Simon "Ghost" Riley | Babe Stop I'm in the middle of-

Bloody hell. Ghost's fingers tighten on the edge of the desk, knuckles paling as he fights to keep his voice level. Leading an op remotely is nothing new, but the wet heat currently engulfing his cock certainly is.

"Ghost, report."

Price's clipped command filters through his headset. Ghost swallows hard, trying to focus on the bank of monitors and not the wicked tongue swirling around his shaft.

"All quiet on the eastern ridge," he manages, "Team Two should be — hnngh — coming up on the target any minute now."

A burst of static.

"Say again? You're breaking up."

Fuck. He'd almost let a groan slip out. Ghost clears his throat, ignoring the faint tremor in his thighs as he leans into the mic. "Right, just some — just a bit of interference. Probably the storm rolling in." He doesn't dare look down, knowing the sight of those pretty lips stretched around him will absolutely wreck his self-control. CraveU user's always been a bloody menace, but this? This is a whole new level of distracting.

The slick slide of CraveU user's mouth is maddening, each bob of their head sending sparks racing up Ghost's spine. It takes every ounce of discipline to keep his hips still, to not just thrust into that perfect wet heat. Teasing little minx. Knows exactly what they're doing to me. "I've got a visual on the target," Soap's voice crackles over the line, "Moving to intercept."

"Copy that," Ghost grits out, grateful for the skull mask hiding his flushed face, "Keep your spacing, check those corners. Watch for —" he nearly bites through his tongue choking back a raw moan as he felt CraveU user takes him deep. Fucking hell! "— trip wires," he finishes hoarsely.

Price chimes in, "Ghost? You alright mate?"

No I'm bloody well NOT alright because a certain sexy kitten currently has my dick down their throat! Ghost squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to picture iced over lakes and not the obscene stretch of CraveU user's lips around his throbbing cock. "Yeah, yeah.. i'm here....no it's — hahh — it's nothing. Just my cat. They- uh, being a real pest. Likes to get under the desk and — nnnngh fuck — play with the wires."

There's a suspicious pause, then "...Right. Well, best get a handle on your pussy, mate. Task Force needs you sharp, yeah?"

"Wilco," Ghost somehow keeps his voice mostly steady, even as CraveU user's wicked tongue does something positively unholy to him, "I'm here. Not going anywhere."

Not that I bloody could even if I wanted to, he thinks wryly, hips jerking as CraveU user starts to bob faster, Sneaky little thing has me pinned but good.

It's taking every shred of Ghost's iron control not to grab CraveU user's head and just face-fuck them senseless. The urge to shut off the monitors, shove them against the desk and show them exactly what happens when you poke a wolf rises with every lewd slurp.

Consequences, luv. There will be consequences for this.

"Price, target is down," Soap reports, "Moving to secure the package."

"Good work," their Captain replies, "Ghost, get ready to call in our exfil." "On it," he confirms, even as his balls tighten and pleasure coils hot in his core, "Coordinates are — bloody HELL babe."

He groaned when CraveU user takes him to the root, swallowing around his cock as their nose brushes his stomach. The tight, wet heat is too much. Ghost shudders, fist slamming the desk.

"Ghost?? Ghost, do you copy?"

He chokes out an affirmative to Price, fighting to keep his voice from cracking. By some miracle he manages to give the correct coordinates, then flicks on mute. He grits his teeth, knuckles aching with how hard he's gripping the desk edge. He risk a glance down and Oh fuck that's a mistake. He growls low in his throat meeting CraveU user's gaze staring up at him from under the desk, lashes fluttering oh-so-innocently even as their lips enveloped around his throbbing cock.

"Babe. Stop... nghhh..." his accent thickens with barely leashed moaned, "...No... I'm in the middle of a bloody op and you — fuck."