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the-californicationist · 4 months

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Guile & Guilt (Ch. 10 --- Ending)

THURSDAY — 10:24PM: 18 hours until the wedding

As Johnny popped open the door to the distillery’s main hall, his grip on your hand tightened. It felt as if he was holding onto you in a strong current, working as hard as he could to keep you from slipping away. Yet, wave after wave of anxiety and fear crashed between you, trying its best to pull you apart. He was having none of it, and as you wilted, seeing everyone’s faces staring at you in the hall, he strengthened, all but carrying you along with him, ready to face whatever music was behind that black, wooden portal.

He walked in front of you, shielding you from whatever terror waited for you just around the corner of the short corridor. Then, as he rounded it, confronting the crowd, you heard a raucous, jeering applause. The guests at the rehearsal dinner were whooping and clapping, carrying on about the most important (and embarrassing) moment of your life, smiling and laughing at you and your protector.

But, you didn’t care about the crowd. You were scanning it for Pidge. Your eyes moved along the wall of faces, frantically searching for her. Then, pushing between Price and Gaz, there she was, coming towards you with Hamish not far behind.

The rest of the guests turned back to their business, still sharing laughs and comments to each other about your impromptu display of affection, but no one followed Pidge into the hallway to spy on you further.

When she saw your face, hers changed. It had been blank, emotionless, and cold. But, now, it was something as far from that as could be. You watched bright, fat tears fill the bottom lashes in her eyes, and her hand went to cover the grimace on her mouth.

Johnny shoved you behind him, blocking you from his sister’s supposed wrath, but you spoke around him,

“I’m so sorry, Pidge. I…” you sniffled as you looked up at her, fighting back your own sobs and trying to speak, “I tried so hard to stay away. Please, believe me.”

“Aye,” Johnny interrupted, straightening himself up pridefully, “She did, Pigeon. It was my fault.”

Pidge’s face twisted into an angry snarl, and she spun around as if to walk away, then she turned back to him. You thought she might slap him right across his mouth, and you weren’t positive, but you thought you could feel Johnny tensing up in front of you, bracing for it as he protected you.

Her face was displaying every emotion. It was pure chaos, and your heart ached to know that you had been the catalyst for it. But, as soon as she realized what she wanted to feel, she committed to reaching out for him, and she wrapped him in her arms, crying into his chest. He held her, letting her tears soak into his shirt.

“I kent so, you wee fuckin’ weapon,” she told him, her voice ragged and muffled by his body. You could barely understand her, “I spent all these years kennin’ she was the one who’d change your daft mind. I kent you’d love her, Johnny-boy, but I didnae want you to.”

His voice was strained as he asked her,

“Why, Pidge? Didnae you want me to be happy?”

“I wanted you to be yourself. The old you. The one who wanted to be home with us, with your family. You let me think you hated to be with me! You would leave and then, you’d go off with…” Her eyes darted to you as if to apologize for what she was about to say, “Whatever hen was the bloody closest. I didnae ken what to think.”

It took Johnny a moment to answer her. You were standing off to the side now, and he looked straight at you as he spoke, as if he was using you for fortification,

“I wasnae well, Brigette. It’s been right hard on me sometimes. I’d come back, and I’d get angry, just like da used to. I remember holding you at night when he’d get in that way, and you tried to hide your keenin’ but I heard you… and I didnae want that man back in your bloody house. So, I’d crash on couches ‘til I could come ‘round.”

Johnny sighed, listening to Pidge’s cries subside as she heard his words, and he went on,

“It was easier to spend a night here or a night there, enough time to be able to excuse away the bad dreams and the anger, but not enough to overstay my welcome. But, I missed out on a lot of time with you, and I ken I’ll never get it back. I dinnae want to miss any more of it.”

“Why the lassies, then? If all you needed was a safe space to be, you could’ve —”

Johnny smiled, shrugging,

“Any time of night, they’d always say yes. Even if I just crashed on the sofa. I may or may not’ve enjoyed the reputation a wee bit more than I should’ve done.”

Johnny’s soft grin turned on you, and he brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles as if to apologize to you.

“And he didn’t sleep with Cherise,” you interjected.

Pidge looked at you and then back to her brother as if waiting for him to confirm. He shrugged, dragging a tired hand down his face. Johnny laughed,

“Just a wee bit o’ flirtin’, to be honest.”

She smacked him on his chest, hard. He winced and laughed some more.

“Why didnae you tell me?” Her question was directed at both of you, and you could tell she expected a truthful answer. So, you plucked up the courage and told her,

“I couldn’t lose you, Pidge. You’re the only real family I have, and I couldn’t bear it if you hated me for breaking your rules about dating your brother.”

You waited for her response, and it seemed like she was trying to find the words. She dug deep within herself to choose them, and every moment that went by, you prayed that they would at least be kind, that you would at least have a chance.

While she was locked in thought, Johnny’s hand gripped yours, sealing your palms together, and pulled you into him, clutching you to his side in the cramped quarters of the hallway. Both of you were staring at his sister, two prisoners awaiting judgment.

Hamish stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and let out a ragged breath, grabbing your free hand in hers,

“I didnae want you to end up like our ma. When she got sick…”

You squeezed her hand to help her hold back her tears,

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Pidge.”

“When she got sick, he wasnae there. He didnae watch her layin’ there in pain. While he was bleedin’ to death in bloody Sarajevo, she was on her second round of the chemo. And I never forgave him. Still havnae forgave him. And so, when Johnny-boy comes to me and tells me he’s joined the SAS? I just… in my mind, he just took da’s place. I know tha’s not fair. He’s his own man.

But, then I watched you takin’ care of me after all tha’ mess. You were there for me, babe. And I couldnae bear it if he let you down in the way that da did our mam,” she laughed then, wiping old tears away, “And I tried so hard to keep him away. I’d cancel plans with you when he was home. I knew you were his. You were everything that my old Johnny loved.

I thought he’d changed. I thought he’d lost himself to the desert. I thought he’d leave you, and then I’d lose you. And I couldnae lose you.”

“I’m so sorry, Pidge,” you told her.

She pulled you away from Johnny and wrapped you in a long hug,

“I’m sorry, too.”

“She is,” Johnny said, rubbing your back as Pidge hugged you.

She pulled away to look up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He cupped your chin in his huge hands, warming your neck with his soft grip. He stared into your eyes, looking at you as if there was nothing else to see,

“She is everything that I love. She’s everything, Pidge.”

SATURDAY — 4:15AM: 1 hour after the wedding

You could barely get your keys into the lock, as weak as he was making you with his kisses on your neck. Johnny had groped you in the car, he’d kissed you until you’d moaned in the elevator, and he’d all but chased you down the hallway, laughing and grinning like a fiend.

“Johnny!” You gasped.

“Hurry, lass. I cannae wait much longer,” he nuzzled your jaw.

You giggled again, pushing the door open and tumbling through it. He shut and locked it behind him, tossing your bag and jacket on the futon. Marlowe made herself scarce, still not used to seeing him in your house.

He pushed you into the kitchen, kissing you up against the countertop, holding your face in his hands.

“Are you my woman, thief? Tell me.”

“I am, Johnny. All yours. I’ll show you.”

You knelt on your kitchen floor, the glitter of your dress crinkling on the concrete. You smiled up at him, enjoying the concerned look on his face, and lifted the hem of his great kilt, tossing it over your head. He tried to stop you at first,

"No, thief... you dinnae need to… oh, fuck.”

You found his cock with your lips, kissing his shaft. He was twitching, already hardening, swelling against your mouth, fully uncovered beneath his sporran. The large fur pouch tapped you against the back of your head as you kissed him, but you didn’t care. You set your tongue on him like you were starving, licking him from base to tip, using your hands to massage his length and his balls. Your efforts seemed to change his mind because, now, he was begging you in a deep voice,

“Don't... don't stop… please, mèirleach. God, your mouth…"

Johnny was coming apart above you in a literal sense. You felt the sporran fall away from your head and watched it fall to the ground next to his feet with a loud clunk. The soft wool of his great kilt swished against the small of your back, bare as it was in your gown. It tickled you on his behalf, petting you as you bobbed your head, trying desperately to swallow his challenging length.

He was tugging off his shirt now, and you watched the white cotton tail disappear up and out of his waistband as he yanked it from the belt. You lifted one of your hands and pushed it through the bottom of the pleated fabric, popping out of his belt, rubbing his abs from below as you sucked him.

Johnny grabbed your exploring fingers in his, gripping you tight, panting in heavy gasps above you,

“Fuckin’ hell, thief. I’m gonna come like this.”

Then, through the fabric of the tartan, you felt his hand on the back of your head, cradling you, shaking like a leaf. You took a deep breath and tried to fit him in your throat. He gagged you, too thick for your throat to handle him, but you fought through it, relaxing into him, trying your best to shock him, to make him crest over his waves of pleasure.

Johnny’s hand became heavy against your skull, and you knew you had him. You swallowed into his salty head, over and over, coaxing him to come, licking and sucking him like you were trying to get to his warm, melting core.

“Please, mèirleach! I’m gonna… I cannae… please, please, please…”

He was crying out above you, shamelessly thrusting himself into your throat, unable to keep himself under control. You were drooling from your lips, and you felt it coating your chin. You let it happen, unwilling to be embarrassed, protected by the darkness of his kilt. You held onto his hand above his belt, and you let your other rub beneath his balls, teasing that forbidden space in between.

As soon as you did, he let out a dark whine, ending it in a sharp shout, releasing his load into your mouth. You tasted him, felt his salty cream slide into your belly, sucking him clean as he finished.

The cool air of the room hit your wet mouth and neck as he pulled his kilt over you, staring down at you with a ferocious, hungry look, mixed with the warmth of his pleasure and a bit of curious disbelief. He moved his hand back to your head, holding you in place by your hair, gentle enough but sure. Then, he gathered his tartan up in his other hand and used it to wipe your mouth for you, praising you as he did.

“Mo mèirleach, so good for me. So fuckin’ good.”

You stared up at him, admiring his body. The cape of his great kilt had fallen from his shoulder, and his shirt was gone, leaving him bare. All of his muscles were straining with his ragged breathing, working hard to hold him together, dancing under his flushed skin. You rose, kissing his hairy belly, licking over his navel, finding a nipple to suckle against, nipping at it with your teeth as gently as you could, watching him writhe.

He was studying you now, as if he was seeing you for the first time, and he slipped one of his fingers beneath the strap of your dress, pulling it down your shoulder. It hung there, limply, and all that was left was its twin. He found that one next and tugged it down, watching as the dress cascaded away, revealing the nothing you’d worn underneath.

Johnny shuddered, gasping in a short breath, staring at your body in the low light. His eyes burned into yours, and he commanded you in a new tone, one you’d not heard before,

“Get to the bed, lass. Now.”

He watched you back up the few steps that it took to reach your mattress, swaying your hips as you did, running your hands over your breasts, teasing yourself and him at the same time.

Johnny was undressing as he followed you, lifting his shins to untie his ghillie brogues, ripping down the socks and letting his flashings fall out of them. Finally, he pulled out his sharp dagger, the sgian dubh, and let it fall to the counter with a loud bang. Lastly, he popped the boar-shaped buckle of his belt and the heavy kilt fell away, revealing his naked form to you.

He looked like he weighed as much as a bull. His body was immense, and his hands covered too much of you when he wrapped them around your waist. He could reach, pinky to thumb, across the span of your belly, and he warmed you with his palms, molding you to him like smooth clay.

Johnny lifted you, taking you by surprise, tossing you onto the bed so you landed on your back. You giggled, and then he shushed you, looming over you, kissing you, tasting himself there, sucking at your tongue and lips hungrily. His hands were kneading your breasts, plucking at your nipples and encouraging them to stiffen beneath his touch. Your giggles turned into soft whimpers, and you felt your pussy throbbing for him, soaking itself, eager for its missing piece.

Between his kisses, he was whispering to you, chanting his mantra, the same one he’d said before,

“You’re mine, mèirleach. You’re my woman. Say it.”

“I’m yours, mo chridhe…” You whined, feeling his thick fingers find your clit and discovering how wet you were.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Johnny growled, sucking the delicate skin along your neck and collarbone, kissing you over and over, leaving a trail of them leading down to a strong latch on your nipple. He was using one of his fingers to press into your wetness, and when he felt the fire within you, he sighed involuntarily, shaking a bit from the sensation.

“You’re soaked… Oh, fuck. You feel so warm.”

“Don’t stop, Johnny, please…” You cried to him, feeling your whole body tense, ready to come.

He sat back on his heels, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips, using both hands to play you like a fiddle. And he made you sing for him, twisting his hand and curling his fingertips, stroking you in long, deep movements, pressing down into your hole to give you the sense of girth you’d soon be feeling for real.

“Are you ready for my cock, mèirleach? Hard again for you already,” he pulled himself up and let his heavy rod rest on top of your clit, sliding himself back and forth through your wet folds.

“Please… Fuck me, baby, please…”

“Shh, shh, shh. I’ve got you, thief. I’ve got you. Give me those eyes. There… there you are. Oh, perfect girl. So damn perfect for me. This pussy was made for me; I’m sure of it. Do you ken how I’m sure?”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at his body as he thrust his cock against your pussy lips, passing through them, making his cockhead glisten with your come. Then, he angled it down into you, and he let his head tease your hole, rubbing it in small circles, letting you feel every bit of his skin as it invaded your body.

“Here’s how I ken…” He smiled down at you and thrust himself into you as slowly as he could.

Inch after staggering inch was fed into your heat, stoking the furnace within your belly, warming him up from the inside out. He was holding his breath the entire way in, his face locked in a tight, furious agony. Then, when you felt his base stretch you further, he smiled, tossing his head back in bright, easy joy.

Johnny looked back down at where you were joined and placed his hand on your belly, feeling himself inside of you, petting your soft skin. His eyes darted up to yours, watching you suffer from the pleasure he’d made,

“Perfect fit, mo mèirleach. Every bit of you. Your lips, your cheeks, your breasts… the way you read your poems to me. The way you love me. You’re everything to me, lass. I love you.”

You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You couldn’t stop your walls from pushing and pulling against his heavy rod, as hard as iron and smooth like velvet. He’d filled you tight, like a cork in champagne, and you were very nearly ready to burst, not yet recovered from your previous orgasm.

“I love you, too, Johnny,” you begged him with your hips, grinding into him like you were riding him.

He played with your clit again, rubbing his thumb up and down its swollen length, feeling your lips as they stretched around him, making you cry out in all sorts of noises. Then, you watched as a burning mischief lit up his eyes, and that commander’s voice was back,

“Spread your legs for me. Wide, just like that. Spread ‘em apart, lass. Let me see you. I wanna see that pink hole as it takes me like that. So fuckin’ good. Didnae ken it could be so bonnie…”

Johnny started to thrust himself into you, good on his word, watching as he disappeared into your body. His head was rubbing against your most sensitive spot on the way out and tormenting your deepest parts on the way in. You were so full, you felt like you could burst. He tucked his hands into the crook of your knees and spread you just that much wider, making all of your nerves light up as he stretched your skin.

“Johnny! Fuck…” You were fluttering around him, clenching against his dick, trying to control your body and failing.

His voice was deep, and it resonated in the hollow of your chest,

“Come on, thief. Come for me. Come. Come… fuck. That feels so good, bonnie girl.”

The pale, fading moonlight morphed and changed as your orgasm flooded your mind. He was still talking at you, chanting sweet and savory nothings, praising you for nothing and everything,

“I can feel your heart, mèirleach. It’s beatin’ against me.”

“Johnny…” You gasped, coming down from your high only to feel him slamming himself into you like a relentless piston.

“Takin’ me so well, mo ghràdh. Perfect for me. Takin’ this cock like it was made for you.”

“Please, baby… I need you, mo chridhe. I need…” You weren’t sure what you need, but you prayed to him like a god, and you hoped he would know.

He fell over you, closing you into him, fitting you right to his chest, never breaking his incredible rhythm. He was kissing your mouth, letting the softest whimpers out of his throat as he did, whining for you.

“Is that it, thief? Is that what you need? Is that… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Each curse was a cry, and his voice was in pieces from it, broken and pleading. He was begging you, and every time he fucked his length into your belly, he would grunt like a beast, overcome with want.

You returned with your own mantra, finding his ear with your lips and whispering a thousand yeses into it, locking your heels around his thick waist, feeling his muscles working hard for you against your inner thighs.

“Tell me… tell me to come, mo ghràdh. Tell me when you…”

He was suffering inside of you, and you felt his whole body trembling with desire, ready to fill you at your command.

You ran your hands through his mohawk, holding it at the base of his skull, and you whispered, releasing him,

“Come in me, baby. Come in me. Come in… oh, my God! Come…”

You held him close to you as he spent himself deep within your belly, filling you for the second time, screaming for you. Johnny clutched at you like you were a lifeline, holding you tight to him, even as he slowed, teasing his head inside of you, slipping through his own come as it mixed with yours. As he finally slid out of you, he was kissing you again, his lips loose and swollen, his tongue tasting you gently.

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses.

He looked like you had just sunk your knife between his ribs, aiming right for his heart, and all the air left his lungs, no longer needed. Johnny died and was reborn in your arms within half-seconds, little moments that only you could see. His smile was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen as he answered you,

“I love you, thief.”

He left you for a moment to reach below the bed. Johnny came back up with his kilt in his hand, and he wrapped you in it, swirling his long tartan around your body, folding you in MacTavish dress blue. He pulled you into his lap as he leaned against your headboard, panting and trying to come back to reality.

You played with his tags around your neck, basking in the warmth of his woolen cloak, letting your head rest against his neck, and your mind started to imagine how your name might look with MacTavish behind it.

JULY

Johnny held your hand as the plane touched down, waking you up slowly. There was a soft ding and the captain’s voice came on overhead,

“Welcome to Iceland. If you want to adjust your watch, it is 1705. The weather in Keflavík is a bit overcast, and the temperature is 20 degrees Celsius. We wish you a pleasant stay, and we hope to see you again very soon. On behalf of all our crew, thank you for choosing British Airways as your airline today.”

Pidge leaned over you to talk to her brother, tightening her grip on Hamish’s hand as he sat to her right,

“I swear to Jesus and Mary, I thought I was gonna die! Did you book these tickets, Johnny-boy? I’m feelin’ faint.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Hamish soothed her, “We made it. It’s over.”

“Holy shite. I’m shakin’ like a wee leaf!” She gasped, fanning herself.

You made it out of the airport with only a little drama, and by the time you pulled into the hotel, you were starving. Johnny tipped the cabbie and guided you inside, wrapping his arm around you tightly.

“So, thief,” he suggested, “Did you wanna grab a bite in the hot spring? They’ve got the swim-up bar.”

“Eager to see me in that bathing suit you bought for me, hm?” You answered knowingly.

He blushed, grinning sinfully,

“Aye…”

“As long as I get to eat, I’ll wear whatever you want, mo chridhe.”

He whistled low and even, shaking his head,

“Dinnae make promises you cannae keep, woman.”

“Hey! MacTavish!”

A voice was shouting at you from across the lobby. Toting bags and already dressed in their summer gear, Price, Gaz, and Ghost headed over toward you.

“Hey! There you are,” Johnny greeted them, and there were warm hugs all around.

“Well, c’mon,” Price grabbed you by the arm, “Lemme see it.”

You smiled at him, holding up your left hand, letting him get a long look at the huge amethyst that sat as the flower on the end of a circular, golden thistle-shaped ring.

“Gorgeous,” Price smiled, shaking Johnny’s hand again, “We can’t wait for the wedding. If it’s anything like the last one, I know it’ll be a good time.”

You laughed with him, feeling Johnny’s soft lips in your hair as he leaned down to kiss you. He smiled at you, speaking to his captain,

“Aye, I cannae hardly wait.”

Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story! I truly hope you enjoyed it. If you did, you might consider checking out my Price/Reader 100k story, "Gunslinger", available on AO3.

If you need more Soap, be on the lookout for Chapter 2 of PornStar!Johnny, which is threatening to turn itself into a full fic if I don't watch out.

Thanks so much to my betas and to all my mutuals for your support and ideas!! I love hearing from y'all, so message me anytime.

UPDATE: Epilogue (Ch. 11)