He Most Definitely Did, If Not More Piercings God Knows Where.

Ugh, this is making my tooth rot with how sweet it is😭😭

If John is operating on heavy pain meds, then he has the urge to be close to someone. That someone is often Nikolai, but he can't just be close. He needs to be touching him.

So, it isn't uncommon if John is on the good stuff to walk into a room to find him mid conversation with Nikolai and clutching the Russian's pinky in his hand.

Nikolai’s favorite thing on John is his thighs(and his ass, but that’s a story for another day).

He loves the plump firmness of them, loves to squeeze them or feel them squeeze him, and whenever John’s sitting somewhere or laying down, he’ll lay his head right in his lap and doze off or read a book.

…

Whenever he’s eating John out, he’ll purposely change paces to feel him clench around his head and grind against his face, barely having the luxury of hearing those deep, wanton noises the Captain makes as he approaches his inevitable climax.

If he suffocates, he’ll do it with dignity.. and spend on face.

Nik admires John.

cw: possessive Nikolai; sexual content at the end.

Nik didn't much like festive parties. He wasn't a fan of Christmas anyway; a wanton celebration of capitalist greed, he had mumbled at John as they had shaved shoulder to shoulder in the hotel bathroom. John had chuckled in that low, gravelly way he did, blue eyes crinkling, and Nik had decided he would make love to him when they got back. Dressed like penguins - John's words - they had headed out into the cold night, hailing a black cab to take them to the more auspicious centre of London to an entirely different hotel. Nik has offered to purchase a suite there for the night but John had balked at the cost.

The dinner had been uneventful, with small talk and a few side glances in Nik's direction, and now they mingled around a marquee erected on the back of the hotel's gardens. A small oasis in the center of a city once choked with black smoke and industry. Nik might have admired the beautiful orangery or spent some time looking at the various art pieces in the reception hall, but he simply couldn't tear his eyes away from John.

He was, truly, magnificent.

His tailored suit fit him perfectly despite his earlier derision, from the flare of his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, the fall of his trousers hanging in well-cut, straight lines to a pair of Oxfords, buffed and polished to within an inch of their lives. Nik would expect nothing less.

John wore his dinner suit with an understated class. Not like the vacuum tight monstrosities some of the other officers were walking around in; pinched jackets around athletic waists, slim fit shirts, trousers like drainpipes, stretched so tightly that the crease down the front was invisible. They showed off a distasteful amount around the crotch, calf and thigh, in Nik's opinion; the material snagging and pulling in all the wrong places.

Why spend thousands on a suit just to look cheap? Coiffed hair, too-white teeth, synthetic, clingy fabrics; the earmarks of superficiality. Perhaps he was biased, but not a single one of those bleach-toothed smiles held a candle to the crinkled blue eyes and charmingly crooked grin of his captain.

Nik stayed at the edges of the party, propping up the bar for the most part. He watched John drift from group to group, ticking off the list of people he wanted to talk to as well as the list of people he knew he should talk to. John hated politics, but he was good at it when he had to be; attentive, diplomatic, guarded and dangerous. Nik could see it in the way he moved across the room, his shoulders squared, his head up, his chest out; a predator plucked from the wild and placed among domesticated dogs.

John's hand nursed his whiskey glass, his little finger tucked beneath it, forefinger tap-tapping in the lull of conversation like it did against the side of his M4 when he was thinking. The same John, different hostile environment.

Because they were in an outside marquee, John could smoke to keep his hands occupied, and he placed his glass aside to light up the cigar he plucked from his dinner jacket. One of the Cohibas Nik had gifted him with as an early present. He was flexing. A subtle flex, but a flex none of the less. Nik shifted his thighs apart and sat his elbows back against the bar, quietly preening. He provided for what was his. John never went without.

He watched John's lips against the cap, the soft pink slightly chapped, and tried not to get lost in the memory of what they felt like against his. The anticipation of what they would taste like as they surrendered to him later. John exhaled grey smoke to the side, a few stray whisps curling from his mouth, like a dragon with embers in its chest. He settled it through the slant of his fingers beside his whiskey glass and took another sip, those kissable lips glistening, tongue gliding over the lower in search of the last drops and Nik had to adjust in his stool.

Nik couldn't help but love it when that mouth smiled, talked, laughed, and think about kissing it, sliding his fingers behind John's neck and cupping his strong jaw in the cradle of his palm. The way John would melt against him, so pliant when touched by a man who knows how to handle him, how to pluck his strings and tease out the sweetest notes.

Because John needed a firm hand, didn't he? No matter how cleverly he disguised his rough edges with smart suits and a comb. Tonight, John was perfectly groomed, so tidy. His beard trimmed, his hair cut and brushed into place, but there was one thing John couldn't buff, polish, trim or press out of himself.

The eyes.

Nik could see their light, their fire; he watched them darken with concentration, brighten with laughter, the lines at the corners distinct, distinguished. They glittered with that same intelligence that let him slip behind his current facade, but also with cunning, and a barely suppressed wildness simmering below the surface; fierce, uncontrollable. While John might think his judgments were discreet from others, Nik could see him weighing some of the men before him and finding them wanting. It was clear in the tilt of his shoulders, the press of his lips.

They were wanting. Both in what they lacked compared to their better standing before them, and in their desire to have him. Nik wasn't the only man in the room whose gaze had lingered, admired. Coveted. Nik wanted to gouge their eyes out every time he spotted one. How arrogant they were to think they were even worthy. Their hunger was palpable. There was one watching John now. Blond hair slicked back, his hand buried deep in his pocket as his hips tilted in John's direction.

As the lounge singer they had hired for the evening picked up his microphone for his first song, Nik watched the Blond try his hand. John greeted him affably, bouncing on his toes and toasting his drink. Nik watched as the Blond introduced himself and was pleased to see no recognition on John's face. They began to discuss a recent operation; the Blond started boasting. John was unimpressed, one eyebrow cocked, and Nik smirked.

They talked for a little longer, the singer lapsing from one song into another, and the Blond touched John's elbow. Nik watched a subtle tension roll across John's shoulders, his core tightening, his fingers turning whiter around his glass, and then, with practised self control, John forced himself to back down from high alert. For the first time, those blue eyes slid across to Nik, tracing down his body to the spread of his legs, heels of his shoes hooked on the bar stool. They lingered, clearly admiring, and Nik spread himself for appraisal.

Nik saw the moment John decided to play with him. A twitch at the corner of his lips, a flash of those cunning blue eyes before they turned back to the Blond. A dangerous game. The Blond that had now become John's prey. His body language changed subtly, shoulders and chest opening up from where they had been guarded, and then John returned the touch; a brush of the fingers across the elbow. Luring him in for the kill. The Blond leaned close to talk a little quieter and John tilted his head, watching through his eyebrows, listening with a faint smile.

The lounge singer changed songs; a slow, sultry version of 'You Put A Spell On Me'. Perfect, Nik thought wryly. Because John had cast a spell on every man in the room that was inclined towards another man in their bed. Nik watched The Blond touch John again, on the hip this time, and vaguely considered how easy it would be to bundle the arrogant shit into the back of a van and cut that hand off with a machete.

Nik finished his drink and slid from the bar stool. He made his way over slowly, adjusting his cufflinks as he approached his target from behind, looming large at his back. "Ah, Nik, this is Major Dustin Houghton, Royal Anglian," John said, and Houghton startled as he looked around to see Nik standing over him, six inches taller and several miles broader. "Major, this is Nikolai, my husband."

"Your...?" Houghton started, eyes dropping to Nik's left hand, where his silver wedding ring wrapped his finger.

"Da," Nik said flatly, watching as Houghton's offending hand retreated into his pocket. "And I have come to collect my husband for a dance."

"Urf, Nik, really? The Major and I were just discussin'--actually, what were yer proposin', Major? Somethin' ya wanted to show me in yer room..."

"Oh, uh, nothing. Absolutely nothing of import. You two, uhm, ahh, I think that's... Yes, that's Frank from the Mercian, you two have a lovely evening."

"Yeah, 'course." John watched him leave over the rim of his whiskey glass, content in his victory. Or so he believed.

Nik took John by the elbow to steer him towards the small floor before the singer. A few other couples were swaying together amongst the jumble of bodies, and Nik took John's glass and placed it on a nearby table, setting his cigar over the top before encircling him, hands finding his narrow hips and drawing them close.

John placed a hand on Nik's chest and the other on his arm, smirking, ready to gloat. "Did I make ya jealous?"

Nik cocked a brow and leaned in to John's neck. The kisses he placed beneath John's ear, slow, lingering, teased a soft noise from John's chest, his hips bumping forward to Nik's. "Nyet, John. Jealousy is for boys and weak men who do not know their own worth. He could not take you from me. He is not worthy of you."

Nik felt John coil with pleasure against him. He could imagine how his toes were curling in his shoes, the hairs on his arms standing on end, as Nik's voice passed over his skin like a caress.

"Naw, ya don't think so?"

"I do not need to think. I know."

"Olrigh', not jealousy, then what? Why the Russian 'itman act?"

"I am possessive," Nik murmured. "But you know this, which is why you sought to... antagonise me by misbehaving."

"Yeah?"

Nik felt John's smile against the side of his face and nuzzled a kiss into his neatly trimmed beard.

"I am tempted to reclaim you in front of them all."

"Right here, eh? Give 'em all somethin' to gossip about."

"Da. I would spread your legs right here, and make you scream my name, leave you fucked full of me, so they all know to who the great Captain John Price belongs to."

"Fuckin' filthy," John purred, his voice thick, fingers kneading in Nik's shirt as their bodies swayed together, the deep, sultry voice of the lounge singer a pleasant hum in the background. Nik's thumbs circled on John's hips, his nose tracing over the frantic, desperate pulse in the side of John's neck. Their touches were discreet, Nik's voice low, but the illicit nature only made their blood run hotter.

"You would like them to watch you take my cock, see how beautiful you are, knowing that they can never have you as I do."

"Bloody 'ell," John rasped, and Nik knew he had won their game. He simply needed to deliver the final blow and claim his prize.

"They would see how easily you surrender yourself to me," Nik whispered, running his open mouth over the line of John's beard to hover over his lips. "Just as you are now."

"Nik..." John whispered before Nik took his chin and kissed him, sweeping his other hand to the small of his back. Nik held John close as his tongue swept between his lips and claimed what was rightfully his. Tasted the cheeky tongue, the soft lips soaked in whiskey, taking possession of everything he had admired from afar.

Nik drank down the soft moan of pleasure, his own body warming as John gripped at him, trying to pull as close as possible. They moved together, so deeply tuned in to each shift of muscle, the slide of expensive wool and cotton beneath their hands, the heat of their bodies burning through as their hearts fluttered.

John liked being hunted, but he liked being possessed even more. To know that Nik would pursue him through whatever storm or trial until he was back where he belonged: in Nik's arms. And once there, to have Nik demonstrate exactly to whom he belonged. Nik needed it as much as he did it. The thrill of possessing the one thing in the world that no one else could ever. That no amount of money could ever buy; the most beautiful man to walk it.

Nik could feel the hum of want thrumming through the strong body in his arms, primed and eager, and he knew he would be purchasing that expensive hotel room after all. He drew back, sucking gently on John's lower lip, and admired those hazy blue eyes. The song has drawn to an end and faded into another. John was thoroughly at his mercy.

"Come, I am bored of this party."

John swallowed and managed a nod, his lips were red, kiss swollen and glistening and Nik needed them stretched around his prick.

Nik took his hand and pulled him from the hall to reception, where a quick flash of plastic bought them the expensive studio room with a sprawling king-sized bed and champagne in the fridge. Nik kissed John in the lift, sliding a hand beneath his shirt to feel the heat of his skin and made him stutter out tight gasps with sucking kisses on his neck, beneath his ear. The door to the room had barely clicked shut before their clothes were thrown off, and they tumbled into the bedroom.

John swallowed Nik down greedily once it had sprung free from his boxers, lips stretched impossibly wide around its girth, and Nik mussed that too neat hair until he found the untamed man that stalked battlegrounds at his side, thrusting slowly into John's spasming throat as he squirmed on the mattress.

When Nik turned him onto his back and spread his thighs, John arched, offering himself desperately, pleasing in a low, husky rasp, cock drunk and needy. He fisted the sheets as Nik claimed him, Nik's name punching out of his chest in a low, gravelly moan that curled like molten heat in Nik's gut. Those same eyes that he had watched hunt the party now misty and soft, tamed a little by pleasure, but no less bright.

"Who do you belong to, John?" Nik whispered, dragging his thick cock in and out in slow, deep thrusts.

"You, Nik, fuck... you, please."

"Da... Me." Nik thrust in hard and licked the cry of ecstasy from John's mouth.

A short tibbit since it’s 2 in the morning and I can’t sleep, but I think Price and Nik take snow days as a day to relax and be around each other, whether they be on base or at home.

On base, Nik will come into Price’s office with some tea and his favorite snacks, and they’ll sit together and talk or just bask in each other’s presence.

At home, they’re in their cozy pj’s and they’re on the couch watching something. Or maybe they’re reading books to each other while the heat creates a soothing warmth that makes Price melt into Nik’s side and makes Nik bend to accommodate Price in a comforting way.

Point is, they both like being warm in the Winter, but having each other beside them is even better.

Legit foaming at the mouth over this (series?). Damn near about to have a stroke out of pure excitement for the next part.

nobody asked but here's Part 2 of Mafia Boss Nikolai / Hitman Price. Part 1.

Nikolai was currently pinned to the ground by a very strong Englishman. One that he's grown accustomed to for a few weeks now. Noticing his presence in every room, the little hints he leaves behind of his visits to Nik's quarters. Nikolai didn't feel threatened by it, even now, with a knife pressed to his throat.

"Go on, then. Do your job." Nikolai smiled under him. They came close a few other times but the hitman was unlucky. Nikolai always found an escape in this little cat and mouse game they had going on.

Nikolai was also aware of the effect he had on the other man. His grin grew wider, so it wasn't a fruitless effort after all. Judging by the wide blown eyes of the man on top of him and his quickened breathing. Did he hit a nerve?

Price was unfocused, staring at Nikolai's face so close to him, his words echoing in his head. This was finally it. He came here to finish the job and collect his prize. After all that running around, Nikolai was finally under him, defenseless.

But it felt wrong. Something was off. Why was he grinning? Price brought the knife closer to his throat, nudging the soft skin under his hands. He was aware of the movement on his lower body but decided to ignore it. Nikolai was playing with him. Mocking him. Price hated it. Hated how his brain became cloudy just because the man grinded against him once. Goddamn him for being so gorgeous. Fuck.

Price snapped out of it by the sounds of footsteps rapidly approaching. It had to be Nikolai's men. That'd explain why Nikolai was so relaxed. Price grit his teeth before drawing himself back, cursing under his breath. "Damn it."

Nikolai had that shit eating grin on his face still, not even bothering to get up from the floor, he looked up to him. "Until next time, then, John."

Price froze on the spot. Hearing his real name from the man he was supposed to kill sent a shiver down his spine. Nope. This job was fucked from the beginning. It shouldn't have come this far. Price dreaded the implications of it, the inevitable stain on his record. This man was too much for him.

He had to move before he could think too much about it. Until next time it is, he thought to himself.

**

It's been a few weeks after that occurrence, Price laying low for a while to gather his information (and his head) together. He had to take a step back. Nikolai, the actual fucking target, was too much of a distraction for him, with the way he became so frustrated that he'd end up emptying a load into his hand while angrily muttering the Russian's name on lonely nights.

Price turned the key and entered his apartment, too caught up in his own head to notice the signs of an intrusion. The lights were off, but before he could turn to switch them on, he found himself being pushed against the wall with force.

The wind was knocked out of him, Price in shock, as strong hands grabbed him by the throat and pulled him close. "Hello again."

That voice. "You.." Price rasped out, struggling to breathe as he squirmed under the man. It was him.

"Been a while, thought I'd pay you a visit." He had the same teasing tone in his voice, which Price loathed.

Price struggled for a while, trying to get himself free from the mans hold, but the hands on his throat were too strong, taking his breath away and fogging his mind. He decided to focus on his breathing instead.

"Now, now, I'm surprised you didn't notice the car in front, I expected you'd barge in with a gun in your hand, but I guess you were distracted, hm?" Nikolai kept teasing. He could feel the man grinning despite the darkness in the room. Price hadn't noticed he came closer, bodies pressed together now, too busy trying not to suffocate.

"You and I are going to have a talk, but I need you to behave, okay?" Price could feel Nik's breath on his face, his expensive cologne hitting his nose, dizzying him even further. He wanted more of it.

Nikolai patted his cheek before he released him, taking a step back to let the man collect himself, currently in a coughing fit. "I know you won't do anything stupid. So how about we sit down?" Nikolai turned his back and walked into the living room, taking in the surroundings. He didn't turn on the light, just observed Price's living space as he sat down on the couch. The dim light coming from the streets were enough for the two to see each other.

Price fell to his knees, trying to collect his breathing after almost getting his windpipe crushed. Fuck, the man was strong. And he'd be lying if he said that didn't set something on fire in his stomach. Having his body so close to his, their groins pressed together, the hot breath on his face and the threatening hand on his throat. The sick thrill of it all. He was fucked.

Nikolai greeted him with a smile as Price finally entered the room, following his lead and sitting down across him. He could kill the man right here, right now. Nikolai came to him, willingly, not even armed. After all that chase, after everything. It was all confusing to John. He needed answers before he finished the man.

"Why are you here?" Price said flatly, his voice a bit hoarse, staring directly into the other mans eyes. He felt uneasy under Nikolai's gaze, it was as if the man was considering something, looking him up and down. Didn't help the fucking butterflies in his stomach when the man licked his lips thoughtfully before speaking,

"I believe we haven't had the chance to talk properly before, no?" Nikolai replied with a smile. Price could tell he was enjoying this.

"No, reckon I was too busy trying to do my job."

Nikolai paused for a moment, "Ah, right. Your job. I assume it's killing me." Price kept staring at him.

He continued, "I must say I'm flattered, John, nobody has ever come this close to actually finishing me, you know?" He didn't break the eye contact. "Someone must really want me dead." He chuckled.

"Why are you here." Price repeated again. He didn't know where Nikolai was going with this, and he was getting tired of the mind games. He hated everything about this. Failing at his job, his own frustrating feelings towards the man sitting in front of him, the stupid grin on his face and his annoyingly charming accent, he hated it all. He wanted to wipe that grin off his face with a punch, or a kiss, whatever worked. Damn it.

"You see, this isn't my first time dealing with people who are out to kill me. I've handled many of them, finished them with my own hands. But you, I must say, you've picked my interest over the last few weeks."

"Yeah? What's so special about me, then?" Price replied.

"You're.. how to say, persistent. Normally I would have you executed after the first attempt, but your methods are.. different. I am quite charmed by you." Nikolai said, his eyes never leaving John's. "Too bad you want me dead, I could've used someone like you in my... business." Price knew that's not what he meant. He'd be stupid to think this was a simple "job offering".

"You came all the way here to compliment me?" Price was amused. He didn't know how to feel about the fact that his interest in the man was clearly mutual.

"Da. You could say that." Nikolai grinned before continuing, "But also it'd be nice if you told me who sent you after me. I would hate to ruin such a pretty face like yours just to get that information."

Price swallowed, the words sending shivers down his spine. If he had any doubts about it before, this cleared all of them.

[aaand I got stuck. The dialogue kept going, as bad as it was. Just so you know they're definitely fucking. The tension was evident and they both want to fuck each other stupid. thanks for reading this far???????????? i doubt anyone would tbh]

Goodness gracious.

Sorry for asking this question, but recently I really wanted to read something very sad (mmm... suffering ☺️) so I'm turning to you.

How would John react if he caught Nikolai with someone else? What would happen to their relationship then?👉👈

Oof. This one hurt.

cw: Nik cheats; I genuinely don't think he ever would, fyi. This was more an experiment in 'what if'. I thought about doing it from the perspective of 'they're not exclusive and Nik has had mixed messages', but I went for maximum pain.

Price had wanted to surprise Nik. Turn up at his hotel room, take him out, fall into bed for a bit, and then go pick up the kids from his sister's. The usual. He hadn't expected that day for his world to be ended by a pair of blue eyes and a jawline he could cut paracord with. Maybe ‘ended’ was a bit dramatic. Sure, it felt like it, but he had survived worse. He kept telling himself that. Over and over.

He'd never been one to cry, but he had blubbered like a baby behind the steering wheel of his Landie. The image of Nik with the blond in his arms, the hickie on his neck, kept circulating in his head like a taunt. It was there now as he stood in his office, Nik in the seat behind him, bright behind his eyes as he stared into space.

Price couldn't even look at him. When he did, he wanted to feel indignant rage, but all he felt was hurt. Misery. Betrayal. He needed his anger but all he wanted to do was cry more, and he no longer felt safe showing Nik that soft underbelly. He kept his face turned away.

“John, I…”

“I need t’ get tested,” Price said quietly, like Nik hadn't even spoken.

“I wore protection. I would not put you at risk of…”

“Really, Nik? Can I trust ya word on that?”

The words cut deep. Nik knew Price couldn't. It wasn't just their relationship he had discarded, but twenty years worth of implicit trust. The idea that Nik always had his back had vanished in a cloud of expensive cologne. Price lifted his left hand and ran his thumb over his wedding band.

“It was a mistake. I was foolish, I…”

“How many mistakes? Once, twice?”

“Twice.”

The knife sank just a little deeper. “So, you had to make sure then.”

“John…”

“Just him or have there been others?”

“No others.”

Price didn't respond. He just couldn't trust him. His thumb nail caught in one of the grooves of his wedding ring. Til death do us part. Did this count? It felt like death. His heart felt like it was about to give out any minute. “What did I do to deserve it?”

“You did nothing…”

There it was. The surge of rage. Price turned to look at Nik for the first time, his fists clenched and shaking. “Don't fuckin’ lie to me. No one shags some poxy bit on the side if they feel like they're eatin’ well at home. So what? What was it?”

Nik gazed up at Price with those warm brown eyes that had made Price fall in love with him. Had those eyes looked at the other bloke like that? Price felt his own prickle with tears again, but he made himself look.

Nik said nothing at first, and then his chin dropped as he sighed. “You are a brilliant father, a loving husband, but you are… busy.”

“Busy,” Price repeated, and he hated how his voice broke around the word. He turned away again, drew in a stuttering breath, the back of his wrist to his mouth.

“I made a… selfish choice. I…”

Price had taken a different role with the Army so they could have a family. Consultancy with a few away missions. It meant he commuted to base, but he could still do the bulk of domestic shit kids needed. He was busy. Busy building the life he thought Nik wanted. Perhaps they hadn't been intimate enough for a while, or…

“I will understand if you want a…” Nik swallowed, “...a divorce.”

“No,” Price said. “You ain't gettin’ off that easy. The kids need their dad, even if he's a lyin’, cheatin’ cunt. They don' need t’ know that. They worship you. And ‘m not doin’ the single father shit.”

“Then, how do we… what…”

“Open marriage. Can't trust ya not to do this again. You can shag who ya like, so can I. Wear protection, get tested every month. Kids don't see or get told any different. Then, when they've flown the nest, we sign the papers.”

Nik sat in stunned silence for a while. Price couldn't turn to look at him because a tear had escaped. The truth was the thought of being touched by anyone else disgusted him. He felt dirty now, like someone else’s dick had somehow touched him through Nik. Nik swallowed, and spoke finally. “I do not want anyone else.”

“At the moment. You jus’ got caught. Give yerself time.”

“John, please…”

“Is it the thought of someone else shaggin’ me, Nik? Is that what's hurtin’? Good. I hope it fuckin’ does.”

Fuck, he might just go and do it anyway. Find some random bloke at a club and let him go at it. Nik would see it, smell it. Maybe feel even a tiny shred of what Price did now. The thought of another man's hands on him made Price feel sick. He only wanted Nik’s. His heart broke all over again and more tears tracked down his cheeks.

“Then I would like to go to counseling,” Nik said.

“Whot for? So ya can get better at lyin’ t’ me?” Price asked, incredulous.

“We have another twelve years together. Maybe more. They do not need to be twelve years of suffering.”

“Shoulda thought of that before gettin’ yer dick wet in some twink.”

“Not for me, John. For you.”

“Get out my fuckin’ office before I decide collectin’ on your life insurance is a better shout.”

“John…”

“Now.”

The chair legs scraped as Nik stood. For a terrible second, Price felt his weight linger near. His entire body ached for those big arms to wrap around him, offer comfort to his broken heart, but he knew that act had been contaminated now. Poisoned. Nik had taken even that.

As the office door closed softly, Price managed to hold it together. The moment the footsteps had faded, he grabbed the chair Nik had been sitting in and threw it across the room. By the time he'd finished, his office looked like the CIA had been in to turn it over. He sat in the middle of it, his knees clutched to his chest, and sobbed until he was dry heaving.

He'd survived worse. But this was the first time in his life he'd wished it'd killed him.

John Price who's tired after missions.

John Price who strips his gear haphazardly and slides on his last clean shirt and sweatpants.

John Price who rubs his face dramatically, huffs, and ignores the after action report he needs to finish up.

John Price who collapses on to the couch in his office, sprawled out on the thing that's almost too small for him.

John Price who doses off right then and there, not caring an ounce for his comfort otherwise.

John Price who barely cracks an eye open when the door to his office drifts open, the warm light from the hall seeping into the dark room, and a particularly exhausted Sergeant enters.

John Price who closes his eyes and just opens his arms, accepting the weight of one Kyle Garrick on top of him, wrapping his arms around the man.

John Price who breaths in time with Gaz as the smaller man shoves his nose into John's shoulder, to which John sighs contentedly.

John Price who doesn't open his eyes when the door cracks open again and the familiar presence of one sleepy Scotsman shoves his way onto the couch next to them, somehow, impossibly, perfectly. The warmth of one John Mactavish burrowing into his side.

John Price who moves his arm so that one is around Gaz and the other is around Soap, sprawled and wrapped into each other on the couch that's definitely too small for them.

John Price who hardly notices when the door opens again, and one silently tired Lieutenant sits on the floor, leaning back against the couch.

John Price who reaches over, gives the man's shoulder one good squeeze, and his hand is caught in the callused fingers of one Simon Riley.

John Price whose eyes scrunch in a smile when his hand is graced with one gentle press of lips before it's released.

John Price who sleeps warm and comfortable in his pile.

John Price who's tired after missions,

but never too tired for his boys.

John Price who eventually snores but all of them are too exhausted to move and are undeniably comforted by the noise anyway.

I like to think that when Price gets mad, he gets petty.

Oh, Gaz wants to switch his sugar out for salt? Seasonings of any kind are banned for a month.

Soap locked him out while it was raining? He’ll stand at attention outside during a thunderstorm until Price gets tired of looking at him.

Ghost hid a pack of his favorite cigars? He’ll hide his toothpaste, toothbrush, hygiene products, basically everything, and make him hunt for it.

But when Nik upsets him to the point where he doesn’t even want to talk it out, he’ll ban him to the couch until he gets sick at the lack of physical touch and huddles beside his husband on the small space.

Price riding Nik and milking him for everything he has while said Russian whimpers and whines because he’s overstimulated and is not allowed to do anything about it.

I think that Nik and Price enjoy thigh-fucking, Nik moreso than his lover.

Nik especially loves to get between John’s thighs after they’ve come back from the gym and one spent their time actually working out while the other spent their time fantasizing about the many positions they’d put their S/O in.

It doesn’t matter if John’s hot and sweaty, to Nik, it just makes everything easier because now he doesn’t have to waste time lubing up and can instead just slide on in!

If John gets overstimulated and tries to move his thighs apart, Nik will hold them together with all his might and speed up, causing his husband to cry out and whimper until he’s putty against his chest.