#pricegraves

[cod-dump]

Price: I think we should see other people

Nik: Again?

Graves: Trying to walk away from me doesn't get you brownie points because you're always coming back

Price:

[captain-mj]

Every time one of the 141 bullies Graves for being the shortest, he starts talking about the advantages like the fact that Price can pick him up while they’re Fucking and suddenly the joke ain’t funny anymore

[jgvfhl]

I kept forgetting to post this lol

Anyway!!! @cod-dump @midnight193 @totally-not-fandom please enjoy

[charcoalgrayswriting]

Just Give In

Price/Graves

Read on AO3 HERE!

Words: 2132

Summary: After the tank exploded, Graves was found alive, and now Price has some questions for him... and some very interesting and effective ways of getting them.

Warning: Non-con

The burns from the tank explosion still throbbed, not helped along by the various cuts and bruises Graves now sported from others trying to extract information from him. He had finally finished coughing up all of the water they waterboarded him with, when the door screamed open.

He knew that he was in for another round of pain. Graves’ head stayed tucked into his chest, too heavy and painful to lift, even to assess whatever new threat was in front of him. And maybe, he was trying to avoid the thought of more pain, more torture.

Deep voices drifted into his ears, bouncing around as he tried to focus on what they were saying, but it was pointless. Rotating his raw wrists in their restraints, chained to the arms of the chair, Graves impatiently waited for his newest punishment. His ankles had been similarly chained to the legs of the chair, and had become red and angry from all of his pointless struggling.

As the door screeched in protest, he heard the steady gait of his newest tormentor walking towards him. Slowly, the heavy boots came to a stop in front of him.

The new man slowly crouched down, tilting his head to look Graves in the eyes.

“Hello, Graves,” greeted the rough voice of Captain Price, arms crossed loosely across his knees as he studied the traitor.

“Ah, Captain, they sent you to me now, did they?” he huffed a hollow laugh, “Come to attempt to beat the information out of me?”

“And why won’t you just give in?” the Captain stood up, slowly walking around to the back of the chair. Price’s large body pressed up against the uncomfortable metal chair Graves was chained to.

His large hands started at Graves’ bare shoulders, causing him to stiffen at the gentle touch, flinching as they traveled to cup his neck. It would be so easy to kill him in this position. “It would be so much better if you would just give in.” the strong callused hands gently slid up and down the back of his neck before they came to cup his jaw.

Price tilted his head up to look at him, and Graves groaned as the back of his head was slowly lowered against Price’s firm stomach. Those rough hands held his face so gently, and after all of the beatings, he had no idea how to handle it. So Graves did what he always did.

He scoffed, “You say that like I don’t know the instant I tell you what you need to know I’ll be shot.”

Staring into his face, he saw the brief amusement flash across Price’s eyes. “Hm, I’m hurt you think so.” those sinful hands left his face, letting it list to the side, trailing down to play with the blond hair on his chest.

“I suppose I can’t change your mind…” the Captain trailed off with a sigh, “But I still need you to tell me what you know about Shepherd.”

Before he could even form a retort, those large hands graze his nipples causing Graves’ breath to stutter. He looked up to see a small grin on Price’s face, before he circled his thumbs around the sensitive peaks.

“You are technically marked as KIA, so I can do whatever I want to you.” Graves didn’t have to look down to know he was hardening in his briefs, and maybe if he didn’t look, just closed his eyes, he could pretend it wasn’t happening.

“Just give in Graves, and I will stop right now.” Price was offering him a way out, and he was so tempted to take it. Just give in, Shephard had betrayed him, Graves owed him nothing.

But it wasn’t about Shephard, if he thought he would survive it, he would give all the information he had on the man. Not that it was much, just a laptop back at base.

His silence must have given Price the answer he was looking for, because he flashed his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “Guess I just have to do this my way,” he muttered, pulling out a knife and cutting a hole in Graves’ briefs, the only thing he had been left in for the torture.

One of Price’s large hands wrapped around Grave’s cock, pulling it free from the dark blue fabric, stained in some places with his blood. Unable to face what was happening to him, Graves closed his eyes.

“You have such a gorgeous cock,” muttered Price, slowly dragging his hand up and down the supple flesh with single-minded focus, while the other hand fondled his left nipple.

In only a few short strokes, his cock was leaking all over Price’s hand, which he smeared with a rough thumb across his slit that had his back arching, a low groan tearing itself from his throat against his will.

“Huh, did you like that?” he kept his eyes shut as Price repeated the motion, hearing a soft chuckle from behind him. “Oh you definitely liked it.” he muttered as he dragged a slick hand down to the root and back up in slow even strokes.

Attempting to stifle the truly embarrassing noises Price was extracting from him, Graves bit down on his tongue. Hard.

The Captain made an unhappy noise, and the hand toying with his nipple left, and suddenly two fingers were shoved in his mouth, prying it open. “No, I need you to keep that gorgeous tongue of yours,” he chided gently, a third finger forcing its way in, Price’s pointer and ring finger holding his mouth open while his middle finger pushed his tongue down.

“Now be a good boy and don’t you bite my fingers,” he warned, and Graves’ eyes fluttered open as he made a pathetic pleading noise in the back of this throat, choking on the long thick fingers.

“Oh I should have guessed,” he muttered, “You like that?” he paused for a long slow stroke up Graves’s cock, “You like being called a good boy?”

Graves didn’t respond, kept carefully still, but that was answer enough for Price who, still smiling, hummed, “Most people think that torture is pain. Physical pain.” he let go of Graves’s cock, ignoring his confused noise, and flicked the inside of his leg right on a bruise for emphasis, “But there are all kinds of torture, that work better than pain, and are far more efficient.”

Returning his hand he sped up his hand, rough and sloppy, forcing Graves towards his first orgasm in months. His hips began to shift in time with the tight wet fist, the obscene sounds pushing him closer and closer towards the peak of his orgasm. Choking on the large fingers in his mouth, drool dribbling from his mouth, he shut his eyes tight, failing to see how one of the best handjobs of his life was torture.

Then it stopped, the hand on his cock left just as he reached the peak of his orgasm. The noise he let out was a pathetic cross between a whine and a shout, muffled by the Captains fingers, drool dribbling from his open mouth.

With a small hum, Price ran his right hand up and down Graves’s side, smearing his pre-cum all over his stomach. “See? Torture doesn’t have to be painful.” he paused with a small satisfied smile, listening to Graves’s panting.

“In fact, I intend to pleasure you so thoroughly, that you beg me to let you answer.” he grabbed Graves’s softening cock, beginning to stroke it again.

Graves let out a moan, muffled by Price’s hand. He knew then, that he would break. Pain was easy to handle. But this, Price’s warm body behind him, muttering sweet, filthy nothings into his ear, stroking his cock, this would cause him to crack.

He lost himself in the pleasure, shifting in time with it, and like last time, it stopped. “Can I trust you not to hurt yourself?” asked Price as he gently removed his fingers, “You’ve been so good, haven’t bit me once. Are you read to give in?” the hand that was in his mouth slowly pulled out, strings of drool continuing to connect them.

Graves gasped for air, chest heaving as he greedily sucked in air through his mouth. “Fuck you.”

Price clicked his tongue, “I guess I have some more work to do.” he wiped his drool slick hand on Graves’s chest, cupping his now semi dry hand under Graves’s jaw, just holding his head to his firm stomach.

Again, Price slowly started stroking his cock, Graves felt tears forming in his eyes, and he closed them as he panted, knowing he would be denied again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had lost count of his ruined orgasms, his body shook and tears spilled steadily from his eyes, squeezed tight against the painful pleasure. His hips tried to follow the obscene squelching as Price worked his cock like a master.

“Please,” he begged, his voice nearly gone.

“Hm,” the low hum rumbled through Price, who didn’t slow, didn’t stop his hand from moving as he replied, “I would love to let you cum, but you have to give in.” and pulled his hand away, leaving Graves groaning in the wake of another ruined orgasm.

Graves stayed quiet, the only noise he made was his exhausted panting as Price rubbed his thumb into the skin of his neck, across his pulse.

“Are you ready to give in?” Price’s thumb grazed his lip as he asked.

“Yes,” Graves whispered with a defeated sob. “Please,” he groaned and Price smiled kindly down at him.

“Good boy.” Price praised, and it felt so good that Graves let out a pathetic whimper.

“In my desk, there’s a secret compartment in the last drawer, with a laptop, the password is qd-ct1oV.E4Bna2 it’ll tell y’all everything you need to know.”

The Captain stared at him for a few seconds, judging the validity of his words, “See, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Price’s hand returned to Graves’s cock, slowly sliding his fist down to the root.

“Please,” he whispered, another pathetic tear escaping. He licked Price’s thumb where it brushed across his lip. He was going to die today, he wanted something to reflect on. Something warm and kind and nice.

Price seemed to understand what he was asking for, and leaned down to kiss Graves long and filthy, tilting his head up with the hand on his neck. The kiss did not stop Price’s hand from pleasuring Graves, who had long ago stopped being able to keep in rhythm, his legs shaking from exertion as he tried to follow Price’s hand.

Finally, when his orgasm approached embarrassingly quick, Price didn’t slow down or stop. He sped up and Graves’s eyes slammed shut as he finally came with a loud shout, muffled into Price’s expert mouth, his mind whiting out as he went limp.

When he finally came, the hand on his cock didn’t stop it just kept slowly moving, working him through the best orgasm of his life. He slumped into Price, his head only supported by the hand on his neck and Price at his back.

Slowly Price pulled away from the kiss with a satisfied smile, still keeping a hand on his neck, rubbing small soothing circles into his collarbone with his thumb. The hand on his cock left, and he pulled a tissue from somewhere and began to clean Graves up.

Another few tears fell from his eyes at the kindness, the hand on his neck a comforting weight.

Price whispered to him as he finished cleaning, “You did so well, such a good boy.” causing Graves to let out a low whine, deep in his throat.

“You see? Giving in makes everything better.” Price’s other hand came up and wiped his face clean of tears and drool, his heartbreakingly gentle touch causing more tears.

“It’s all okay now, you did such a good job giving in.” he stopped wiping Graves’s face and slowly let go of his neck, allowing it to slide limply to the left.

He walked around to the front and Graves realized that Price was not as unaffected by their session as he thought. There was a rather noticeable tent in his cargos.

“I could help you with that, if you like.” he offered, jutting his jaw towards Price’s bulge.

“Maybe later, I have to follow up on your information first.” Price’s smile became devilish. “But I will be taking you up on that offer.”

“Better be quick then,” Graves’s smile was taunting, “I’ll be dead soon.”

Price hummed, “Not if I have anything to say about it. I might just keep you around.” and with that, and a final suggestive smirk, he left the room, still hard.

Banner from @cafekitsune

[escapedramatica]

"free use graves is good but what about free use switch price? takes care of his boys instantly whenever they need it, fucking them or getting fucked" - Anonymous

this honestly is not super heavy on the free use aspect I guess, sorry

[Ghost/Price, Soap/Price/Gaz, Alejandro/Price/Rudy, Price/Graves, 508 words, under the cut]

He gives as good as he gets, truly. They've never met anyone so dedicated to leaving them satisfied.

But more importantly, they've never met anyone so capable of reading their moods and knowing exactly what they need, sometimes before they even need it. Sometimes.

Never with Ghost, though. Ghost is practical, no one's as in-tune with what he needs as he is. So when he finds wherever Price is— office, bedroom, gym, conference room, rec room, it doesn't matter— and he slouches down in a chair right where Price can see him, long legs stretched wide, just waiting. Price is always quick to understand that Ghost expects him in his lap, fast.

Then he'll sit, impassively, as Price unzips his jeans and pulls him out. Price is confident, Ghost doesn't need submission or demureness. He wants Price to ride him, hard and fast, until Ghost cums and Price is left wanting. Ghost likes to sit back and relax while Price bounces himself like a living fleshlight, His only purpose is to make Ghost feel fucking fantastic.

Gaz and Soap are prone to seeking Price out at the same time. It's devious, how they like to sandwich him between them. They often bicker about how they want to fuck him, who wants his mouth, who wants his hole, who wants his dick.

It's not uncommon to find Soap pounding Price from behind, Gaz under him, just enjoying the ride. Soap is partial to spitroasting, just so he can lick into Gaz's mouth over their Captain's sweaty back. Price won't complain.

There are rarer moments, like when Alejandro and Rudy can swing a visit and make their way to Price's bed in the middle of the night. There's nothing like waking up to Alejandro blowing him, while Rudy warms a handful of lube. Those nights are long. The couple love to tease, especially while working Price open enough to take Rudy's entire fist.

He cums on himself at the feeling of Rudy's knuckles stretching his rim. Alejandro's hands tugging at Price's nipples just enhances the sensations. But that's not the end for him. They won't stop until both their cocks are snug inside of him, even if it takes until dawn breaks.

Graves' preferred method of torture was to summon Price to his office. He'll usher Price into his desk chair after telling him to remove his pants at the door. He'll coo about how Price needs to be so good for him. All Price has to do is sit still.

Of course, that's easier said than done when Graves sinks onto him. It's hard not to fidget or buck his hips with Graves' hole squeezing rhythmically around him. Graves doesn't do it intentionally, it's just that when he focuses on work, sometimes his body tenses without him even realizing. It's easier to relax himself and focus when using Price as a dildo.

When he gets done with his work, he orders Price to fuck him. On the chair, over the desk, on the floor, wherever.

How could Price deny?

[octopiys]

Can I request Graves x Price with some hurt comfort (the betrayal didn’t happen), Graves betrayed Shepherd and lost a lot of men and goes to Price for comfort. Have a lovely time zone friend!

🪶

I GOTCHU

I've never written pricegraves before this was fun :D hope you're having an awesome time zone!

Pairing: Captain John Price x Commander Philip Graves

Word count: 2.8k+

CW: Blood, violence, implied death, Shepherd

I Know It

Las Almas was cold. Was it the rain? No, he didn't feel that, sliding down his skin, unaffected. It wasn't the wind. He could hear it outside the windows that wouldn't close.

Shepherd's call had ended, his laptop sitting discarded on the bed next to him. They were supposed to secure Sin Nombre, get the missiles back, and keep their heads down. Not any of this.

The General's warnings echoed in his mind, seeping any warmth from his soul. He didn't have a choice.

"They're getting too close to the problem, Philip. You need to lock it down." He had said.

"You can't expect them to not ask questions, General!" He snapped. "You know that we'd never be that lucky, someone was bound to catch on. No off-book op ever stays hidden, you know that!"

"I don't think you understand what we're dealing with here. What I'm dealing with. This is the immediate future, Commander, I need you to shut it down and take care of it."

Philip stopped dead in his tracks. Take care of it.

Take care of it.

"You ain't asking me to-"

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. That's an order." Something in his voice told him everything he needed to do, and that he had no choice. "I'm sending you reinforcements. Make sure you have it managed, Philip." It was them, or it was him.

How could he possibly kill them? All of them? Soap, Gaz, Laswell, the Lieutenant, the Vaqueros.... Even-

No. That was his final straw, he wouldn't. That's against everything he ever fought for, everything he opposed. He thought when he enlisted he knew what war he was fighting in.

He was wrong.

His mind started running a mile a minute. What could he do? He could run, leave it all behind, vanish off the face of the earth, and hope his Shadows could do the same. Hope that the task force made it out alive too. But that was cowardly.

Philip Graves was not cowardly.

The Task Force hadn't even returned from the oil rig yet. That gave him time.

He was speaking into his radio before he had even realized his shaking hands had picked it up.

"All Shadows Stations report to Point Tango, urgently. We've gotta bit of a change in plans."

The radio stations flicked ominous static throughout the emptiness of Price's truck. Vargas' base sat in front of him, but something told him not to enter just yet. He'd watched a transport van enter, but not one big enough to hold his team. Laswell had sent them here immediately following them finishing up in Europe. The sun had fallen, casting dusted shadows across the landscape. Where were his boys?

Gaz groaned into the seat next to him. "Cap, what are you even waiting on? We've been here a few hours, can't we even go on? I gotta piss, and-"

"That's it. There." He lowered his binoculars, following three other vans up the hill and pointed. Gaz perked up in his seat, following the convo with his eyes. He saw Graves standing near the entrance gate, he saw him stop the convo before he entered. The Lieutenant and his Sergeant got out. There was a load pop and he ducked before Graves grabbed Soap by the shoulder and shoved him out of view.

"What's....?"

The static sharpened for only a moment, letting a desperate shout echo across the station.

"RUN!"

Philip tried to be discreet. He really did. But the General had eyes and ears everywhere, and he could only do or say so much before the chain around his throat was pulling him back to his place. They called him Golden Eagle for a reason.

He ran through the halls like a madman, he had no time to lose. They wouldn't give him a choice when the reinforcements arrived, he had to get everyone out without Shepherd finding out.

Could he?

No, he had to.

"Sergeant Parra!" He skidded to a stop outside the office door, trying the handle. Locked. "Sergeant Major! Rodolfo!!"

"Que pasa!?" Rodolfo pulled open the door, a concerned look on his face. "Commander, what's-"

"We need to go! They're- they're-" His chest ached with his heaving breaths. He felt like he was going to throw up. "You need to get your men out of here, Shepherd's sending enforcements to take out the Vaqueros and the 141. We're all done for if we don't leave now."

The Sergeant Major looked like he was going to object before seeing the desperation in his face and believed him, a hard resolve settling over his expression. He handed Graves a slip of paper, and he hurriedly pocketed it. "RV there. Good luck, Graves."

The two turned away, but Rodolfo stopped. "Graves!" The shout turned him around in a panic. "Gracias, hermano!"

He nodded his head, and he was running again.

That's how he had ended up in the courtyard, surrounded by men who he did not recognize.

"Scuse me, soldier-" He tried moving off past them, but one blocked his path to the main hall.

"Are you Philip Graves?" The taller man asked. His voice was gruff, smoky, but distinctly American. What was worse was the beared that he could see that looked almost blood colored in the setting sun.

Graves swallowed, trying to keep his composure. "I am. And I have somethin' I needa attend to-" He tried to push past him again, but a needless hand shoved him back.

"Graves, I see you've met Colonel Tobias Wilkinson. He'll be... assisting you." Said a voice in his ear that nearly froze him to the spot. The General. Of course.

He knew he'd never be lucky enough to set his plan in motion. The other half of the base lay in unknowing wait of a slaughter. Wilkinson put a forceful arm around him, spinning him around, and pushing him towards the doors. Towards the main gate.

This was no suggestion.

"I see you're going the wrong way, Commander. You get lost?" Wilkinson sneered close to his ear.

This was a command.

The new troops not-so-kindly escorted him to the front door. He did not dare glance over his shoulder at whatever Vaquero had dared to ask the men who they were.

He didn't think this was a kidnapping, but a little voice in his mind told him to never get in a vehicle, because they can take you to a secondary location. You'd never be found then.

If Shepherd knew what he was doing, then he hoped someone good would find him.

He got in the car.

Colonel Wilkinson drove down to the entry gate, began barking orders in such jumbled Spanish that even he noticed. The gates slid closed.

A pit formed in his stomach. This was it now.

The men pulled masks over their faces, they looked like his Shadows. His mouth dried as headlights appeared over the hill. He had no way of telling them. He could only pray at this point that something would interfere.

Hatred burned the pit deeper into his stomach as he watched Wilkinson smile before pulling his mask up. Something tasted foul in his mouth, coppery, and with a muted shock he realized he had bitten down hard enough on his cheek that his teeth drew blood.

Three cars rolled to a stop in front of him, the windshields tinted just enough so that he could barely see inside.

"The immediate future." Wilkinson said lowly, twitched towards his weapon warily as two doors opened.

The pretend Shadows filtered through the area as Soap and Ghost spilled out of their cars. Alejandro stepped out, he was closer, and Graves wiped his face of any emotion.

"Graves, que es-"

Out of the corner of his eye, Wilkinson raised his weapon, and Graves acted without a thought.

He wasn't sure when his gun was in his hands, but he aimed for Wilkinson first. Shots rang out between he and the other side, and he turned a split second, shoving Soap out of the way. Part of him felt smug at the shocked expression on Wilkinson's face as he went down.

His radio was on, and he screamed to both the Task Force, his Shadows, the Vaqueros, and anyone else who could hear him. "Run!"

Thankfully, the others had regained their wits, and Soap tried his best to help by firing off a few rounds before Ghost dragged him off into the darkness. Alejandro had taken cover behind one of the armored vehicles and was doing his best to take out the threats as they spilled from his base.

There was a tinny voice from his radio, but that was muffled by blood roaring in his ears.

With Wilkinson went the chain that snapped, the constriction that Shepherd had held him on, and he knew that this was the right decision.

His breathing came choked but he was still going, firing each bullet at his faux masked counterpart.

He wasn't sure when he ended up on the ground, but someone was pulling him up by the back of the vest.

The leash.

The chain.

"No-!" He shouted, trying to fight against the ghosts of a hand, before coming into contact with a tactical vest.

"Graves, we have to go!" Soap shouted at him, searching his eyes in a panic. "We don't have time ta keep at it like this!"

"No! We've- my men are- I have to-" He felt like he couldn't breathe. He wouldn't let this happen again, he couldn't let this happen again, not again, not-

"Graves!" Soap shook him slightly, snapping out of it. He cast a glance back at the base. There were.... too many.

"C'mon! I have a place we can go, esos putos bastardos!" Alejandro cussed angrily, gesturing them. It seemed like he too had an issue with leaving, but knew it was no good cause in staying.

With shaking hands, Graves pulled a bloodied slip of paper from his pocket. "Sergeant Parra- he gave me this.. that's where he said to go." He offered.

Alejandro gave him a grave look, before turning away. "Follow me."

And they did, trying their best to stay unaffected by the shouts and the gunfire from the Vaqueros' fallen base.

At one point, Graves' radio fell silent. He had stopped dead in his tracks when it had, trying to recover his brave face, but nothing could mask the way he paled considerably.

"Shadow Stations, report."

Static.

"I repeat, all Shadow Stations, report."

The silence was unbearable, and they pushed on.

The thoughts pushed inward. He failed. He failed them. He failed to stop them. How many men could he have lost? They were his brothers. He trained them himself. They were better than he was. Why should he-

They arrived at the safehouse, a large, barn looking thing. Alejandro surged inside, quickly followed by Graves, then Ghost and Soap. A few people were already inside. Hope bloomed in his heart as he spotted a few Shadows, and Vargas sped off to find Parra.

"Sergeant!" Graves spoke, his voice almost hoarse, and one of the Shadows perked up hopefully. The younger man was getting his side patched by a Vaquero. Bullet wound, he could tell. This was Shadow 2-3, but his name was Sergeant Connor Saury.

"Yes Commander!" His voice carried across the vast space, and the man turned a few shades of red in embarrassment. "Sorry-"

"How many of you-" Graves did a quick head count of all he could see. Five was his most, but maybe there were others in the other rooms, or still outside. "Made it here?"

Saury's face fell. "Uh- I'm not sure how to tell you, sir, but-"

"Spit it out, Connor."

"Yes- yes sir. Most of them stayed to- well- they weren't gonna let them take us so easily, sir, and a lot stayed behind. They thought the General's men got you, and-"

He raised a hand, and the sergeant stopped, looking down to the floor. "Connor... Where's everyone else?"

He didn't answer.

"Conn-"

"It's just us, sir." He whispered, and Graves felt like he was gonna throw up. There was- no, this couldn't be happening again... "Are... are you bleeding, Graves-?"

"Philip, you with us lad?" He heard Soap say.

His radio was still silent. He doubted it would make sound again. Had anyone else gotten out? What happened to the rest of the Vaqueros?

He was walking. Someone stopped him. He kept walking.

"-just shut down. Hasn't responded to a thing we've said." Someone else, Ghost said, before a light was shined into his eyes. He felt like he was feeling everything underwater. Slow, sluggish, dreamlike.

The only difference between then and now was that there was no missiles gone missing. They... were still gone, though.

A twinge in his shoulder. He felt himself wince. Doctor.

The oily texture told him there was blood on his hands, literally and figuratively.

"The Captain's arrived. Should we tell 'im?" A ghost of a whisper kissed his hearing at some point.

"....Laswell's doing some digging...."

The air morphed and pinpointed around him, the fog around his brain cleared in a split second.

"Where is he?" Philip asked. His tongue felt heavy, his lips dry. How long had they been here?

"Back with us, Graves?" Ghost's gruff voice asked him, somewhere in the dark of the room behind him. He ignored him.

"Where's the captain?" He repeated himself, and Soap pursed his lips.

"Doon th' hall. Second door on th' left."

Less than a minute later, Graves stood outside the given door, hand poised to knock.

But it opened before he had the chance.

Price was running a hand over his face tiredly, having apparently not seen him, but then he looked up, and Graves felt his shoulders fall slack.

"...Phil-?"

"John-" He breathed, and practically threw himself into the man's arms. Price backed up, holding him tightly, and kicked the door shut.

"Hey, hey, what- what's wrong?" He felt the Captain wince at the question, realizing how stupid it sounded. "Take a breath, love, breathe..."

"They're gone, they- they thought- I should've- John, I f-fucked up, it's my fault- John, I failed them, I failed-" His voice broke, and he unwillingly sobbed into the man's shirt.

"No, no, hold on, you didn't fail them, Phil..." He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his forehead, rubbing his hand through Graves' hair. He was shaking horribly as he sobbed, fists balling the hem of Price's shirt. "C'mere, let's sit down now."

Price's voice stayed gentle, a soothing quiet, guiding him to the edge of the bed in the room. He couldn't stop the cries that ripped their way through his chest, clawing like a beast freed from eternal punishment. Soft hands guided their way up and down his figure, comforting, hovering over his shoulder. Graves hissed a breath as a sharp sting shot down to his elbow. "Pip, are you injured...?"

He didn't know how to respond. Had he been injured? That would explain the doctor he thinks he saw before, and the constant stinging ache. Had it been bandaged? Maybe, but he thinks he had left before the Vaquero could finish. So instead, he hummed in defeat, hiding his shameful face in the Captain's shoulder. Like a child who believed that if he could not see his mother, then she could not see him, he believed that if he hid closer, Price would not be able to see the sin written into the very being of him, the total failure that he was.

"Hey, breathe, look at me. You need to breathe, love, you need to, or you'll make this all worse. In and out..." He was rocking him softly, back and forth.

He tried. In- in and out, in- "John, th-they're dead-"

"I know, shh.... You're alright, you are..."

"They're dead because of me, I f-failed-"

Price took his face in his hands suddenly, forceful, but still calm, shocking a part of him from his stupor. "You didn't fail them, Philip, none of that now. We're all alive because of you." Price said, and Graves hesitantly opened his eyes, peering at the man above him. Instead of finding a cold look of betrayal or disgust, John's face was nothing but concern written softly into the lines of his face. He took a breath. "Because of you, everyone in this building is here. The others..." Price hesitated, but wanted the man to have some hope. "They might be on their way. Some of them, at least. Takes a while to get here, if you don't know where you're goin'." The ghost of a laugh whispered its way through the room, lightening the darker part of his thoughts.

A watery look crossed his tear-stained face, but a bit of spark flashed in his eyes. "You- y'think-?"

"Aye, I know it." Price nodded, pressing his nose into Graves' sandy mop of hair. "I know it."

[cyanidedrinkers]

Forgive me father for i have sinned.

A PriceGraves religious guilt fanfic. Tw: Religious guilt, Religious Trauma, Mentions of homophobia, accidental self-harm, Graves has a mental breakdown- Graves loved his Shadow's, They were like family to him and because they were his family he did everything in his power to make them comfortable. One of the major ways he does this is by taking the time to research their religions and adjusting accordingly. During Ramadan Graves tracks who's fasting and makes sure to have the night crew make food for those breaking fast. He keeps Kosher meals on hand at all times and special orders MRE'S for those in the field so they still get fed and don't have to go against their religion. All around base there are rooms for those who need to pray through out the day. He special orders uniforms for those who cant wear what is provided due to their religion, and assigns special roles for those who refuse to handle a gun but still wish to serve. All he asks is that he is informed ahead of time when someone needs to fast, take off for holidays, or pray so he can provide the support they need. If the company ever gets deployed around Saudi Arabia Graves asks around to see who would like to make their journey to the Kaaba. There's a small church area on the base for those to go to throughout the day and designated times for people to go attend service. He even provides custom helmets for those who decide to wear Hijabs or Kippah's and takes feed back on how to make them comfier.

Growing up in the south Graves was raised Catholic, His mother and father were very prominent at the church and so was little Phillip. He went to lent, ash Wednesday, attended church every Sunday, participated in dinner every Wednesday, learned old Latin so he can read the older versions of the bible, went to Catholic schools, he even prayed at every meal and before bed. His religion was sacred to him, It was an important part of his life growing up and so he strives to make others comfortable too. His love for his god tends to backfire though. After his betrayal of the 141 and Los Vaqueros he spent a whole week locked in his room praying and begging for forgiveness. His cross clutched so tightly in his hands that it left bruises and made that spot tender to the touch. Shadow's had stationed themselves outside the door to make sure he was safe but the cries coming from his room were those of pain and terror as he begged for forgiveness and to wash away his sin from his unholy body. It took nearly 3 months for him to get back to normal and when he did he got the worse news possible. "Due to the nature of this mission I'll be assigning 141 to help you. It'll be easier for them to stay on your base so clear out some space." Laswell stated firmly. Less then 24 hours ago Graves was hit with this news, He was scared to say the least. The 141...Staying with the shadows? How would he break it to his boys-, And girls, That the people who killed their teammates, lovers, and friends would be staying with them for god knows how long. Graves ran a hand over his face, His eyes threatening to close and his knees sore from sitting down all day from doing the paperwork for the 141's arrival. What he really wanted was to crack a beer open and watch the afternoon PT be done, He loved watching the new trainees get too cocky with their superior then bicker and moan as they were made to run laps. It brought him back to days were things were easy and he didn't have to worry about anything other then what their NCO was going to do to them. Pushing himself up and out of his chair with a loud groan Graves collected his things and set out to break the news to his shadows. The sun was just setting over the horizon as he took his first step out into the real world. The air smelled like a mixture of sweat, heat, dirt, and....rain? With a quick glance up at the clouds and a curse under his breath Graves made his way to the mess hall. "That stupid weather man said it wouldn't rain for another two days" He whined under his breath as he kicked a rock Infront of him, Repeating this action intel he eventually lost it. "Smells like damn rain to me, The clouds are white as snow but i just know it by the smell" His mumbling and grumbling to himself continued till he made it inside, It caught the eye of some shadows as he passed by them but they shrugged it off as him being hangry or a meeting gone wrong.

Once inside Graves was greeted by the waves and smiling faces of his Shadows, Some ran up to him and started asking how he was and if he was busy today because he didn't make his rounds like he normally does. Graves just smiled and made small talk intel everyone sat down. It was fairly easy to get everyone's attention when he needed it.

He stood and cleared his throat, Graves had prepared to yell over all the noise but the sound of silence washed over the mess hall as he stood and nothing but clattering forks could he heard as the attention was on him.

"Well that was easier than i remember-" He smiles to himself, He's still got it.

"It is with uttermost disappoint that i inform you that the 141 will be staying with us-" Groans and yelling cut him off. His shadows like small children sometimes, They whined and one person let out a very loud "NOOOOOO" which was met by laughter and agreement.

"I know we haven't been the best of friends with them but i expect you all to treat them with respect and to NOT, I repeat, NOT disrespect them in anyway OR steal their stuff." Graves hisses out, He aims that last part at a Shadow not to far away from him who's known for stealing things from people she dislikes.

This gets a unsatisfied groan from her but understanding nods from everyone else, And with that Graves grabs himself some dinner and goes back to his quarters for the night.

Once his meal is done and he finally shuts down his laptop Graves changes into a simple T-shirt and sweats. He removes the cross necklace from around his neck, takes off his socks and gets on his knees at the foot of his bed. His hands, Grasping the cross that lays so perfectly across his hands, and closes his eyes as he bows his head.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Please, Allow these next few days to go well. Allow sin and hatred to not come in-between our mission and deliver my children back to me safely. Give me strength to push through and give strength to those who will have to see the faces of those who killed their loves, friends, and brothers in arms. Allow nothing but peace between the two companies lord. Amen"

Graves stays there for a few more seconds before standing up and setting his necklace at the bedside table. As he gets into bed and drifts into sleep he can't help but have that same gruff voice pop up in his head, Those calloused hands, the smell of cigars, it all swarms his mind intel he finally falls asleep....

That was part one :) if ya'll liked it let me know and I'll probably continue it- I had to do a lot of research so i apologize if everything isn't correct- I'm Agnostic, Former Christian, and don't know very much but I'm trying.

[inkformyblood]

putting on a show (COD Kinktober 2024 Day 09)

Price x Graves, Canon Universe, Not Canon Compliant/Pre-Canon. Restraints. Lemon.

When Price thinks about Graves, he doesn’t think about the man first. Sometimes, he’ll think about the figure the man cuts, the sharp-tongued leader of Shadow company, when he catches a glimpse of Graves with his men, a smattering of shrouded figures Price can’t keep an accurate count on but knows to keep Ghost close to heel all the same in case he devours one and slides seamlessly into the empty masked place. But that isn’t what dominates his thoughts as he stares down at the other man splayed across his desk, colour high in his cheeks and his arms tangled in his own ridiculously expensive dress shirt.

Price thinks of a lapcat, some wiry mouser coaxed into resplendence and now demands it of every being around him.

“What’s funny?” Graves asks, his eyes narrowing, a bat of his manicured claws. He spreads his legs wider, Price’s gaze dropping from his face to the offering in front of him, likely Graves’ plan all along. He’s achingly hard pressing against the seam of his tailored trousers, not quite soaking through the pale grey fabric and that feels like a challenge. 

Price grins up at Graves, bypassing the swell of the other man’s cock in favour for his cigar, hastily stubbed out in the ashtray by Graves’ hip when the other man descended on him like a tropical storm, scrambling onto Price’s lap and getting tangled in his clothes in his own haste to strip. He plucks the lighter out of Graves’ pocket — engraved, because of course it fucking is — and lowers his face to the small flame. Graves looks a curious blend of furious, his lip curled and the sharp edge of a cutting remark glittering behind his teeth, and so turned on that he couldn’t walk straight if he tried. 

Price blows out a plume of smoke, taps his tongue against the roof of his mouth to make a ring. “Boys are all going off base, guessing yours are too.” He’d seen his set off earlier, the offer to join them extended and denied as gently as he could bear. It would do them so good to spend some time stretching their wings away from his nest. “And then you’re here.”

He leans close to Graves, trailing blunted fingertips over the plane of his stomach, the faint red marks cresting over his hips, before he settles his palm over his cock, stroking over it roughly. Graves groans, his legs gone slack, barely fighting his self-made restraints anymore. 

“All tied up with a bow for me.”

Graves doesn’t whine; it isn’t a sound woven into his being, but he grins slowly, his eyes dark and half-lidded. “Not all my boys hit the town.”

Price hooks his hands over Graves’ hips, pulling him closer with a yelp that breaks into a laugh, breathless, trailing on a groan as he grinds himself against Graves, letting him feel every inch. “I noticed.”

He leans down to tug on the tags around Graves’ neck, drawing the chain taut against his skin. The mark it leaves is faint, would be barely noticeable by morning, but the memory of it will linger. He continues, lowering his voice to a rumble, a few specks of ash falling from his cigar, “Guess you’ll have to put on a show for them then.”

[owls-spice-cabinet]

Daybreak

Posting this was so weird bc I didn't want to post it on Ao3 but there was already Part 1 on Ao3 so HERE WE ARE i guess idk it's out there floating in the void somewhere without my name on it bc I couldn't figure out how to post anonymously on Ao3 and it's too late to reclaim my orphan now :) but here's the Ao3 link

ANYWAY. This is a continuation of a previous fic of mine called Dawning. Ao3 link there for everyone. @worldseer @cod-dump @midnight193 anyone not 18 years of age, get the fuck out for legal reasons thanks byyyyee

Words: ~7000 Content: blow jobs, cum swallowing, outrageous flirting, idk it's not that spicy Ship: implied eventual nikpricegraves; it's mostly just nik/graves and price/graves

Phillip had been in London a few times now, mostly either stopping over between flights or meeting up with a new client from somewhere even farther away. He had a few places he liked to frequent when he had some time to himself, although that wasn’t common. Typically, he’d follow his Shadows around like their namesake to various restaurants and bars—sorry pubs. Right now, however, he’d let the more outgoing of them go off while he and the others stayed at their hotel. It was a new place, not one he’d stayed in before with or without his troops, but he’d also never brought this number of troops through London before. When he’d asked Laswell for recommendations, he’d taken her seriously.

For the price, the place was surprisingly accommodating, which probably put it towards the top of Laswell’s list in the first place. It was far from the city center, leaving plenty of buffer room between his forces and the rest of the public. He wasn’t paranoid, he was experienced, and experience told him cordoning off a whole floor of one hotel with armed guards—armed American soldiers—might have raised too many questions surrounded by an entire city of international travelers. Granted, that meant the rooms were a little smaller than some others he'd stayed in, but the management clearly had some experience in putting up soldiers for a few nights.

It did have a nice bar, too. It was backed up against the hotel’s in-house restaurant, so they could share supplies without having the bar as the main focal point to the foot traffic outside. There were numerous tables throughout the space, and a collection of booths set up against the back wall and one of the sides. A large rectangular window ran the length of the wall opposite the bar, and there were two doors out of the room: one exited to the street behind the hotel, and the other went to the rest of the building and the rooms upstairs.

Phillip sat in a booth against the side wall, enjoying the chance to quietly wind down after a more informative mission than he’d counted on. It had been slightly awkward at times, after he’d worked up to returning Nik’s advances where other people might notice it. He hadn’t been making a show of it, just… hadn’t been hiding. It hadn’t been awkward doing it—actually that had been so stupidly easy, it had felt like breathing. Answering very carefully worded questions from his officers had been the awkward part, mostly for them. Especially for Jackson, who’d followed him out of the Marines and had stayed at his right hand for almost a decade now.

Fortunately, no one had been an ass about it. Granted, that was probably a perk of being your own boss. If anyone was dumb enough to be an ass where he could prove it, he could fire them. But honestly, aside from the odd conversations and the usual frustrations that came with dealing with Russians, the mission had wrapped up neatly. Not entirely successful, but certainly far from failure.

Phillip got up and walked over to the bar. One of the bartenders, a woman with dark red hair and glasses whose nametag read Shelly, took notice and put a smile on as he came within conversational distance.

“Is everything alright, sir?” she asked.

“Just fine, thank you,” he answered politely. He set his half-finished whiskey on the rocks down on a coaster. “If I ask you to keep an eye on that while I go use the restroom, would you do that?” He figured it wasn’t much to ask, considering there were all of twenty people in the room, and all but three were his Shadows—his quieter Shadows.

Sue him, he was a little paranoid. He was military, he’d just pissed off some Russians, and he wasn’t at his home base. He was allowed.

Shelly smiled and nodded. “Absolutely, sir. I’ll put it over here for you,” she said, picking it up and setting it behind the bar near her station. “Just ask when you’re back.”

“Much obliged,” he said, taking note of where it had ended up. Then he left.

-scene break-

When he returned, he heard the hum of chatter in the room was about the same as he’d left it. Nothing much had changed. It was still only barely 21:45, so no one was in a hurry to get to bed—not even his Shadows, who’d had a long flight today. Phillip eyed his Shadows, scattered at various booths and tables throughout the room. They seemed to be exactly as he’d left them as well, gathered in their groups of three to five and talking quietly amongst themselves.

The doorway that led down to the restrooms was on the far end of the room from the bar. He’d emerged behind most of the other people in the room, giving him plenty of time to survey the room. He looked around to where he’d been sitting earlier, and stopped.

Now that was fascinating.

Laswell had recommended this hotel, he recalled. She knew it had the capabilities to keep him and his soldiers safe and happy for the time they had to be here. Except, Kate Laswell was not an officer of any military force. She had no troops to command, and rarely traveled in groups who needed such accommodations. Why might she have known about this little place, then?

Phillip smiled to himself, recognizing the back of Nikolai’s head and shoulders at one of the tables near the rows of booths against the back wall. Looking around, he saw John Price standing at the bar, making small talk with the other bartender whose name Phillip didn’t know. He almost did a double-take, then stared, trying to figure out what about John’s person had suddenly made it almost impossible to look away from him.

He figured it out as he walked silently up behind Nik’s chair. Nik, John, and Sergeant Garrick had all had to leave before the mission in Urzikstan had officially resolved, so he hadn’t been there in person for Phillip to share all the amusement he found in putting a few puzzle pieces together about himself. For example, he’d figured out, after those three had left, why he had felt so differently towards Nik when John had clearly been flirting with him over roughly the same amount of time, and Phillip had been just as clueless.

The answer was surprisingly simple. Surprising to him, at least. Again, he had been clueless.

See, Nik had started out as something resembling a friend. If John hadn’t been in the picture, Nik was someone Phillip would have asked out on a date, held hands with, watch a movie with—all those horribly romantic things he’d always felt weird about before.

John? Not quite the same thing.

He’d finally figured out he wanted John to absolutely ruin him, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what that would entail.

And while the dark blue collared shirt and grey jeans John wore now were nothing particularly special on their own, it was the first time Phillip had seen him out of field uniforms and a tac vest. The outfit was nothing if not encouraging.

When he reached Nik’s chair, he put one hand on the back of it, careful not to touch Nik more than brushing his shirt with the back of his knuckles. He knew sneaking up on people with combat training was a gamble already.

“John oughta be more careful,” he said in a low voice, “leaving such a handsome man like you unattended in a bar at night.”

Nik had tensed initially upon realizing someone had snuck up on him. But he had long since recognized Phillip’s voice. He hummed, giving no verbal answer, his shoulders relaxing.

Phillip leaned over, placing his other hand on the tabletop so he was hovering beside Nik’s head. “But then again, with an ass like that, maybe he doesn’t need to be careful,” he said, tilting his head slightly in John’s direction with a small smile.

Nik’s own smile turned a bit devious as he followed the indicated line of sight to John’s ridiculously attractive backside. Then he looked back to Phillip. “Are you suggesting I only stay with him for his looks?”

Phillip turned his head to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t dream of such an insinuation, Nikolai. I have it on very good authority that you have excellent taste in men.”

That made him laugh softly, his dark eyes crinkling. Phillip had missed the heady, fluttery feeling he got seeing it. The whiskey he’d been drinking earlier couldn’t compare. Nik lifted a hand to place under the far side of Phillip’s jaw, turning his head just a bit more until he could lean in to kiss him.

Phillip gave a silent sigh, leaning into him in return. Yeah, he had missed this too. When Nik released him, he checked the bar and found John hadn’t moved.

“How long are you here?” Nik asked him.

“Just tonight and tomorrow night,” he answered, a little distantly. He was thinking.

“Don’t stare too hard, you’ll burn a hole in those very hard-working jeans,” Nik said with a smile.

Phillip ducked his head and smiled. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and glanced back up at the bar before looking at Nik again. “He was flirting with me half the mission.”

“He was, very badly. It was funny when you did it back, though,” Nik said, reaching up to trace the underside of Phillip’s jaw with a fingertip.

He nodded his agreement. He’d only managed it once or twice before John and the rest had left, but the effect had been priceless. The look of shock all over his face right before he’d muttered something like “fuck off” and stalked away had entertained Phillip for days the first time.

“I don’t want to interrupt your evening, but I also feel like you’ll understand perfectly if I tell you this,” he said, keeping his voice low at Nik’s ear.

Nik’s hand remained tucked under his jaw. “I am listening, Лучик,” he murmured.

Phillip was glad the light in the room was low enough to help disguise whatever blush was creeping up the back of his neck. Just because he’d admitted it to himself didn’t mean he knew how to admit it to other people. He’d meant it when he’d said Nik would understand—he was counting on it, actually. “I have been wanting that man to fuck me into oblivion for weeks.”

The smile on Nik’s face widened, gaining a sharp edge. His dark eyes glittered when they turned to him. “I don’t think I would mind such an interruption at all,” he said in that low tone that made Phillip’s knees wobble a bit. “I have it on good authority that he is very good at such things.”

Phillip could practically feel the blood in his body draining south—a fairly novel sensation, he might point out. He hadn’t realized what proper sexual arousal felt like outside of physical stimulation until about a month ago, and that had been almost as groundbreaking as realizing he hadn’t actually been romantically invested in any of his previous relationships.

Nik wasn’t finished speaking, however. “I do have two conditions,” he said. “One, you are doing the work of seducing him, because I want to see that. Two, I will allow the interruption tonight, if I am allowed to have you to myself tomorrow night?” He accentuated the last phrase by taking hold of Phillip’s jaw, turning his face to him, and gently running his thumb across his bottom lip.

This man would be the death of him, Phillip was sure. He grinned, barely resisting the urge to lick his bottom lip. “You got yourself a deal, handsome,” he said. He lifted his hand from the back of Nik’s chair, setting it on his shoulders instead. Before he stood up, Nik pulled him in for a peck on the lips. He squeezed his shoulder in return as he straightened up from where he’d been leaning on the table.

Nik and John must have come here before, he was starting to suspect. John had been standing at the bar, chatting with the other bartender for a while now. Even the most complicated cocktails on the menu here didn’t take that long to make, so there must be some history there. Plus, Phillip remembered he still had to retrieve his own drink from Shelly. He did that first, walking up to her with a polite smile.

“I’ve kept it safe for you sir,” she said, setting it in front of him.

“Thank you very much,” he said, picking the glass up and taking a drink from it. Then he turned to face down the bar towards John. “So why don’t you ever wear jeans in the field, John?”

John stared at him, blue eyes dark and impassive. The bartender he’d been talking to took note and set about actually making drinks. John was silent for a long pause, like he was waiting or looking for something. “Thought those lot might be military,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the nearest table of Shadows.

They weren’t in uniform exactly, but it wasn’t far from it. A few of them wore the company-issued sweaters or jackets. Hell, Phillip himself was wearing a black collared shirt with the Shadow Co. insignia stitched small over the left breast. He was allowed to wear his own merch, he’d founded the damn thing.

“Yeah, we’re stopping over for a couple nights on our way back across the pond,” Phillip explained, stepping closer. “Laswell recommended this place, actually. Guess I know why now, seeing as you’re both lookin’ pretty cozy around here,” he went on, tipping his head towards Nik watching from his table.

John grunted, accepting a pint from the man behind the bar. “Yeah, funny thing,” he muttered, taking a sip, then licking foam from his mustache.

“Gonna answer my question?” Phillip prompted, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Saw plenty of the guys wearin’ jeans in Mexico. Never seen ‘em on you ‘til now.”

It was clear John didn’t quite grasp what he was doing here yet, but was still valiantly trying to figure it out. “We have dress codes for a reason,” he answered, holding his gaze. “They work for job.”

Phillip nodded like he’d actually cared about the reason why. He hadn’t, not truly. “Well, I guess I’m grateful you follow dress codes, then,” he said, raising his glass a little.

He got another outwardly impassive look in response, only briefly interrupted by the bartender placing a second drink near him, presumably for Nik since Phillip had seen vodka go into the mix. “Do I want to know why?” John asked, sounding the slightest bit genuine.

With a slow grin, he leaned in. “’Cause I would’ve been dead six different ways if you’d had these on out there,” he said, helpfully casting his gaze down John’s person to make his point. “’Specially considering you like to lead up front—” He sucked air through his teeth, quirking his eyebrows a hair higher. “Distracting.”

John caught on, finally, rolling his eyes and turning back to his pint. “Fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, taking another, bigger, drink from it.

“Oh, you can dish it out, but you’re not taking it?” Phillip asked.

“I was not—!” He cut himself off sharply when he caught the smirk on Phillip’s face.

He raised an eyebrow at him. “You weren’t what?” he asked. “When you were watching me check over my weapons and you made me do it twice because you wanted to see how I handled the equipment, and then said I had good handling skills for an American, you weren’t doing what, exactly?” He was being nice enough to keep his voice down, but it did mean he had to get a little closer than a usual conversation.

He would admit, he did enjoy the stern glare he was getting out of this. After a few confusing weeks at the mercy of Nik’s very purposeful flirting and John’s only sometimes purposeful flirting, it was nice to be on the same page for this exchange.

“None of your boys is here, no need to worry about a reputation,” he added quietly. “I’m certainly not.” He wasn’t worried about his reputation, no, but there were plenty of aspects of this conversation he was largely bluffing through. But what else was new for him?

John rolled his eyes minutely. “You’re fuckin’ insufferable since you figured yourself out.”

“I was insufferable before, too. But even then, I couldn’t manage to get under your skin the way I can now, so what does that tell you?”

“Fuck all.”

Phillip smiled again. “Does it bother you that you’re no longer automatically controlling the conversation now that I know what you’re doing?” In his periphery, he saw John’s hand flex and tighten around his pint glass. “I wouldn’t be too concerned. I mean, you’ve still got plenty of experience in other areas that I don’t, so I’d probably let you push me around a bit if you wanted.” Never mind the fact that, like Nik, John’s arms were incredible, and he probably wouldn’t have minded in the first place if either of them wanted to push him around at all.

Huh. Go figure.

For the first time since Phillip had walked over here, John’s eyes weren’t carefully unreadable. Something about his expression had darkened almost imperceptibly, and Phillip couldn’t decide how he felt about the shudder that it sent down his spine.

This time John leaned in a little. “Don’t make an offer you’re not willing to follow up,” he said.

“When have I ever backed out of a good deal, John?” he replied, keeping an easy smile on his face despite his heartrate ticking up just from the tone of John’s voice.

“A deal?”

“I get what I want, you get what you want. Mutually beneficial arrangement.”

A small smile appeared on John’s face as he moved his pint glass a little farther from the edge of the bar. He leaned an elbow on the wooden surface, mirroring Phillip’s position. “You know what you want, just like that?” he asked, his tone finally picking up some of the playful tone Phillip had been using.

Phillip answered truthfully, because it didn’t seem like a good idea to bluff this one. “I’m open to negotiations, if you’ve got ideas all of a sudden.”

It looked like John hadn’t been expecting that answer. That was fair, since Phillip wasn’t particularly known for his abounding sense of humility without ulterior motive. John looked at him silently for a second, then turned back to his pint on the bar. “Damn you,” he muttered as he took another drink.

This was fun. Phillip grinned again, turning his back to the bar and taking up his own drink at last. It was almost gone by now, and he had no desire to stick around to order another one. He found Nik still sitting at his table, watching them both from across the room. He caught Phillip’s grin and smiled.

“He put you up to this?” John asked. When Phillip glanced at him, he added, “Nik, I mean.”

Ah, right. “Nope. Not his idea, just his blessing.” He drank the last of his whiskey and set his glass down on the bar. “Tell you what,” he said, pulling his hotel keycards out of his back pocket (because they always gave you two even when you were clearly one person). He slid one out of the little paper envelope with the room number scrawled on it, and put it back into his pocket. “I will leave you with options,” he said quietly, reaching over to slide the extra keycard with its little envelope into the breast pocket of John’s shirt.

John let him do it, following his every move carefully, but remaining still.

Then he walked away, down the bar to Shelly to pay for his drink before he left. It took great effort not to glance sideways at John still standing at the other end of the bar. He almost broke when he had to look back up at Shelly with a polite smile and wish her a nice evening, but he held his ground. He put his wallet back in his pocket and left the bar.

-scene break-

Just over ten minutes after Phillip had arrived back in his hotel room, he heard the small beep and click of someone using a keycard to open his door. His initial reaction was one of relief, because the past ten minutes or so had been some of the most uncomfortable in his life for many reasons—not least of which was he couldn’t recall a time in recent memory he’d literally been so horny he couldn’t think straight.

No, the comedy of that phrase was not lost on him.

He closed his laptop, pushing his chair away from the desk where he’d been using his emails as a distraction. John closed the door behind him and came forward to stand in the doorway where the main room met the little entryway. He folded his arms and leaned against one wall, crossing one leg over the other as he did. Phillip didn’t try to disguise the fact that he was staring.

“You still open to negotiations?” he asked.

Phillip leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out and setting one stocking foot over the other. “Yep. Get any inspiration on your way up here?”

He supposed in any other situation, the look in John’s eyes would have set him on edge the same way a raid siren might. It was a dark, intelligent, dare he say hungry expression, and all it did now was make a low heat ignite in his gut and his dick twitch in his pants. John pushed off the wall, unfolding his arms as he walked over to Phillip’s chair. He set the keycard down on the desk, then grabbed an arm of the chair to turn it so they were facing each other.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and I would like honest answers to them,” he said, now leaning over him with a hand on each of the chair’s arms. “Think you can manage that, Phillip?”

Phillip’s mouth went unexpectedly dry. He nodded, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Doesn’t sound too difficult, no.”

John gave a small smile, but his eyes still held that focused, almost predatory expression. “Good. Am I allowed to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t kiss him immediately, which might have fried something in the back of Phillip’s brain out of sheer anticipation. Unfair. “Good,” he went on instead. “Downstairs, you’d said I could push you around a bit. Did you mean that literally? Am I allowed to pull you around a bit?”

Fuck, of course he’d remembered that. It took a considerable amount of willpower not to curl in on himself under John’s gaze, but he didn’t. He gave another nod while his tongue caught up with his brain. “Yeah, I meant that literally,” he breathed, feeling like a bug pinned to a board. Only, he’d crawled onto the board himself and stayed put while the pin came down.

John nodded once. “You understand that if I say or do something you don’t like, you will say something, and vice versa, yes?”

Phillip gave him a flat stare. “John, I’ve had sex before. I know how consent works.”

“Fine then,” he said. He grabbed both of Phillip’s wrists, one in each hand, and hauled him bodily upright out of the chair.

Phillip made note of two things. One, the show of strength had been undeniably hot and had flooded his brain with another wave of arousal that quickly drained right to his dick. Two, John was still in his shoes whereas Phillip stood in socks, which made their height difference that much more noticeable. All told, he felt almost… small. Before he could think further into how he felt about that, John’s mouth had found his, and thinking was no longer important.

Admittedly, he’d thought about what it would feel like to kiss John. He’d never kissed anyone with facial hair, after all, because Nik preferred a clean face, and it had obviously never come up in his previous relationships. Turned out, Phillip didn’t really care. Yes, he could feel it tickling his face, and yes, it required a bit of maneuvering sometimes, but he didn’t care. Possibly he didn’t care because he’d been dying to get his hands on this man for weeks; possibly because he was harder than he’d been in recent memory and the prospect of relief was overshadowing a lot of other things at the moment; and possibly because John had just shoved him up onto the desk he’d been sitting at, and keeping his balance took the rest of his brain power.

“Fucking shit,” he hissed, once again aware of how achingly uncomfortable his jeans were becoming. He’d never been pushed around like this—he’d been the one doing any manhandling, usually because the lady had asked very nicely. But fuck, he could understand the appeal.

“Good?” John asked. He’d long since let go of Phillip’s wrists, now gripping his hips instead.

Phillip didn’t bother answering such a stupid question. He hooked his left arm around his neck and grabbed his collar with the right hand, pulling him back in to keep kissing him. John lurched forward with the usual grace of someone caught off guard, inadvertently pressing one of his thighs (his large, muscled, and horrendously attractive thighs) directly into Phillip’s groin.

Phillip moaned into his mouth, his hips involuntarily pressing forward against the pressure. He broke away to breathe, to try to clear his head that felt like it was swimming with want. He barely got a breath in when John’s hands pulled his hips back against his leg, and the rush of pleasure forced half the air from his lungs anyway. He growled, catching a glimpse of the smug smile on John’s face right before he kissed it, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary. Judging by the noise it got from John, though, neither of them cared.

He felt John’s tongue press against the seam of his lips with clear intent at the same time he felt the man’s hands tugging his shirt out of his waistband. He let both happen, groaning softly when John’s warm palms fit snugly around his ribs and his tongue slid into his mouth. Again, it was something Phillip had never understood to be particularly pleasant, let alone attractive, but he was discovering a lot of things made more sense when he was actually attracted to the person in question. John’s leg ground up against him again, drawing a quiet groan from him as he tried desperately to hold onto his composure.

It wasn’t easy. The warmth from John’s hands was making goose bumps erupt in their wake along his sides, across his lower back, and slowly trailing higher. The movement of his leg against the bulge in Phillip’s jeans turned slow and repetitive, pulling small noises from his throat even as he tried to hold them back. He could feel his body heating up as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, until he realized the situation was heading towards a conclusion far faster than he’d wanted.

He reached up with the arm still looped around John’s neck, weaving fingers into John’s hair and holding him there when he broke away from the kiss. “Will you cut that out,” he said, breathing hard, “and do something more constructive?”

The smug little smile was back on John’s face. He squeezed Phillip’s ribs and leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together. “You were making such pretty noises for me, though,” he murmured.

Phillip turned his head away, blushing deeply. That only gave John the opportunity to duck his head and start covering his jaw and ear and neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Without really thinking, Phillip tilted his head back, allowing him more room.

He gave a small gasp when John began sucking a mark below his ear. “Fucking Christ, John,” he whined, dragging his fingernails through the short hairs on the back of John’s head. “Please—shit, John—"

John made a low noise in his throat, detaching from his neck and licking over his handiwork once or twice. “God, if I had the fucking time,” he said into his ear, sliding his hands back down to rest on Phillip’s hips and squeezing, “I would keep you here for hours with just my fingers until you couldn’t remember your own name and just begged me to fuck you properly.”

A shudder ran down Phillip’s spine, making his stomach clench and his hips twitch forward of their own accord. Evidently, he wouldn’t mind that at all. Great. Not currently helpful, however. He closed his eyes as John once again mouthed at the underside of his jaw, struggling to put together a sentence that made sense. “Yeah, okay. But since it sounds—hah, fuck—like you don’t have the time, what—mm—what are we doing now?”

John pulled back to look at him with the same infuriating self-satisfied expression. “Impatient—”

“Yes.”

That made his eyebrows lift slightly. “Fine. Can I suck you off?”

Finally. “Yes, you can absolutely—” Phillip never finished the sentence.

As soon as the first word was out of his mouth, John pulled him off the desk, turned him around, and pushed him onto the foot of the nearest bed. He only managed to stay upright by grabbing onto one of John’s biceps. It didn’t really matter, though, because the second his ass hit the bedspread, John’s mouth found his again, and he felt himself being eased slowly and very deliberately onto his back. John licked into his mouth again, and his hand not currently supporting his weight snaked up and into Phillip’s hair, gently pulling his head back slightly. Fuck, did it feel good, too. If his eyes weren’t already closed, they probably would have crossed.

John pulled away, his hand sliding down along Phillip’s face to his collar, resting on the first button. “Still good?”

Phillip tried to answer, but the words “what” and “yeah” both wanted to come out of his mouth at the same time. It ended up as an unintelligible noise half-way between both words. He blinked, a little confused as to why that hadn’t made sense, and then John burst into poorly restrained but genuine, honest-to-God giggles. Phillip covered his face, a blush searing his ears and cheeks as John buried his face in his chest to laugh.

After a couple seconds, he lifted it to say, “How’re you already fucked dumb when I haven’t even touched you?” He was still smiling fit to burst.

Phillip hit his shoulder. “Oh, shut up!”

“I’m not making fun of you,” John said, leaning down and starting to press kisses across his cheeks and jaw.

Phillip let him, because it felt good. “Yeah, sure.” But it didn’t feel good enough to let it continue indefinitely. He reached up and grabbed John’s chin, forcing eye contact. “Did your mother never teach you not to play with your food?” he asked pointedly. “I thought you asked to suck my dick, and my belt buckle has yet to be undone.” He raised his eyebrows a hair and tilted his head in lieu of asking John if he could see what the problem was.

There were still traces of amusement all over John’s face, but all he did was peck him on the lips before pushing himself up a bit. “Undo your shirt,” he said. He watched as Phillip did so, waiting until he was more than halfway through the buttons before he reached to undo Phillip’s belt, the button and fly following quickly afterwards.

Phillip sighed to himself when at least some of the pressure was taken off his erection, then yelped when John dragged his jeans off with enough force to pull him to the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up on his elbows to ask what the fuck, but the words stopped short of his mouth when John’s hand slid over the tent in his underwear, squeezing him gently. Whatever he’d been about to say melted into a moan as his head lolled back. The sound was loud enough to surprise himself, and he reflexively put a hand to his mouth.

John clicked his tongue, leaning over him again to take his hand from his mouth. His other hand moved slowly, slipping under the waistband of his shorts. “None of that now,” he said in a low voice. “Told you already what pretty sounds you make.” He bent down closer. “I wanna hear ‘em, Phillip. Yes?”

Phillip nodded wordlessly, mostly too preoccupied with the trajectory of John’s other hand to really protest.

“Good man,” John told him. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip before ducking down to press his mouth to Phillip’s neck. He trailed lower, dipping his tongue into the hollow of his throat and then moving to suck another mark just below his collarbone.

Phillip watched him, feeling like someone had lit fire to a trail of gasoline in the wake of John’s mouth on his skin. Beneath the obvious buzz of desire, there was a more subtle feeling building, and it was sort of familiar. John was making him feel wanted, like Nik did any chance he got, it seemed. When John reached his stomach as he kissed his way down his body, he let out a sharp breath at the tingly, giddy feeling that washed over him. John lifted his head to look at him and smiled, which finally made Phillip realize he’d had a small smile stuck on his face for a while now.

He might actually like John. That was interesting.

John finished decorating Phillip’s front with kisses and finally slid Phillip’s underwear off, sinking to his knees as he did, and letting them fall in a pile with his jeans near the bed. The sudden freedom made Phillip groan in the back of his throat. His dick was almost painfully hard, the head a clear shade of red and beading precum already. Phillip watched, still propped up on his elbows, as John made himself comfortable between his legs. The dark, almost hungry expression was back in his eyes, and as much as it made a blush rise to his cheeks and ears to be this exposed to its intensity, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. John wrapped his right arm under Phillip’s thigh and hoisted his leg over his shoulder, all while still focused on his main goal.

He wrapped his other hand around the base of Phillip’s dick, making him hiss at the contact. John smirked. “Could get used to a view like this if I’m not careful.”

Before Phillip could respond with some remark in return, John flattened his tongue and licked up the shaft from his hand, finally taking the tip into his mouth and running his tongue over the slit.

Phillip’s shirt slipped off one of his shoulders and he didn’t even notice. “Holy shit,” he breathed, his voice sounding higher than it usually did.

He watched John take more of him into his mouth, then slowly pull back, pressing his tongue against the underside of the shaft and squeezing his hand lightly. Phillip’s leg twitched, trying to close on his head, but the arm John had wrapped around it held it in place firmly. He let out a shaky breath, like he’d just remembered to breathe in that moment, which was fairly accurate. He watched, utterly fixated, as John’s movements got longer, taking in more of him, and occasionally felt his dick twitch against the roof of his mouth or against his tongue. God, it felt fucking incredible. John’s mouth was hot and smooth sliding over him, bobbing up and down, steadily picking up a little speed as he swallowed him inch by inch and his hand covered less and less of him.

Phillip’s hips gave an aborted thrust without him meaning to as a rush of arousal shot through him at the sight. John made a noise that sounded more surprised than anything else, and he didn’t take his mouth of Phillip’s dick. Still— “Fuck, sorry—” Phillip started to say, and never finished.

John looked up at him sharply, then gave a harsh suck as he drew back, effectively negating any speaking ability Phillip might have had in the moment.

His head fell back with a loud moan he didn’t have the wherewithal to even try to cover up. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, his heart pounding in his ears. “Point taken, holy fuck.” He let his head hang back with his eyes closed as his mind went somewhat dizzy with pleasure.

John didn’t let up, however. If anything, he got more insistent now that he knew how to get a reaction out of him. This wasn’t the first blow job he’d ever had, but it was certainly the best by leaps and bounds. Granted, that made sense, given the whole “Not Figuring Out His Sexuality Until a Month Ago” thing. Phillip’s brain was so overwhelmed, he had little idea of the specifics outside of it being John’s mouth around his dick, and it feeling fucking wonderful. Too wonderful—he could already feel his climax threatening on the edge of his senses. Although… that was sort of the whole point here, wasn’t it?

It felt like his head weighed a hundred pounds trying to pull it back to its usual position, but he finally did focus back on John’s slightly tousled brown hair. He made a low noise just taking in the sight again, struggling to keep coherency in his thoughts as he watched. “Fuck me,” he breathed, his hips once again trying to buck up deeper into John’s beautiful, talented mouth. It drew a groan from John, sending vibrations up the length of Phillip’s dick still in his mouth. One of his hands reached out in a flash, grabbing onto John’s hair. “Holy—God fucking—John!”

John’s eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze as he drew back, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked and his lips shining with spit.

Phillip loosened his hold on his hair, taking a breath shaky with the effort of not coming just yet despite John’s concerted efforts. “’M not gonna last—shit,” he started to say, but was derailed yet again by watching his dick disappear into John’s mouth. He watched, his hand never moving from John’s hair, as John’s nose came to rest in the light brown hairs surrounding the base of his dick.

He felt his dick jump in John’s throat—in his throat, holy fucking shit, first of all. It drew another low groan from him, sending more vibrations through Phillip’s body and pushing him closer and closer towards the edge. Phillip watched John’s blue eyes flutter closed briefly in utter satisfaction, and felt his fingers dig into the soft skin on his inner thigh. It was as beautiful as it was obscenely hot.

“Jesus fucking Christ, John, I’m close,” he managed, his voice tight. “Where—”

John’s eyes snapped to his, and the arm wrapped around his leg tightened its hold. He swallowed.

Phillip’s mouth dropped open silently, and he only barely resisted rolling his hips up into John’s mouth as his orgasm hit him with all the grace of a baseball bat to the head. He came down John’s throat with a punched-out gasp that faded into a low whine, one hand still buried in his hair, the other gripping the bedspread while his vision swam. He felt John swallow around him again, the muscles in his neck squeezing his cock perfectly while he enjoyed the sheer force and magnitude of pleasure currently making his toes curl and his head feel fuzzy in a way he couldn’t remember experiencing previously.

When the high eventually eased, Phillip finally untangled his fingers from John’s hair and didn’t quite collapse onto the bed, but it was a near thing. His limbs sort of felt like jello, and his brain was only a little better than that. He felt John pull off of him, then felt the edge of the bed dip when he used it to stand up. Fuck, he needed to do things. He wasn’t exactly sure which things, given this was a vastly different scenario than previous encounters. But he’d feel like an asshole later if he didn’t at least try.

He sat up in time to see John disappear into the adjoining bathroom, and he was too tired to overthink why. Instead, he reached down to grab his underwear back from the floor, only to stop when he found them on the bed within reach. That was definitely not where he’d seen John drop them. Okay. He put them on, finally just ditching his shirt, figuring he’d be getting into pajamas not too long after this anyway.

John returned, carrying the two plastic cups the hotel had supplied in the room. One was empty, the other was full, and he offered the latter to Phillip. “Drink, if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the cup more for something to do than for a need for water. But he took a couple sips before reaching out to put on the desk near the foot of the bed.

John reached a hand out as he was settling back onto the bed, carefully combing calloused fingers through his hair. Phillip had no doubt it was sticking up at odd angles. John seemed to have fixed his hair, which was only slightly disappointing, because he’d wanted to see what he’d done to it. He leaned into the touch. John’s hand left his hair, skimming the side of his face until it was under his chin, tilting his face up towards John.

“Enjoyed that, did you?” he asked.

Phillip hummed. “Funny thing. Sex is a lot more fun when you’re genuinely attracted to someone.” John rolled his eyes, letting his hand drop to his side. Phillip went on. “Speaking of which, you want a hand there?” It was kind of hard to miss, considering he was roughly eye-level with the noticeable bulge at the front of John’s jeans. “Or is that something Nik gets to deal with later?”

John paused and half-sat on the edge of the desk with a small grimace of discomfort, appearing to consider his options. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, then at the door back out to the rest of the hotel. Finally, he looked back over at Phillip for a few seconds before he shrugged and stood up, putting his empty cup down on the desk. “Fine. Get up.” Phillip stood up. John grabbed his chin carefully and kissed him firmly. “Let’s see if your handling skills are any good, for an American.”

[prince-link13]

A snippet of a new PriceGraves fic coming to Ao3... eventually!

[cod-dump]

Graves: Really? What's my problem?

Soap: You skip leg day

Gaz: *wheezes*

Price: No he doesn't

Soap: ... what do you mean by that, cap?

Gaz: YEA WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?

Price: We... work out together

Graves: Yea, "work out"

Soap:

Price: ... listen-

Gaz: I have KorTac's colonel's number DON’T MAKE ME USE IT

Price: USE IT FOR WHAT!?

[captain-mj]

Werewolf Price being hit with pheromones and they expect him to go feral or be evil but really he just herds everyone up and bumps heads with Ghost and grooms Gaz and fucks Graves until he can’t take it anymore safely outside of the sights of everyone else

[jgvfhl]

Soap, please stop strangling the prisoner.

This is such a silly comic, but the premise was too funny to pass up drawing it. It's from this incorrect quote by @cod-dump (and me lol) so uhhhhh hope y'all enjoy. @darth-void @mysticalgalaxysalad

[pestis-blight]

I need Captain Price to do things (tea and a natter) to me

Oh yeah and Graves is there ig /j

[bunssocks]

the sims is so fun, but this was really amusing to me

also milo is me and nut drinker is a good friend lol

[escapedramatica]

"(I need you to know that I regularly reread your trans!Graves/Price fic, because I find it so goddamn hot) okay but Graves being someone who’s super prone to crying during sex, just because that’s how his body processes the stimulation. And is super embarrassed by it, because he’s had partners think it’s strange or get all worried that they’re hurting him. Vs Price, who just thinks that Graves looking so goddamn pretty when he’s crying on his cock (even better: Graves, whose used to it being a shameful thing, trying so hard to keep himself under control and not cry, versus Price, whose trying so hard to make Graves’s control crack so he can watch those pretty eyes fill with tears)" - Anonymous

Thank!! you!!! That was such a self indulgent fic I'm still shocked anyone even enjoyed it lol. Ooooooh this could interesting in so many ways. I love the thought of Graves being mortified but simultaneously so turned on by his own embarrassment.

(194 words, below the cut)

Price knows how prideful and stonefaced Graves is. He's seen how cocky the other man is in the field— and he has every right to be. But Price still feels this sadistic sense of accomplishment when he's got Graves under him, trembling and sniffling, trying in vain to get his tears under control.

Price likes the way the sheets turn dark as the tears roll off of Phillip's face. Loves the way his tits bounce and his toes curl while Price pounds him, because he can't hold his little tits still and cover his face at the same time. And Graves' urge to wipe away his tears and sling an arm over his eyes and mouth always wins out, the feeling of crying like a little bitch ever-so-slightly more humiliating than the shameful feeling of Price oggling his chest.

Price is too kind to demean him outright, but the way he pins Graves' hands against the bed is telling. Given the options of watching Phillip's pussy greedily take his cock or watching the way the tears clump to his lashes before they run down his reddened cheeks, Price will choose his tears any day.