#dont poke the Scottish bear

[brewed-pangolin]

Got a headcanon request, since it's Super Soap Sunday:

What is Soap like when he's your spotter in the weight room? Does he keep things professional, or does the situation evolve into something...more riveting?

*clears throat*

A million apologies for this being so late. This started as a headcanon, then turned into a drabble and now is a full blown fic. It's definitely not perfect, but whatever. Thank you @deadbranch for all your love and feedback on this. Hope y'all enjoy it, whatever this thing is. 💛

Slippery Soap

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+MDNI I can't resist gym rat Soap. Lots of teasing, tons of innuendos, pissed off Dom Soap, p in v, rough sex at the end. My typical filth, per se.

Word Count: 2.7k

It all started with a simple innocent request. You wanted to up your gym routine a bit and add some weight training to your repertoire. And who better than to ask than the buffed out Scotsman himself. 

“Hey Soap. You hittin the gym today? Thinkin about adding some weight training to my routine. Wanna be my spotter?”

First of all, the moment you ask him to be your spotter, he’s beaming. No matter where you are, his face is full blown flushed. Eyes glistening and those crystal baby blues are shining like diamonds. He’s a kid in a candy store and you just gave him the battered Mars bar mountain. 

But once you make it into the gym, it’s all cool, calm and professional. At least, that's how it starts…

"So, ya want me t'spot for ya eh, lass? A'right. But we gotta go o'er some ground rules first. Don't need ya blowin ya back out on me first go around, yeah."

Soap is the absolute epitome of safety in the weight room. It doesn't matter if you're a full blown gym rat or complete novice, he's going to start you with proper body mechanics.  And he won't be shy about it. He'll have his body flush against your back, hands pressing down in a delicate yet forceful manner to get you into the right starting position.

"Posture, bonnie. Most important rule 'ere. Ya go down wrong ya ain't gettin back up."

It’s subtle, He starts it that way. But you pick up on those innuendos instantly. You know this game all too well. And this is where the ball comes into your court. You can either let him continue with those sly comments and not react. Or you can counter him, hit back just as hard as he does. Just be prepared for what comes of it. You poke the Scottish bear, he’ll poke right back. Hard.

He'll start you on the free weights. Good way to get your body warmed up and ready for the heavier lifting down the line. And Soap will watch you like a hawk; circling, hovering, visually critiquing your technique and giving any pointers he deems necessary to correct your form. 

This is where an opportunity presents itself, and you can’t help but pounce on it like a cat to a mouse.

"Am I the only one that's gonna be workin here? Or are you gonna give me a sneak peak to the Soap Gun Show?"

Poke #1. He knows full well what you’re up to. Those blue eyes darken, and the smirk on his face may as well be chiseled into Roman marble. 

"Not bad hen, not bad. Ya gettin a front row seat, yeah. C'mere."

He'll motion you to the spare bench while he adds more weight to the bar. And he won't low ball this. Training lesson or not, he'll show off like a testosterone fueled peacock. Once he positions himself flat on the bench, he'll go over his posture and advise on the proper way to handle a bench press.

"Feet flat, an' legs parallel to the floor. That's yer counter weight. Naw, on to tha' gun show a yers."

You're taking his advice seriously, but you can't stop as your legs squeeze together to quell that oh so familiar ache within your core to his first press. And Soap's well aware of the effect he has on you, and is now fully engrossed in this back and forth game. He knows exactly how to hit back with weaponized remark. So he ups the ante a bit.

He grunts. And they're not just any grunts. He uses those low, growling vocals that reverberate over your flesh, goosebumps rise in waves over your skin and form a maelstrom of heat in your belly. And you take it all in. His taut skin, the rippling of his muscular arms, the veins popping under his flesh. Your eyes follow the sweat as they traverse the curves of his biceps and land in the divots of his deltoid.  After ten reps he places the bar back in its hooked placement and rears himself into a sitting position.

Skin flushed, sweaty mohawk, skin glistening and breathless; gym rat Soap truly is a sight to behold.

"Yer turn, lass. Take a seat."

You don't hesitate. Even as the remnants of his exertion pool into the leather of the bench, you quickly line yourself up to the head, and following his advice position yourself just as he had instructed. Once he removed enough weights to be more fitting for your abilities he stood at the head, hands under the bars and motioned you to take them within your grasp. And as your eyes met he had to add his own quarrel just for good measure.

"Ya likin the view, bonnie?  Grab the bar 'ere."

Oohh he's having way too much fun with this. Lightly he tapped on the metal and you fastened a strong grip around the cold steel. And as you brought it down to rest on your chest you again countered him with your own jestering quip.

"C'mon now Johnny, y'know I always love looking up to you."

Soap's chest flared up as he broadened his stance, a vibrating moan emanating from his throat as his feet cemented into the floor and displayed a completely assertive posture. You were slowly breaking away at his control of this situation, and he didn't fully comprehend how to handle it. He couldn't very well bend you over, you were in a public place after all.

You took his wavering control into your hands, and as you began your presses you locked eyes with him. Not even bothering to count. And the flirtatious curling of your lips must have hit a nerve, accompanied by the view of you straining with a light glistening of perspiration over your skin. Soap was going down. Fast. 

Instantly, his hands laced into the hem of his sweatpants to readjust himself; clearly you were having a profound effect on him. You had barely done ten reps before Soap grabbed the bar from your hands, forcefully putting it back into its hooked resting place. 

"Enough a'this. Up ya get. On to tha deadlifts."

The rumble in his voice didn't go unnoticed. You were more than appreciative that the weight room was deserted, but there were still patrons in the gym area, who thankfully were too engrossed in their own business to bother themselves with the flustering banter going on between you two. 

As you made your way towards the dumbbells you noticed Soap kept himself unusually close to you, and stood at an almost full perpendicular position once you had found the correct weight. The sight of him red faced and frustrated had you swimming in victorious energy. Soap was never one to lose his cool in public situations, but this was new territory for the both of you. And somehow you ended up with the upper hand, a circumstance that most definitely didn’t go unnoticed. And most certainly wouldn’t go unanswered. 

You cocked your head towards him as he stood beside you, eyeing him up and noticing just the slightest tent within the fabric of his sweatpants. And you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Ya alright there, Johnny? Looking a bit flustered.”

Poke #2. Your whispered coo nearly sent him over the edge. His eyes bore into you, like a darkened stormfront barreling towards you. The muscles of his jaw clenched and you swore the veins in his forehead were on the verge of bursting.

“Grab the weight, bonnie. Ya workin my last nerve.” 

It was barely audible, but the gravely tone in his voice was electrifying. You obliged him for his own sake, and did a full set of ten reps without a single word or act of defiance. You could feel the energy soften around him, whatever loss of control he had he was beginning to regain. Standing straight you eyed him again, silently requesting any pointers or advice on your technique. 

“Good form, hen. Now, let’s move on to..."

“I think I’ll do one more rep.”

Your abrupt interjection caught him off guard. And unfortunately for his sake, this was the last of the control he would have in this flirtatious quarrel. Quickly you turned and pressed your back into him, the suddenness of your movements not giving him any time to react. Slowly you bent down and as your hands wrapped around the ring of the dumbbell you cocked your head towards him. With the best ‘fuck around and find out’ expression you could muster,  you returned that coy banter that put this whole scheme into play.

“Ya likin the view there, Johnny?”

Poke #3. Immediately his hands grasped into the curve of your hips, firmly pressing your ass against his pelvis and feeling that delectable bulge in the fabric of his pants. Even through the barrier you could feel the throb of his cock on your flesh. Soap had folded in the game he put before you, and fortunately for you, he was a sore loser.

“Drop it.”

The bark in his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through you, adding to the death grip his hands had on your hips and the pulsing of him between your ass you were already teetering on overstimulation. Yet you pressed on regardless.

“The weight, smartass. Gonnae deal wit tha’ attitude later. C’mere.”

“The weight, or the attitude?”

Standing up straight against him, he pulled your hips in closer letting you feel him hardening in the crevice of your ass. His lips ghosted the flesh of your ear and his hot breath fell over the curve of your neck. 

“Ya testin my patience, bonnie. And ya a’ready got me workin a full stauner ‘ere.”

The flesh of his lips was warm, soft. At complete odds with the cold stone frustration that wrapped around his words. He began to rock his hips into yours, desperate to feel any friction against him, wanting nothing more than to bury himself deep within your cunt. You had only now noticed how wet you were, so focused on the game at play you all but ignored your own arousal. But you weren’t quite finished with this cat and mouse match just yet. 

“Its your own fault, Johnny. I just wanted a simple lesson, you had to turn it into whatever this is.”

As you spoke your hands reached around to his hips, and at the trailing of your words you wrapped your hands around his hardening cock. The feeling of him throb through the fabric made your pussy clench, ache for him to fill you to the brim.

Soap’s breath hitched at the slightest touch of your fingers around him. Instinctively his hips thrust into your grip, eliciting a guttural moan escaping from his lips.

“Yer a fuckin minx, y’know that.”

There was something so endearing when he used nicknames for you, but minx was one you cherished more than most. You knew you had bested him at his own game. You would flaunt your victory in front of him for days to come, but you knew all too well you’d have to survive the onslaught of poor sore loser Soap first. And with that thought in mind, you decided ‘what the hell, go big or go home.’

“Is that gonna be it for it today Soap, or are you planning on giving me a real workout at some point?”

Ultimate Poke. All that playful beaming faded from his face, and those bright blue orbs turned as dark as the deep ocean. He knew he lost the battle, but that last quip threw him over the defeated edge. Quickly he dragged you over to the wall and pressed your back against the cold mirrored glass. His arms outstretched on either side, thick frame caging you in, denying any escape from his sorely beaten fury.

“Yer askin for it, aren’t ya. Meet me outside hen, an’ I’ll give ya a real workout.”

With that, he left you against the wall. Heart nearly pounding out of your chest and body electrified in victorious conquest. You had bested your Scot at his own game. So many times he had won you over, making you crumble to his feet in utter defeat. You relished in this, bathed in the energy that still filled the room. And as you peeled yourself from the cold glass you looked around and reminisced on those silent victories littered throughout the room. You left quietly, your feet floating on the high your mind had manifested. And as you turned the corner to go down the back hall, with your head held high and a proud step in your gate you marched towards door and openly invited whatever defeated torment Soap would throw at you. 

*************

“Steamin fuckin’ Jesus, bonnie. Got me runnin fire hot ‘ere.”

The taste and smell of leather rushed over your senses like a barreling riptide, a constant push pull motion not too dissimilar to the movements your bodies were making now. It was the only thing keeping you held down to reality as you felt him piston his cock deep within your hole. You had won the battle in the weight room, but Soap would win the war in here; a spare equipment room where the stench of sweat and blood hung to the walls like ancient moss. 

Even now he couldn’t help but run his mouth. One hand with a firm grip on your hip keeping you still, the other held down in the crook of your neck forcing your face into the fabric of the overwarn bench. The earlier comment about “not blowing your back out” rang between your ears, and the memory of the events only minutes before played through your mind like a sultry viewmaster. 

You were basking in the torturous pace he had on your cunt when he unexpectedly repositioned himself and the head of his cock hit that bundle of nerves deep within your pussy. Your walls clenched around him, and a husky drawn out moan escaped your sweat covered lips. 

“No more sass mouthin eh, lass. Aye, know how to shut that fuckin mouth a yers.”

The growl in his voice went straight to your core, and that familiar pulsing ache began to build deep within your lower belly. Soap was right; your grasp on speech had all but left you. Words were foreign or nonexistent all together. As always, he knew just how and when to make you fall apart around him. Soap’s pace began to falter, his hold on your flesh tightening to an all out death grip. A telltale sign that he was close.

Desperate for your own release, your hand traveled down and found the burning nerves of your clit and began to swiftly rub at its pulsing flesh. 

“That’s it. Come for me, bonnie. Come on my cock.”

You were helpless against him. The walls of your cunt convulsed around him as your fingers continued to frantically rub at the flesh of your clit. The waves of your orgasm washed over your skin, goosebumps rippling over your overstimulated flesh. With one final thrust Soap buried himself deep inside you, both hands now gripping into the flesh of your hips as he pulsed his seed deep within your hole. Everything around you fell away; the walls, the stench,the feel of the cold leather against your flesh. All you felt was him. 

As you slowly came down from your orgasmic high he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought your body flush against his own. The sweat between your bodies melded with the fluids dripping from your cunt, still lightly pulsing around the flesh of his softening cock. Soap latched his lips into the crook of your neck, his tongue tasting the salty essence of his defeated wrath against you. As reality began to come into view once more, your mind finally regained the will for speech, and as usual you had to give him your signature ‘sass mouthin.’

“Shit, Soap. Is every workout session gonna end like this?”

He moaned into the flesh of your neck. No doubt there was going to be a bruised hickey left in his wake.

“Nah bonnie, ‘his is only for rewards members.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his remark, and as you turned your head to meet his lips you left him with one last playful quip before taking his mouth. 

“Then sign me up.”

And he followed suit, in proper Soap fashion.

“Yes ma’am.”