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The air in Captain Price’s office was thick with the rich, earthy scent of his cigar, a hazy blue cloud clinging to the dim light that spilled from his desk lamp. He sat deep in a well worn black leather chair, the material creaking softly under his weight as he surveyed the four soldiers standing at attention before him.
They were a study in contrasts: the brooding intensity of Ghost, his iconic skull balaclava a stark white in the low light; the lithe, watchful energy of Roach; the rugged, grinning confidence of Soap; and the disciplined, stoic presence of Gaz. Price took a long, slow pull on his cigar, the ember glowing brightly before he exhaled a stream of smoke, eyeing the men in front of him. “At ease, gentlemen." His voice rumbled, his voice a low gravelly command that held the tone of no argument. “We’ve just concluded a particularly… taxing operation. I’ve called a debrief.”
The four men shifted, relaxing their postures only slightly, their training too ingrained to fully let go. Their eyes remained fixed on their Captain.
“This debrief-” Price continued, his gaze lingering on each of them in turn, “is about stress relief. About trust. About following a direct order to its most… pleasurable conclusion.”
His hand, large and calloused, drifted down to the front of his trousers, palming the unmistakable, hard ridge straining against the fabric. “You will provide the show. I will provide the direction.”
A charged silence filled the room. Soap’s grin widened into something predatory. Gaz’s stoic expression cracked with a flicker of heated curiosity. Roach’s breath hitched, a soft, barely audible sound. Ghost simply gave a single, slow nod from behind his mask, his dark eyes glittering with intent.
“Soap, Gaz.." Price commanded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “..start.”
It was all the permission they needed. Soap turned to Gaz, his hands instantly finding purchase on the other man’s hips, pulling their bodies flush. There was no hesitation, only a raw, building hunger. Their mouths crashed together, a frantic, open mouthed kiss that was all clashing teeth and sliding tongues. Kyle moaned into it, his own hands coming up to tangle in the strands of Johnny’s mowhawk, at the back of his head, pulling him closer, deeper.
Price watched, his own hand working slowly over his clothed erection, a low groan escaping his lips as he puffed on his cigar, palming himself through the tough fabric with his free hand.
“Roach. Get on your knees, kid. Show Ghost what that mouth of yours can do."
Roach dropped smoothly, his knees hitting the concrete floor with a soft thud. His hands went to Ghost’s belt, deftly unbuckling it, then working the button and zipper of his trousers. Ghost’s breath came out in a sharp hiss as his cock, already fully hard and leaking from watching Soap and Gaz, sprang free. Roach didn’t wait. He leaned forward, his tongue swiping a long, wet stripe from base to tip a couple times before taking the entire length into his mouth in one smooth, practiced motion like the little bug of a slag he was.
Ghost’s head fell back, a guttural, choked sound tearing from his throat as he bit his own bottom lip. His gloved hands, usually so controlled, fisted in Roach’s hair, not guiding, but holding on, his hips giving an involuntary, shallow thrust upward. The symphony of their sounds filled the office. The wet, slick noise of Roach’s mouth working over Ghost, the ragged breathing and muffled groans from Soap and Gaz as they ground against each other, their kiss having evolved into a fierce, full body rut. Price finally unbuttoned his own trousers, freeing his thick, throbbing cock. He wrapped his fingers around it, a shudder rolling through his broad frame at the contact. He began to stroke himself slowly, his eyes darting between the two pairs, his own private theater of desire.
“Switch." he ordered, his voice thick with lust.
Soap and Gaz broke apart, their lips swollen and glistening. Understanding flashed in their eyes. Johnny and Kyle desperately undressed each other, articles of uniform aimlessly hitting the floor in a scattered motion. Soap moved behind Gaz, pushing him forward until he was bent over Price’s heavy oak desk, papers scattering, oens falling, file folders hitting the floor. Soap spat into his palm several times, slicking his own cock before pressing the broad head against Kyl's tight entrance. Gaz braced himself on the desk, his knuckles white, a low, anticipatory groan rumbling in his chest as Soap pushed inside, slowly, teasingly, filling him. Gaz’s back arched, a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure ripped from his lips, his grip on the desk getting tighter.
At the same time, Price pointed a finger at Ghost. “Him. Now.”
Ghost pulled himself from Roach’s mouth, a string of saliva connecting them for a brief moment. He hauled Roach to his feet, spun him around, and pushed him down over the arm of a leather sofa, just quickly shoving down Roach's pants. He positioned himself behind Roach, his own need evident and urgent. He didn’t bother with the theatrics of it, he just simply thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one savage, perfect motion as he pressed against Roach’s ass. Ghost had a leg propped up on the leather sofa, to dive in deeper inside of Gary. Roach cried out, his body seizing for a moment before pushing back, demanding more silently.
The room was a mixed sounds of sex. The sharp, rhythmic slap of skin against skin from both couplings. The deep, guttural groans of the men taking their pleasure. The breathy, desperate moans of those being taken. Price watched it all, his hand a blur on his own cock, his cigar forgotten, smoldering in the ashtray. “Harder." he grunted, his own hips pumping into his fist. “Don’t hold back. That’s an order.”
Soap obeyed, hammering into Gaz with renewed, brutal force, each drive of his hips punctuated by a choked gasp from the man beneath him. Ghost mirrored the pace, his grip on Roach’s hips iron tight, each thrust driving Roach’s face into the leather sofa, his own masked mouth open as whines and groans left from him.
Price could feel his own climax coiling tight in his gut, a building inferno. His eyes were glued to the scene, to the perfect, obscene beauty of his elite soldiers coming completely, utterly undone at his command. He saw Gaz reach his peak, his entire body stiffening before a raw, broken, and surprised shout was torn from him as he spilled across the dark wood of the desk. The intense clenching of his body tipped Soap over the edge immediately, his own release hitting with a shuddering groan as he collapsed over Gaz’s back, still lightly thrusting into Gaz as he filled him up, riding out his own orgasm completely.
The loss of one rhythm was overtaken by the other. Ghost was relentless, his pace becoming frantic, erratic. Roach was mewling, a continuous stream of desperate, pleasured sounds, his own hand working frantically between his legs, the tip of his dick, leaking.
“Now.” Price commanded, his voice a rough crack of thunder, his own orgasm imminent. “Finish it.”
Ghost’s thrusts became punishing, then stuttered. He buried himself deep and stilled, a long, ragged groan emanating from behind the mask as he emptied himself inside Roach.
The ragged groan that tore from Ghost’s throat was swallowed by the wet, desperate cry that erupted from Roach as his own climax was ripped from him. His body convulsed, back arching violently as his release painted the leather sofa in thick, white stripes, his vision whiting out from the overwhelming sensation of being so utterly filled and used. His entire being focused down to the point where Ghost was still buried deep inside him, milking the last shuddering pulses from his own orgasm.
The room fell into a heavy, panting silence, broken only by the slick sound of Ghost slowly withdrawing from Roach’s spent body. The air, already thick with cigar smoke, was now laden with the musky, primal scent of sex and sweat. Captain Price’s hand never stopped. His fist was a piston on his own slick, throbbing cock, his broad hairy chest heaving. He watched, his piercing eyes missing nothing as his soldiers came down from their peaks. Gaz was slumped over his desk, Soap’s weight a heavy, comforting press on his back. Roach trembled, collapsed over the sofa’s arm, while Ghost stood above him, one hand braced against the backrest, regaining his breath as he moved his foot off the leather sofa.
Price’s voice cut through the haze, low and gravelly, thick with his own unsated need. “Did I say you were dismissed?”
The effect was instantaneous. Four sets of eyes, hazy with pleasure, snapped to attention. Bodies, languid and satisfied, tensed with renewed focus. They were soldiers. And their Captain was not yet finished with them.
“Back in formatio." he growled, his stroking pace increasing, a clear promise of his intent.
They moved with a discipline that was both jarring and intensely erotic, standing before him once more. Their arousal, which had briefly ebbed, was swiftly returning under the heat of his commanding gaze. Gaz’s stoic features were flushed. Soap’s confident grin was replaced by a look of raw, hungry anticipation. Roach’s submissive posture was more pronounced, eager for direction. Ghost’s masked head was tilted, his dark eyes fixed on Price’s working hand, a fresh intensity burning within them.
Price took a final, long pull from his forgotten cigar, the ember glowing like a demon’s eye in the dim light before he stubbed it out. He never broke eye contact with his team.
“The show’s not over-" he stated, his voice dropping to a husky, intimate register that vibrated through the room. He let his gaze travel over them, a general inspecting his finest weapons.
“Soap. On your knees. Right in front of me. I want that beautiful mouth of yours hard at work."
Soap dropped without hesitation, his knees hitting the floor with a solid thud, his eyes locked on Price’s cock before they fluttered up at the Captain.
“Ghost. Get behind him. You know what to do.”
Ghost moved behind Soap, his gloved hands settling on Johnny’s hips, his own renewed erection pressing against the firm muscles of Soap’s backside.
“Gaz. Roach. The floor. Now.” The command was sharp, leaving no room for question. Gaz guided a still trembling Roach to the center of the floor where Price could see them. Roach got on his back, Gaz moving in to get Roach in the mating press position. Gary already let out a soft sound.
Price leaned back in his leather throne, the material groaning in sympathy. He spread his legs wider, giving his audience a perfect view. “All of you. Move.”
Soap needed no further instruction. He leaned forward, his tongue lashing out to swipe a broad, wet stripe from the base of Price’s balls all the way up the veined, aching length of his shaft. A grunt, deep and satisfied, rumbled in Price’s chest. Soap’s mouth was hot and expert, his lips forming a perfect seal as he took the head of Price’s cock, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip.
A deep and low groan came from Ghost as he pushed into Soap, sheathing himself in one smooth, practiced motion. The movement pushed Soap forward, forcing him to take more of Price into his throat. Soap groaned around the thick intrusion, the vibration shooting straight up Price’s spine like a lightning bolt.
On the floor, Gaz was already moving, his hands gripping Roach’s hips, his thrusts deliberate and deep. Roach’s face was turned toward Price, his eyes glazed, mouth hanging open as he watched his Captain being serviced. Each of Gaz's powerful drives rocked Roach’s body against the cold hard floor, a living, breathing part of the obscene ballet.
Price was the epicenter. His hand joined Soap’s mouth, not guiding, but feeling the corners of it as he took his throbbing cock, his fingers tangling in Soap’s mohawk as he watched the others. He saw the flex of Gaz's back muscles with every thrust, the way Roach’s fingers scrambled for purchase on Gaz's back, digging into the other's flesh. He heard the wet, rhythmic slap of Ghost's skin against Soap’s, the muffled, choked sounds Soap made around his cock.
It was a feedback loop of pure, undiluted pleasure. Each gasp, whine and moan from Roach seemed to make Gaz thrust harder. Each deep groan from Ghost as he buried himself in Soap made Soap’s mouth work with more desperate fervor. And every skillful suck, every swirl of Soap’s tongue, brought Price closer to the edge. His control, usually iron clad, was fraying. His hips began to piston upward, meeting Soap’s mouth in a shallow, frantic rhythm. “That’s it-" he rasped, his voice barely recognizable. “Fucking take it. All of you.”
He was close. So close. The coil in his gut was wound taut, a spring ready to snap. His world narrowed to the hot, wet pressure of Soap’s throat, the visual of Gaz hammering into Roach, the sounds of Ghost losing his own disciplined composure.
“Ghost-" Price choked out, his eyes locking with the skull masked man behind Soap. “Don’t you dare hold back. Fill him.”
The order was all Ghost needed. His thrusts became erratic and deep, his own control shattering. With a low guttural cry, he slammed deep into Soap and held there, his body shuddering violently as his release crashed over him, filling up the inside of Soap. The intense clenching of Soap’s body around him, the raw, unfiltered sound of Ghost’s climax, was the final trigger for Soap. His own orgasm hit him, his body seizing, a deep, muffled moan vibrating around Price’s cock, gripping Price’s muscular hairy thighs. The sensation was electric. Price’s head slammed back against the headrest of the black leather chair.
“Gaz, now! Do it!”
On the floor, Gaz’s rhythm fractured. With a final, brutal thrust that made Roach scream, he buried himself to the hilt, his own release pumping into Roach as his face tipped toward the ceiling, muttering and groaning. The sight of them all coming undone, the feel of Soap swallowing around him, the symphony of their collective ecstasy- it was too much. Price’s climax exploded from him, a wave of pure sensation that came out of nowhere. “Fuck!” he groaned, his hand tightening in Soap’s hair as he pumped his release deep into the waiting, eager mouth, pulse after devastating pulse, until he was spent, collapsing back into the leather, chest heaving, vision spotted with black. Soap made sure to swallow it all down, mouth trailing off of Price's cock with a slight 'pop' sound, leaving a trail of spit and cum as he pulled back.
The only sound was their ragged, collective breathing. The room was a wreckage of their obedience. Price’s eyes, heavy lidded and sated, drifted over his team. Soap on his knees, Ghost slumped over him, Gaz draped over Roach on the floor.
A slow, deeply satisfied smirk touched Price’s lips. He reached for a fresh cigar, his voice a low, smoky rumble that promised this was far from over. “At ease, soldiers.”