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visual aid

It's the way Gaz sets himself to lapping up his cum, nursing it out of Soap’s sore cunt, that breaks him.

"Fine." He says. "Next Friday, I'll touch you."

The end 🫡

Price is close, too. The tight heat of Soap's cunt is milking it out of him, dangerously close to finishing inside. He needs to pull out. He can't have his subordinate limping back to his bunk, cunt drooling out his captains load.

The thought alone is what finishes him off.

"C'mon you two, switch places," Price orders after a while, and they scramble to obey.

Turns out Gaz's cunt is just as sweet as his sighs. His thighs shake around Price's head as he cums, drenching Price's chin, his neck, probably his fucking shirt as well.

Price dives straight into indulging himself with long licks from Soap’s leaking hole up to his twitching clit, slurping on it. Just as wet and messy and fucking noisy as Gaz's cunt working his cock

Soap obeys. He's half held up by Gaz, half by his legs hooked over Price's shoulders and the back of the armchair, sitting on Price's chest and pulling his panties to the side.

When Gaz pulls back to gasp, Soap asks, "he feel as good as we imagined?"

"Better," Gaz moans.

And Price can't fucking take it anymore. "MacTavish," he orders, strained "Sit on my face. Can't touch, but my tongue is yours."

"That's so fucking hot, sir" Soap mewls at Price, watching his brother-in-arms get speared open by his captain.

Gaz's hips work harder until he's bouncing on it, leaning over to muffle his cries against Soap's lips in a sloppy kiss.

Soap watches as Gaz begins to rock on it, testing the stretch of his captain's thick cock. He clearly likes what he sees, grinding against the arm of the sofa as he keeps playing with Gaz's clit.

Gaz sinks down on Price's cock the instant the barrier is removed.

"Don’t you fucking dare," Price grits. He can’t stop him. Can’t throw him off without touching him.

But Gaz doesn't listen, whining, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry," between pleased little sobs.

There's no surprise that it's Soap who escalates things, always playing with fire. He reaches over under the guise of toying with Gaz's clit, only to slip his panties to the side.

It's not fraternization when Gaz's weight shifts and the tip slips inside, only as far as the elastic of his panties will allow.

Soap is watching intently, half-lidded eyes locked on Gaz's cunt, at how their captain's cock is threatening to breach him.

It's not fraternization if Price doesn't touch him directly.

It's not fraternization if he doesn't put it in, just lets Gaz slide his cock between those pretty wet panties and his even prettier, wetter cunt.

It has Price's head falling back, trying to keep his breathing steady as Gaz works open his fly and pulls his throbbing cock out.

"Knew you'd be packing, sir," Gaz says, cheeky glint in his eye as he grabs the base and angles Price against his clit over the panties.

Apparently, Soap can read his fucking mind. Because he dives down, soft lips mouthing up Price's neck to his ear, whispering "You're not touching us, sir. We're touching you, it's okay. It's okay," In his ear, biting the lobe.

Soap is right behind him, half on Price's lap, half on the arm of the chair, which resolutely does not accommodate three grown men.

Price's fists are clenched, fingernails biting his palms. He's not touching. He can't touch. It all falls apart if he touches them.

His sweet, obedient boy approaches instantly, Soap hot on his heels.

Gaz straddles Price's spread thighs, forcing his own wide enough for his captain to see the wet spot steadily forming at the centre.

Gaz's fingers are reaching for the waistband of his panties, going to tug them down. Price stops him, gets his attention with a whistle through his teeth.

Then he beckons Gaz over with two fingers.

This time, when Price reclines in his armchair and orders them to strip, they're wearing fucking panties.

Lacy, matching, sunset orange for Gaz and ocean blue for Soap.

Price's grip nearly shatters his glass. He sets it to one side.

Until he does.

It's a Friday night like any other. Price is exhausted and aching from another week full of bad guys and bullshit. Nothing some pretty pussy won't fix.

Three whiskeys deep, he's chomping at the bit by the time Soap and Gaz knock on his door.

He never changes the case after. He buries his face in his sergeant's combined musk, rutting into the mattress until all of his bedding is thoroughly ruined.

There's no contact between him and them. He won’t touch them. Never. Thats the line he simply wont cross.

Price has kept his discipline, hasn't so much as giving his aching cock a squeeze when Soap puts on a show of fucking into Gaz with his clever tongue, all while humping Price's pillow.

Price has always been a man of routine: a glass of something cheap after a long day, a cigar after another successful mission. And now - letting his boys play in his bed every Friday night, chastising them for insubordination every time they inevitably whine for his cock.

That's enough to content him. Just watching. Listening to the slick slide of their swollen clits against each other. Spitting down into the mess they're making of each other and letting them mewl for him. Soap's loud. Gaz has the sweetest sighs.

It's not fraternization, not really, not as far as his involvement goes. All he does is give the orders. And sometimes, after a few too many whiskeys, he'll order his pretty sergeants to strip down and rub their dripping cunts together on his bed.

Fraternization is strictly forbidden, punishable by court martial. And in Price's case, as a captain, likely a jail sentence, too.

But 141 wasn't established to play by the rules.

Price didn't choose Gaz and Soap as his sergeants for Taskforce 141 just because he knows about the sweet little cunts between their legs. They're both capable, proven themselves the best of the best.

And he isn't that much of a pervert. At least that's what he tells himself.

Anyone order Noble Pervert Price? No? Well too bad, that's what you're getting.

#pricegaz #pricesoap #gazsoap #pricegazsoap #dubcon

A thread:

The end.

Don't do drugs or join the military, kids 👍

All he cares about is Ghost hitting it just right, a gloved thumb finding his clit and rubbing until his legs are shaking, squirting all over Ghost's cock, ruining his bed.

And by the end of it, Soap isn't sure what he's more addicted to - the speed, or Ghost.