Warning: PWP. Don't read if you don't like.
Soap was in his most favorite place in the world–between a woman's thighs. He couldn't help but smirk as the woman sitting above him emitted a shaky, appreciative sigh, his goal of distracting her with his mouth well underway. He opened his eyes to drink in the sight of her bare breasts and face illuminated by the laptop she had placed on his headboard shelf. The glow of the backlight revealed a slightly furrowed brow in concentration as she chewed on her bottom lip. Despite his ministrations, her furious typing hadn't ceased, a steady pace maintained.
Ever the prepared strategist, he switched to plan B as he flattened his tongue and gave a long, thick lick from the bottom of her slit to the sensitive pearl. Soap enclosed his lips around her clit and gave it a long hard suck. Her teeth released her plump bottom lip as her jaw dropped in appreciation from his attentions. Doe-like eyes widened as she tried to maintain her focus. His ears perked up as her typing ceased for a few good moments before resuming at a faster pace in concentration. He chuckled as she forced herself to pay attention to her computer, the deep rumble of his voice sending delicious vibrations through her, a shiver shooting up her spine. His battle-roughened hands left her well-defined behind to grab her hips and keep her in place as she involuntarily bucked into his mouth. She still continued to type.
Feeling a bit ignored, he tilted his head back and released his suction on her with an audible pop.
"Oi, nerd." He tried to get her attention, his grip on her hips unwavering.
"You made me miss a semicolon," she grumbled back, albeit breathily. He hadn't realized that her breath had quickened to a shallow pant, her breasts rising and falling, the dusty rose peaks harder than they were before. He kept his eyes open, watching for her reaction as he settled back into his pillow to continue where he left off. His tongue made figure eights against her folds, circling her clit, but all the while avoiding direct contact to it. He intermittently flicked his tongue hard against the swollen pearl, teasing helpless mewls from her throat whenever he did.
Her breathy moans slowly increased in volume as he alternated between flicking and sucking. Silky hair cascaded past her shoulders as her head tilted back in distracted pleasure, her eyes cloudy in wanton lust. One hand traveled down to gently grip Soap's mohawk to increase the pressure on her core. The other remained at the laptop, the plastic creaking in her grip. Her typing ceased completely as she was reduced to continuously grinding her hips into his face. The captain's beard chafed against the soft skin between her thighs, but the roughness only seemed to add to her pleasure.
"Ahh, Fuck!" she moaned helplessly as he gave another very hard suck. Suddenly soaking the bottom half of his face, her body convulsed in a familiar, uncontrolled way. He continued to lap at the apex of her thighs until she stopped grinding and bucking. Her head tilted forward, face flushed with pleasure as they both tried to catch their breath.
"Did you come?" He asked playfully, his voice dripping with arrogance.
She opened her eyes to blink away stars before focusing on his face. Her eyes narrowed at his cocky, lop-sided grin. The computer expert closed her laptop a bit more roughly than she intended, frustrated that she had lost in their little game in a lame attempt to hide that she was a sore loser. She silently cursed his handsome face and his strong jawline.
"Whatever," she attempted to keep her voice steady. She slowly shimmied her way down his body as she proceeded to initiate round two, feeling her way as her eyes adjusted to the darkened room. He untangled himself from her smooth, gorgeous legs. Freed, Soap wiped his mouth with a muscled arm, as if he had just enjoyed a delicious meal. He put his hands behind his head, and dropped his head back onto his pillow comfortably, enjoying the view in the moonlight as he watched her position herself over his hips.
"I don't know how you stay so focused," he hissed as she gripped his reigns, already aroused from watching her orgasm on his face. She refused to look up at him. Instead, she merely raised an eyebrow as she began to pump her hand up and down his length. He continued, his voice slightly strained.
"Whenever I fuck you, I can hardly add two plus t–"
All the air had left the captain's lungs as the woman completely enveloped him within her. He could hardly think, as she was so warm and tight. Satisfied that all of his prep work allowed her to take him so easily, Soap opened his mouth to sass her some more, but he decided against it, distracted as she rose up and fully seated herself again. He decided that it'd be better to allow the woman to work out her frustrations on him for the rest of the night.
In the next room, beyond the thin walls of the officers' barracks, Lt. Ghost groaned as he heard the enthusiastic lovers gear up for another go. He plopped his pillow over his head in attempt to drown out the racket.
"Bloody hell… I'll never get any sleep at this rate," he mumbled.
A few months ago, the announcement of the new computer specialist was not readily accepted by Task Force 141.
"Why do we need another wanker hacker if we've got me?" Ghost sounded annoyed, his already garbled cockney accent was further disrupted by the loose cigarette on his lip. His jaw was visibly clenched as his mask was turned halfway up his face. He was leaning against an empty cargo container, his arms folded and shoulders tensed. The rest of the team murmured in agreement around him.
"Shepherd says we need 'em. Comes highly recommended. C.I.A. affiliated and trained, currently an active lieutenant in the US Air Force," Captain John "Soap" MacTavish listed off what he could recall from the satellite phone correspondence with General Shepherd. He was annoyed that he didn't have a rapsheet like he did for the rest of his recruits. Soap assumed that those files would come with the arrival of the new member, since it was so last minute. Lately, Shepherd had been absent, his presence required state-side as the 141 remained at their normal base. Attempts at contact would come at random intervals through various secured means through video calls and sat-phones.
"Air Force?" Roach wrinkled his nose in confusion. "What's that got to do with computers?"
"The US Air Force has jurisdiction," Worm chimed in, a US Navy SEAL with a better understanding of his country's military. "Air space, outer space, and cyberspace."
"Ohhh," the team chorused in understanding. A few nods were had as the team mulled it over for a few moments.
"So we're dealing with a 'chair force' nerd then," Scarecrow recalled the silly nickname thrown around back in the states.
"A nerd? Like a neckbeard with tons of doritos and mountain dew?" Meat was picturing a fat, lazy basement-dweller and cringed at the thought of one joining the team.
"We're not lowering our P.T. standards for some fat-fuck. You poofs are already lazy enough as it is," Ghost admonished, picturing the same overweight imaginary recruit as Meat. Chemo snickered.
"If his specialty is computers, would it matter if he could do anything beyond sitting in a chair?" Roach added, his hand subconsciously going to his chin in thought.
"We're a SpecOps team, not the fricken Justice League of Friends with frilly specialties," Ghost flatlined.
"Now now, lads, let's not make assumptions just yet. He hasn't even arrived. I'm sure Shepherd wouldn't just send us someone to babysit," Soap reassured.
He stood up from where he was leaning next to Ghost against the cargo container at hearing helicopter blades in the distance. Soap nodded to his team and walked towards the helicopter touching down on an empty patch of land. Everybody began to shield their faces from the wind and dust being picked up, Ghost only bothering to shield the fag in his mouth from being blown out.
Roach peered over his arm, watching as an airman threw out a standard issue duffel. From the helicopter's open door, a seemingly scrawny FNG dressed in camo fatigues with a cap hopped out. He had blinked, missing the new person's face as Soap waved off the helicopter and it took off once again. The cap flew off as the wind speed of the helicopter increased, its owner turning quickly and expertly catching it out of the air. The whole team seemingly watched in slow motion, the removed hat revealing long hair tied tightly in a bun at the nape of the neck. A few flyaways whipping violently in the high speed wind against a soft face– a woman's face.
"A chick," Roach managed to blurt out.
She had caught her fly-away hat in her right, and transferred it to her left hand. The woman stood up straight and saluted her new superior, Captain Soap. He saluted back lazily and waved her over to follow him. She easily shouldered her duffel and jogged lightly to catch up, falling not too far behind as the winds from the retreating helicopter died down. The 141 stood in silence.
Ghost stomped out his cigarette, stirring the rest of the members out of their reverie.
"So much for not lowering the P.T. standards," he mumbled, shuffling back towards the barracks.
Author's Notes: My walking-talking-hacking-vagina needs a name and a callsign. *sigh* Hope you enjoyed. Read and Review.