Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was late.

Or early. Maybe both.

Time didn’t mean much anymore.

The clock on the nightstand blinked 4:17 AM in dull red light, barely cutting through the dark like a dying ember. The barracks were heavy with silence – thick and still, like a held breath.

But inside Ghost’s room, it wasn’t quiet.

Not inside.

Not between them.

Gary was on his stomach – bare, flushed, shivering despite the sweat clinging to his skin. The sheets were twisted beneath him, half kicked off the bed, damp with heat and friction. His thighs were parted wide, spread open without hesitation. His hips rocked helplessly with every thrust, body pinned under the weight of the man above him.

Simon was deep inside him, hard and relentless. One hand braced between Roach’s shoulder blades, holding him down like he was trying to anchor him to the bed. The other clamped tightly over his mouth, fingers splayed across his jaw.

“Be quiet,” Simon growled low in his ear, voice jagged with restraint. “You wake anyone up, I stop.”

Gary whimpered into his palm – a high, breathless sound he couldn’t swallow down. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes damp with sweat, his whole body trembling as Simon’s cock slammed into him again, harder this time. Cruel. Intentional.

The bed creaked beneath them, but it was muffled by the mattress. The rhythm was steady. Brutal. And Gary – he didn’t fight it. Didn’t want to. He just took it.

Because this was what he needed.

Simon had woken up already hard, already grinding into the back of him. No words. No warning. Just heat and hunger and a hand between his legs. Gary had stirred only slightly, groggy and pliant. His body knew what to do before his brain caught up. He’d spread his legs and arched back into Simon’s touch, already aching.

Like he’d been waiting for it.

Because he had.

Because that was how far gone he was.

Now, every inch of him burned – every nerve ending lit up like fire. His muscles twitched with each thrust, his cock leaking into the sheets, untouched. He didn’t need to be stroked. Didn’t even want it.

He just wanted to be used.

To be taken.

To be ruined.

“You little fuckin’ slut,” Simon hissed, voice strained as he shoved in again, knocking the air from Gary’s lungs. “You were already dripping when I touched you. Already open. You like being used like this, don’t you?”

Gary nodded frantically, unable to speak with Simon’s hand covering his mouth. His hips jerked with each thrust, spine bowing, his whole body reacting on instinct.

He didn’t want to think.

Didn’t want to feel anything else.

Just this.

Just the overwhelming pressure, the weight pressing him down, the sharp slap of skin against skin, the feeling of Simon deep inside him – so deep it hurt in the best way. The stretch, the sting, the heat. The brutal edge of being taken apart by someone who knew exactly how to break him down.

“You’re mine,” Simon growled. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to feel how tight you are. How good you fuckin’ squeeze when I fuck you.”

Gary couldn’t stop the moan that tore from his throat – muffled by Simon’s palm, soaked with spit. His whole body jerked like a livewire, cock twitching against the sheets, hips pushing back helplessly into every thrust.

He was dizzy with it. Lost. Drowning

He didn’t care.

He wanted to disappear into it.

Into Simon.

Simon was everywhere – his weight, his voice, his heat. Every word sunk into Gary’s skin like a brand. Every thrust dragged a little more of him out, left him raw and exposed.

“Gonna come like this?” Simon sneered, slowing down just enough to grind deep, deep, dragging against that spot that made Gary see stars. “Without even touching your cock? That’s how fucked you are, baby. That’s how well I’ve trained you.”

Gary sobbed into his hand, his whole body shuddering violently. His cock was so hard it hurt, dripping into the sheets. He didn’t need permission. His body had already decided.

Simon leaned down, breath hot against Roach’s ear, voice a low snarl, “You gonna soak these sheets for me, like the cockslut you are?”

That was it.

That broke him.

Gary’s back arched, his thighs shaking as his orgasm tore through him – raw and devastating. He screamed into Simon’s palm, muffled and desperate, as his cock spurted untouched into the mattress. His whole body convulsed, clenching tight around Simon’s cock as if trying to keep him there. To hold him in.

Simon groaned low in his throat. He shoved in hard – deep – grinding as he came, hips jerking, emptying into Gary with slow, possessive thrusts. His free hand gripped Gary’s waist, fingers digging deep into sweat-slick skin, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

For a long moment, they didn’t move.

Still locked together.

Still panting.

Gary twitched beneath him – sensitive, overstimulated.

But safe.

Simon’s hand lingered for a moment longer, then eased away - slow and gentle now. His palm was slick with sweat and spit, but all he did was cradle the side of Gary’s face with it, thumb stroking slow along his cheek.

He leaned in, lips brushing just beneath his ear. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he whispered.

A kiss followed. Gentle. Wet. Almost tender. Simon’s tongue dragged along the curve of his neck, tasting him, marking him again.

Gary whimpered – quiet, broken, blissed out.

Simon turned his head gently toward him and kissed him – deep and slow, mouth hot and possessive, swallowing that last little moan straight from his throat.

Because those sounds?

Those were his.

Only his.