Chapter Text
“Am I the arsehole for refusing to break up with my boyfriend after my husband found out about us?
I, 34M, and my husband, 36M, have been together for 8 years, married for 5 and a few months back, he asked me to open our marriage…”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Soap screamed, his husband, the apparent love of his life, didn’t say anything at first, looking at him as if he was the crazy one.
“I’m just saying,” he started and Soap, for the first time since he met Steve, 10 years ago, wanted to beat the living hell out of him. “This is for the two of us, it’s gonna help strengthen our marriage.”
“How pray fuckin’ tell,” he spat, their dinner getting cold in front of them. It had taken Soap almost an hour to cook it, having to leave the chicken marinating for half of it and now it was going cold, “will it strengthen our marriage for you to cheat on me?”
“It’s not cheating!” his husband banged his fist against the table, “it’d be an open marriage, you get to date whomever the fuck you want, and I get to do the same!”
“I don’t want anyone else, Steve!” He screamed even louder, neighbours be damned, “Did you miss the fucking memo? We’re supposed to be monogamous!”
“I’ve told you before, that monogamy is against human nature!”
“Eat your bloody food,” he looked at Steve, putting into his eyes as much anger as possible, “I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”
“...at first i thought he was playing a prank on me of course.
Ever since I met my husband, you could feel the s*xual tension between us... before we were together officially, we had been f*ck buddies for a year and when we got married, the heat was still there.
We had s*x at least once a week so to say it took me by surprise was the understatement of the century. Especially when he said he was feeling unsatisfied with our “physical connection.”
I always thought it was normal for a marriage to eventually stop having so much s*x, like in the beginning, but apparently, that wasn’t it for him.
So yeah, I thought it was a prank and then he asked me again and again and again and again and now that I’m writing this, I feel absolutely stupid for doing it, but I said yes. I was tired and I felt like the only way he’d shut up about it would be if I agreed and so I did.
Fckin hell, I’d never felt so unwanted in my life. It didn’t help that he kept telling me he loved me but that he needed more freedom.
I asked him, though.. asked him if I could do something to make it better but the only thing, he said was that it wasn’t my fault, that it was him, not me.... that he needed his “manhood” back, as if I weren’t a man, too.
I thought “Well at least he’s telling me because he doesn’t want to cheat on me,” but I mean, just the fact that he’d asked me already felt like cheating in my books.
And then things went downhill from there.”
“Soap, I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry.” Gaz hugged him, not caring about the mix of snot and tears on his sleeve as Soap sobbed on it.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” he heaved untangling from Gaz, “he hasn’t been home since Tuesday.”
“I’m sorry,” Gaz repeated, hurt in his voice as if it was his fault the person Soap trusted the most had betrayed him that way.
“I don’t understand! What did I do wrong?” He continued, trying to wipe away the tears with the back of his hand, “I... I wake up earlier than him and make him breakfast, I get home from work and cook dinner, I... I try to keep myself fit, I clean the fucking house, do his laundry, I fuck him when he asks me to, even though I prefer the other way around and he knows that! He knows! I don’t understand!”
He’d come to Gaz first because one of the things his husband had said to try to convince him about the open marriage was that they’d technically be in a polyamorous relationship and Soap knew, maybe not at that moment, but he just knew that he’d used those words exactly because of Gaz.
He’d been friends with Gaz since they were in primary school and when Gaz came out to him as poly back in high school, Soap had accepted him immediately, maybe he hadn’t understood what that entailed back then, but seeing him with Farah and Alex, his partners, the only thing he needed to know was that Gaz was happy, the rest was... unimportant.
And then Steve had used that against him, and it didn’t matter how many times Gaz explained that that was not how a poly relationship worked, Soap had already been stewing in Steve’s comment for long enough that he felt like a bigot for not accepting “that side” of his husband as easily as he did with Gaz.
Gaz hugged him again, “when was the last time you did something for yourself, Soap?” he asked and it made Soap stop completely, a sob stuck to his throat. “Tell me.”
He thought about it. What did it mean to ‘do something for himself’ he wondered. He’d bought that green apple cleaner he only used in December—even though it was April—because it smelt like Christmas... he hadn’t opened it, of course, but he’d done that for himself, right?
“And I don’t mean,” Gaz continued, pushing him softly at arms-length, “something to help with the work at your job or your house,” he emphasised the last part, he could almost read Soap like a picture book, “I mean something you did to make you feel better with yourself, something that made you happy.”
Soap didn’t know what to say and it seemed it was all the confirmation Gaz needed.
“Against my will, or at least that’s what I like to say, my best friend convinced me to put myself out there.. if my husband had been so insistent on both of us “getting some outside of the marriage” then that meant both of us and not just him sh*gging his new girlfriend while I cried myself to sleep every night.
If it sounds pathetic, it was nothing compared to the real deal.
In the end I relented and let my bsf create a dating profile for me, something I’d never really needed because back in my days, my dating pool was uni, or at least until I met my husband, after that i didn’t have to worry.
Surprisingly enough, the first day I already had several chat requests, or whatever the fck they’re called and mostly out of fear of the unknown, I chose a random one, let’s call him Mr Silver Fox, 43M, so I started talking to Mr Silver Fox and after about two weeks or so of back and forth, we had a date.
“Sounds a little complicated,” Simon—or ‘Mr. Silver Fox,’ the nickname Gaz had given him—said, “and you’re sure you’re okay with that?”
Soap swallowed his wine thickly, maybe starting a date with the fact that he was in an open marriage while implying that it wasn’t completely his choice, had not been a good way to break the ice, but Soap was out of depth, not used to being asked to lunch to a fancy restaurant where you were supposed to ‘wine taste’ before you decided what to drink.
Simon though, with his expensive suit and his Rolex and sports car looked like this was a normal Wednesday afternoon.
“Are you okay?” Simon asked him, “You look like you want to run away.”
He chuckled nervously, he did want to run away, what was he thinking? He’d gotten married because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with one person, ‘till death do us part’ and all that bullshit.
“I...” he looked down at his hands on his lap. Simon was a fucking dream. It wasn’t only the fact that he was tall, very tall, was wearing expensive clothes and jewellery or that his blonde hair was going white at the sides—hence Silver Fox—and it wasn’t even the tattoos peaking from under his sleeve. It was the way he walked, the way he talked, his deep raspy voice that still sounded as smooth as the Scotch he could only afford with his Christmas bonus, the way he commanded the attention of a room just by entering it, it was like looking at the damn sun and having your eyes burning with heat and light and still not being able to look away.
And Soap... Soap with his stupid faux-mohawk that he hadn’t let go of since his uni days, growing it from a warhawk to his current style. Or Soap with his most decent suit on, the one he used for meetings at work with the higher-ups, with his Seiko watch, a gift from Gaz when he started working at his current company and his 5 o’clock shadow, probably looking like a hobo next to Simon.
When he didn’t reply, Simon looked at his Rolex and then signalled the waiter for the check, and just like that, his first date had been ruined, 10 minutes into it.
“I can walk from here,” Soap said when they were out of the restaurant and waiting for the valet, a fucking valet, to bring Simon’s car back.
“I know,” Simon replied and as soon as his car was in front of them, he opened the door for Soap, “c’mon, love,” it wasn’t a command, but it sounded like one and Soap, as if a dog on a leash, obeyed instantly.
“You really don’t have to take me back,” he tried again, and Simon chuckled.
“How long do we have left?” he asked.
Simon had told him he had the rest of the day cleared but Soap was only on his lunch break.
He’d never claimed to be a responsible worker and scheduling a date in the middle of a workday was a testament to it, but his boss Price, had always had a soft spot for him and as long as he delivered his research papers and projects on time, he was lenient on Soap.
Gaz had told him, almost begged him to tell Simon to have a Saturday dinner, “You’re supposed to have dinner when you’re on a date, Soap! Lunch is for friends!” But Soap still held onto the hope that Steve would come back and have dinner with him or at least spend a weekend with him… it hadn’t yet happened since their arrangement started, almost a month ago.
He hummed and looked at his embarrassingly cheap watch next to Simon’s and apologising to Gaz in his mind, he finally replied, “maybe 40 more minutes?”
“That works,” Simon said as he speeded around the noon traffic and took them both through unknown streets. Soap thought that was the end for him. He’d somehow stumbled upon one of those weird multimillionaires that liked to torture people and now it was his turn.
Five minutes later had them in front of a Mexican-themed pub called ‘Los Vaqueros.’ If Simon was going to kill him, he had chosen a weird location, Soap thought.
He opened the car door for Soap, maybe the prospect of getting killed had already messed up with his brain enough that the fact that Simon had opened the door for him—as if men still did that—was what broke him out of his fatalistic train of thought.
“We’re here,” he said, extending a hand for Soap to hold to help him get out of the car.
“A pub?” he asked stupidly as they stood in front of the pub.
“Thought maybe you’d feel more comfortable here,” Simon said simply, directing him to the main entrance by keeping a hand on his lower back. It sent shivers down his spine.
“Ey, carnalote!” the bartender called as soon as they made it in, and Simon raised his hand in a half-wave. “Rodolfo, venite. Mira quien llegó!” The bartender then said as another person came out of the kitchen.
“Ghost!” the newcomer said, as they sat on a barstool at the counter.
“Te dije que no te perdieras, bro!” the bartender told Simon, Soap had no idea what any of that meant and honestly his brain was already in overdrive trying to catch up with the scene before him.
“Work,” Simon said simply, and the bartender rolled his eyes.
“And who is this gorgeous man?” the bartender asked Simon but looked at Soap who in turn extended his hand to shake the bartender’s.
“I’m John,” he said, a smile creeping on his face as Simon raised a thin blonde eyebrow.
“Alejandro,” the bartender said, but instead of shaking Soap’s hand over the counter, he grabbed it and kissed the back of it. “Very nice to m—” he didn’t get to finish as the other man hit him with the towel he had draped over his shoulder.
“Eso,” he said to Alejandro, hitting him with the towel again, “síguele, hoy tengo ganas de dormir solo.”
Simon chuckled, he seemed to do that a lot, and Soap guessed he understood Spanish.
“Mi amor,” Alejandro turned to the other man, “tú sabes que eres el único para mí. Mi vida, mi sol, mis estrellas...” he tried to kiss him, but the man sidestepped him easily and extended his hand to Soap.
“I’m Rodolfo,” he smiled, “but you can call me Rudy.”
Too late did Soap noticed their wedding bands, a mirror of his, and got what had happened by context only.
“Nice to meet you, Rudy.” He was cute, Soap decided, in a very motherly way. “You can call me Soap.”
“Soap?” the three of them asked at the same time and Soap laughed.
“It’s a long story,” he replied and that seemed to be okay with the rest of them because they didn’t ask more.
“What brings you here, Ghost?” Alejandro asked as Rudy went back to the kitchen.
“Ghost?” this time it was Soap’s turn to ask, hearing the nickname for a second time, but Simon only shrugged with one shoulder.
“Long story,” he said to Soap and then looked at Alejandro, “I’m on a date.”
“My bad,” Alejandro raised both hands as if surrendering, “I didn’t mean to steal another one from you.”
“Another?” Soap asked but before he could get an answer, Rudy came back from the kitchen and placed a plate of tacos in front of him.
“Rudy and I used to be flatmates in uni,” Simon started as he signalled for Soap to eat, “Alejandro thinks he stole Rudy from me.”
“Did you?” he asked Alejandro and immediately took a bite of one of the tacos, the filling falling from one side of the tortilla as he had what could only be described as his taste buds having an orgasm, “fuck, this is good.”
Rudy smiled, cheeks going rosy looking at Soap, he had half a mind to be embarrassed.
“I did,” Alejandro replied.
“He didn’t,” Simon rolled his eyes, he didn’t eat, only drank the liquid amber Alejandro placed in front of him. Probably bourbon, he remembered Simon mentioning he liked it.
They started an easy conversation after that, Rudy going back into the kitchen and coming back with another plateful that Soap devoured just as fast, helping it down his stomach with beer and too soon his phone chimed, a message from Price telling him he needed something done.
“I have to get back to work,” he told them, blocking his phone and putting it back in his trousers, “but I need the loo first.”
“That way,” they all pointed in the same direction and Soap couldn’t help but laugh and follow their pointing fingers.
It had been years since Soap had so much fun, probably when his marriage was still the fulfilling adventure it was supposed to be, but he decided not to dwell too much on it and after washing his hands, he went back.
“He’s nice,” he heard Rudy say and Soap stopped dead in his tracks, not wanting to eavesdrop but also not doing much to avoid it.
“I know,” Simon replied.
“You do know he’s wearing a ring, right?” Alejandro asked and it made Soap look at his ring, he closed his eyes and remembered the “For eternity” engraved on the inside. What a joke.
“He’s in an open marriage,” Simon said, husky voice soft and maybe a little choked out.
“Is that wise after Roa—” Soap heard a ‘thwap’ and recognised the sound as Rudy hitting Alejandro with the towel, again.
“I’ve moved on, it’s been years,” Simon replied in a whisper that Soap had a hard time catching.
“I just wondered. Didn’t he also say he was in an open relationship when he cheated on y—” another ‘thwap,’ and that’s when Soap decided to make his presence noticed.
“You ready?” Simon asked him and Soap nodded and after saying his goodbyes to the couple and assuring them that he’d be back, they finally left.
“It started a bit rocky but by the end of it, I realised I had fun like I hadn’t had in ages and that night, going to sleep in an empty house didn’t feel so bad.
For a few days after that, i didn’t really hear much about Mr Silver Fox, though he always made sure to send me at least a text to let me know he was okay, tho he did tell me he had some stuff coming up so at least it didn’t feel bad, plus it gave me time to think if I should tell my husband or not about him.
On one side I didn’t want to because even with all the fun I had, I felt dirty, like i was cheating on him — but on the other, I wanted him to know that I was also putting myself out there and that he wasnt the only one who... well, who could *get* it but him not coming back home made it difficult for me to do it.
That is until I found out he’d introduced *her* to our mutual friends and only because my bsf’s bf told me he saw them all at our usual pub a few weeks ago and that changed things.
“So,” he went for nonchalance and failed spectacularly at it, “how’s everything going with...” he didn’t even know her name.
“Candy?” Steve said, looking up from his phone with his coffee halfway to his mouth, what kind of name was Candy, “all good.”
It was weird for Soap to see him. After so many days and nights crying and thinking about what he did wrong for his husband to look for someone else, having him in the house, "eating breakfast" with him and seeing him sitting at their kitchen table felt surreal.
His phone chimed before he could say something else to fill the silence.
From: Simon Tinder Silver Fox
Good morning, sweetheart. (7.23)
To: Simon Tinder Silver Fox
U finally remembered i exist? (7.24)
From: Simon Tinder Silver Fox
I’m sorry, love. I’ve been busy. (7.24)
What are you doing now? (7.24)
I want to see you. (7.25)
He grinned stupidly. The last ‘good morning' text he’d gotten was from his mum but only because she needed something. Steve had never been one to bother with that. Even before they got married.
He put his phone down on the kitchen counter near the sink where he was having his coffee while standing, not wanting to be close to his husband.
“I’ve...” he tried, “I’ve been seeing someone, too.”
If he thought Steve would beg him to close the marriage right then and there in a fit of possessiveness and jealousy, he’d have been sorely mistaken.
“Aw,” he said patronisingly, his eyes not leaving his phone as he got up from the chair, leaving the dirty mug and plate on top of the table for Soap to clean, “that’s good, baby,” he finished and left.
The sting in his eyes turned into tears as he heard Steve getting into his car and leaving and before he knew it, he’d fallen to his knees on the kitchen floor, lungs burning with the effort to breathe.
“So, I told him. Maybe a part of his mind thought that I could never get someone else and when i told him I did, he didn’t believe me... probably thought i was trying to get him back or to get him to close the marriage and while Mr Silver Fox made me really happy, i wanted my husband back, but in reality, he didn’t feel like my husband anymore.
And I don’t even know why I wanted him back, maybe for the normalcy of it but like... me k*lling myself over him? Was that normal? Having to work the whole day and then going back home to work even more?
Was that the normalcy I wanted?”
Soap tried not to dwell on it, on the fact that his husband didn’t feel like his husband anymore, that for Steve, the years they were together had been for nothing because Soap knew him, Soap knew that he was a calculating man, that every conversation they had had about “the topic” had been planned to perfection. He probably knew what Soap was going to say during that first conversation before he opened his mouth and had probably thought about it for months, if not years before the idea fully formed in his head.
And Soap? He wondered when he’d become a half-cooked, old-fashioned housewife.
For so many years he blamed his mum for staying with his father when she knew he was unfaithful and still decided to suffer by his side and irreversibly traumatised his siblings and him but wasn’t he the same now?
If you asked Steve—no, he wasn’t because they were in an open marriage, a modern, jealousy-free marriage, the peak of free love, monogamy wasn’t in human nature, right?
“Hey, beautiful,” someone tapped on his shoulder through his opened window and Soap had half a mind to not speed into the incoming traffic, the traffic light still red.
“Simon,” he took handfuls of air, “are you mad?”
He laughed—it was probably the first time Soap had seen him and heard him laugh instead of just chuckle—and then got in his car.
“Where are we going, Johnny?” he asked, putting the folder he’d been carrying on the back seat of Soap’s car, almost as if he belonged there, it made Soap smile.
He was wearing another expensive suit and if Soap wasn’t mistaken a different Rolex. He still had no idea how he’d gotten lucky enough that his first date in 8 years was with a man like Simon.
He called Soap beautiful, and he wondered if Simon had ever looked at himself in a mirror.
High cheekbones, skin like ivory, big amber eyes, blonde hair that curled at the ends, an upper lip plumper than the lower one, built like a brick house... Gaz had called him ‘an absolute unit’ and he was 100% right.
Truth be told, he was out of Soap’s filthiest fantasies. Steve, a black-haired beanpole, had been the exception to his rule, and look where that had gotten him.
“I’m on my way home,” he replied as the traffic light changed to green, he wondered where Simon’s car was, thinking about him walking around town was already absurd enough.
Simon hummed, “Take the next left here,” he said, and somehow after a few more directions, they ended up in the underground car park of a huge apartment building.
“Where are we?” he asked, grabbing his phone to let Steve know he was probably going to be late but ended up changing his mind when Simon opened the door for him to go out.
“Johnny,” Simon offered his hand, and he took it without a second thought and didn’t let go even as they walked to the lift and apparently up to the penthouse.
“Are we in your flat?” he asked as the lift went from first to second to fifth to tenth to the seventeenth floor and up until it stopped at “PH”.
When the lift opened its doors, Soap’s jaw fell to the floor.
It looked like one of those rich guy’s penthouses from American movies and just for the faintest of seconds, Soap thought about what his sister had told him of the BDSM book she’d read ages ago about a millionaire and a reporter or something like that.
It was the kind of place you dreamed of in school when you thought you were going to become a rich bachelor and have all the girls you wanted.
“You want something to drink?” Simon asked him, tie askew around his throat, the picture perfect of a businessman home.
He had to repeat the question before Soap’s brain could catch up to it, still amazed at the sheer amount of money you had to have to get a goddamn penthouse in the middle of the town.
“Uh... no thanks,” he said, all thoughts of what he was making for dinner flew out of his mind as he looked at the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room as Simon left for just a second.
“You look very tense,” he told him when he came back and before Soap could reply, he felt the hurt of the morning conversation with his husband still constricting his chest in pain until Simon hugged him from behind, his chest to Soap’s back and that promptly shut down all thoughts of his husband. “You didn’t reply to me when I told you I wanted to see you this morning,” he whispered directly into Soap’s ear.
“Uh…” he said smartly, “I had… a little quarrel with my husband, I'm sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologise for,” Simon kissed the side of his neck.
So far, their contact had been limited to just hands, hand-on-hand or hand-on-covered body and while they had talked extendedly for weeks before their first date, Soap didn’t think they were close enough for physical contact, mostly because he wanted to keep himself faithful to a husband who had way over a month without pretty much coming home.
“Simon…?” he said tentatively and moved his head to the side and almost as if magnetised, their lips came together in a kiss that left Soap breathless.
He didn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed. Since their arrangement started, all intimacy with his husband had stopped, no matter how much Soap had tried to start something and truth be told, he was desperate for contact for the feeling of being wanted, of being loved, of being desired.
“Tell me to stop,” Simon said, just as breathless, one hand possessively around Soap’s midriff, the other one cupping his face and keeping it to the side to kiss him properly.
“I don’t want you to stop,” he replied instantly, and it was like a dam breaking and letting everything spill.
Simon turned him around completely, his hand trying to touch every inch of his body, from his hips to his back to his arse and finally, they settled for lifting Soap and throwing him on the couch, their mouths connected every second of it.
“Simon!” he moaned, cock hard in his trousers, desperate for a touch—but Simon gave him more than that.
“Johnny,” he replied in kind, unbuttoning him and fishing his cock out and without much begging, none at all, he swallowed Soap’s cock in one single move.
His body spasmed and shook uncontrollably as the tight heat of Simon’s mouth enveloped him whole.
Even before they had opened the marriage, for Steve to at least think about giving him a blowjob, Soap had to beg him for days, try to convince him and more often than not, it never worked.
“I’m…” he tried to talk but the words never left his mouth and the only thing he could think of doing was to push Simon’s bobbing head away but as soon as Simon looked up at him, a crease between his eyebrows as if mad Soap had even thought of prying him away, Soap went off and in no time he was spilling down Simon’s throat who swallowed the last drop as Soap could do nothing but shake and cry, his belt clattering loudly against the button of his trousers.
“You’re delicious,” Simon told him, tongue lapping at the remnants of the cum on his softening cock.
“Th-thanks?” he finally found his voice, hands reaching to close his trousers, but Simon didn’t let him, slapping him playfully and smirking at his wide eyes.
“I’m not done with you, sweetheart,” he said, one of his canines peaking from behind his smirk, “we’re just getting started.”
Soap had had his fair share of experimenting back in uni, that was what uni was for, right?
He’d had threesomes, and foursomes and that one time he stumbled upon an orgy, and the number of tongues and fingers and cunts and cocks he’d had inside of him, on top of him, in front and behind of him, and over him, could not compare to the sheer pleasure Simon inflicted on his body, lips burning a path over his dress shirt from his mouth, down his chest to navel and finally veering to the side to bite his naked hip.
“Si… Simon,” he moaned wantonly and felt Simon’s smirk widening.
“You okay, love?” he asked, leaning over him to kiss him breathless.
Soap nodded, tasting himself in Simon’s mouth, he nodded so hard, that he got dizzy and almost came again as he heard the throaty laugh Simon gave him.
He started unbuttoning Soap’s dress shirt, now covered with sweat. It wasn’t as frantic as with the trousers, instead, he took his time.
The brush of his fingers on his naked chest raised goosebumps along his skin. He felt overstimulated from head to toe, Simon’s smell enveloping him fully.
“I’m gonna ruin you for him,” he whispered, and Soap almost passed out with desire. It had never been like that with Steve, their sex had always been vanilla, even when constant, and their kisses barely had any heat on them.
Soap wondered how long he’d been so dissatisfied with his sex life without noticing and his part of the brain that still loved his husband thought that maybe Steve was right and that maybe opening the marriage had been the best decision at that point in their lives.
“What are you thinking?” Simon asked him as he kissed the side of his neck again, leaving soft bruises that Soap knew would disappear at the end of the day.
“Nothing,” he lied, hands finding their way to the small of Simon’s back.
“Is it him?” he asked again, and Soap nodded. “You want to stop?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly and his whole body locked tight as Simon inclined back on the couch. Soap was resigned to the fact that he was not made for a life of casual sex and started rearranging his clothes, but Simon stopped him again.
“C’mere,” he said, extending his hand to help Soap sit next to him.
“You’re not kicking me out?” he said dumbfounded and Simon cocked his head in confusion.
“Of course not,” he shook his head and Soap thought that he even looked scandalised at him for thinking that. If it were Steve, he would’ve given Soap the cold shoulder for days until Soap pretty much offered himself to him.
“I'm sorry,” he said anyway, and Simon shook his head again.
“Tell me what you were thinking,” he asked instead and extended his arm to put it around Soap’s shoulders.
“I don’t…” he swallowed thickly, “I don’t want to think about him or anything else right now.”
“I can help you,” Simon said, a heat in his voice that made Soap shiver. Every word, every movement, every touch from Simon drove him crazy in a way that he didn’t know was possible.
He loved his husband; he did, but the connection he felt with Simon? It was something he’d never felt before. To be so utterly and completely undone without touching the other, it sounded out of a romance novel.
“Help me,” he whispered, and barely finished talking when Simon turned to the side and grabbed him by the hips, making him yelp in surprise. “What are you doing, you caveman?” he laughed and Simon… he laughed, too. A rumbling sound from his chest that made Soap’s insides tingle.
“I’m helping you,” he said and with a strength he didn’t think possible, Simon raised Soap by the hips and sat him on his lap and immediately started kissing him.
He moaned as Simon raised his hips at the same time that he lowered Soap heavily on his hard cock, the fabric of both their trousers feeling uncomfortable between them but he was too lost in the kisses to care; on Simon’s hands back to wandering over his body and settling on his arse, grabbing it hard and squeezing just as much.
“You’re so beautiful, Johnny,” Simon murmured in between kisses as they humped the other, “so beautiful.”
“Come off it,” he replied, throwing his head back as Simon mouthed and bit and kissed his neck and shoulders, moving his dress shirt away to ravage his skin.
“Ever since I saw your pictures on Tinder,” he bit harder and possessively at that, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Why?” Soap genuinely asked.
Gaz had chosen all the pictures and didn’t let him see the whole profile until it was done and Soap who trusted Gaz with his entire life knew he’d made the right choice as the requests started piling up. Overwhelming but as Simon pinched one of his nipples, Soap knew it was worth it.
“Look at you,” Simon said, pushing him softly to arm’s length, his eyes looking Soap up and down, a hunger eating the amber of his eyes until they turned almost black, “Alejandro was right, you’re gorgeous.”
“S-stop,” he stuttered, moving his hips to feel the outline of a hard cock and, accidentally, also Simon’s phone in his pocket.
“I wonder,” he said absentmindedly, and Soap could do nothing but writhe in pleasure on his lap. “I wonder if you’re tanned all the way,” he peaked into his half-opened—and now tight again—trousers, “or if you have tan lines.”
He turned back to the side again and threw Soap on the couch, again.
Soap ‘oof’ed’ and barely caught Simon as he threw himself on top of him and took off his trousers and pants in one single move—something that not even Soap had managed to do without getting them stuck to his feet or knees.
Simon chuckled on top of him and when Soap followed his line of sight, he noticed the evident change of colour on his pubic area.
“Maybe I should take you away,” he said, kissing the curls at the base of Soap’s prick, some of it still sticky with his previous orgasm, “to a beach where you can tan naked, where only I could see you,” he grabbed Soap’s left leg and put it on his left shoulder and started kissing the inside of his thigh, “where I could make you mine with no eyes on us, where you could scream my name until your throat burns...”
“Simon,” he moaned loudly as Simon bit the sensitive skin there.
“If this is how you scream because of a little bite,” he licked the forming bruise, “I can’t wait to hear you when I’m inside you.”
“Yes, please!” He gasped and Simon smirked cruelly.
“That what you want, Johnny?” he asked, “to be impaled on my cock? To have me so deep inside of you that you feel me in your throat?”
“Si-Simon, yes! Please, please!” he begged, raising half his body to meet Simon in a desperate kiss that left him even harder than before. “Please.”
“Gorgeous, Johnny,” he cooed, softly placing Soap back onto the couch, “so docile for me. Are you going to let me take care of you? Hm?”
He nodded, tears streaming down his face, the consuming feeling of being wanted tore through his body. The fact that this mountain of a man wanted someone like him, someone that not even his husband who had promised himself to Soap, had wanted…
“Focus on me sweetheart,” Simon brought him back to reality, eyes filled with as much want as Soap felt, but eyebrows upturned into a worried look.
He nodded again, completely naked on the couch, with only his shirt stuck to his arms as Simon kneeled between his legs, fully clothed, tie even more askew with all the movement; his cock and phone tenting the front of his expensive trousers.
“That’s right,” Simon reassured him as he closed his eyes and let himself feel Simon’s voice reverberating on his whole body, “it’s just you and me here.”
He heard the click of a bottle he recognised very much and as carefully as they both could with the desperation running through their veins, Simon pulled him towards his lap and circled his entrance softly with two fingers, teasing at first, finding what places made him squirm the most.
It was weird to feel fingers that weren’t his own, Steve never bothered with this part anymore, though Soap did do it for him every now and then and now Simon, looking at him as if he was something worthy of being venerated, made him remember that this was part of the foreplay, of the lovemaking and that he missed it. The proximity.
“You ready, sweetheart?” Simon asked him and he nodded, nodding was what he’d been reduced to for the last hour, aside from the little moans and exhales that escaped him with every feverish touch of Simon’s body on his.
The first finger went in easily, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t felt it. He did, all the way to his core.
“Simon,” he opened his eyes and looked up at him, “more.”
It was another broken dam as Soap saw Simon’s pupils dilate to an impossible sight, no more amber only tar-black darkness.
“You’ll be the death of me,” Simon growled a second finger joined the first one and then he started scissoring them and curling them alike while Soap could do nothing more than writhe in pleasure.
Two fingers turned into three and three into four and even if Soap insisted he didn’t need that much preparation, he still enjoyed Simon’s rumbling chuckle as he fished his cock and his phone from out of his trousers, except there was no phone and what Soap had been feeling the whole time was Simon’s hard, long cock. A Prince Albert like a cherry on top of an ice cream.
“Still think you didn’t need that much preparation?” Simon smirked and because Soap was tired of being the one speechless, he leant forward just enough to grab Simon’s shirt and rip it apart, buttons flying left and right, the tie tangling with the neck of what was left of the dress shirt.
“Shut up and fuck me!” he said with a determination that he hadn’t felt in the last 8 years or so.
“Johnny, Johnny,” Simon singsonged, “could it be there’s a little brat underneath all that doubt? Hm?”
Instead of replying, he grabbed Simon’s tie and pulled them both down onto the couch, “fuck. Me.” He demanded.
Simon kissed him softly, “you’re perfect for me, Johnny,” he said lining himself up. “So perfect…” and then pushed in at once.
He screamed and threw his head back on the armrest of the couch, the pleasure-pain his favourite part and it felt like Simon had read his mind.
“Is this what you wanted?” Simon asked him, pulling all the way back and then in again, just as hard, “is this what you were begging for?”
“Yes,” he moaned, “yes, please yes, yes!”
Simon was ruthless, he found what Soap liked the most and zeroed in on it until he left him a trembling, crying mess and then continued anyway, the overstimulation was killing him in the most pleasurable of ways, and Simon seemed to thrive on it.
“You’re so beautiful, Johnny,” he kept on repeating as he ruined Soap. He had no idea how he’d face his husband after this, and his fucked out, cock drunk brain even thought about not facing him at all, but he knew it was just a matter of time. “You’ve no idea how… how beautiful you are.”
Soap had heard of dry orgasms, but only as something that happened to the friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, but when his fifth orgasm wracked through his body as the day turned to night and Simon drilled deep into his body, he got first-hand experience of how one felt.
At the end of everything, Simon had been right, he was just getting started.
The whole problem, on my husband’s part at least, with the whole open marriage started when he met Mr Silver Fox, I never really planned on introducing them, “we agreed” that our partners would be for ourselves and not the other, but I’d like to believe it was meant to be. Like a wake-up call for him.
Maybe for me too...
“Hey, sweetheart,” Simon said on the other side of the line and the grin that escaped Soap made some of his coworkers look his way.
“Simon,” he replied, walking towards the lab area, fewer people there at that time of the day, “I’m at work right now.”
“I know, Johnny, I'm sorry.” He apologised but Soap didn’t have it in him to be angry, not when his thighs were still bruised and his lower back still hurt.
“How come you called?” he asked instead, seconds away from twirling his hair, Simon’s voice tickling his insides in all the right ways.
“Remember a week ago when you picked me up?”
“You mean when you scared the living Jesus out of me and got into my car at a traffic light without my permission?” he smiled, remembering the day Simon threw his damn back out and then asked him to be his ‘boyfriend’ as Soap cried overstimulated on the couch.
“Yeah,” Simon chuckled, “that day.” He hummed to let Simon know he was listening, “I was carrying a folder with me, I think I might’ve left it in your car.”
“Uhm…” he looked to the sides as if his car was there, “is it important?”
“Very.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied, and they hung up. He’d gone from Simon Tinder Silver Fox on his phone to just Simon, it was a small thing but not for Soap, for him it was everything.
“Steve?” Price asked him as soon as Soap got close enough to his desk. Price was probably the second person who liked Steve the least, the first one being Gaz, third and fourth would be Farah and Alex.
That should have been reason enough for Soap to not pursue his relationship with Steve, but he was so blind in love that now it was too late.
“Mmm… kind of?” he said for the lack of something better to say. Price rolled his eyes but let him go. He only had one more hour to go to clock out anyway.
When he got to the car park of their building, he didn’t even need to open the door to see the folder sitting on the back seat. It was a simple yellow carpet, it definitely didn’t look as important as Simon made it seem, but if his boyfriend said it was important then it was.
He let Simon know about the folder and in seconds he replied with the address of the company.
They had never really talked much about their jobs, he only knew that Simon worked in a cybersecurity company, which he remembered because Steve worked in the same stuff and Simon knew that he was a chemist.
But then, when Simon sent the address, he regretted them not talking about it as soon as he noticed it was the same company Steve worked at.
“Mr. MacTavish!” The front desk clerk greeted him as he entered the lobby, “Steve, uh… Mr Vance didn’t tell us you were coming,” she looked nervous, but Soap didn’t dwell on it, he’d never managed to learn her name and now he cared even less.
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” he smiled and headed for the lift before she could say something else.
Like his flat, Simon’s office was on the highest floor and when the doors opened, and a waiting room greeted him, he realised why that was as there was a single door after the waiting room with a plaque that read Simon T. Riley C.E.O.
The door opened and Simon walked out of his office with his Rolex, his expensive probably Italian suit and a smirk that showed one of his sharp canines.
“Johnny,” he met Soap halfway and despite the shock, Soap still opened his arms, their bodies crashing into a bone-breaking hug.
“Did I make it in time?” he asked Simon, his arms still around Simon’s shoulders, making him stand on his tiptoes. One of the things he liked the most about Simon was how tall he was and how the arch of his feet hurt after they separated.
“You did, sweetheart,” Simon replied as he lifted Soap into his arms again and kissed him breathlessly, “thank you.”
“What the fuck?” someone said behind them, and Soap didn’t need to turn around to see who it was, “John.”
“Mr Vance,” Simon replied sternly looking at Soap’s husband and untangling himself from Soap, though he left one of his arms around his midriff.
“Steve,” Soap said.
“What the fuck are you doing here, John?” Steve ignored Simon’s warning and walked towards them.
“Mr Vance,” Simon said louder but Steve looked like a man on a mission and his eyes had zeroed in on the contact between Simon and Soap.
“John,” he repeated and before Soap could retort, he grabbed him by the arm opposite of Simon and started dragging him towards the lift.
“Let me go,” he tried to shake Steve’s hand but didn’t get to try again when Simon broke the contact easily.
“Mr Vance,” Simon tried for a third time and luckily, it worked. Simon didn't look like a person with much patience.
“I’m sorry my husband bothered you, Mr Riley,” he said, grabbing Soap a second time. “We’ll be out of here, soon.”
“I think that’s for Johnny to decide,” Simon replied and looked at him.
“I just came to drop off the papers,” he told Simon, snatching his hand back from Steve’s grip, “I’ll be on my way.” He walked towards Simon and hooked his arms behind his neck to bring him down to his own height.
“You alright, sweetheart?” Simon whispered and kissed his cheek. “You wanna go back to my place tonight? Maybe we can go to Rudy’s for a little while. They’ve been asking about you.”
“That’s okay, I need to handle this.”
Simon nodded and it had been a while since Soap had a partner who trusted him so easily.
“John,” Steve pressed and that’s when Simon hugged him back and lifted him for a more passionate kiss.
“Call me.” He put him down. Soap smiled and started walking towards the lift without waiting for Steve.
“You’ve no idea what you have,” Simon said but Soap was sure he wasn’t talking to him and if Steve’s red face now next to him was something to go by, Soap knew he understood the same.
His cheeks hurt all the way down to the first floor because he couldn’t stop smiling.
“...because it turns out the man I’d been dating for the past month is my husband’s boss and we both found out when I had to drop off some documents he left in my car and my husband caught us kissing outside Silver Fox’s office.
As soon as we got home, the first thing he did was *demand* that we close the marriage, as if it had been my fault we opened it in the first place and when I refused, he started telling me that I did it on purpose, which believe me I wish I had but honestly with how much I was hurting, revenge was the last thing i was thinking of.
And I refused not only because now I’m happy with how things are but also because i don’t want to lose what I have with Mr Silver Fox, I don’t think I’ve ever felt a connection like the one i have with him, especially if i compared it to the one I thought i had with my husband, but now I feel bad for letting this get so out of hand.
Another problem though is that I think I have *feelings* for Mr Silver Fox and its making me doubt my whole marriage and I fear that at the end of the day, I’ll have to choose between one and the other and it scares me how easily that choice would be to make.
So, TL;DR my husband coerced me into opening our marriage but now wants to close it because he found out I accidentally ended up dating his boss.
Am I the arsehole for refusing to break up with my him after my husband demanded me to?
PS: sorry about typos.”
To: Simon
Hey, Si! Offer to Rudy’s still on? (22.02)
From: Simon
For you? It will always be, sweetheart. (22.02)