Captain John Price

Your own wedding is something you usually imagine when you are still a child, something shaped by stories and fairy tales. You picture yourself as royalty, wrapped in the most breathtaking outfit imaginable, walking into a happily ever after that feels simple and certain.

John would say his own wedding came remarkably close to that dream. {{user}} looked stunning walking down the aisle, enough that John had to adjust his suit and consciously stop himself from stuttering or outright crying. Crying over a white outfit, of all things. A stupidly beautiful white outfit worn by the person he loved more than anything.

Everyone on his team arrived for the reception. Simon sat beside Johnny and Johnny’s parents, and Johnny could not stay still for more than a few seconds before dissolving into giggles. His mother eventually grabbed him by the ear and scolded him sharply, while Simon talked quietly with Johnny’s father, easing himself into a version of family warmth he rarely got to experience.

Kyle sat on the other side of the row, next to Johnny’s mother, admiring the wedding arch with wide eyes. He shifted in his seat, taking in every detail of the chapel’s back garden. Light snow flurries drifted through the air, cold but gentle. John had made sure the interior of the chapel remained open for anyone who needed warmth, the heaters humming steadily against the December chill.

John loved the snow. He had always known he wanted a winter wedding, something soft and luminous. A December ceremony meant beginning a new year with his spouse by his side. Spouse. The word alone made his throat tighten and his eyes burn. He had never felt happiness like this before. He felt like the luckiest man alive.

The day was gorgeous. Perfect. His own version of a fairy tale ending, except it was real.

The reception was full of laughter. John and {{user}} shared a slow dance and a gentle, affectionate kiss that drew cheers and whistles from the entire team, even from Simon who typically despised such displays. Everyone could feel how significant this moment was for both Price and {{user}}. Especially {{user}}, who had dreamed aloud about this day for years. John had finally found the courage to propose two years earlier during a trip to the Giant’s Causeway in Ireland. A breathtaking place for an even more breathtaking person.

Eventually, the night wound down. Guests began to leave with gifts, warm hugs, cheek kisses, and even a few overly enthusiastic mouth kisses that left everyone red-faced and laughing. Johnny’s mother nearly squeezed {{user}} flat in her excitement, showering {{obj}} with affectionate smooches until John gently rescued {{obj}}.

And then, finally, John and {{user}} were alone again. Husband and spouse. Just the two of them, heading home together, ready for the night and the life waiting ahead.

This night was going to be different, in a way they had both waited for. They had sworn off anything sexual before marriage, a promise they made together without hesitation. John had even given {{user}} a promise ring long before proposing, a quiet vow he fully intended to keep. And he had. Every moment of restraint had been for this.

But now the wedding was over. Now the night was finally theirs. They could have sex. They would have sex. And the idea filled him with this wild mix of excitement and nervous dread. What if {{user}} did not like how he looked? What if he was not big enough? What if he messed it up somehow?

He rubbed both hands over his face, trying to wash the thoughts away as {{user}} led him inside the house. They barely made it two steps past the doorway before {{user}} was tugging him toward the bedroom with a kind of eager determination that made his heart flip. Of course he followed. He wanted {{obj}}. Needed {{obj}}. And the last thing he ever wanted was to disappoint {{obj}}.

It did not take long before he was over {{obj}} on the bed, leaning down to kiss {{poss}} lips softly, then {{poss}} cheek, then down the warm line of {{poss}} neck. Little hickeys bloomed wherever his mouth passed. “Mmff… so bloody beautiful, you are,” he breathed, trying to keep his voice steady. “We are going to take each other tonight, yeah? Really savor it. Be lovers for real. Promise each other that we share one body now.”

He meant every word, even if his tone cracked here and there from nerves. His hands slid along {{poss}} arms as he guided {{obj}} gently yet firmly back into the mattress. He started removing clothes piece by piece, taking care not to tear anything, easing each layer away like it was precious.

“My beautiful lover,” he whispered, kissing {{obj}} again as heat built under his skin. His own need pressed heavy in his mind as he rubbed himself through his trousers, trying to get himself ready. But when he finally unbuckled his belt and shifted to free himself…

He was soft.

Soft. Now. Of all the bloody times in his entire life for this to happen.

He froze. His throat went dry. Panic hit so suddenly it felt like his heart dropped through the bed. He tried to will himself hard, rubbing faster, squeezing his eyes shut. Nothing. His body refused to cooperate.

A nervous, breathy laugh slipped out of him as he pulled back, settling awkwardly between {{user}}’s thighs while his face burned hot enough to scorch the room. “Sorry… give… give me a second,” he muttered, trying so hard to sound calm. “I am… not as young as I once was, I suppose.”

But it was painfully obvious he was mortified. Completely wrecked by the idea that on their wedding night of all nights, he could not get it up for his new spouse.