Soap was already three sheets to the wind at Gaz's bachelor party, buying rounds and making increasingly terrible jokes about married life. Four months of non-stop missions had left him with the worst case of blue balls in Scottish history, but he'd been too busy keeping the lads alive to deal with it. Now surrounded by grinding bodies and pulsing music, his body was reminding him exactly how long it had been since he'd gotten any.

"MacTavish needs attention!" Price shouted over the music, slapping money into a dancer's hand while pointing at Soap. "Lad's been wound up tighter than a watch spring lately!"

Soap was about to protest when they appeared and straddled his lap without ceremony, making his alcohol-soaked brain completely short-circuit. Four months of nothing, not even a proper wank in the shower, and now this gorgeous creature was rolling against him with devastating precision. His hands went to their hips automatically and his Scottish accent thickened with each grind.

"Fuckin' hell," he groaned when they pressed down particularly hard, his cock already straining desperately against his jeans. The combination of whiskey, months of denial, and their skilled movements created a perfect storm that had him bucking up against them without shame. He was already leaking precum and they'd barely started.

He lasted maybe thirty seconds before they did this twist-grind combination that hit every nerve ending at once. The orgasm ripped through him like an explosion and he didn't even try to be quiet, shouting "JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH" in the thickest Scottish anyone had ever heard as he came violently in his pants. The wet spot spread immediately, soaking through his jeans and probably visible from space.

"Aw for fuck's sake," he laughed even as his face burned red, looking down at the massive wet patch. But when they stood and beckoned him with one finger, he followed without hesitation, stumbling slightly from booze and the intensity of his orgasm.

He pulled them into the nearest VIP room and kicked the door shut, already hardening again despite the cooling mess in his pants. "Four months," he slurred, pressing them against the wall. "Four fuckin' months of nothing and ye just made me shoot off like a virgin in front of my whole unit. Now I'm gonna eat ye out until ye can't walk, then fuck ye until the only name ye remember is Johnny fucking MacTavish."

Soap was already three sheets to the wind at Gaz's bachelor party, buying rounds and making increasingly terrible jokes about married life. Four months of non-stop missions had left him with the worst case of blue balls in Scottish history, but he'd been too busy keeping the lads alive to deal with it. Now surrounded by grinding bodies and pulsing music, his body was reminding him exactly how long it had been since he'd gotten any.

"MacTavish needs attention!" Price shouted over the music, slapping money into a dancer's hand while pointing at Soap. "Lad's been wound up tighter than a watch spring lately!"

Soap was about to protest when she appeared and straddled his lap without ceremony, making his alcohol-soaked brain completely short-circuit. Four months of nothing, not even a proper wank in the shower, and now this gorgeous creature was rolling against him with devastating precision. His hands went to her hips automatically and his Scottish accent thickened with each grind.

"Fuckin' hell," he groaned when she pressed down particularly hard, his cock already straining desperately against his jeans. The combination of whiskey, months of denial, and her skilled movements created a perfect storm that had him bucking up against her without shame. He was already leaking precum and she'd barely started.

He lasted maybe thirty seconds before she did this twist-grind combination that hit every nerve ending at once. The orgasm ripped through him like an explosion and he didn't even try to be quiet, shouting "JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH" in the thickest Scottish anyone had ever heard as he came violently in his pants. The wet spot spread immediately, soaking through his jeans and probably visible from space.

"Aw for fuck's sake," he laughed even as his face burned red, looking down at the massive wet patch. But when she stood and beckoned him with one finger, he followed without hesitation, stumbling slightly from booze and the intensity of his orgasm.

He pulled her into the nearest VIP room and kicked the door shut, already hardening again despite the cooling mess in his pants. "Four months," he slurred, pressing her against the wall. "Four fuckin' months of nothing and ye just made me shoot off like a virgin in front of my whole unit. Now I'm gonna eat ye out until ye can't walk, then fuck ye until the only name ye remember is Johnny fucking MacTavish."

Soap was already three sheets to the wind at Gaz's bachelor party, buying rounds and making increasingly terrible jokes about married life. Four months of non-stop missions had left Soap with the worst case of blue balls in Scottish history, but he'd been too busy keeping the lads alive to deal with it. Now surrounded by grinding bodies and pulsing music, Soap's body was reminding him exactly how long it had been since he'd gotten any.

"MacTavish needs attention!" Price shouted over the music, slapping money into a dancer's hand while pointing at Soap. "Lad's been wound up tighter than a watch spring lately!"

Soap was about to protest when {{user}} appeared and straddled Soap's lap without ceremony, making his alcohol-soaked brain completely short-circuit. Four months of nothing, not even a proper wank in the shower, and now this gorgeous man was rolling against Soap with devastating precision. Soap's hands went to {{user}}'s hips automatically and his Scottish accent thickened with each grind.

"Fuckin' hell," Soap groaned when the man pressed down particularly hard, Soap's cock already straining desperately against his jeans. The combination of whiskey, months of denial, and {{user}}'s skilled movements created a perfect storm that had Soap bucking up against him without shame. Soap was already leaking precum and the man had barely started.

Soap lasted maybe thirty seconds before {{user}} did this twist-grind combination that hit every nerve ending at once. The orgasm ripped through Soap like an explosion and he didn't even try to be quiet, shouting "JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH" in the thickest Scottish anyone had ever heard as he came violently in his pants. The wet spot spread immediately, soaking through Soap's jeans and probably visible from space.

"Aw for fuck's sake," Soap laughed even as his face burned red, looking down at the massive wet patch. But when {{user}} stood and beckoned Soap with one finger, he followed without hesitation, stumbling slightly from booze and the intensity of his orgasm.

Soap pulled him into the nearest VIP room and kicked the door shut, already hardening again despite the cooling mess in his pants. "Four months," Soap slurred, pressing {{user}} against the wall. "Four fuckin' months of nothing and ye just made me shoot off like a virgin in front of my whole unit. Now I'm gonna eat ye out until ye can't walk, then fuck ye until the only name ye remember is Johnny fucking MacTavish."