely illuminated by the light by the front door, before his full face reveals itself.
Like a Ghost. That's his nickname. Fast, stealthy, there when you least expect it. Both in the rugby pitch and out of it.
"Don't worry, mate, I've got this." Simon announces, causing Kyle (and you) to freeze.
"You're here too?" Kyle asks, seemingly surprised, just as the taller fullback player removes his hand from his shoulder.
"Johnny called me too. Was worried about her being alone if mam wasn't doing well," Simon says naturally, as if he isn't also lying through his teeth, though his eyes never leave yours, catching and not planning on letting it go.
"Okay... well..." Kyle says and looks back and forth between you and Simon, seemingly catching the weird vibe between you, before he nods. "I'll go home then. Text me?" He asks you. "We can have a rain check."
Gulping thickly, your gaze slowly moves back toward Kyle, and you nod with a soft smile. "Yeah, yeah. Of course." You say softly and move over to kiss his cheek, before watching Kyle go back to his car and pull off.
You're turning, keys now in hand, to unlock the door when one of Simon's large hands grabs yours, stopping you. "What are you doing?" He asks you.
"Going home?" You retort as you look up at him, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapped around yours, clutching lightly. "Ye can go now. Congratulations, you ruined my date. Yer work is done."
Simon chuckles and takes a step closer to you, tilting his head at an angle and regarding you with those dark, deep brown eyes of his, the same ones that always make you feel like he's trying to burn you with his gaze.
"That's cute that there, sweetheart." The Mancunian tells you before he lets go of your hand and pushes you along with a hand on the small of your back, away from your front door. "Get in the fuckin' car." He orders and uses his eyebrows to point at his jeep, his voice carrying the same strong tone that he reserves only for bossing his teammates around during practice.
You know better than to defy him. So you tuck your metaphorical tail between your legs and you nod, moving over to his Rover. He opens the door for you and helps you up by gripping a hand around your forearm, the other bumps you up by the back of the legs.
"How'd ye know where we were?" You end up asking once Simon has driven away from your street, your eyes locked on his as he drives, finally daring to take a proper look at him under the orange light of the street lamps you pass by.
Black hoodie, grey sweatpants, and some kind of running shoes. Those stupid bloody sweatpants... The same ones he usually wears when he shows up at your door, or you at his, or when he goes to get you from work or nights out...
You know he did it on purpose... To pick the most slutty outfit he has as he comes to break up your date with Kyle. The annoying grey sweats that hang off his lip, that hug his thick, muscular thighs, the ones that he never wears boxers under, to make sure you can catch the dick print in the fabric...
And his stupid blonde hair all spiked up with hair gel... It used to be brown, matching his eyes, but he bleaches it now, the idiot... You want to be mad at him, you really do... But when he glances over at you while he's driving, you can't really.
"Garrick's predictable," Simon says, his tongue spitting vitriol as he utters his teammate's name. You'd think he hates the bloke... and right now he might as well do. "Takes birds to the same 5 or 6 places every time. Your brother and I split up to cover half of them each." He explains.
Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. "The two of ye have no right." You tell him, scolding him over interrupting your date. "I'm a grown woman."
"Right. That's what you told Johnny. Don't try to use that shite excuse on me." Simon tells you as he turns on the blinker and pulls over.
You haven't driven long. Less than 2 minutes. You could climb out of the jeep if you wanted to and walk home.
"It's not an excuse." You retort as you glare at him, keeping your arms tightly crossed over your chest.
"Right, because you want me to believe you really want to go out with Kyle? Or, let me guess, you 'can change him'?" Simon asks sardonically and laughs as he pulls off his seatbelt.
"I didn't say that." You retort. "I simply said that I can do whatever I want because I'm a grown woman.'
"No..." The blond says in a sarcastic tone. "You... did it because you wanted my attention... And you got it, sweetheart." He replies as he reaches over and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, his hands wrapping around your hip and back, tugging you over the gearshift onto his lap.
"I weren't trying to-" You reply, pushing back against his chest, but only half-heartedly, allowing yourself to be dragged onto him.
"Sure you were. But Gaz, really? Is that the best you can do when it comes to making me jealous?" Simon quips as he makes you straddle his left thigh, bringing you down to sit on it, the gusset of your panties pressed against the warm material of his sweatpants.
His stupid, muscular, hard thigh, the same one you can't help but drool over when you watch him in his tiny rugby shorts during practice and in the proper pitch...
You can feel the taut muscle, even through the fabric, the wait his leg flexes as you straddle it, the way he presses the weight of it against your core, and his fingers dig into your hip before dragging you back and forth.
You bite your lip hard to contain a moan, though he notices the way you're trembling, enjoying the look in your eyes, the way your body warms up, the way your back arches up. It puts a sick smile on his lips, one you wanna wipe off.
"It worked, didn't it?" You reply, trying your best to suppress the pleasure from showing on your face, and instead trying to seem smug. "You're here, right? Came to break up my date for a reason..." You say, clinging onto your little 'gotcha' moment...
Only for Simon to ruin it. "Oh that weren't jealousy, darling." He replies, his smirk beginning to grow into a proud, mocking grin, his dark brows rising and his cheeks puffing up with his smile. "I have no reason to be jealous."
Simon begins rocking you faster and harder against his hard thigh, causing you to whine and mewl, the pleasure building from the friction between your cunt and his thigh.
Your clit is slowly and steadily catching on the fabric, making you tremble and twitch atop him, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten as it always does whenever Simon starts playing with your clit like this.
"No, actually... Don't have a reason to be jealous about anyone." Simon replies as he leans toward you, pressing his nose against yours so he can properly look you in the eye. "Not Garrick... not Price... not any of those coworkers you're always talking about... nor your old uni mates..." He trails off.
"Simon..." You grumble, bucking your hips against him, wanting to chase your orgasm. How does he do this to you every time? Make you so horny, make you throw away all rationality, make you give in to him?
"I know, sweetheart, I know... Feels good, don't it?" The large man coos at you as he helps you rock against his thigh faster and faster, your hips stuttering and your legs beginning to tremble on either side of him as you steadily grow closer and closer to coming.
"You know what else I know?" Simon teases as he leans over and uses his teeth to nip at your neck and earlobe. "I know that I'll never have a bloody fucking reason to get jealous over you... because You're Mine." He tells you, his tone surprisingly authoritative.
There's something in that claim... the way he finally says the things you've wanted so badly to hear him say... Your climax crashes into you and you go limp against him, your head falling onto his chest and your jaw going slack as you moan incoherently.
"That's it..." Simon coos at you and gives you a couple of pats on your thigh, sliding his hand up over your ass, covered in a new dress you bought on purpose for your date with Kyle. Your cunt is throbbing inside your panties, your walls clenching around nothing and you know you've left a bit of a wet spot on Simon's sweatpants.
"You got off on that, huh?" He teases you in a mocking tone. "Been wanting to hear that for a while now, have you?" You can hear the smirk on his lips as you try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. He's so fucking mean...
"Piss off, Simon." You retort and pull off him, pushing against his shoulders with both hands and moving pack to the passenger's seat. "Take me home." You say in a huff.
"Of course, sweetheart." Simon replies, his voice still smug and a large shit-eating grin on his lips as he bites his tongue, turning back onto the street.
After Simon pulls over in front of your house again, you hop out, fixing your dress and stomping back toward the house, displeased with his behavior. With him using your feelings for him against him. With him.
His phone rings, echoing through the speakers in the Rover. The small screen on the dash displays Johnny's contact name as Simon is watching you frustratedly fumble for the keys inside your clutch again.
"Been to all three spots. Did you find her?" The Scot's voice comes through the bluetooth speakers as the Mancunian watches you, running his fingers over his thigh where you left a wet stain on his sweats.
"Yeah, mate. Been keeping an eye on them. Kyle didn't try anything and he just dropped her off at home." He replies, watching you for a moment longer.
"Thanks for lookin' out, mate. 'm going for a pint right now..." Soap announces.
"Cheers," Ghost says in a nonchalant date, watching you finally find the keys and open the door, heading inside and turning on the hall light. "You owe me one, had a date planned but spent my evening going after your sister."
"Yeah... yeah... I owe ye." Soap retorts. "Come out me with me, then, 'm sure ye can find a bird at the pub." He offers.
"Nah, mate, 'm knackered. Going to get a good night's sleep." He says and watches you turn to glance at him (or more so his car) through the open door before you turn away again and visibly huff, closing the door behind yourself.
Simon shakes his head, snickering under his breath and saying goodbye to Soap before hanging up the call and grabbing his phone to shoot you a quick text.
"Ur brother is @ pub. Let me in."
Then, he stashes his phone back in his pocket, not even waiting for a reply.
His eyes return to the door and wait patiently, just a couple of seconds go by before you're opening the front door again. Simon smiles seeing that, turning off his car and hopping out.
His girl is so obedient.