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It starts like all things between them: a sarcastic comment.
Something so effortless as a phrase makes the room feel smaller and hotter than any beach side bar as any right to be.
Rooster starts it without trying. His glasses perch low on his nose, his Hawian shirt hanging open and ruffling in the breeze. The white tank underneath clings tightly to the firm lines of the muscle that ripple with every motion. His smirk is plastered on his face, large fingers wrapped loosely around a beer bottle making it look so small.
Effortless.
Rooster is just standing, his thighs splayed wide as he sits surrounded by the rest of the pilots. His deep laugh fills the room as yet one more girl slides up next to him. His arm loose falls over her shoulder and brings her in, fingers gently moving right above where her tank ends caressing the fake tan of her chest.
Annoyingly effortless.
“The fuck did you just say to me?” Hangman stutters out.
The shock still moving through his body, mixing with the hot feeling of want that shot down his spine. If Hangman was paying attention, he’d notice that he wasn’t the only one in shock. Phoenix’s jaw is open, Bob can’t stop blinking as his head moves between the two pilots. Even Fanboy is blushing.
The only one not shocked is Payback, who is still trying to line up a shot on the table after Hangman hid the cue behind the eight.
“He said, who’s your daddy, Hangman.” Payback bites out. The sound of the tip of the cue sliding off the side of the ball cuts through the thick tension in their corner of the bar. “Fuck.”
Hangman is still staring at Rooster. Rooster is still effortlessly leaning against the wall with his thick fingers drawing random patterns against the chest of the girl in his arms. His brown eyes dance with something that Hangman can’t place over his glasses. It’s dark. It’s dangerous and it makes Hangman want something that he can’t have.
He doesn’t mix business and fucking, despite what everyone here thinks of him. He’s not going to nail a rival/pilot/friend(?) in a debauched celebration of not dying.
Rooster’s mouth turns up at the corner. His mustache twitches with the motion right before his eyes pointedly stare at the table. He lifts the glass bottle to his lips and takes a drink. Hangman swallows thickly and glances at the table.
Fuck.
The only viable shot puts Hangman’s ass right in front of Rooster’s body.
“Hop to it, Bagman.” Rooster drawls cutting through the fog of Hangman’s mind. “Payback may be your daddy yet.”
Hangman flips him a bird which pulls a deep laugh from Rooster’s chest. Hangman lets out a breath and reaches towards Payback for the pool stick. Payback raises a brow and hands it over much to the delight of Phoenix, who seemingly pulled herself from her initial shock. Hangman pretends to not see how she subtly goes for her wallet and slides a bill to Rooster as he walks to line up his shot.
It’s not that Hangman hasn’t been with a man before. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed that Rooster is attractive. He’d have to be blind for that. But what Hangman has never let himself think about is how much he wants Rooster pressing into him from behind with bruising hands on his hips.
It’s not like Hangman is gay. None of them are to his knowledge. But when you’re alone on a boat for god knows how long, it’s only polite to help a buddy out. Especially if they help you out as well. They’ve all dabbled on all sides of the aisles, so to speak.
“No offense to Payback, but I don’t think he’s interested.” Hangman says as smoothly as possible. He reaches for the blue chalk on the table trying to delay the inevitable.
“Fuck no, dude.”
Hangman glances over with a small snort of amusement. Payback rolls his eyes and slumps next to Fanboy at their table.
“No offense but no.” His eyes flick over Hangman’s shoulder before looking back at Hangman.
“None taken, Fitch.” Hangman says easily.
Phoenix says something but covers it up with a cough and Hangman takes a breath. He can’t put it off any longer.
His eyes scan the table and licks his lip. He’s got a direct shot at the 1 in the corner pocket. He tries not to think about the heat that’s slowly crawling up the back of his neck or how the rest of the group has gone quiet. They’re in their own bubble in the corner of Penny’s bar tucked in the corner. The music seems quieter, the haze that hangs around with every good party seems thinner around them.
Hangman sets his stabilization hand against the table and leans over. He can feel the eyes on him. Hangman tries to clear his mind and calm his heart that seems to think that now is the time to race in his chest.
Hangman’s been in combat.
He got his second confirmed kill yesterday.
He saved the day yesterday.
Maverick and Rooster owe him.
But Hangman would never cash in. There was a bond between all of those in the sky now, something that Hangman doesn’t even try to understand. But it’s different between them all now. Hangman’s comments don’t pack the same punch. Bob sits up straighter, it’s a wonderful thing to see.
He can hear Phoenix and Rooster whispering. The words blending into the noise of the bar. Hangman keeps his eyes facing forward as he lets out a breath trying to release the tension.
A cold hand lands on the back of his neck making him jump.
“You’re wound tight.” Rooster’s voice rumbles in his ear. The hot press of another body against Hangman’s back makes something in his gut tug hard. “You won’t be able to shoot.” Fingers stroke at the soft skin just under the short hairs at the base of Hangman’s skull. A small sound escapes between Hangman’s lips that he knows Rooster hears. The fingers move just a little higher to play with the soft strands of Hangman’s hair. “It’s a wonder you can even fly.”
“Saved your ass.” Hangman breathes out. He wishes it came out harder and not as breathless. He wanted it to come off as effortlessly as Rooster pressing against him in the middle of the bar, but it didn't. It didn’t even come close.
“That you did, Seresin .” Rooster says with a chuckle that Hangman can feel through Rooster’s chest.
Rooster’s hand drags down Hangman’s body in a slow, almost possessive way. Something that makes Hangman’s head spin. The smell of musky cologne and motor oil fills the tiny gaps between them. Hangman will deny it later but he slowly lets the tension ease from his body and sinks against the solid body next to him.
“That’s it sweetheart.” The name caresses over Hangman and he has to bite his lip to keep the whine from escaping between his lips. “Just relax and let me have you.”
Rooster’s hand is now gently moving over Hangman’s ribs through his thin undershirt. Hangman’s khaki uniform top is somewhere behind Penny’s bar, long forgotten. The hand that’s slowly pulling out every thought from Hangman’s head slowly sinks to Hangman’s hip. Long fingers burn through layers of tan. They dig in just enough to almost be satisfying.
“Alright, sweetheart.” Rooster’s deep voice is surrounding him again. His other hand wraps around Hangman’s that’s holding the stick. Their finger’s lock together and all executive function leaves Jake’s brain.
The heat from their bodies, Rooster’s hands on him, or the way Rooster leans in enough that he’s got a leg wedged between Hangman’s and is rubbing subtly against him makes Jake at that moment freeze.
Jake knows enough where this is going. He’s seen Rooster work enough. It’s the darts or the table or the piano or the juke box. Before the girl realizes it, Rooster is on them. Whispering in their ears, rubbing against their bodies. Tan fingers dragging slowly against exposed skin as he smiles down at them.
The bell rings from the across the bar and Hangman jerks back away from Rooster. He swallows thickly and throws the stick onto the table.
“Free round.” He says dumbly as he ducks his head and walks to the bar.
It shouldn’t make his heart race at the low steps that follow right behind him. It shouldn’t make Hangman’s heart skip a beat at the way a muscular chest bumps into his back as the crowd closes in on them at the mass rush for drinks on the house.
A large hand sneaks around Jake’s hip and tugs gently pulling Hangman flush against Rooster’s chest. Cool dog tags press against Hangman’s back sending more blood down his body and less into his brain.
“The fuck, Roo.” Hangman says in a low voice batting at the hand on him.
Rooster chuckles low in his throat as they press into the crowd and are lost in a sea of drunken people. Rooster presses closer, his hips pushing against Hangman’s ass as they move to the bar.
“You didn’t answer my question, Seresin .” Rooster mumbles into Hangman’s year.
All thoughts except for the singular thought to grind back against Rooster leave his head. Rooster’s hand tightens in Hangman’s hip and somehow pulls him closer to Rooster’s body. Hangman squirms a little at the uncomfortable tightness of his uniform pants getting smaller and smaller with slight motion of Rooster from behind him.
“What question?” Hangman shoots back. He twists a little in Rooster’s firm grasp and turns his face to Rooster.
Theyre so close. Their mouths almost touching and the annoying inch Rooster has on him seems even larger. Rooster’s eyes stare into Hangman’s without a hint of awkwardness or self consciousness. They darken a little in the light and he leans in.
“Who’s your daddy, Bagman?” Rooster’s voice is sin against the side of Hangman’s face as he drags his mustache over the soft skin. “Who takes care of you?”
Hangman’s eyes drift low. The smooth expanse of tan skin stretched across seemingly miles of muscle glow in the light of the Hard Deck. Rooster’s tank sits low, exposicing the tops of his sculpted chest that the two dog tags hang between. A small drop of sweat slowly moves down the muscles of Rooster’s neck and Hangman has a sudden desire to flick his tongue out to taste it.
“The fuck do you care?” Hangman breaths out. His eyes trained on Rooster’s body and the hard feeling of Rooster pressing against him.
Rooster makes a low noise and his fingers dig into Hangman’s side. Somehow they’re now slowly grinding to the jukebox music as they shuffle towards the bar for their rounds. Rooster grinds his hip into Hangman sending another wave of want through him.
He can feel Rooster is half hard with every roll of his hips. He knows that he’s half hard, maybe more and the khakis do a terrible job at hiding it.
“Who says I do?” Rooster breathes out against Hangman’s temple. His lips brush delicately across Hangman’s skin in a ghost of a kiss. His hands are back on Hangman’s body, fingers digging into clothes and pulling Hangman somehow closer to him.
Jake goes easily. His hand snakes down and grabs Rooster through his jeans.
“This says you care.” Hangman says and Rooster hums low in his throat.
“Don’t know what you mean, sweetheart.” Rooster says hotly against his ear. His mustache tickling the sensitive area sending a shiver through Hangman.
“Why the fuck are you touching me?” Hangman bites out.
Rooster’s hand pause on his body. The fingers slowly releasing their bruising grip on Hangman’s hip. He slowly pulls off and Hangman misses the heat.
“I thought-“
“Wrong.” Hangman bites out as he reaches for two glasses that Penny pushes into his hand with a knowing smile. He pushes past Rooster back to the small corner where their group is standing.
Hangman shoves the beer at Phoenix and Bob before picking up the pool stick from the table where he threw it in his attempts at escaping Rooster.
“Back so soon?” Phoenix asks from behind him.
Hangman ignores her and sinks the 1 ball decidedly into the corner pocket. He walks around and lines up his next shot. He’s got one on the table and then the 8 and then he can leave.
“Where’s Roo?” Phoenix asks and Hangman doesn’t spare him a glance.
“The fuck should I know?” Hangman bites out. His ball hits the back of the pocket and Hangman moves around the table to finish the game. “I’m not his wingman.”
The group is quiet. Hangman banks the 8 in and looks up. Phoenix’s eyes are staring over Hangman’s shoulder and he glances behind to find Rooster standing there. An unreadable expression is on his face. The darkness is still there but it’s tempered and Hangman almost wishes that he didn’t say it.
“I’d leave you hanging.” Jake says dumbly as he lays the cue on the table. “Isn’t that what you always say?”
A smile twitches across Rooster’s mouth and he hands the two beers in his hands to Fanboy and Payback.
“Didnt yesterday.” Rooster says with a smirk that doesn’t reach his face.
Jake returns the smile and shrugs.
“Not the habit I’m looking to create.” He says after a beat. “Too much glory in flying like your old man.”
He claps Rooster on the shoulder before ducking into the crowd of patrons. Hangman keeps his head down as he wades threw the people and towards the door of the bar. The jukebox crackles off before the familiar sounds of the piano fill the old room.
————————-
A loud pounding on his door startles Hangman awake. He glances over at his phone and it reads 0125. With a groan he pushes himself from his bed. A low hiss leaves his lips as he shivers as the cold air hits his bare skin. He sleeps in his boxers.
He quickly moves through the house as the pounding at his door continues. Hangman reaches over and flicks on his kitchen light and pulls open his front door.
Rooster is standing outside. His white undershirt is gone. His dog tags fall between his pecs. Rooster clears his throat and Hangman flushes. He slowly pulls his eyes up to meet Rooster’s smug face.
“Eyes are up here, baby.” Rooster’s voice is rough and deeper than before from yelling over a piano.
“Fuck you.”
It’s not the best comeback, but it’s 0130 in the morning and Jake is still waking up.
“You know, I thought you did.” Rooster says slowly. His eyes never leave Jake’s face as he leans against the doorframe. “But then apparently I read that wrong.”
Jake swallows thickly. He’s not awake enough to have that conversation with Rooster now. Or maybe even ever.
“Why are you here?” Jake says quickly changing the subject. Rooster smiles.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He asks, voice somehow turning all of Hangman’s blood to lava as it creeps through his body.
“That would imply I want you to stay.” Hangman says swiftly. It’s taking all his will power to not take his eyes down Rooster’s body.
Roister snorts out a laugh. He shakes his head amused and reaches out holding Jake’s forgotten uniform top.
“Didnt want you court martialed.” Rooster says softly. His eyes loosing their glint and he looks half way sincere in the low moon light.
Jake swallows thickly and reaches out to take the uniform from Rooster.
“I don’t fuck co-workers.” Jake says after a beat. Rooster doesn’t drop his uniform top. Their eyes meet and Jake gets lost the warm brown glow of Rooster’s eyes. “I also don’t fuck men who think I’m easy. So fuck you.”
Rooster raises a brow at him. His weight shifts him closer to Hangman and Hangman can smell the cheap beer and perfume that cling to Rooster’s body.
“Didn’t say you were easy, Bagman.” Rooster says with a smirk. “Just asked you who your daddy was.”
“Same difference.” Hangman says quietly. His eyes slowly sinking down Rooster’s face. Dragging over the smooth tan skin of Rooster’s neck to the toned chest on display in the moonlight.
Rooster makes a small noise in the back of his throat and the soft sound of the cicadas fill the air. The tension from the bar is back. It clings to the air between them and it makes Hangman want to be stupid, for a second, hell even the night. Bradshaw smells of cheap beer and perfume. The stale smell of a cockpit somehow mixes in perfectly with the fourty year old cologne Rooster’s old man used to wear and it makes Hangman’s stomach flip in his gut.
“Is it?” Rooster asks softly and Hangman can’t seem to pull his eyes off the dog tags that hang loosely on the sweat slick chest in front of him.
“Yes.” Hangman doesn’t elaborate. He finally pulls his eyes up to meet the stoic gaze of Rooster that is seemingly stripping Jake bare of everything as they stand in the doorway of Jake’s house.
“You left me.”
Jake’s going to get whiplash from these convos with Rooster.
Soft words and softer touches play through his mind. Hangman bullying Rooster to medical after he landed on the tarmac. Fingers grabbing onto arms or anything to prove to each other that they were alive and well. Hangman didn’t mean to kiss Rooster in the med bay. It just…. Happened.
Rooster’s eyes were dead and empty and Jake leaned over and pressed his lips against Rooster’s. His hand cupped his jaw, fingers brushing Rooster’s pulse to make sure that he was actually alive.
They didn’t talk about it when they separated. Rooster’s mouth hanging open and hands clutching the side of the table like he’s holding on for dear life.
Hangman couldn’t think of a prettier sight that felt like home in years.
Then Maverick came in and Jake ran and never looked back.
Rooster’s hand lands on Hangman’s chest as he presses Jake into his own house. Jake goes without thinking. It just seems natural at this point. Jake following Bradley where ever Bradley leads without question or complaint.
“Why’d you think I didn’t like you?” Rooster’s voice is still rough. The uniform top is tugged out of Hangman's hands and tossed somewhere off to the side.
Hangman can’t look away from Rooster. How he effortlessly moves through the room slowly back Jake up. How his hands pull at the open shirt barely on his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground forgotten.
Bradley is beautiful. He seems glow now post mission. Radiating something into the universe is almost like a challenge daring it to actually test his merit as a pilot.
“Same moves, different girls.” Hangman says slowly keeping his eyes glued to Rooster’s face. “I have no interest in being that.”
Rooster freezes in his tracks. A small smile spreading across his lips as he stares straight through all of Jake’s defenses and into his soul. “Jake Seresin , do you have a heart?”
That stings. More then it has any right to.
“Fuck you.”
Jake almost preens with how strong it comes out. How much force he’s able to put into the words. Rooster raises a brow, his smile faltering before cocking his head to the side.
The tension changed. The charged feeling from before has seemingly dropped into something more potent that Jake can practically taste on his tongue. It’s like they’re slowly approaching a crossroads that has no turning back no matter which path they choose.
It’s quiet now. The doors closed, locking the sleepy Fightertown night outside where it belongs and encasing them in a bubble of their own.
“Not the same moves.”
Hangman snorts out a laugh. “At the table or at the bar, it’s the same thing.”
Rooster raises a brow but his eyes dance wickedly in the low light of the kitchen.
“You want my moves, Seresin ?” Rooster drawls in a low voice. He stalks forward like a predator. Slow and controlled, completely opposite to the batshit way he flies.
Hangman swallows thickly.
This is not how he thought that this would go. He’s not really sure how he thought this would go other then the basics. Rough and quick, just like they flew. Tongue and teeth and nails biting and scratching and tearing into each other like they fought when they were grounded. Physical proof of their verbal assaults.
He never thought it would be drawn out, slowly backed up in his own house as Rooster’s eyes drink in his sleep deprived body like a man without water.
“You want water?” Hangman asks suddenly.
His throat is dry and he needs a reason to put distance between them. Rooster is too- well, too much Maverick in him to be anything but heartbreak and trouble.
Jake is used to people using him for one thing or another. He’s pretty, talented and smart enough. He’s learned along time ago if you mouth off to the right person, no one will give you trouble. So he’s been running his mouth and building his walls since he learned what heartbreak was.
And now Rooster is tearing them down, brick by brick. He’s shirtless in Hangman’s house, his eyes dark with something Hangman refused to even acknowledge.
“Prefer whiskey if you got it.” Rooster says after a beat. “Two fingers neat.”
“Do you hate yourself?” Jake breaths out trying to calm everything down enough to function.
A slow smile spreads across Rooster’s face and he chuckles softly.
“My old man used to drink it when he was on leave.” He says quietly. A hidden meaning lingering in his words. “One of the few memories I have of him.”
“Other then Hawaiian shirts and sub par piano skills.” Jake says quickly looking away before he can see the laughter on Rooster’s face.
“That and other things.”
Jake does look over his shoulder at that as he walks into the kitchen. Rooster is causally leaning against his couch openingly staring at Hangman walk away in just his boxers. Hangman flushes, the heat rising in his face and Rooster smiles.
A different smile, more soft, more sincere. It still brushes against Jake’s soul and takes another brick off his walls.
“Good things?” Jake doesn’t know why he asks that. He’s not prepared for the answer. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation with Bradshaw ever.
People leave and if they don’t, Jake leaves. Whether he ships out or he runs, it doesn’t matter. What’s always left is an empty house and memories of ghosts of Jake’s life.
“Things.” The way Rooster says it, almost too low to be appropriate makes Jake let out a low breath.
He quickly pours Rooster his glass and opens the freezer to get ice for his before turning back to Rooster who is still watching him. His arms are flexed across his chest. Lines of the muscle cutting across the tan skin, deeper with every push up they had to do.
Rooster nods taking the glass from Hangman. Without breaking eye contact, he raises the glass to his lips and downs half of it. His throat moving with the effort and Hangman is struck again with the need to feel it under his lips.
“If I was hitting on you, I’d ask you how you like it.” Rooster says cutting through the tension. Hangman glances up at him, his brow furrowing with confusion. “My moves, Bagman. You thought I was going to hit and quit.”
Hangman quickly takes a drink from his glass and pulls a face. It burns going down and he’s still too tired to handle anything that’s about to happen.
“Like what?” He doesn’t know what possessed him to say it. Morbid curiosity maybe or a masochistic need to play with fire.
“The song or the game.” Rooster says evenly. He takes a another sip, this time dragging it out. “Maybe my hand brushes them, maybe it doesn’t.”
“What if they don’t like whatever it is that’s happening?” Jake asks. His eyes still focuses on the long expanse of skin that’s right above Rooster’s exposed collar bones.
“Then I take them where they will enjoy themself.”
The answer is too effortless. Too easy.
Jake looks up and swallows thickly at the intense look in Rooster’s eyes.
“You asked me how I liked it.” Jake tries not to sound bitter and Rooster’s lip quirks up.
A large hand reaches and pulls the glass out of Jake’s hand. And just like that, the last brick of Jake’s walls crumbles. Something is on his face. His eyes must have given him away. Most people think that Jake wears his heart on his sleeve with his smiles and wit but he doesn’t. He hides behind good looks and talent to keep them all at bay.
“I asked you who took care of you, Seresin .” Rooster says quietly. The glasses make a soft sound as Bradley puts them on the end table. “I asked you who your daddy was because there’s no way in hell you go home alone every night.”
“Not every night.” Jake bites back.
He’s never had this conversation before, no one’s ever cared about Jake. He’s a good fuck, he knows. He can get anyone off in thirty seconds tops, getting them to a Mach 10 easily and brings back down to do it all again.
“Apologies.” Rooster says, sounding the least bit sorry. “Not every night.”
Something in Jake snaps. Rooster is standing in front of him being the one thing Jake can’t let himself have. Staring at him like he means something not letting Jake sabotage his way out of it.
“But why the fuck do you care?”
Rooster raises a brow before smirking. He slowly presses off the couch and closes the gap between them. His hands are rough against Hangman’s face. The calluses on his thumb from flying sends a shiver down Jake’s spine.
“Why the fuck did you kiss me?” Rooster asks softly.
The look is back. The loaded look that grabs at Jake’s soul. It’s too late already. There was no turning back since the moment Jake’s lips brushed Bradley’s twenty four hours ago. Hell, there wasn’t turning back from when they were cadets together at the Academy. They were like fire and ice, too hot with ice in their veins. Two young guns with nothing to lose and an open sky.
“Does it matter?” Jake asks softly. His eyes flick down to Rooster’s mouth. Rooster’s tongue flicks out and Jake wants to know what he tastes like.
The thumb on his cheek gently caresses his face as another large hand gently wraps around Jake’s hip pulling him in close. Long fingers slowly drop down until Rooster is grasping Jake’s ass.
“Honestly.” Rooster’s mouth forms the words and Jake can’t pull his eyes away. “No.”
He tastes like whiskey. He tastes like beer and a hint of mint mouthwash. He tastes like what Jake can only assume happiness tastes like. His fingers dig into Rooster’s hair and he twists, pulling hard. The low growl rumbles through Rooster’s chest.
Jake lets out a quiet moan at the feeling as he presses his body up against Bradley’s.
When he became Bradley and not Rooster, Jake doesn’t know. He’s too lost in the feeling of grinding his hips against Bradley as their tongues slowly dance together.
Bradley kisses like he flies. Slow and deliberate. His tongue moves against Jake’s with single minded determination. Jake tries to keep up, give as good as he’s getting but he can’t. Not when Bradley slots a leg between Jake’s legs and slowly starts to fuck his tongue into Jake’s mouth with slow thrusts.
“Who’s your daddy, baby?” Bradley breaths against Jake’s lips. “Who the fuck is dumb enough to let you out of their bed?”
Jake whines high in his throat. His cock is almost fully hard in his boxers. Bradley’s leg is thick and strong and grinds slowly in time with Jake’s thrusts. It’s enough to make Jake crazy but not enough to bring him anywhere close.
Jake shakes his head squeezing his eyes shut. He presses blindly against Bradley, one of his hands falling from his hair to claw at the thick muscle of Bradley’s back. He tries to desperately find something to hold onto to keep himself grounded. Bradley feels like a take off and the only thing that can take Jake there. The place that Jake goes when he flies to shut off his brain and just feel.
“Hmmm sweetheart?” Bradley’s low voice is like gravel. Rough and low and making the fire that’s burning in Jake’s veins explode. “Who’s your daddy?”
Jake buries his face into Bradley’s neck hiding the embarrassed flush that’s covering his face. Bradley’s fingers dig into the meat of his ass, pulling him tighter before flipping them. Jake is half sitting on the back of his couch. His legs are spread enough to let Bradley grind into him harder, giving him more friction.
His boxers are wrinkled and trashed. Hot and sticky from sweat and precome and rubbing against Jake in all the wrong ways.
Jake shakes his head as he busies himself with running his tongue up the side of Bradley’s throat. He latches on and starts to suck a mark against the tan skin high above Bradley’s collar. The fingers on his ass clench before releasing. Jake whimpers at the loss that quickly morphs into a moan as Bradley’s hand comes down and slaps the same place lightly.
“Jake.”
Jake moans at the rough way Bradley says his name. His entire body is a live wire and he thrusts his burning cock against Bradley’s leg with more force trying to chase the high. He lets his teeth drag against the tan skin of Bradley’s throat going lower towards his chest.
He wants to bite the swell of Bradley’s pec. The sound that Bradley lets out makes the need that has consumed Jake explode. He thrusts faster, fucking up against Bradley harshly. He can taste it in the back of his mouth, how close he is. How close he can feel Bradley is.
The hand comes down and slaps again at his ass before digging in and groping it. Fingers tie in Jake's hair and pull him off Bradley's chest.
A high pitched needy noise is ripped from Jake’s chest as Bradley pulls Jake from his chest and takes a step back.
“Jake.” Bradley says it again. This time he’s forcing Jake to look him in the eyes. “We need to talk.”
“What?” Arousal and want still cloud Jake’s mind. What he wants, no needs is for Bradley to shut the fuck up and get Jake off.
“Seriously.” Something in Bradley’s tone and in the way his brown eyes glow makes Jake freeze.
Fuck.
Jake sucks in a breath and closes his eyes but that doesn't help like it used to. He can’t help but feel the ghost of Bradley’s touch on him. The high of kissing him. Being in a cockpit is great but somehow Bradley Bradshaw effortlessly beat that feeling.
“Can I fuck you, baby?”
The words rip down Jake’s attempts at rebuilding his walls. He lets his eyes flutter open and he stares at Bradley.
The low light casts shadows over him. His chest is rising and falling with every sharp breath. A flush is spreading up from the top of his chest, up his neck and into his cheeks. Teeth marks and bruises litter the wide expanse of Bradley’s chest and neck claiming his body as Jake’s. For tonight at least.
Jake drinks in the sight of Bradley Bradshaw, ace pilot and hero of the day shirtless in his living room. There is something between them still, words neither can say.
Bradley’s eyes are swimming with everything Jake’s feeling and trying to push away.
“You.” Jake says quietly, breaking the tension. His thumbs go to the band of his boxers and he slowly pulls them down far enough that they fall to the floor. His cock is hard and leaking. Bradley’s eyes drag down to between Jake’s legs and that makes his cock twitch under the scrutiny. “You’re my daddy.”
He doesn’t look behind him. Jake doesn’t think he can handle it. He walks towards the bedroom without saying a word.
The lust is back. Anything that was cooled by the idea of talking through whatever is about to happen surged back at the metallic sounds of a zipper. The denim hitting the living room floor sends a shiver down Jake’s spine as he turns into his room.
It’s neat and militant. Nothing too special about four white walls. There’s a picture of his sister on his dresser. His nephew and him in a backyard but that’s it. Nothing else to even claim this room as his. Easy to pack, easy to move, easy to run a voice in the back of his mind echoes and Jake ignores it.
He flops on his back, head on the pillows. He pulls open the top drawer and pulls out the bottle of lube he keeps there.
He can feel him before he sees him. Jake glances up and his breath catches.
Bradley Bradshaw is magnificent. His body was sculpted through years of training. His hair cut just short enough to pass regs but long enough to be daring. His brown eyes track over Jake, drinking in the way his legs are splayed wide on the bed.
This is the first time they’ve seen each other and the thought slams through Jake like he got hit by a jet.
Jake doesn’t think about it. He lets his eyes drag over the long body of Bradley, down to his impressive cock that’s hanging heavy between his legs. The head is red and flushed. Precome building on the tip and dripping down making the whole shaft glisten.
“You’re perfect.”
Jake’s eyes snap up to meet Bradley’s gaze. Bradley is staring right into Jake’s soul. His body effortlessly leaning against the frame of the door like he isn’t hard and ready to bust at any second.
The words and attention make Jake squirm on the bed. He wiggles just enough to get comfortable and bends his knees to dig his heels into the bed.
“Back or stomach.” Jake breathes out ignoring Bradley’s comment. Bradley’s eyes darken at the question and his tongue peaks out over his mustache as he thinks.
“Back.” He says after a beat. “And spread your legs wider.”
Jake blinks slowly before moving his legs wider, big enough to house Bradley and some. Bradley’s mouth twitches up and he slowly presses off the door.
“I thought about this too much.” Bradley says quietly as he walks over to the bed. It creaks as Bradley slowly kneels on the edge making sure to not touch Jake. “How you’d look.”
He slowly crawls between Jake’s legs, not touching him.
“How you’d taste.”
Jake wants to scream. The need is now pulsing through him with the pounding beat of his heart. The liquid fire that’s making him sweat is spreading out through his limbs making him melt into the bed. His knees butterfly open more, spreading wider trying to tempt Bradley into touching him.
Bradley chuckles softly. His eyes falling down between Jake’s legs and Jake’s cock twitches helplessly against his stomach at the idea of Bradley staring at his entrance. Reflexively, Jake clenches and a low pleased rumble fills the air.
“I bet you’re tight.” Bradley whispers out like a prayer. “I’ve heard you don’t let just anyone play with your ass.”
Jake’s fingers twist in the sheets as he tries to hold himself open for Bradley’s gaze.
“Do you, Jake?” Bradley asks in a low voice. His breath coming out in hot puffs against the inside of Jake’s legs.
“What?” Jake lifts his head to try to keep looking at the sinful sight of Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw kneeling between his legs.
Bradley glances up and smirks right before he drags his mustache against the sensitive skin of Jake’s inner thigh. Jake’s back arches off the bed. His eyes rolling back at the weird sensation of whiskers on his thighs. He’s never fucked anyone with facial hair, as few and far between as that is in the navy. Bradley’s tongue runs up the same path his mustache did soothing the burn.
“Do you let just anyone play with your ass, baby?” Jake’s still squeezing his eyes shut as Bradley whispers the words against his other thigh. His whiskers scraping again this time he runs them higher and presses a kiss to the crease where Jake’s thigh meets his pelvis. “How do they make you scream?”
“They don’t.” Jake gasps out. His voice is broken and he swallows thickly trying to calm down his body. His fingers tie into Bradley’s hair. Jake yanks hard trying to drag Bradley towards his weeping cock. “I make them scream.”
Bradley chuckles. His fingers drag slowly up the outside of Jake’s thighs. His nails biting in enough to scratch and leave a mark. Jake whimpers, his hand in the sheet tugs uselessly. There’s too much happening right now. Too many feelings, too many sensation and too many Bradshaws in Jake’s bed.
Bradley goes with Jake’s insistent pulling, his tongue flicking out to catch the slit of Jake’s cock and collect a drop.
“Say please.” Bradley says softly. Jake’s eyes flutter open and he stares down at the sight between his legs.
Bradley’s mouth hovers over Jake’s cock. It twitches with interest as Bradley leans down towards it. Without looking away, Bradley leans down and sucks gently on the head.
“Fuck.” It comes out more of a whimper than anything else and Jake’s legs spasm shut clamping around Bradley’s shoulders. “God damn, Bradshaw.”
Bradley laughs, the vibration crawls up Jake’s cock and somehow up his spine making his whole body quiver. Bradley pops off and presses a kiss to the inside of Jake’s thigh that’s red with whisker burn.
“Ask nicely.”
Jake sucks in a breath and tries to relax. Bradley slowly pulls at Jake’s legs until they spread again giving him space.
“Please suck my cock.” Jake breaths out. His hand falls from Bradley’s hair. His fingers drag down Bradley’s face mapping out different lines and textures. The intense look is back and Bradley leans into the touch before reaching up taking hold of Jake’s hand.
“It’ll be my pleasure.” Bradley whispers before turning Jake’s hand and planting a kiss to his fluttering pulse at his wrist.
Jake gasps. Bradley’s whiskers tickle and drag across his skin; he slowly moves Jake’s hand back to Bradley’s hair and lets go. Jake misses the heat for a second and then lets out a loud noise as Bradley takes him into his mouth.
He tries not to thrust up into the tight wet heat that's now surrounding him. Bradley’s done this before. Bradley’s done this whole song and dance before and the jealousy clenches tightly around Jake’s throat. His fingers tug harshly at the hair in his grasp as he thrusts his hips up a little.
The growl in response sends another hot wave through Jake and throws his head back against the pillows. Two large hands grab his hips and hold him down. Bradley’s mouth moves with precision. Sucking and bobbing, taking Jake deeper and deeper until he can fit most of Jake in his mouth with ease. Jake twitches on the bed. His body moving without his control as he tries to chase the high he can feel building. The warm feeling starts in his spine, his balls starting to tighten as Bradley sucks hard on his cock.
“Fuck, I’m so close.” Jake gasps out lost. “Fuck, Bradshaw, I’m serious. I’ll come- hot fuck-“
Words are spilling out of Jake’s lips. He can’t break the hold on his hips so his head twists in the sheets as he feels it coming, almost cresting through his body.
“What the fuck?” Jake gasps as Bradley pulls off.
The hands on his hips disappear as Bradley reaches across him for the bottle of lube.
“You’ve done this before?” The question comes out rough and Jake smirks a little at Bradley’s loss of patience.
“Romantic as ever.” Jake sighs as he falls into the pillows and closes his eyes trying to slow down his racing heart. His cock throbs painfully between his legs.
“Seresin .”
Jake flutters his eyes open and looks at Bradley through his lashes. A red flush covers Bradley’s face. The marks from the living room cover his chest and Jake can’t help but feel a surge of pride. Jake pushes himself onto his elbows letting his legs butterfly out wider around Bradley’s large form.
“Which would you prefer, Bradshaw? Yes so you can fuck me quick and not have to worry about hurting me or no so you can be the first?” Jake asks as he leans forward to take Bradley’s nipple into his mouth. He bites down and relishes the punched out noise that Bradley makes. Jake soothes over the bite with his tongue and gently runs his hands down Bradley’s arms.
One of Bradley’s hands wraps around Jake’s waist and flips him before Jake can make a noise. A pillow is shoved haphazardly under Jake before a thick finger is prodding his entrance.
“Do you ever stop running your mouth?” Bradley growls from above him.
Jake whimpers at the feeling of a finger pressing in. He tries to make his body relax to accept it. It burns and it’s tight but somehow through the haze, it feels perfect.
“Only if there’s something in it.” Jake groans out as Bradley fucks a finger into him. “Only sure fire way to get me to shut up.”
Bradley growls again, this time he nips at the back of Jake’s neck as he inserts a second finger. Jake whines high in his throat as the two fingers work together to open him up.
“It’s a few months since I’ve had someone inside me.” Jake whimpers as Bradley curls his fingers just right. He buries his face into his pillow as two fingers brush at his prostate. “Quickie in a storage closet, nothing to write home about.”
Bradley grunts. His fingers move quickly, stretching and curling Jake until the tension slowly leaves. Jake shivers at the feeling of Bradley’s mustache drag across his neck until Bradley mouths at Jake’s ear.
“Anyone I know?” Bradley grunts out. A third finger joins the other two and Jake arches up into the feeling.
“Doubt it.” Jake breathlessly replies. The heat is spreading quickly and the feeling of his orgasm is still at bay. It’s crawling closer with every clever flick of Bradley’s fingers against Jake’s prostate. Bradley’s labored breaths panted into Jake’s ear makes him lose a little more of his sanity.
A small noise leaves Jake’s mouth as three fingers are roughly pulled from his body. Bradley slides an arm under Jake to support him as the blunt tip of his cock brushes against Jake’s fluttering entrance.
“Who’s your daddy, Seresin ?” Bradley growls out low in Jake’s ear. “Who’s about to make you come?”
A noise is punched out of Jake as Bradley teasingly rubs his cock against Jake’s hole. The arm around Jake’s body tightens and pulls him up closer to Bradley who’s kneeling between Jake’s spread legs.
“Fuck, you’re my daddy.” Jake moans out trying to thrust back in the length that keeps teasing him. “You’re my fucking daddy, Bradshaw.”
Bradley takes no mercy. He slides in nice and smooth the first few inches. He doesn’t give Jake time to make a noise as he fucks into him with small thrusts inching himself into Jake with every pump of his hips. Bradley’s other hand lands in the bed next to Jake’s.
Even with his back to Bradley, Jake’s never been so exposed. His body weight supported solely by Bradley. His knees are no help against the sweat slick sheets. Bradley’s thrusts keep coming until he’s fully seated inside of Jake and he pauses.
The harsh sounds of both of them trying to catch their breaths fill the room. The bed squeaks under the weight as Bradley shifts and somehow sinks deeper into Jake. Jake moans low and drawn out. He bows his head squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to focus all his efforts on not coming this second.
A hand grabs his hand that's tied into the sheets. Jake gasps as Bradley unclenches Jake’s fist and interlocks his hand with Jake’s. Their fingers grab the sheet underneath them and Bradley slowly grinds himself into Jake. Their bodies moving together as one rocking motion getting used to the idea of being connected.
Jake lets out a low whine at the smallest bit of friction as Bradley pulls out of him an inch and shallowly thrusts back in. It’s slow and smooth. The sweat makes their bodies glide on each other but it makes the heat stick to their skin. Bradley’s fingers tighten around Jake’s before he pulls out half way through.
“Ready?” Bradley’s voice ghosts along the edge of Jake’s ear. His tongue runs down the back of Jake’s neck before he can latch onto the junction where it meets his shoulder.
“Yes.” Jake wishes he could say more. Say something clever or effortless but he can’t. All words are blending together and would come out as more.
Bradley snaps his hips forward. They groan together. The hand holding up Jake’s waist tightens and that’s the only warning he gets.
Bradley pulls out and sinks back in at a leisurely pace. Not pulling all the way out but making each thrust count. Jake moans out with every roll of their bodies, his prostate getting grazed with every lazy motion. He grips harder onto Bradley’s hand as he tries to keep himself ground enough to make this last.
“Fuck, yes. Come on.” Jake grunts out as he tries to rock back in time. To give as good as he gets and make Bradley’s confidence fumble at least a little. He squeezes around Bradley as he tries to pull out.
“God damn, sweetheart.” Bradley groans out into Jake’s neck. His teeth nip at the sweaty skin sending a shiver down Jake’s spine. “Doing so good for me. So tight and perfect. Like I knew you’d be.”
The words wash over Jake and he shudders as he tries to arch his hips to take Bradley deeper.
“Fuck, you’re so big.” Jake moans out. It should sound cheap but it’s not. His voice breaks into a moan as Bradley’s cock slams into his prostate.
“Right there baby?” Bradley groans out. Jake can feel him shift on the bed pushing them towards the head board.
Bradley lifts their hands and forces Jake to hold onto the wood.
“Hold on, can you do that?” Bradley whispers into Jake’s ear.
Jake nods quickly. His eyes still squeezed shut as he tries to stop the waves of white hot pleasure from consuming him.
Bradley’s hands find both of Jake’s hips and he pulls most of the way out. He slams back in, his fingers leaving bruising marks on Jake’s skin. Jake lets his head hang low as he moves with every hard thrust Bradley gives.
“Fuck, daddy.” The words tumble out of Jake’s mouth without even thinking. He’s too far gone to register what he said or to be embarrassed about it. “Fuck me right there.”
Bradley slams into him harder. The sound of slapping skin and breathy pants fill the small room. The headboard knocks against the wall with every thrust Bradley rolls into Jake’s body.
“Say it again.” Bradley demands. His hands are now moving Jake’s hips in time with his thrusts. Jake is helpless to do anything but let himself be used. “Say it again, baby. Who’s your daddy?”
Jake moans out and throws his head back as white heat spreads through his body with every thrust. He can feel it happening soon. His body is building up before he crests over into oblivion. His knees slide against the looseness of his sheets. The wet sounds of them moving makes his face burn with embarrassment and want.
No one’s fucked him like this before and he’s guessing no one ever will.
A hand leaves his hip and wraps around his neck. Long fingers gently cup his jaw as he’s pulled back against Bradley. Dog tags uncomfortably dig into his back and his cock twitches at the idea that Bradley’s name is going to be pressed into his flesh after they’re done branding Jake.
“Fuck, daddy.” Jake moans out, he opens his eyes and turns his head to look into Bradley’s face. “Fucking me so well, daddy.”
Bradley’s face is red, sweat is dripping down his face. His brown curls are matted and sticking up at odd angles. His cheeks are flushed with exertion and arousal but his eyes are clear.
They burn with an intensity and Jake knows that after this, there is no running. There will be no walls. There’s no turning back.
“Who’s ass is this?” Bradley grunts out. His fingers tighten on Jake’s jaw angling closer to Bradley’s face. His hand releases the iron grip on Jake’s hip just to land a hard smack to his cheek.
Jake groans. He’s on the edge, he only needs a little more to come.
“Yours, daddy.” Jake breaths out. “All yours.”
“Who the fuck is your daddy?” Bradley demands. His thrusts are not as deep but he’s grinding against Jake’s prostate with every motion. It’s not enough, not even close enough and Jake screams in frustration.
“Bradley fucking Bradshaw.” Jake growls as he tries to reach down for his cock. Bradlely’s hand falls from his throat and smacks his hand away.
“What do you need?”
Jake shakes his head. He can’t form words. There’s nothing left of his brain, it’s melting out of his weeping cock as Bradley thrust his hips up.
“Can’t help if you don’t tell me.” Bradley says. He presses their mouths together a form of kiss but it’s more just panting into each other’s mouths.
“Don’t know, not enough.” Jake breathes out. Bradley growls low in his throat. His hands tighten on Jake’s body before he pulls out.
“Fucking what-“
Jake’s cut off as Bradley flips him onto his back and slams back into him. This is so much more staring at each other. Bradley’s eyes never leave Jake’s face as he thrusts in hard. His stomach pressing against Jake’s cock with every thrust.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Jake moans out. His hands scratch down Bradley’s back as he throws his head back, losing himself.
“That’s it baby, come on. Let go, Jake, I want it. I want to see it, baby.” Bradley whispers against the expanse of Jake’s neck.
Bradley bites down on Jake’s nipple and that throws Jake over the edge. He throws his head back as come shoots between their bodies. Bradley still moving hard and fast fucking him through it. Jake’s spend makes the glide easier between them and he digs his nails into the large expanse of Bradley’s back.
He can feel his body tighten around Bradley and there’s two more thrusts before the hot wetness of Bradley’s spend paints the most intimate parts of Jake claiming him.
Jake smashes their lips together. Bradley is still lazily thrusting, fucking them through their after shocks. A dull haze surrounds Jake as he gently cups Bradley’s cheek as they kiss.
It’s different this time. Not as urgent, not as rough. Something slow and almost sweet. Bradley’s hands run through the mess of blonde hair smoothing it off Jake’s forehead. He slowly comes to a stop and Jake wraps his leg around Bradley’s body to keep him in place.
“I have to pull out.” Bradley mumbles between kisses.
Jake smiles and slides his tongue into Bradley’s mouth and ties his fingers into the brown curls pulling him closer. Bradley smiles and it tastes like pure happiness. Fingers run down Jake’s body, mapping out skin and drawing random patterns.
“Jake, come on.” Bradley mumbles again and Jake holds him in place. He’s still floating. He’s got a pleasant buzz moving through and he doesn’t want the bubble to shatter.
“Seresin .”
Jake lets out a breath and pulls back to look at Bradley in the face. A crooked grin that’s full of intent crosses Bradley’s face. His hand comes down and gently strokes Jake’s face.
“Let me up.” Bradley says fondly and Jake raises a brow.
“Is that an order lieutenant? Because last time I checked, we’re the same rank.” Jake replies as he runs his fingers through Bradley’s curls memorizing the texture.
Bradley smirks, his hands falling to Jake’s legs and slowly unwinds the grip. Jake lets his leg fall open releasing Bradley. It doesn’t hurt but Jake still winces at the slides out. Bradley messily presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pushing up off the bed.
“How the fuck do you have the energy to move right now?” Jake groans as he rolls over to his side of the bed burying his face in his pillow.
“Because you’ll bitch at me tomorrow if I don’t clean the cum off you.” Bradley says from the bathroom and Jake peeks an eye open to glare at him.
Bradley comes out with a washcloth in his hand and a smirk. His cock is soft between his legs but the way the bathroom light baths him makes Jake’s stomach flip. It’s too soon to go another round but Bradley Bradshaw makes Jake want stupid things.
The cloth is rough against his skin. Bradley tries to make it painless and quick as he can.
“You need new sheets.”
Jake glances over his shoulder again to find Bradley staring at a large wet spot in the middle of the bed.
“You’re a goddamn menace.” Jake groans as he throws a pillow at Bradley. Bradley bats it down and smiles softly at Jake. “I was perfectly happy being asleep and now I’m more tired and have to change my sheets.”
Bradley flushes but smiles wider. His eyes dance with probably a dirty joke and Jake throws another pillow to shut him up.
“I’ll strip, you get the sheets. Top shelf in the bathroom.” Jake says with a grunt as he stands up. Bradley throws him a mock salute and turns to head towards the bathroom.
Jake takes off the e pillows and what’s left of the sheets. Bradley comes back and they quickly remake the bed. They toss the pillows back and then just stare at the generic king bed.
“I’ll-“
“Right side-“
They both stop talking and look at each other. Jake swallows thickly and gestures to Bradley.
“No, no.” Bradley says quickly. “You go.”
Jake sucks in a breath. No turning back.
“I sleep on the right side.” He gestures to his side of the bed. “So you don’t mind the left.”
“Left is good.” Bradley says quickly, his eyes darting to the freshly made bed. “I sleep well on the left.”
“Good, I guess.” Jake says quickly.
It’s weirder then he’d thought it’d be. He assumed Bradley would want to leave. Hit and quit and never say a word about this. Jake lets out a breath and climbs into his side of the bed and collapses with a soft sigh.
The bed squeaks as Bradley climbs in next to him. Jake can feel the tension and he flops on his back staring at the ceiling listening to the even cadence of Bradley’s breathing.
“Oh for fucks sake.” Jake groans out and rolls over until he’s pressed against Bradley’s side.
Bradley easily snakes an arm around him and pulls him in tight. A light kiss is pressed to Jake’s temple. Jake’s eyes flutter shut and he lets sleep take him.
——————————————-
Jake wakes up to an empty bed.
It’s not surprising to him, it just hurt a little more than he thought it would.
His body aches in all the right ways. He keeps his eyes closed for a second longer before he pushes himself up and goes to the bathroom.
His body is littered with marks and bruises. The long finger bruises on his hip are the darkest, right where Bradley held him tight. Jake turns slowly and his face flushed at the imprint of the dog tag on his back.
He quickly brushes his teeth and steps into the shower. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps.
He screams as the shower curtain is pulled back and Bradley is standing in his bathroom wearing Jake’s shirt and work out shorts.
“Scrambled eggs with bacon or sausage?” Bradley asks without missing a beat.
“What the fuck?” Jake’s heart is racing and he’s holding onto the tile for support.
“Breakfast tacos.” Bradley says slowly. His brow raises as if he’s trying to explain a simple maneuver to Jake. “Breakfast. Some people eat it. Most important -“
“Fuck you.” Jake breathes out turning off the water and Bradley smirks.
“I mean,” Bradley shrugs, a small smirk plays on his lips and Jake rolls his eyes.
“Bacon.” Jake says as he presses past Bradley going for his towel.
“What?”
Jake turns and smirks at Bradley.
“For breakfast tacos. Breakfast. Some people-“
Bradley kisses the words out of Jake’s mouth. It’s chaste and sweet and so domestic that Jake’s heart jumps into his throat. Bradley pulls away and slaps Jake playfully on the ass through the towel before walking back towards the kitchen.
Jake quickly changes and walks into his living room getting greeted by Bradley Bradshaw humming softly making food in his kitchen. Jake walks up behind and hugs him from behind. Bradley’s hand comes up and gently squeezes his fingers before he goes back to cooking.
“Coffee’s in the pot.” Bradley says, pressing a kiss to Jake’s head.
Jake’s heart flutters as he pulls away and walks to the mugs and pours himself a cup. He looks back and Bradley is now swaying slowly to whatever song is bouncing in his head and Jake feels the start of something else forming inside him. Something more permanent.
Home.
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