PART 2

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The sound of balls scattering apart and hitting one another couldn't ease the tension in the room. This is why you didn't stay out late, especially after a mission. Your brain tended to switch to autopilot and apparently the pilot decided to jump out of the freaking plane tonight.

You could feel the skin on your face heat up. There was no doubt your cheeks were crimson red. Daring a look at Ghost's you notice his balaclava was lifted slightly to one side. That bastard was smirking? Fuck you were never going to live this down.

Keegan speaks first, "Is that something you want?"

Turning towards him you notice his left eye brow raised in interest. "What? No! I'm tired-I didn't mean that," you were grasping at straws trying to recover from what might be the most embarrassing thing you've ever said.

Suddenly a deep British hvoice comes from behind you, "Don't be embarrassed, love. We're your best friends. We aren't going to judge you for your...desires."

Desires. That's one way to put it. Y/n has lost track of how many times they fantasized about Keegan... and Ghost....together with them. Could you really blame them though. Being stuck on mission in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no privacy can cause the mind to wonder. Especially when sleeping arrangements are limited causing you to be sandwiched between two men who are built like Greek gods.

Nights when it was hard to sleep you humored yourself with the idea. Who would be the more dominate of the two? Would they take turns praising you for the way you handled them together? Which one of them would tell you to "shut up and take it" while the other kissed your forehead. Would they let you take a break or use you to the brink of exhaustion.

You practically jump from your seat and head to the score board, snatching the piece of chalk, "I don't...desire anything. Hurry up and play so I can get some sleep."

It's like Keegan and Ghost are having a telepathic conversation as they exchange looks. Keegan looks toward you after the two have seemed to come to some sort of agreement, "Come play with us doll face."

Ghost watches as your eyebrows squeeze together in apprehension, "Why? I don't play."

"Doesn't mean we can't teach you."

Arms crossed you look between the two men. They rarely agreed on anything together, so what the hell were they playing at"

Ghost folds his arm and leans against the wall, "The longer you stand there the longer it takes for us to finish this game and go home."

You give in ready for this whole night to be one distant memory. Keegan steps back making room for you in front of him. He explains the basics of the game: one person is solids the other is stripes. Try to use the cue ball to get your balls in while avoiding the other person's balls. The first person to clear their balls and then sink the eight ball wins.

His hands suddenly touch your hips, turning you to face the pool table. Your eyes make contact with Ghost's across the table. His body seems tenser than before and his knuckles are white from the strength of his grip on his pool stick.

"Bend over," Keegan whispers from behind you placing the pool stick in your hands. Ghost nods his head at you encouraging you to do as your told. The muscles in your back move before your brain can tell you it not to. Warmth floods your skin as Keegan bends down behind you, his body meeting yours. Hands skate across your arms as his make there way to your wrists. The pool stick comes into view as he shows you the correct way to hold it.

With his hands still on top of yours he pulls the stick back towards your bodies. "Imagine a line from the cue ball to the ball your aiming at. Then picture a line from your ball to the pocket. It helps you to imagine the angle you need to hit the cue ball at."

Warm lips touch your ear, "Angles are very important dollface. You have to make sure your hitting just the right spot over and over again. Your eye close on their own, images of Keegan hitting certain spot flash in your mind. The feeling of him shoving the stick forward brings you out of your head, eyes opening just in time to see the ball rolling across the table straight into the pocket.

He moves you both to the next ball repeating the same process before telling you, "Your turn"

Obviously you protest not wanting to cost him the game but he urges you on anyway. Letting out a huff you bend down and line up the shot. You could do this you told yourself. It's all about the...angles. For the love of god don't think about those kind of angles. After a minute or so, your arms pull the stick back ready to send the cue ball forward when someone's hand coasts up your thigh.

"Keegan," you manage to gasp out, "What are you doing?"

His hands moves towards your inner thighs completely catching you off guard when he squeezes it, "Giving my best friend some encouragement."

Y/n tries to shake their head but their body pushes back into Keegans instead. "If you keep touching me like that I promise I'll miss. It's distracting."

"Then miss, I couldn't care less." With that his mouth finds your neck and suddenly you didn't care about the balls either.

Like you predicted you completely missed the ball and now Ghost was calling you over to him. Jesus maybe you wouldn't be able to hand,e both of them at once. Keegan touched you three times and already had you on the verge of combusting.

Already knowing the drill you position yourself in front of Ghost. Keegan was fighting a smile watching you try to keep it together.

Somehow the pool stick finds its way to you. Ghost hands land on your waist while he simultaneously kicks out your legs, "Wider love." Nothing on this planet could have stopped your mind from conjuring up images of him doing the same thing but for a much different and dirtier reason.

"A wider stance allows you a better chance," he pauses as his hands tease down you waist, "at hitting all the right angles."

Fuck these men and they're filthy innuendos. And fuck them again for the way it send chills down your stomach to places it shouldn't.

"There's one thing Keegan forgot to mention. Pressure."

Ghost, Keegan, and Y/n- Quality TimeWhere stories live. Discover now