Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

The Dance	By : LisbetAdair Category: +A through F > Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Views: 2391 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Modern Warfare, nor Call of Duty, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Dance
- 2-February
- 1
- 2
The Dance
Synopsis: John MacTavish returns to Hereford after the events of Modern Warfare. Tired of all the death and destruction, he decides he wants to remember what it’s like to live. John “Soap” MacTavish x Simon “Ghost” Riley. Explicit slash fiction.
It was a shite funeral. I don’t know what I was expecting, really. I’ve heard people say that they’ve been to a good funeral, even a great funeral, but it’s an experience I’ve never shared. Perhaps it’s a more joyous occasion when someone has succumbed after a painful illness, instead of meeting a grisly death in the arse-end of some dismal foreign shitehole? Obviously, it’s worst when you know the poor cunt that’s in the coffin, and, worst of all, when you saw them meet that grisly end right in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.
It’s been three months. It still fucking hurts.
I came out of duty and that’s it: to pay my respects and then fuck off. They said it would help, would bring me closure, but just made me really fucking angry, and having to sit there in that stuffy church, listening to the sniffling around me and being slowly garrotted by my own tie, well that just made it worse.
There was no way I was going to the wake, obviously. It’s bad enough feeing responsible for someone’s death, and I knew that I wasn’t going to forgive myself if I ended up punching some dozy rupert after a hard afternoon on the bevy: so I went for a walk. I sneaked past the widow’s entourage, feeling like a total coward shite-bag as I did so, and stalked off. A few familiar faces were watching me, but I just left them to their silent judgement. I’d paid my dues.
I was just walking aimlessly at first, with an underlying sense of general frustration. Headed up towards town and then took a right into the playing fields. Being a dreich day in January, the place was empty and that suited my miserable mood. I did a lap around the place, sullenly kicking the stones that had the misfortune to find themselves in my path, but it didn’t help.
Eventually, I found myself on the bridge, and I stopped. I was heading up to Castle Green, almost like I was on autopilot. If I’d been asked a few months ago whether I thought it was appropriate to go out fuck-hunting after a funeral, I’d have said no, of course it fucking wasn’t, but that was then and this was now. I was sick of feeling like this: tired of all the death and dying, and thoroughly sick of my own company.
Leaning out over the rail, I could see that the river was swollen beneath me, heavy with the fall of the winter rains. It was strangely hypnotising, watching the rush of the water as it swept underneath my feet, the turbulent surface rippling and swirling. I just let my mind drift with it, wishing that I could just wash my troubles away and emerge, fresh and clean on the other side.
I was so busy daydreaming that I didn’t see him until he had stopped, just ten feet away. I nearly jumped right out of my fucking skin.
“I heard you were dead.” I said, hoping I didn’t betray the fact that he’d just scared the shit out of me.
He smiled: the same smug, wry smile that used to drive me crazy, and shrugged. “So people keep telling me.”
I hadn’t know him too well: he’d been quiet, self-absorbed, serious, and had an ability to cross even the most arduous route across the Welsh hills like a cross between a pack mule and a gazelle. Not traits that are going to win my undying love during selection. At the time, I had wished that he’d break his fucking ankle or something, so I had felt quite guilty when I heard that he’d died of something nasty in the jungle in the next round. Except that he hadn’t; it had just been one of those shite rumours that fly about every few weeks. Nevertheless, it had given a few people a fright when he turned up, out of the blue, two stone lighter and several shades paler: a ghost version of himself.
I had only heard all this, of course, because when he sauntered back into town I had been chasing Zakhayev junior several thousand miles away. I remembered him differently, but a lot had happened since I’d seen him last.
Unlike me, who’d started the summer water-fat and bulky from hitting the weights, Riley had been rangy and lean. There hadn’t been a spare ounce of fat on his body, and I knew, because I’d looked, surreptitiously, and then checked back a few times to make sure. I didn’t think there was any harm in window-shopping. I knew he was interested, of course, but I needed to focus. I wasn’t coming back next winter and freezing my bollocks off because I’d fucked up the first time. I had no idea that he was still around; I had lost track of things.
“So you got better?” I said. It was clear that he’d eventually shrugged off whatever had tried to shove him off this mortal coil. The fabric of his jacket was straining across the back of his shoulders, even more than I remembered it doing. He’d obviously put the work in to get fit, and then some.
“Apparently.” He replied. “Got recycled.” He sighed.
“Bastards.” I shook my head.
“Still, made it in the end.”
“Oh?” This was news. I was clearly well out of the loop. Still, it cheered me up a bit, knowing that I would at least have some eye-candy to look forward to. I looked him up and down. He was still wearing the same worn-out, leather bike jacket he’d turned up in the first time round. As he leaned on the railing, it rode up over the waist of his jeans, allowing me full view of his well-rounded arse.
“Yeah?” I replied. I wasn’t good with small talk. I had already guessed that we were here for the same reasons, but I didn’t know if Riley had vetoed me already. I personally didn’t give a monkey’s about work-life boundaries right now. Riley’s firm arse was definitely the best one I was going to find today.
He straightened up, driving his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, pushing back his jacket and then he slouched, one elbow on the railing, to stare out over the river, as if unconcerned by our conversation. My gaze immediately dropped to his subtly displayed crotch. As if I was in any doubts over his motives at being here, there was an undeniable erection straining between his legs, pushing proudly out at his partly buttoned fly.
For a moment, I hesitated, yet I knew what I wanted. I could feel my cock stirring, answering the unasked question before my mind could butt in with the ethics of fucking and funerals. Riley clearly wanted the same thing that I did, and this time, I didn’t have the excuse of having anything else to focus on. In fact, I was looking for quite the opposite. Besides, was I really going to turn down the opportunity to find out if he was as good a fuck as he looked, or that I had fantasised he was?
He cocked his head, looking at my slyly through his half-closed eyes. Fuck it, I thought. I glanced around quickly to check there were no prying eyes and slid my hand down between the flaps of my parade jacket to nonchalantly rest on my crotch. I liked to make sure all intentions were clear.
Riley sized me up. I watched his tongue run across the edge of his teeth like a wolf appraising a particularly fine steak, and then he jerked his head to the side, indicating a path into the open space of the green. I raised an eyebrow. It was barely two in the afternoon. Even though the place was deserted, it would be pretty risky, not to mention fucking freezing.
“My flat’s just up the road.” He said, answering my unasked question.
Oh, aye? I thought. Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly. I nodded in agreement. Whatever shit-hole Riley lived in, it would be better than trying to have a sly fuck in the cold dead leaves. I wasn’t about to explain a frost-bitten ball sack to the medics.
It turned out that I was to be pleasantly surprised. Riley lived up on the main road, and after about five minutes of detailed study of his arse as I followed him along the street, I found myself in the clean front hall of a modern flat decorated in tasteful, but anonymous, shades of beige. I was impressed. My own place was a fucking tip, by comparison.
“You want a drink?” he called as I threw my jacket over the back of a chair and loosened my tie. It felt like I could finally breathe again.
Why the fuck not? I thought. “Aye.”
“Whiskey?”
“Whatever.” I said, flopping down onto the couch.
Admittedly, I did feel a bit weird. Usually, if I had some mutual arrangement with one my comrades in arms it was one of minimal contact. I’d be lying if I had said that I wasn’t a bit nervous: it was Riley’s turf, not mine, but it was good being in from the chill; although the cold hadn’t dampened my erection. I slid my hand between my legs again, keeping myself occupied by teasing the head of my cock through the fabric. My hands were too cold to be any closer. I had no idea how he wanted to play things, so I just did what I normally would and hoped for the best.
After a few moments, he reappeared and thrust a glass into my hands. I had been expecting some cheap shite out of the supermarket but a quick sniff filled my nose with a pleasant, smoky aroma that told me this was the real thing.
“The good stuff.” I observed, rolling the liquid around the glass. I was secretly impressed.
Riley didn’t reply. He sat his own glass, which appeared to be filled with a generous measure of vodka, on the coffee table, and took off his shirt. I watched with interest as he threw it across the room to land on another chair and dropped onto the sofa beside me.
I shifted my weight. My cock was plaintively whining about its confinement. Riley’s body was even better that I remembered it. He’d clearly been busy in my absence, because his torso was thick with delicious muscle. For some reason, seeing him half-dressed was even more exciting than seeing him naked. The top button of his jeans was still undone, the thicken denim loose around his rock hard stomach. He took a swig from his glass and then dropped his head back, eyes half-closed, onto the back of the couch.
I followed the thin brush of reddish hair across his stomach onto the expanse of his chest. It was a magnificent sight. I wanted to fucking jump him. I wanted to have him, right there, on that couch. Not doing so was a significant test of my will power. He rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes. I held his gaze, and without looking down, popped open the hook holding my trousers closed and slowly, still staring back at him, pulled down the zip at the fly.
My cock sprung free almost immediately, tenting up the fabric of my pants and pushing out, ready for action. I slid my hand beneath and gripped it gently at the base, gently squeezing the balls between my hand and the hard space between my legs.
Riley watched me for a minute and then seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. Still saying nothing, he shifted closer and reached over to slide his hand along my thigh. I’d had no human contact beyond the clinical in three months, and it made me edgy. Riley clawed his fingers along the fabric that covered my leg. My nervousness betrayed me, and my leg stiffened involuntarily. He just smiled, and slid his hand up towards my crotch, pushing my own hand out of the way to gently grip the shaft of my cock, cupping my balls in the palm of his hand.
My whole body tensed as he squeezed gently. There was a danger here, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a major fucking turn-on. Riley had something of the dark about him, an air of quiet danger. I had no idea what way he was kinked, but I was really keen to find out. The hint of a smile on his lips, he found the head with his thumb and started to rub across it, teasing me. I had to remember to breath, and when I exhaled it came out as a trembling growl. Fuck! I shut my eyes, and tried to relax into it, but he was driving me fucking crazy already.
I could feel his breath on my skin as he leaned close to me and switched hands. I knew he was going to touch me, but when I felt his fingers close over my tit I had to bit my lip. This wasn’t how I had imagined it, but it was fucking brilliant. I opened my eyes and Riley’s face was inches from mine. I couldn’t control myself. I had no idea if he was into it or not, but I just went for it and kissed him, hard.
For a moment, I thought he was going to tell me to fuck off, and then his lips parted to kiss me back, welcoming me in their warm embrace. I was in ecstasy. I kissed him like a schoolboy, desperate and yearning. I had never kissed a man like this for a long time. It was too easy to get attached, to get involved, but today I just needed to be with someone, to feel the warmth of someone else beside me, to know that there was life left in the world with me.
I felt the remains of his stubble rasp across my face as he moved his lips on mine. I was pushing so hard against him that it hurt, but I didn’t care. I slid my hand along his arm, feeling the power in his tense biceps and ran my hand up, over the broad, hard muscles of his shoulders and along his neck to pull his face closer.
“Jesus Christ!” I said, as I stopped to catch my breath.
Riley didn’t reply. Clearly, he wasn’t into pillow talk. He didn’t even look at me. He just gripped the waist of my pants firmly and pulled them down to my thighs. My cock jerked free for a second and then he took it in his mouth.
I should have known he’d be good at this, because he’d moved his tongue on mine with an expertise that I’d not imagined he’d have. My back arched as his lips closed around me, his warm tongue sliding over the head, exploring every inch of it. I moaned involuntarily and bit my lip as he forced the tip of his tongue into the slit; I was in heaven.
My cock was throbbing now and each slow suck served only to drive me closer. I breathed through gritted teeth. Riley seemed to sense this, and, letting the tip of his teeth brush across the skin of my cock as he did so, he withdrew and stood up, his own fingers fumbling at the buttons of his jeans. I lay there and watched him.
His cock was already hard as he pushed down the fabric of his pants and gripped himself. I knew that Riley was well-hung, but this was the first time I had seen him in full, erect glory. I pushed myself upright, licking my lips. If Riley thought he was good with his mouth, I had a thing or two to teach him.
I slid my mouth across his cock, gently caressing the shaft of it with the very edges of my lips: stroking it, teasing it. Riley had a strong musk, and I loved it. I brushed my lips across the supple skin of his balls and breathed deep, inhaling the heady scent of him. Gently, I lapped at the base of his cock, just tickling the skin. Creeping back and forth along its length, I reached the head and, relishing the faint, salty taste, I closed my lips around it. I heard his breath catch as I slowly began to suck, moving further along the shaft with each inhalation, until I had the full length of him. It’s a neat trick, and by the noise he made, I had clearly impressed him.
“Bloody hell!” he said, and it gave me a kick to hear soft ecstasy in his voice as he spoke.
I withdrew, dragging my teeth along the skin and pressing just hard enough across the head to make him squirm. Keeping just enough pressure to hold him with my mouth, I rolled my tongue across him, hard. He shuddered.
Whilst I kept him occupied, I reached up and slid my hands underneath his pants, gripping the cheeks of his arse tight in my hands. I wanted to fuck him, and I wanted him to know that. As I started to build up a rhythm, I massaged his firm arse, spreading the cheeks apart, kneading the muscle beneath my fingers.
He growled, and as I worked my fingers closer to the cleft of his arse, he started to lean on me, giving me better access. I pushed him forward and slid myself around his legs like a cat until I was staring at the solid muscle of his cheeks. I pulled myself onto my knees, and spread them, revealing the delicate, fawn skin of his hole hidden between them. He growled as I pushed my face into it, driving my tongue inside.
The scent of him was overwhelming, and it was making me even harder. I really needed to fuck him, and soon. I gripped myself with one hand, and held his hip with the other. He was leaning on the sofa now, the force of my head pushing him forward as I nibbled on the plump flesh that surrounded his arse. He groaned and shivered with pleasure. I had to have him: now.
I fumbled in his pockets, cursing myself for not being prepared and then inwardly sighing with relief when my hands closed over the magic silver packet. I was well practised, and in a few seconds, I was ready.
Keeping his cheeks spread, I spat between them and then I stood up. Riley stayed where he was, his body rigid with anticipation, bent with his arse proud and ready, leaning over the back of the seat. I pressed myself against him, engaging but not entering. I wanted him relaxed, so I reached round and started to work at his cock again. He shuddered as I gripped him, his arse clenching and then he relaxed.
I seized the moment, and using the element of surprise, pushed myself inside. Riley buckled and growled: an animal noise that reverberated through his whole body.
“Fuck!” he gasped.
I waited for a second, and let him get comfortable whilst I teased at his balls before I eased my whole length inside. Riley was pretty tight, and he felt good. I started to rock, gently thrusting my pelvis forward, taking delight in watching his arse rise and fall with the motion. He moaned as I rolled over the bulge of his prostate.
“That’s really fucking good.” He said. “Really fucking good.”
It was exactly what I needed to hear. I really wanted to fuck him, and fuck him hard. Every movement made my cock throb harder, and I could hardly bear it. I slid myself out until I was almost free and then rammed my cock inside him.
Riley roared: a sound of pure base pleasure. I gripped his hips, slid back and thrust hard, again, pulling him back against me, into me so that I could wrap my arms around him. I wanted to hear him scream, feel him writhe against me. I slid my hands across his chest and drew his tits between my fingers, tugging hard enough to make him cry out and then I thrust deep into him again.
“Fuck yes!” he growled.
“Aye, you like that?” I said. “You like a hard fuck?” I punctuated the last word with a further driving thrust. Riley groaned. I took that as a yes.
I was so close now, it was impossible to keep control. I really wanted to, really needed to come. I started to move more quickly now, thrusting deeper and faster. The sensation was unbearable. I heard myself making a sort of whining noise, but I couldn’t help myself. I was desperate, yearning for that release. My balls tightened and I felt it start, the building flood of pleasure I’d been waiting for. I let it rise, and then it hit me full force. I just lost control, frantically ramming my cock deep inside, bellowing and roaring like a wild thing.
When it finally abated, I just stood there, swaying, with Riley’s body pressed against me. My heart was pounding in my chest for the first time in months.
This was what I’d been craving. This was fucking living again.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Dance