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gretagerwigsmuse · 8 days ago

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rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

Summary: finally back home, bradley can focus on all the things he's missed while he's been gone. there's someone there to properly welcome him home, frantic reunion sex, prepping for an amazing vacation, family dinners, and the casual intimacy he's come to love between the two of you. but there's still something up with you and he can't quite figure it out. it'll be fine, right? catch up with [part 1] and [part 2]

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, body insecurity, suggestive dialogue, suggestive content, and sexual content (oral (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). also on ao3!

i want to be naked, i don’t mean my body, i don’t need my body i’m floating away

Bradley startled awake sometime later. It happened sometimes. He had these dreams were it felt like he was falling. Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight.

That wasn’t to say that they were necessarily nightmares or anything. (Because the distinction between the two was glaringly obvious.)

They just unnerved him a bit. Left him unsettled, untethered.

He rolled over and stretched his arm out across the bed, until his fingers brushed against something silky. Something warm and silky. He turned his head to find you sprawled out next to him.

You had changed between now and when Bradley had last seen you - he glanced at the clock on his nightstand - seven hours ago.

Fuck.

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs.

Goddammit, he felt like an asshole. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen, especially after what you two talked about earlier that evening.

You’d give us your wild? Of course. Of course, of course, of course he would.

Like you knew he was thinking about you, you shifted your hips, inching closer towards him. Your body was only half under the thick duvet cover and top sheet, so even in the early morning light he could still see the navy nightie you were wearing.

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend.

Tonight, the night three months in the making, he had missed cuddling and kissing and all the best parts of getting cozy in bed with you because he had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. And sure, he had gotten a taste of what was to come on the couch while you laid underneath him and drew imaginary shapes across his chest with your finger and he held you tight and counted your heartbeats.

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home.

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you.

There was a future with you. There was that little boy - or little girl - from your dream. The perfect mix of you and Bradley.

(Don’t ever be a Rocket Man. I mean it.

When you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there.

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

Suddenly, there was this overwhelming urge inside him that if he didn’t touch you and have you in his arms, that he’d slip away, back to space. Untethered.

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe.

Bradley scooted over towards your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around you, unable to bear another moment untethered. There, that was better. You were soft and warm and felt so precious in his arms. And with your nightie rucked up around your hips and one leg extended out and the other hiked up, your body was on full display.

Easy access.

Your thighs were so fucking soft and curvy and he desperately wanted to slot himself right between them. Have them bracket his head, while his tongue lapped at your pretty pussy.

Would he start there? Eat you out until you were begging for his cock? Have you grind on his lap…until you were begging for his cock? Or…just generally begging for his cock?

They all seemed appealing, but admittedly kissing you until you were breathless and then rocking his body above yours until you were both tumbling over the edge had plenty of merit, too. Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first.

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg.

But that brought him back to the present. Could he wake you up, now? Bradley knew you’d been stressed and busy ever since your mom had come to town and because of all you’d confessed earlier; so, would it be fair to wake you? You hadn’t woken him up, afterall.

After an indeterminate amount of time of just holding you and watching you breathe, you rolled your bare ass against Bradley’s crotch and let out a pleased hum. He gave your hip a squeeze and you burrowed even deeper in his arms. Your skin was softer than the silk nightie you were wearing and he could feel the heat pouring off your body.

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck.

Once you were a little more lucid and opened your eyes, you pulled your nightie down to cover your ass, though that didn’t stop Bradley from playing with the lace hem.

You rolled over so you were now face to face and wrapped your right leg around his left.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

You cupped his cheek. “Wanted you to sleep, you looked so tired. Pretty too.”

It was dark in the room at five thirty-eight, but not completely pitch black, so Bradley could still make out your soft features. You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention.

But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.

“Well,” he kissed your forehead then your nose, “I’m still sorry, especially after what we talked about earlier, should’ve stayed up for you.”

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.”

He hitched your right leg higher over his hip and groaned when he could feel your core through his joggers. You squirmed against him, cheeky little thing. But with his joggers and t-shirt still on, Bradley was definitely overheated and the sweat was building at the back of his neck, to say nothing about the heat your body was giving off.

As if reading his mind, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragged your fingers up his stomach, stopping at both his happy trail and then the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, before taking the t-shirt off completely. A soft thud rang out when you’d thrown it across the room and it presumably landed on the floor.

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers.

“Been dying to all night - hips up, Bradshaw.”

Bradley arched his back and helped you slide his joggers down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. Your gaze lingered on his body for a long moment, but you just gave him a coy little smile.

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?”

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!”

“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!”

He pinched your side and you wiggled away from him with a shriek. “Uh uh, not so fast.”

Bradley pulled you close again, desperate to be nearer to you. You tangled your legs together and pointed your torso towards his, but remained perched on your elbow, while he was laying down flat.

Suddenly somber, your eyes were drawn back to his body and he just let you look - drink him in and see what you had missed over the last few months. Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line.

Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?

He could feel your eyes lingering on his abs. Normally, you remarked on his thighs and shoulders, but tonight it seemed you had a different focus. You appeared hesitant, biting your lip, as you dragged your finger across his stomach.

Did you like how he looked - how he had changed in your time apart?

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.”

You appeared bashful at the comment, which just let Bradley know he’d have to give you more of them over the next few weeks. “Come ‘ere.” Without waiting for a response, Bradley started pressing kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your neck, your lips. If it was possible at this point, he drew your body even closer.

“Bra-adley! We have an entire bed here, you know?” You giggled when he rubbed his nose into your neck.

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

You scooched down on the bed on your stomach so you were looking up at him. With a smile, you began to press languid kisses across his chest, starting just above his belly-button and creeping up to his pecs, heart, and shoulders. You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.

But tonight, it seemed you had a different path in mind and, while you still nipped at his shoulder, you didn’t stop there and instead went straight to the small tattoo on his bicep. You traced your fingers across the roman numerals:

x x x i x

Thirty-nine.

As in thirty-nine years old. An age neither of his parents ever got to see.

Bradley had gotten the tattoo when he was in flight school and a bit of a shit with self destructive tendencies. People never really asked what it meant and he never really wanted to tell anyone.

He’d told Ezra, right around the time when they first started talking about moving in together, before that spectacularly failed. He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.

Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date.

It was the second time you’d slept together. Because while your first time had been frantic and had taken you both by surprise (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom), the second time was much slower - softer.

You had planned the date this time. Bradley had picked you up at your apartment - he even had come upstairs to get you - with flowers - and the two of you had dinner at Callie, followed by a performance at the San Diego Symphony. It was actually thanks to one of Bradley’s fun facts about playing the piano that you had gotten the idea.

Both of you had gotten dressed up (a big departure from your third date hike in Torrey Pines), the food and drinks had been plentiful and delicious, and listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.

So, after eating you out on your kitchen counter and going two rounds in bed, Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school.

And if you had asked Bradley, it was after that date that he knew he was going to fall in love with you.

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs.

And because he had told you what the tattoo meant, it made the moments since when you’d really focus and hone in on it all the more sweeter. During this last deployment, Bradley had often felt like the ink was burning into his skin under his flight-suit. It kept reminding him that he had once thought he had a timeline or a stopwatch on his bicep, slowly ticking down. But with you, it was something to strive towards, to reach beyond and be there for LIX, LXXXIX, and even XCIX.

“What’s it like flying at night?” Your question snapped him out of his thoughts and you pressed another kiss to his tattoo to calm him. “I kept thinking about it on my flight to London. And how you must see this all the time, is it still a big deal? Can you even stop and think about it? Just endless night with thousands of stars to guide you? Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing around for hundreds of miles.”

(What’s it like, out in space?

It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things - oh, it’s really nothing at all.

But you always go back.)

“You’d never thought about it before?” his voice came out thick, hoarse.

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not in that way, I guess? I couldn’t sleep on the way to London, so I pulled up the shade in the middle of the night. I’ve never really thought to do it before, don’t know why - but then I saw all those stars, endless stars, thousands of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your finger stopped tracing patterns on his arm for a moment before it started again. “And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.”

Bradley felt like he was going to cry, the feeling swept over him so suddenly. “I uhh - fuck.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you sounded contrite, “I just wanted you to know.”

Could he tell you? Could he tell you that flying at night with all the stars in the sky simultaneously made him feel closer to and yet farther away from his parents? It was like they were right there, but also so far out of reach. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t say any of that, not now. The words couldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled you closer, putting your face at level with his own. “I love you.”

You smiled and he could’ve sworn there were tears in your eyes, but it was hard to make out in the darkness. “I love you, too. Now please kiss me.”

Bradley let out a chuckle, but leaned in to kiss you without another word. The kiss was sweet, but still had an underlying desperation attached to it that came with being away for months. But unlike every other kiss you’d shared since Bradley had gotten home, there was no need to stop or to prevent it from going further. No, now you were his. He could have you however he wanted.

Not breaking the kiss, you shifted and bracketed your thighs on either side of his hips, allowing him to slide his hands up your body. He’d never get tired of thinking it, but god, you were so fucking soft. Your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your hands, your lips - actually…

His next words were grunted against your neck. “Your lips are really soft - softer than normal,” he finished when you went to interrupt him.

“Must be my lip mask. I put it on after I saw that you fell asleep on me…”

“Hey, hey,” he tickled your sides and you collapsed on his chest amidst your giggles, “I said you should’ve woken me up!”

“Would you have woken me up?” You had him there. “See? This way I could stare at you uninterrupted and get all moony over you. Plus, now isn’t this better? No more sleepy bubs.”

No. He was definitely awake now. And from where your core was laid on his bare stomach, he could already feel how wet your were and couldn’t wait to slip inside you.

“‘Could kiss you for hours,” you said against his lips. You kissed him - once, twice, ten times, smiling all the while. He never wanted you to stop. “Bradley,” you whined, “Need you inside me. Gotta get used to you again. ‘m so tight.” You nipped his earlobe.

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You preened under the praise. Because it surely had to have been a bit of a challenge. “Yours are so much bigger, though.” Bradley rolled his eyes at your cheeky tone. “What’re you gonna think up for me to do next time you’re gone? Like what you talked about earlier?” You didn’t linger too much on the next time part of your question, so he didn’t either.

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I’d have to do more research, but like you have to wear xyz or send me a picture of you doing something? Whatever we want.”

You nuzzled his neck. “Mmmmm, I like that. Wish we could really talk when you’re gone, though. I’m not sure I could handle every comms officer hearing what I need from you again…”

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”

Your jaw dropped and you contorted your body to look up at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

His cheeks colored. “I mean, not like an actual one, but like a voice memo or something?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it did in his head. “If you wanted…”

“Oh my god, yes! I very much do want.”

Without another word, Bradley rolled you both over so now he was on top, knees bracketing your hips so as to not put his full weight on you. Your nightie was still covering your stomach and breasts, but that didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath the navy silk to play with them. They felt fuller than normal - not that he was complaining, but he hadn’t noticed earlier and now -

His cock brushed against your stomach in a way that had you bucking up against him, so desperate, so keen, so fucking good. Good girl. Your lips were eager against his as you poured every thought, every email, every Facetime call into your kiss.

God, it had been so long. Fooling around on the couch earlier in the evening paled in comparison to how plump your lips felt and how keenly your body reacted to his. Because you felt so good. Months, weeks, days had passed and Bradley had never felt anything as good as your body beneath his.

You sighed and squirmed up the bed so your head was laid across the pillows, all the while Bradley made his way down the bed.

“More, bubs, please.”

How could he refuse, especially when you had asked so nicely? He bent forward to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips before working his way down your body, from your neck and collarbones, to your breasts through your nightie, and finally to right below your belly-button. From there, you readily allowed him to bend your knees so your feet were planted firmly on the bed and your core was completely exposed to him.

Even in the early morning light it was exquisite. You had the prettiest pussy Bradley had ever seen - and it was his, all his.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

You startled at the first touch of his lips on your thighs, but let out the prettiest little sigh when he sucked on the skin by your birthmark. There was another as he licked along one of your lightning lines. And another as he kissed the hood of your clit.

God, you smelled so fucking good and were groomed just the way he liked it - like the perfect, obedient, good girl that you were. And perfect, obedient, good girls got their pussy played with until they were babbling like dumb little sluts.

“- Would have thought this would be your first stop?”

Bradley chuckled, but didn’t stop dragging his fingers across your inner thighs and lower lips. “Yeah? What, d’you think I’d do? Just dive right in? Take you on the kitchen table?”

“I would’ve let you.”

Once the words had sunk in, he stopped teasing you. His elbows gave out beneath him and he groaned with his face pressed against the sheets. Fuck. That was a conversation for another time, but just the thought of you letting Bradley basically use you had him grinding his hips into the mattress.

You were so good.

He popped his head back up and slapped you - lightly - across your pussy. “You keep saying shit like that and next time I just might.”

In response, you arched your back and tried to close your legs around his head, but Bradley just tutted and spread them further.

“Uh-uh, need to have a look at her, I've gone three months without her.” Your hips jumped off the mattress as his fingers started playing with you, tracing circles over and dipping in and out of your cunt. “‘pretty pussy. She took such good care of you while I was gone, didn’t she? Look at you dripping for me, huh?”

His fingers scissored inside of you, dragging against your walls, while his thumb needled your clit. Your wetness spread across his fingers and he, in turn, spread it across your folds and inner thighs. He liked when you were messy. He liked to feel you all over his face.

“Bradley,” you whined. “Stop teasing.”

Neither of you really wanted that, so it didn’t even merit a response from him. Instead, he kept sliding his fingers inside you in and out, in and out and crooked them ever so slightly before he added a third. Above him, you gasped and jolted.

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -

“- Bradley…” He peered up to see that you had one arm over your eyes, while the other was pawing at your breasts through your nightie.

“God, you’re sucking on my fingers so tight, I would believe you’ve taken anything up this pretty pussy in months.”

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…”

“Where?” his voice was muffled. Bradley sucked his lips around your thigh, right by your labia, but refrained from kissing you were you wanted him most. He wanted to mark you up everywhere, have your thighs and breasts and neck covered in little bites and bruises.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Good. Good. Good.

You whined. It sounded pathetic and he had barely even started. “My pussy. Please, Bradley? Please?”

Who was he to deny you? Because, god, you tasted so fucking good. It was hard not to absolutely devour you, especially after going for so long without you. Bradley slid his hands down from your hips to grab your ass and rut your cunt deeper against his face. As a reward, he got a slew of pretty little whimpers out of you.

He continued at a steady pace, alternating between probing your clit and slipping his tongue inside you. Above him, you arched your back and he pressed a firm hand on your stomach to keep you down.

“Bradley,” you cried as you rode his face.

God, you sounded so pretty now, he couldn’t wait to get you on his cock later.

Pretty girl.

Smart girl.

Good girl.

His girl with a body like Aphrodite.

“Ahhh - fuc - ahhh.” You made that sound and he knew, without even looking up, that your head was tipped back in pleasure and you were close. “Bubs,” your voice came out small, “want you - inside me, now.”

“Uh-uh.” Bradley pulled his head back, but continued fingering you. “You need to come first.”

Come on his face.

You shook your head frantically against the pillow. “No.” You gasped when he purposely plunged his fingers deeper. “‘wanna with you - ahh inside me.”

Somehow you grabbed the hand he had pressed on your stomach and you dragged it up your body. His knuckles brushed against the silk of your nightie until you eventually pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your interlocked fingers. And all Bradley could do was say your name in censure, which ultimately came out heavy with need.

“Please? Want it to be together our first time back.” You whined pitifully. “Haven’t touched myself in days.”

All you had to do was pout and he was gone.

“Fine,” he smacked your thigh, “but I’m gonna make you come again after I finish inside you.”

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

You would be spent and whiny by then, it wouldn’t be hard.

After swirling his fingers once more around in your cum, Bradley held his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean them off. “That good?” You hummed around the digits before he retracted them and tapped your cheek twice. “Atta girl.”

Next, he shifted up on the bed so his knees were straddling your waist. He was achingly hard at this point and bit back a smile as you made grabby hands for his cock. It pulsed in your grasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Fuck, that felt divine. While you may have relished how much larger his fingers were than yours, Bradley loved how large his cock looked in your smaller hands. However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” Your eyes were wide and you nodded.

Trusting, needy, desperate. Such a perfect girl for him.

“Wanna be full.”

He brushed the head of his cock against your pussy lips, making sure it was nice and wet and, god, you were fucking soaked and practically sucked him in. You whimpered and muttered something indistinguishable, but wrapped your arms around his shoulders and canted your hips up for more. Then, once Bradley slipped just the tip of his cock inside you, you gasped, but brought him closer. Your nails dug into his shoulders, hopefully pressing little crescents into the skin. He pulled back and slid in again, inch by inch, earning a breathy gasp from you every time.

Holyfuckingshit. You were so tight. So fucking tight, even after prepping you with his tongue and fingers.

Yours are so much bigger, though your voice echoed through his head.

You were so fucking soft and warm and wet and felt perfect around him. With each thrust he’d grunt out your name and you in turn would give a whiny Bradley and eventually wrapped your legs around his hips. And then you were also clenching down on him like you’d spent the entire three months doing kegel exercises.

“Fuck, you made me so hard - thinking about how much of a good girl you were while I was away, keeping this nice and tight for me,” he barely got the words out.

“‘do anything for - for you. ‘d let you do anything to - mmhmm - me,” you finished with a whimper.

Fuck. Your unwavering trust in Bradley always took him aback. Because you meant it. You really would let him do anything to you. If you had the slightest inclination that it would please him, you would do it. He had never had someone who trusted him that much. And that wasn’t something he took lightly.

With that thought in mind, he snapped his hips against yours in a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out.

“Mmm harder.”

He bent down to suck on your neck. This - the closeness - was why he liked missionary so much. It was perfect for this exact moment. There was plenty of time to take you hard and fast later.

“Oh, god. Feel so full - Bradley, Bra - Bradley!” With every utterance of his name, he drove deeper inside you. Harder inside you. You’d ride him next time, he’d make sure of it. But for now, breathing each other’s air, gasping against each other’s mouth, and feeling the sweat on each other’s brow, being so impossibly close to each other, it was hard to say where Bradley’s soul ended and yours started.

Yours and mine are the same.

He groaned your name and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him with an almost dazed expression. Grabbing the back of your knee, Bradley went in at a different angle, trying to get deeper. “Feel how much your little hole’s dripping? Just needed me to stretch you out again.”

“Mmmmm yes, yes, da-dley - ahhhh,” you cried out, “can I come? Please, please?”

Oh, you were such a good girl for him. Asking so nicely, so prettily. So properly. Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but -

“‘Course. There you go, sweetheart, come on my cock like a good girl.”

When you finally came a few moments later, it was with a strangled cry of his name that Bradley swore was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in months. As the shudder of pleasure swept over you and you tightened your core around him, Bradley hastened to find his own release. The slew of cries and whimpers against his lips as you tried to settle down only spurred him on further. He drove into you again and again and again.

He had to get there with you - had to. You clung to him and notched your head by his neck, only to graze your lips along the tender skin there and bite.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “‘You ready for me to come inside you, sweetheart? Know how much you missed it.”

You nodded against his neck. “Yes,” you whispered, “Bradley, please…”

He groaned your name. It sounded so good like that, so perfect. He had to say it again and again and again. With each stroke, your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him, pulling him towards his own orgasm. His jaw clenched and his back muscles tightened and Bradley could barely support his own weight over you for another moment -

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was it. That did it.

With a final moan of your name, Bradley came inside you, painting your pussy with his cum. His cocked twitched one final time as the last streams of cum filled you up. He notched his head against your shoulder and he breathed in your sweet scent.

Goddamn.

Once he settled down and caught his breath sometime later, he moved to pull out, knowing that when he did so, both your cum would drip down your thighs. Your gorgeous, thick thighs. He already needed to get lost in them again. And wasn’t that just the thing? Bradley was obsessed with you. He could never get enough of you.

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered.

He stopped and pulled you closer, but slightly changed your position. There was some perverse part of him that wanted to make a comment about keeping you on his cock for the rest of the morning so you could get used to him again, but he refrained after thinking about the tone of your voice. You sounded so fucking good and docile and submissive. Such a good girl.

“Pretty sure you owe me another one…” You burrowed your head against his neck and moaned when he shifted. “How ‘bout I stay inside you? ‘That okay?” You nodded and your pussy tightened against him. “Good girl.”

Keeping you close, Bradley slid one hand in between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. You arched your back up towards him, trying in vain to get closer, though that was nigh impossible - the two of you were already as close as two people could be.

Yours and mine are the same.

He needled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth, trying to get some moans and whines out of you. God, your body felt unreal. Still so warm around him, still so wet for him. All for him.

Mine, mine, mine.

As your body shifted, your pebbled nipples brushed against his bare chest and Bradley was remiss for not playing more attention to them earlier. But that could’ve been because you were still wearing that goddamn nightie. You were flustered and warm and your skin was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat.

He bent his head down and mouthed at your breasts through the midnight blue silk. They were already hardened to peaks, desperate to be suckled on, especially after noting their new size. There would be time for that later, he had to remind himself.

For now, he nipped at the top of your cleavage and kept playing with your clit. You were so oversensitive, you were practically shaking in his arms. And in response, you raked your hands through Bradley’s hair, pulling on the strands. Fuck him. That felt divine, especially as he felt you tighten around him.

“Brad-ley,” you whimpered, “’s too much.”

“Shhh, easy, easy, there’s no rush.” He tipped your chin up. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head. “Take a deep breath. That's it. Good girl.”

Little whimpers kept escaping your mouth, but you burrowed your face against his neck and trusted him to take care of you. You nipped at the skin there and he hoped it would leave a mark; let everyone know that he was yours and only yours for the next few weeks.

Mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve got to take care of you, you were such a good girl while I was gone. My best girl, huh?”

“Mmmm.”

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”

And that did it.

So proud of you.

You came with a cry and your walls fluttered around his cock once again. A sudden gush of wetness coated both yours and Bradley’s thighs. God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses. There were tears in your eyes and he thumbed them away before they could slide down your beautiful face.

“Hey, too much?” He kissed your cheeks, which unfortunately only made more tears spring from your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “I just missed you so much, think I’m overwhelmed,” you finished sheepishly.

The tension in Bradley’s shoulders eased and he smiled down at you. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, kid.”

“I love you.” The words came out quietly, but it was like they’d only just come out of your mouth before Bradley was saying them back.

“Love you, too.” The smile he got out of you warmed his heart and he pecked your lips before tucking your head under his chin.

The two of you laid there for some time with Bradley still inside you. In fact, he was pretty certain you may have dozed off at one point, but he didn’t want you to be too uncomfortable when you woke up later. With that in mind, he slowly pulled out and settled you on the bed beside him. You fussed a little, but Bradley kissed your forehead, heading it off.

He started with your name, “I’ll be right back, okay? Going to the bathroom.” You nodded at him, your eyes wide and trusting.

It was chilly out of bed, away from you, and Bradley only paused for a brief moment to slip on a pair of his sleep shorts from the dresser, before heading off to the bathroom to get a damp towel for you. He hastened back to the bedroom, now almost fully lit in the early morning light. You made such a pretty picture all tucked under the thick, white duvet.

“Bradley?” You stretched out underneath the covers and let out a little whimper. “‘m sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said with your special nickname tacked on the end. “Come ‘ere.” Despite his words, he came to you and dutifully cleaned you up with the warm cloth.

“‘s not your fault,” you slurred, “need to get used to it again. Missed you.”

The cloth passed over your thighs once, twice, three times, before Bradley brushed it against your core once, twice, three times. You sighed and gave him a lazy smile, which he easily returned.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Be right back,” he whispered.

You’d barely managed to get back under the covers by the time he came back from the bathroom. And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating.

“I missed being with you like this, missed holding you.”

You pressed lazy kisses to his chest for a moment before you eventually tipped your head up to meet his eyes. “Can we stay like this? Just for a while? Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“‘Course,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

--------------

When Bradley woke hours later, he did so slowly. He was pleasantly warm, he was finally sleeping on a true mattress, and you were slotted between his legs sucking his cock.

Surely, there were few better ways to wake up than to have your sweet lips wrapped around him. It wasn’t something you did often, at least in terms of waking Bradley up this way, but he loved whenever you took the initiative. It showed how eager you were - how desperate. Really, the only thing that could top it would be your pussy sunk deep on his cock as you rode him.

You had to have been at it for a while, for he was achingly hard by this point. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth and you let out a surprised moan, no doubt having thought he was still sleeping, before taking him further. Your tight grip on his thighs left him relatively grounded, else he would have set off a round of those gagging noises from you that he liked so much. That wet mouth that he liked so much - fuck.

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes.

And you kept at it with Bradley’s hand grabbing your hair and guiding you. You kept working him, forcing him deeper down your throat. He moaned and you responded back in kind. Such a good mouth, such a good girl, taking care of him like this. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it, but he was mumbling your name, almost nonsensically.

But then he felt, rather than saw, you remove one of your hands from his thighs to presumably put it between your legs to play with your needy pussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck. Get up here,” he said and then punctuated it with a growl of your name when you stayed down. The whimper you let out had him bucking his hips up off the mattress. “I’m serious.”

Almost begrudgingly, you eased him out of your mouth and the resulting, wet pop echoed throughout the bedroom. You looked far too pleased with yourself as you sucked on your finger - the one that had definitely been shoved up your pussy only moments ago - and hummed in response.

“Get up here - now.”

You braced yourself on either side of Bradley’s hips and teasingly brushed your pussy against his aching cock a couple times, practically begging for him to sink inside you. It would be so easy for you to ride him right now, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Bossy, bossy,” you teased and crept up his body, pressing kisses to his happy trail and chest along the way. But just as you were about to kiss him on the lips, he stopped you.

“Uh uh.” He stuck his finger in the air and mimed a circle. “Turn around.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you…” Again, just Bradley twirled his finger around and smiled. “F-fine.”

“But,” at this you relaxed your thighs to press more of your weight on his stomach, “you have to take this off,” he finished by thumbing the navy fabric of your nightie.

It only took a moment for the smile to creep across your face, but you didn’t take your eyes off Bradley’s as you slid the dainty straps off your shoulders, one at a time. You didn’t take the nightie off, it still covered all of your stomach, but it let Bradley ogle your breasts unimpeded for a moment.

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.”

And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.

“Now turn around.”

You rolled your eyes, but managed to turn around with Bradley’s assistance. The brief awkwardness of limbs strewn about was easily forgotten as soon as you got into position and he was rewarded with the sight of your glistening pussy in front of his face.

Bradley didn’t bother holding back a moan and started kneading your ass and running his fingers along your lower spine. Meanwhile, you wiggled down his body, dragging your breasts against his bare skin for the first time all morning. They were so soft, but your nipples were pebbled as they brushed against his stomach. He hissed when you lingered there for a moment to tease him.

Not one to let you get the upper hand, Bradley grabbed your hips to draw you close to his face and inhaled your sweet scent. Fuck. You were so good. You let out a mewl and startled when he first made contact with his tongue and then attempted to nose at your clit. That always got you going. Same with his mustache against the tender skin at the apex of your thighs. Maybe he would abstain from shaving on vacation, if only you’d ask.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groaned your name against your skin and then he feasted.

Meanwhile, the way your hands were playing with his balls right now had him already teetering towards an orgasm. After only being able to fantasize about having your hands on him - your sweet, delicate hands on him - for the last three months, this felt divine. And then you put your mouth on him and he was well and truly done for.

“Fuck.”

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

--------------

After your depravity filled wake up call, the rest of the morning took on a decidedly more chaste tone. The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.

It was finally around noon when Bradley said you two needed a shower and to have breakfast before embarking on the rest of the day’s activities, which included a tour of the house, complete with all the little goodies you’d amassed for him over the last couple months that he had glossed over last night, and getting ready for drinks with Nat, Caroline, and Max at six-thirty. Granted, the latter was six hours away, but Bradley had a feeling you both would be pretty slow to the take that afternoon. Probably would get a little distracted, too.

“‘m gonna take a shower,” his lips brushed kisses up and down your arms and over your once again silk clad breasts and he was rewarded with giggles, “you wanna come with me?”

“Oh!? Uhh - yeah, we could take a shower.” You pecked him on the lips. “Can you warm it up first, please?”

The pout worked - it always did - but Bradley still groaned, totally hamming it up. “Mmmm, I suppose...”

With one final kiss, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on with a snap, going for full brightness on the dimmer, and turned around to give you a cheeky wink, only to see you worrying your lip between your teeth and staring intently down at your clasped hands on top of the duvet. He called your name and your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“You good?”

You nodded and put a smile on your face. “Yeah, be right in.”

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning.

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights.

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen.

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down.

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts.

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much.

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again.

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them.

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.”

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles.

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe.

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt.

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek.

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?”

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.”

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast.

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change.

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail.

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.”

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten.

“This would look nice.”

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them.

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win.

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done.

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute.

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it.

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco.

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges.

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.”

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.”

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?”

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.”

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded.

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.”

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father.

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around.

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued.

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back.

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned.

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…”

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly.

He.

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story.

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore.

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too.

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night.

The realization made Bradley freeze.

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there.

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders.

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche.

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores.

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?”

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -”

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly.

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks.

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop.

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home.

-------------

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting?

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid.

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later.

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer

Oh yeah?

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip? please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me…

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear?

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri]

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that

Always do just what I ask

Fuck I need you so bad

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home?

-------------

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home.

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night.

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him.

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home.

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach?

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit?

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass.

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions.

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh.

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it.

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how -

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!”

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much.

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze.

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately.

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!”

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest.

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts.

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana.

“Lemme help you out there.”

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.”

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug.

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe.

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you.

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch.

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders.

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.”

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?”

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades.

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush.

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently.

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him.

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.”

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now.

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.”

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now.

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly.

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful.

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you.

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated.

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck.

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking.

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you.

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

--------------

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him.

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile.

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days.

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex.

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily.

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you.

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp.

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile.

“New personal record!”

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…”

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.”

“That’s just my perfume!”

“Nope, just you kid.”

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.”

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors.

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you.

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.”

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.”

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.

Absolutely not.

--------------

“Do you need any help packing?”

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you.

“Nerd.” You kissed him.

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him.

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.”

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect.

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome.

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same.

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener.

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards.

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror.

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true.

Certain standards.

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot?

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like.

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms.

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either.

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards.

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a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley fic #top gun imagine

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inmyloveworld · 9 months ago

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i'll look after you (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.3k

synposis: "don't think, just do," was a challenging mentality to live by. but bradley quickly finds there is a balance to be had between thinking and doing.

warnings: allusions to anxiety, work abuse, overthinking

a/n: another hurt/comfort, who's surprised? this has been sitting in my drafts with an unfinished smut ending for a month but i’m electing to post without it as i’m not confident in my ~other~ writing abilities yet.. enjoy!

It was rare that the Navy ever let its aviators off early for the day; even more so for the elite members of Top Gun. Yet, with the clock barely stroking past a sunny four, Bradley was reclined on the sofa with a beer in hand. The house was spotless thanks to a shared cleaning spree the day prior. Nothing could have made for a more perfect turn of events.

But Bradley was pondering on the few texts he'd received that day. They were void of any of the color and character he was used to. None of the words exaggerated their spelling, and periods punctuated every short sentence. Everyone had once remarked him as a chronic overthinker both in the air and on the ground. It was easy to dismiss the gnawing he felt in his gut as the remnants of that mentality.

So, he cracked a Heineken and let himself indulge in uncommon solitude. The flat screen played his favorite drama to placate his mind. A subtle hunger led to perusing online menus for takeout ideas. Every little bit of stimulation was a welcome distraction from his pompous presumptions.

And then he heard it: the abrupt slam of a car door. Fumbling footsteps made their way to the front stoop followed by a clamoring of keys against the painted wood. Bradley grinned as he awaited the arrival, even through the slight tug of worry in his chest.

He watched as you stumbled inside without care. Shaking hands hung up tightly gripped keys and those same fumbling feet kicked off their shoes in frustration. Your shoulders rose and fell sharply with every short breath.

Was I overthinking?

Bradley had yet to see your face, had yet to meet those eyes always bright with excitement. Your face remained tucked toward the wall with each passing second. Swallowing his hesitation, Bradley spoke over the TV. "Baby?"

Your body reacted in shock, jolting up as your head whipped around.

I wasn't.

Hot tears were rolling down your cheeks. Said cheeks were splotchy, proof that these tears were far from the first you'd shed that day. The bright eyes he adored were puffy and red. Their brightness now was not out of joy but sorrowful watering.

Bradley's heart clenched tightly. "Oh, angel," he cooed, hurrying to displace his Heineken to a coaster and mute the TV. You had little time and no energy left to fight his comfort. As your boyfriend stood before you with open arms, you crashed into them.

He wasted no time in embracing you. Sobs broke past your wobbling lips and muffled against his shoulder. "I've got you, babe," Bradley soothed. "I've got you, it's okay. Just let it out."

All you had ever wanted was for someone to support you whenever life put you through the wringer. Bradley felt it a great privilege to be that support, knowing you'd do nothing short of the same for him. He almost cursed himself for letting his insecurities derail his intuition for you, but dismissed the old habit of self-deprecation. Nothing mattered more in this moment than helping you get back on your feet.

"I- I didn't know, you'd be ho-home," you blubbered. The comment irked something in him. How long had you been coming home in a similar state, putting yourself together just in time for him to get home? Were there more despondent texts or other warning signals he hadn't picked up on?

Each hypothesis built a greater desire to look after you, and to follow up on any twinge of doubt he felt. He needed not only to think but to take action on what he thought. "Shh, none of that, baby. None of that. You can always let go around me, okay? 'Can always tell me what's bugging you."

The words lifted heaviness off of you little by little. You cried more at the safety you felt in his words. Bradley guided you, leaden-legged, to the couch. He sat first before gently tugging you atop his lap.

Warm palms rubbed against your cheeks to dry them. Warmer brown eyes sunk into yours, unconditional love seeping through every glint of gold. "Do you wanna talk about it now, or later?" Though not wanting to let your feelings fester, Bradley didn't desire to press you for answers.

He watched as you took in a steady breath and nodded slowly. "Work's just.. just been really frustrating." You sniffled before continuing with anecdotes of being overworked and underappreciated.

Bradley continued to rub softly at your skin as you spoke. His lips pressed assuring kisses to your temples at times you got too worked up to continue. He gave every ounce of care and attention he could to your stories as you vented them out.

You slumped forward in his hold as you finished with a heaving sigh. Another soft kiss was pressed to the crown of your head. "Thank you for telling me, baby." His hands took up rubbing up and down your arms to help ease any remaining tension.

Bradley wasn't sure what he could say or do to make any of this better for you, to help resolve your problems in one fell swoop so that you never had to feel this way again. At the same time, he wasn't sure that a fix-it attitude was what you wanted or needed.

Don't think, just do.

"I want you to know that you're amazing. You work your ass off in everything you do without any promise of reward, and that's really admirable." You lifted your head slightly to see him, to see the sincerity dripping from his praises. "But you deserve recognition for it. It's not fair that you're continually overlooked for fuckheads who don't do a fraction of the shit you do. And it's not fair that you're made to feel so much less than you're worth. I'd kick all their asses if I could." His empty threat broke a small giggle from your lips as grateful tears replaced those of frustration.

Bradley returned your smile with one of his own before resuming a serious tone. "You don't ever have to put on a show for me, okay? I want you to know you're safe to come to me with anything, even the littlest complaints that you write off as whining. Do you ever think I'm whining about Jake getting on my nerves? Or Maverick getting too tough with me in the air?"

"Sometimes."

"Okay, that wasn't the best example." You laughed again, louder this time, and Bradley felt his chest swell with pride. He leaned forward to catch your lips against his, softly, allowing you to take the reins. The kiss stayed soft and sweet as you melted against him. Soft breaths filled the space between you as you parted, resting foreheads against one another. "I'll always look after you, angel. Don't forget that." You nodded in agreement before kissing him once more.

"Thank you."

🏷️: @avengersfan25

#rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun rooster #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader

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ereardonlibrary · 5 months ago

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Darkness [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

Full fic here

#top gun fanfiction #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley x reader #bradley fic #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun

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writing-until-i-drop · 2 months ago

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Quickie | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader | wc: 721

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! teasing, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v (use protection), semi-public I guess?, lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Bradley had been eyeing you all night. You were wearing a new dress and besides a few chaste kisses, you had stayed away from him. Letting Natasha monopolize your attention. You knew what you were doing of course, laughing as Natasha spun you around to the song on the jukebox.

“Look at him, he looks like he’s about to break a tooth he’s clenching his jaw so hard,” Phoenix snorted out a laugh. She spun you around so you could see the man in question. He wasn’t paying attention to the bar flies or the pool game in front of him. No, his eyes were on you. They were hungry and dark, his gaze burning your skin.

“I’m in so much trouble when we get home,” You giggled, excited for your punishment. What would it be? A spanking? Overstimulation? Edging? “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, grab another round for us?”

“You got it.” You headed for the bathroom, feeling Bradley’s eyes on you. What you didn’t realize was that he was right behind you until he had you lifted on top of the bathroom counter, the door locked behind you.

“Such a fucking tease,” He kissed you hard, hands pushing your dress up around your hips. “You wet for me, baby?”

“Always,” You moaned, fisting his hair as he kissed down your neck.

“What were you thinking, huh?” He nipped at your pulse and you moaned as he pushed your panties aside, sliding a finger into your wet heat. “Wearing that dress, acting like you ain’t got a boyfriend.”

“Lee!” You cried out when he suddenly added a second finger, roughly spreading you open for him.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” You moaned, not even trying to tease him. Bradley unbuckled his jeans, pushing them around his knees. You were so needy for him, already worked up from the idea of teasing him all night.

“That’s right, this pussy is mine.” He thrust into you without warning, smothering your moans with a kiss. It had been worth spending the night away from him just to get him worked up like this. Honestly, you thought he’d have enough self control to wait until you were back home or at least in the car but you should have known better.

Bradley Bradshaw was a man of action.

Bradley set a punishing pace and it was clear, much to your disappointment, that your punishment had already begun. He was chasing his pleasure, not yours, his fingers gripping your hips so tight you knew they’d bruise.

“All fucking mine, don’t you forget that.” Bradley growled into your ear, “Do you know how hard it was to watch every guy in this bar stare at you while you danced with Phoenix?”

“Lee, please,” You begged. Unable to take your hands off the counter to help push yourself over the edge without falling back into the mirror.

“No,” Bradley bit your shoulder, marking his territory where every guy in the bar would be able to see it. “I’m going to fill my pussy up, fuck,” His hips jerked erratically, nearing his climax. “And you’re going to go back out there with my gum dripping down your thighs.”

“Fuck,” Your hips bucked, trying and failing to find delicious friction to push yourself over the edge with him. “Please, Lee, I’m sorry. I won’t leave your side, just let me cum.”

Bradley wasn’t listening to you, biting and sucking hickeys into your neck until he spilled inside of you with a grunt.

“I love you,” Bradley panted, kissing you softly. “So much, baby.” You loved him, you really did, but you were too frustrated and horny to return the sentiment.

“Not your biggest fan right now,” You wiped away the tears in your eyes. Bradley sighed, helping you off the counter and fixing your dress.

“I love you,” He tried again, nudging your nose with his, eyes soft. “So fucking much.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around him, relaxing into his broad chest.

“I love you too but what happened to the golden rule?” You referred to the rule where he’d always make you cum before he did. Bradley chuckled, kissing your temple.

“I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. Now come on, I want everyone to see those pretty marks on your neck.”

Taglist: @wanderingsoul6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @sarah-bear706318 @shanimallina87 @atuman @carolina-on-my-mind03 @winelover27 @cherrycola27

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley fic #rooster smut #rooster x y/n #rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #fanfic #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #minors dni #minors do not interact #sorry penny

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ereardon · 2 months ago

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"You promised." Bradley's eyes filled with tears. He went to touch you, but you stumbled back, out of his reach. "I only asked you one thing. Not to break my heart. But you did it anyway. And with her."

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, the strain in his voice evident. His voice, normally so deep, was raspy, as if he was gasping for air in the desert. "Baby. I love you. I fucked up and I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Bradley," you whispered.

He frowned. "Of course it matters. You matter. It all matters."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. Bradley felt his heart plummet in his chest, stretching for his feet, shattering every rib bone along the way as it cascaded out of his chest. He had never hurt anyone the way he had hurt you. "It doesn't, because it's over."

"You can't just say it's over," he replied. "I asked you to marry me. You said yes. We got married, Y/N. You can't just call quits on that because of one small thing."

"One small thing?" He winced as your voice rose. "You fucked her, Bradley. My best friend in the whole world. You fucked her and you lied to me about it."

"I don't know what to tell you other than I am so sorry. I regret it with every fiber of my being. I hate myself for it. Is that what you wanted? Will knowing that make you happy? That I hate who I've become? That I hate the person who could do that to you?"

"Well I hate him too," you said, the anger whipping through your teeth. "I hate you, Bradley Bradshaw. I wish we had never met."

"Don't say that. Baby, I love you. You're my wife and I love you."

"We're leaving. Don't bother trying to come after us."

"We?" Bradley's brown eyes squinted.

"I'm pregnant."

#bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun fanfic #top gun x y/n #top gun x you #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #top gun angst #angst

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gretagerwigsmuse · 1 year ago

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but i kinda hope they catch us - anyway...

Summary: well, you both survived the gala. if only you can survive what bradley has in store for the post-game

OR five times

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader (15.8k)

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, discussions of subspace, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). listen she really internally rambles like...a lot about him and how much she loves him, so like idk. part of 'and even when we're wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay' part 1, part 1.5, part 2.1, part 2.2.1, part 2.2.2

You took a deep breath as you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and tried to hype yourself up. Was it too much? Would he like it? Why were you so nervous?

Because, to be honest, it wasn’t something you’d typically wear - especially not in this color. But it matched your dress and your underwear - and Bradley had liked that just fine. Would he like this though? You fiddled with the bow securing the halter styler chemise behind your neck.

He’d like it, he’d like it, he’d like - you liked it.

You liked it and you thought you looked pretty and beautiful and sexy in it and because of that, you knew Bradley would like it, too. He would. He would.

With a final fluff of your hair and check of your makeup, you adjusted your breasts in the white lace cups - you really could’ve done with the next size up, but it was too late now - and left the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom. You peeked your head around the hallway corner to see that Bradley was still on the patio, the sliding glass door just barely cracked open.

Perfect.

Darting around the room to dim the lights was only made slightly difficult by your heels, but they were part of the whole thing, the whole bit. You tapped your index finger against your chin, looking for anything amiss as you ran through your mental checklist. The extra set of sheets in the closet were ready to go - you hated having to sleep in messy sheets - there were water bottles within reach, and the lights were dimmed.

Suddenly, you wished you had listened to Bradley and brought something stronger to drink from home. His scotch wasn’t exactly to your tastes, but you wanted something to give you a little liquid courage after the buzz from the champagne you’d drunk at the gala had mostly worn off about thirty minutes ago. You glanced outside - he was still sitting out there, his back to you, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. There was still time…

You turned back to the desk spanning almost half the wall of the room, flipped over one of the tumblers next to the ice bucket, and poured yourself two fingers of scotch. The face you made upon swallowing was probably the least attractive thing you’d done that night, but no one else had seen it, so it didn’t count. A smudge of your lipstick lined the rim of the glass, reminding you that you hadn’t blotted it when you reapplied.

The tumbler made a solid thunk when you set it back down on the desk. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Bradley’s suit jacket discarded on the couch and an idea struck. The jacket didn’t exactly dwarf your frame even with two buttons fastened to hide what was underneath, but it did provide decent coverage and you figured he’d like it.

He always liked stuff like that.

The jacket smelled like his cologne and the cigar he had with Pete and weighed heavily on your chest with all the assorted medals and ribbons that Bradley had explained the significance of at one time or another with the one from earlier that evening the most prominent of them all. With a final deep breath, you crossed the small distance towards the sliding door.

You slid it open further, so that your whole body would fit, and placed your hands on either side of the frame at shoulder height. With one leg relaxed and bent slightly at the knee, you simply said:

“Are you coming to bed, handsome?”

Bradley huffed out a laugh and glanced up from his phone. “That’s a new one - oh…”

You slinked over towards him and his legs instinctively widened so you could stand between them, while his hands slid up to rest on your hips over the jacket.

“Was a little cold, had to throw this on for a bit.”

“Hmmm.” He looked up at you, a teasing smile on his face. “You decide to throw out all those ironclad morals of yours and join up?”

You tapped your chin twice with your index finger. “Maybe? Still waiting on the verdict for those war crimes trials…”

Bradley chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone, but you might be waiting a while…” His hands slipped underneath the jacket and brushed against the silk chiffon of your chemise. “Now what do we have here?”

He retracted his hands only to unfasten the two buttons previously keeping the jacket closed.

“Do you like it?” Please like it.

“Maybe if I could see all of it I might have a better idea…” There was the slightest hint of teasing in his voice and his eyes were alight with mischief.

You bit your lip and then sat down on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Be patient.”

The jacket slipped a little as you got situated, which gave Bradley a glimpse at the thick bow tied at the back of your neck and the top of the lace cups.

He hummed and shifted in his seat, jostling you slightly. “Like I said earlier, I’ve been patient all night. Don’t think I can wait another second, kid…”

Slowly, Bradley’s hands crept up your sides, getting closer and closer to your breasts. He rubbed the silk between his thumb and index finger, not quite yet meeting your eye as he explored.

Prior to your relationship, you hadn’t really worn lingerie outside of a cute bra and panty set for yourself. Granted, you had bought something more daring once for your ex-boyfriend, Jack, when the two of you had first started dating. But even though he had said all the right things, he had still practically torn the Fleur du Mal matching set off you, not taking any time to savor how the lace had looked against your skin or how prettily you had tied the bows.

But Bradley? Bradley savored it. Every glimpse of your nipples peeking out through the lace cups, every brush of his hand against the silk, every pretty little bow he had to untie. He savored it - sometimes a little too much, leaving you whiny and panting and desperate for his teasing to stop.

“Think this one’s my favorite so far.”

You smiled and eventually met his eyes. “You said that last time…”

“And last time it was, but - fuck. You look so gorgeous.”

He pushed his jacket off your left shoulder, then the right, causing it to land on the ground with a solid thud due to all the assorted military paraphernalia. You peered over your shoulder at the pathetic lump of fabric on the patio.

“I should pick that up. It’s gonna get -”

Bradley grabbed your chin to focus your attention back on him. “- Shhh, it’ll be fine.” He leaned in and sucked on your pulse point for a moment. “Just relax.”

While he kissed up and down your neck, telling you to just relax after each one, you found yourself doing just that, slowly sagging your body against his and getting into a comfortable position.

For a moment, you were cold without the jacket. There was a slight breeze coming off the ocean some two hundred yards away and you felt your nipples harden and goosebumps break out up and down your arms. But slowly, you felt warm - buzzed. And that was all due to Bradley and how safe and warm and happy and good he made you feel. And tonight, you had a feeling he was going to make you feel very good.

You turned your head, angling for a proper kiss - your first one since you had gotten back to the room that evening - which Bradley gladly reciprocated.

“You taste like scotch,” he said and then kissed you again. “You hate scotch.” Another kiss. And again and again and again until he was kissing up and down your neck and tickling your sides.

Your giggles echoed across the patio. “I was nervous,” you admitted, “needed some liquid courage.”

Bradley properly paused and cocked his head. “Nervous?”

You tittered, not thinking he would actually call you out on it. “I don’t know? I don’t normally wear stuff like this? Was just nervous if you’d like it and just everything about tonight - which I know is silly considering what you -”

“- I was nervous earlier, too,” he confessed like you hadn’t known, “Like I knew I was getting the award and everything, but I had this fear that I didn’t deserve it and they were just gonna take it away - which like I don’t know, it just brought everything back from that day. And how fucking scared I was and just - it was a lot.”

Oh, sweet boy. You cupped his cheek. “It’s okay to have been nervous. You did something really brave and important, Bradley. And that’s something you and Pete will have between you for the rest of your lives. So now, whenever you look at that medal, just think of Pete and everything you guys have gone through, okay?”

Bradley smiled and placed his hand over yours before bringing them both down between the two of you. “I like that, actually. Beats the alternative.” He didn’t let you linger on that last part and kept talking. “You know, whenever it would get to be too much, I’d glance over at you and see you smiling and talking with someone or dancing and I’d be fine - because you were there.”

If possible, you had never felt more love for someone than you did at that moment. Because that’s the way you always felt around Bradley, too. Just seeing his face, knowing he was nearby was enough. It would always be enough.

Your eyes started to get misty. “Bubs, my nervousness tonight is in no way comparable to what you were going through earlier - let me finish - but I feel the exact same way every single time I look over and see you, just knowing you’re there is always enough for me.”

A huge smile lit up Bradley’s entire face and he squeezed his hands around your hips. God, he was so handsome. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. “Now kiss me again.”

He didn’t waste another moment and captured your lips with his own, while your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you even closer to him. As you sat in his lap, biting lips, brushing tongues, roving hands, you repositioned yourself and got comfortable straddling Bradley’s left leg, though you didn’t quite put all of your weight on it. For the first time all evening, your heels hurt your feet. But you knew Bradley would want to take them off himself, so you bore the momentary pain graciously.

Clearly liking the new position, he grabbed your hips and brought you closer towards him, causing the fabric of his dress pants to create the most exciting ripple against your lace underwear. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“You like that?” You nodded and he did it again, this time your underwear brushed perfectly against your clit and you whimpered.

“You gonna let me be in charge tonight?” he asked like he wasn’t in charge every time you had sex. But you knew what he meant. Bradley needed to be in charge and be dominant and take control tonight. After everything during the gala and all the memories it had brought up, he needed to be in charge.

And you were always eager and willing to let him.

“Remember earlier when I asked you for a number between one and five?” You hummed. “And you picked five…” You hummed again, though less sure this time. “Well, that’s how many times you’re gonna come for me tonight.”

Your throat went dry and your pulse quickened. Oh god - oh wow. Five times. Had you known what Bradley had been asking earlier when he coaxed the number out of you, you would have gone for a much more manageable three - maybe four.

Maybe.

But five?

With five it was a foregone conclusion that you would go into subspace during and drop after. Because the last time - really the only time - you’d done either of those, it had taken Bradley doing something you’d never done before to finally get you there. And that was only after he’d already made you come three times.

“Do you - do you think you could spank me…”

Bradley looked slightly confused and rightly so. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to slap your ass while you were having sex. It actually wasn’t something you’d ever asked him to do before. It had long been established between the two of you that it was something you both liked and were free to do. Hell, he had already done it a couple times that evening.

But you didn’t mean on your ass.

“Yeah,” it wasn’t quite phrased as a question, but Bradley didn’t sound as sure as he had earlier in the evening when he’d fucked your throat and came on your tits.

Because he had sounded very sure when he had called you a ‘dumb fucking slut’ whose mouth was ‘only good for one thing.’ Naturally, you’d come and he hadn’t even properly touched you yet.

“Onmypussy,” you rushed out, your mortification growing slightly when all you got out of Bradley was his eyes widening and his cock twitching.

He glanced down at your glistening core and smiled wolfishly. “Beg me.”

You whined. “Bradley…”

“You beg me or I don’t touch you the rest of the night…”

No. No, no no. You wanted him - you needed him. You were beyond horny and needy at this point, you were desperate to be fucked, to be filled. You’d beg. You’d beg and beg and beg for him to slap you if that was what it took for his cock to be inside you later.

“Please, Bradley. Please, slap my pussy,” you whined, “Need to come, need you. So desperate and needy for you. Please, please, please - oh!”

The first slap hit your exposed clit and you cried out. From above you, you could tell Bradley was hesitant to proceed.

But all it took was you saying “Green” for his hands to be on you again. The next slap hit the sensitive skin of your upper thighs and lips. But the third one? The third one hit perfectly. And it was loud and wet and filthy. So fucking filthy. His big hands hit your tender flesh and you let out a desperate moan. Fucking finally.

After that, you’d tried to keep count of how many times he’d struck you, but were eventually rendered unable to do anything more than mindlessly whimper and babble.

“- F-five? Five times?”

He mistook your response as hesitance. “Hey - no, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, plain and simple. It was just a game I made up to distract myself before the ceremony -”

Your throat went dry and your cheeks warmed. It was impossible to stop yourself from rolling your hips against his thigh. “You were thinking - that’s what you were thinking about earlier? At dinner? In front of everyone?” He blushed and nodded. “Fuck,” you whined.

Bradley bent his head down to rest on your chest, right in the valley of your breasts.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I need you everywhere. Anyway I can have you if you let me.”

And without thinking it over for another moment, you said “yes.” Yes, to five. Yes, to anything he asked you. Yes, to Bradley.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“I wanna try for you.”

A proud smile lit up his face and he pecked you on the lips. “Good girl.”

You wound your arms around his neck, bringing the two of you closer together before ultimately capturing his lips with your own.

For how needy you both were, neither of you had any problem just kissing each other. Making out like two horny teenagers who were left unsupervised in someone’s parents’ converted basement. Except now you were very much two adults making out on the patio of your cabana suite after a night spent toasting one of you for their heroics. And no, you did not mean how you survived talking to Emily Simpson and meeting Bradley’s gorgeous ex-girlfriend.

Not now.

Your hands moved from where they were raking through Bradley’s hair - making it tousled and fluffy - to his shoulders and eventually to his bowtie. The silk slipped through your fingers as you untied the knot, pulling it through the collar of his shirt, which you unbuttoned to expose that pretty neck of his.

Now you could kiss him. Mark him. Bite that scar on his shoulder. Inhale the scent of his cologne.

While you had been kissing him, Bradley’s right hand snuck underneath the gauzy fabric of your chemise and started teasing the pretty little bow tied at the back of your thong. All the while, his hand left gripped your hip, anchoring you to his thigh, but still allowing you the ability to grind.

You were whimpering in between kisses, desperate for the big, strong hand digging into your hip to slip underneath your thong and brush your aching clit.

The lace. The pants. Bradley.

It felt so good. All of it. Grinding on his big, strong thigh. Brushing your breasts against his big, strong chest.

Big. Strong. Bradley.

It was all consuming. Feeling his mustache brush against your lips and his tongue stroke yours expertly. The way one of his hands snuck up your side to fondle your breasts through the delicate lace.

It felt so good. And you were already getting so wet. So unbelievably wet that there was definitely going to be a sticky mess on Bradley’s Navy issued slacks if you didn’t let up.

God, wasn’t that a thought? You had wanted to mark him, sure. But on his chest or neck. A bite on his shoulder. Not your cum on his pants. Could he tell? He had to be able to tell. Shit. You needed to move.

You shifted and hid a whimper at the unintentional stimulation.

“…Wait, where’re you going?” Bradley stilled you on his thigh, clearly oblivious to your embarrassment.

You squirmed, but all that did was send another wave of arousal crashing through you. “I don’t want to ruin your pants,” the words came out in a rush.

He cocked his head. “My pants?”

God, you had thought you were beyond getting embarrassed about stuff like this, but apparently grinding on your boyfriend’s thigh with only a thin barrier of white, Italian lace was doing you in that evening. He just looked so handsome and you were already so keyed up and just needed him in any way you could have him.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“I’m sorry, it just feels like I - I need more and it feels so good, but I don’t want to ruin your pants - I can stop -”

Bradley squeezed your hips and dragged you higher up on his thigh, closer to his crotch. The ripple of the fabric on his pants felt absolutely sinful against your core and you bit your lip to hold back a moan, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment.

“- I don’t mind.” And clearly he didn’t if the prominent bulge in his slacks was any indication.

You ducked your head and he tipped your chin up so you were looking into his beautiful brown eyes. He kissed you and you desperately wanted to get lost in the feeling until you had another thought.

“- They’ll probably have to get dry cleaned now - the pants, I mean -”

But Bradley just smiled. “- And I will happily expense it - hey, you know you’re currently defacing government property? I know that’s right up your alley.” You smiled. “Now, are you gonna be a good girl and ride my thigh or not?” You nodded twice before he could say another word. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. Take what you need, it’s alright.”

Given the explicit permission to continue, you resumed grinding on Bradley’s thigh. The combination of the soft lace of your underwear coupled with the coarse fabric of his dress pants was doing wonders against your clit. You dug your hands into his shoulders as you tried to keep your balance, but that was only made harder when Bradley teasingly bounced his leg a couple times. You whimpered. It echoed pitifully across the patio and he chuckled.

“That feel good against you, huh, kid?” You nodded. “Yeah, I bet. I could feel you dripping on me since you sat down. I know you’ve been like this all night.” You nodded again and he clicked his tongue.

You leaned forward to kiss his neck, right along that little white scar. He smelled so pretty and his hands were so big and strong as they dug into your hips.

He was all you could focus on - all you wanted to focus on. Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“Awww, look at you trying so hard to come. Such a good girl for me.”

Goosebumps ran up and down your entire body and you felt yourself get even wetter at the praise. You pulled away from his neck - his beautiful, beautiful neck - and kissed him.

“Fuck,” Bradley gasped against your mouth after a few moments of continued grinding and kisses, “why haven’t we done this before?”

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t know, ‘feels so good though.”

“I like you using me like this.”

His words made you pause, slightly self conscious again. He liked this? “Really?”

“Could be kinda fun for you to take control every once in a while - ‘know you like me to take care of you, but maybe one day?”

It was an interesting idea, one you hadn’t considered too much on your own, at least not seriously. Bradley was so naturally dominant, it just made sense that it would translate in that way to your sex life. But now that you thought about it, he did like when you were a little condescending towards him - and when you called him a good boy. You felt your neck getting warm at the thought.

“One day, but for now…”

Bradley pressed hot, sloppy kisses across your chest, occasionally stopping to suck on your pert nipples through the lace of your chemise. You let out a strangled cry as he tweaked your nipple in a way that had your seeing stars. God, it felt so delicious, so good.

Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.

His fingers slid underneath the thin straps of your thong and he splayed his hands across your ass cheeks. You let out a pitiful whimper and kept moving, kept rubbing yourself against him. It felt so good and pleasant - an electric hum running through your body - and you had the passing thought that you could actually come from this. You could actually come on your boyfriend’s thigh.

You wondered what his pants looked like right now and wanted to check, but Bradley tipped your chin up so you were staring into his eyes.

“Almost there?” You just nodded. “Lemme try one more thing…”

You barely uttered a simple yes when he yanked your thong up so it was digging into your clit. The sudden movement had you crying out, which Bradley smothered with a sloppy kiss.

Holy fuck.

Your body tensed and then relaxed again as you rode out your high, before you eventually sagged against his chest.

Fuck. You can’t believe that just happened. You came riding his thigh. His big, brawny, strong thigh. The fact that what finally pushed you over the edge was the borderline crude or base act of yanking your panties didn’t even embarrass you, it just made you want to come again.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, huh?”

Bradley kissed your neck, but didn’t move or even signal for you to get up. He just held you there against him as you caught your breath. Eventually, his right hand moved from your lower back to the front of your drenched thong. His fingers slipped underneath the lace and brushed against your wet folds. You gasped as he sunk one then another finger inside you, but you didn’t pick your head up from his shoulder.

“Bradley,” you whined, the word suddenly too loud for your little patio. Your hips rolled against his hand. “Need your fingers.”

“Shhh hold on, sweetheart.” He leaned back. “Let’s go inside -”

You picked your head up and laid a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “What if we stayed out here for a bit…”

“If we stay out here someone -”

Your eyes never left his own. “- might hear us…”

You were in the corner room. There was only one room next to yours. One room that shared a wall with your room. One room whose patio was only delineated by a thin cabana awning. One room whose occupants you had both found out earlier in the evening were Jake Seresin - and Sarah fucking Costigan.

Goosebumps ran up and down your arms. You leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “What if I want someone to hear us? To hear how good you make me feel -”

He said your name; it came out like a warning.

“ - Have them hear your little civvy girlfriend cry out for her handsome, award winning boyfriend?”

Bradley’s eyes darkened and you knew you had him. The only other thing that could possibly push him over the edge even further was you calling him Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.

And there was still plenty of time for that.

“Fuck,” he sounded completely and utterly wrecked. “You sure, kid?”

“I want them to know how good you are.”

It was like a switch had gone off inside his head. From then on, it became all about you. His hands - his big, strong hands - were everywhere, roving over your hips, your ass, your thighs, your breasts. His lips latched onto your neck, while his left hand tweaked your nipple and you sighed and sighed and sighed, each one breathier and louder than the last.

You wanted him to leave bruises and marks all over your body. You wanted proof.

“Bradley…” You sounded wanton, but it didn’t stop you from saying his name again - and louder still.

Hear me. Hear how good my boyfriend makes me feel. Hear how he makes love to me. Hear how much he loves me.

“Oh god, that feels so good.” You let out a gasp as he scissored his fingers inside you. You could feel your clit throbbing against your underwear, desperate to be touched there again - to come again.

Noticing your increased neediness, Bradley scoffed.

“You’re making such a mess. Am I gonna have to clean you up, too - bury my face in that soaking wet pussy? Might have to go back for seconds with the way you’re dripping on me like you didn’t just come on my thigh.”

That sounded heavenly right now. The thought of his mustache tickling the sensitive skin of your thighs and his lips sucking your clit, lapping up all the slick you had just accumulated. You could come right now from the thought alone, but why make do with the thought when you had the man, himself, so willing.

“Need you to -” you whined, “need your mouth on me, please, please - oof.”

The words barely had a moment to settle when Bradley rolled you both over so he was lying on top of you on the outdoor loveseat. His eyes were blown out as he looked down at you and you shifted under his heady stare.

He leaned back on his haunches and ran his hands - his big, strong hands - up and down your thighs. “So pretty,” he muttered under his breath, almost like he hadn’t wanted you to hear. And then, louder, he said: “You want my mouth on you?”

“Mmmm, please.”

Bradley tutted. “Try again.”

You didn’t know what he wanted. You said please, you used your words, you - oh. His big, strong hand slapped your pussy and you let out a cry as your hips chased after his hand.

“Please, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. Please put your mouth on me.”

“Much better….” He leaned down to blow on your aching cunt. You squirmed - already unbelievably sensitive and wet from the amount of slick on you that hadn’t made its way onto Bradley’s pants.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“Come on, be a good girl and spread those legs for me - wanna see all of you.”

He laid your legs over his shoulders and pulled you closer to his face. Before you could even get out a word or a sigh or a plea, he started kissing your thighs. Slowly, painfully, languidly, making his way closer to where you were aching the most. With a final bite on your right thigh, he mouthed at your core through the wet lace of your white panties.

“Mmm can I take these off now? Unwrap my present?” His plush lips wrapped around your clit through the lace and sucked.

You threw your arm over your face. It was so hard not to buck up against his mouth - you didn’t want to show him how desperate you were so quickly. It was bad enough you already felt hot and could feel the sweat beading behind your neck right where the pretty white bow was holding up your chemise.

“Please, please,” you whined.

Bradley had you briefly roll over so he could get the full experience of untying the bow on the back of your panties before slowly rolling the lace down your legs. Of course, he stashed them in his pants pocket.

Before you could roll back over, he slapped your ass and you smiled. “Good girl.” Your cheeks warmed and you laid on your back again.

Now, completely bare and open to the elements and your boyfriend’s heady stare, it was even more apparent that your cunt was positively dripping. He placed your legs back over his shoulders and licked a long stripe across your folds.

You could feel his pleased hum against your skin. “You taste so fucking good.”

His voice came out muffled and he continued at a steady pace, alternating between slipping his tongue inside you and probing at your clit. You tried and failed to fist at the couch cushions - anything to center you - and instead grabbed a hold of Bradley’s hair with one hand and played with your breasts through the lace with the other.

“Bradley…” You let out a whine; it was only slightly exaggerated. “More, more. Please.”

The idea that you sounded pathetic didn’t even cross your mind; you just wanted to come on Bradley’s tongue.

“Shhh, there’s people in the other room…” he mocked, echoing your words from earlier. “You want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are begging me to make you come?”

He stopped talking - no, he stopped degrading you and went back to work. It was getting harder and harder to stay relatively still the closer you got to completion and you kept shifting your legs on Bradley’s shoulders. The hand with its fingers not shoved up your cunt, moved from where it was leaving marks on your hip to press on your stomach, right below your belly button.

Then, you whined as his lips wrapped around your clit and squeezed your thighs around his head, pulling at his curls to shift his focus to that special spot.

“Bradley…Bradley…Bradley…”

There was a pull in your stomach, a deep swooping sensation and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. The moan that he let out send you spiraling even further.

Five, five, five.

But you had to try for Bradley. You wanted to be good for him. Be his good girl. Even though he’d call you a slut for it.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he said, suddenly.

You somehow managed to lift your head up, dazed, and watched as Bradley took away his hand pressing on your stomach and slipped it down between his own legs. He let up for a moment as he touched himself over his slacks, before diving right back in with such renewed vigor that you bucked up into his face. His stupid (wonderful) mustache dragged across your clit just so. It was euphoric. You could feel your walls tightening around his fingers and tongue and arched your back of the couch as you came.

“Ah! Fuck, fuck, Bradley! Right there, right there - oh - fuck, yes!”

Oh, oh, oh. It felt so good. So good.

And knowing that he was touching himself because of how good you were being? How receptive you were? Fuck. Something about Bradley’s mouth was extra sinful tonight. Or maybe you were just particularly sensitive. You were basking in the afterglow and you tried to settle your breathing.

Two. Two. Two down.

“Your legs are shaking.” Were they? You could hardly tell. “Bet I can get another one out of you like this. You wanna ride my face?”

You moaned. “Don’t think I - don’t have the strength to.” The thought didn’t even cross your mind to say that doing that normally made you nervous. You were always worried you’d break Bradley’s stupidly pretty face or something.

He clicked his tongue and then started nipping at your upper thighs. “Shame,” he said between kisses, “bet you can’t even fucking walking either. Don’t worry, I’ll take you on your back for the next one, let you rest up.”

All you could do was whimper. The thought of just laying there as he used you was so delicious. Fuck. You loved Bradley’s fingers and tongue, but you really wanted his cock inside you. Have him fill you up. Over and over again.

Five. Five. Five.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“Gonna have to carry you to bed.”

He peered his head up from between your thighs and shot you a look, silently asking if that was okay. You didn’t like to be carried despite Bradley’s numerous efforts to prove that it was no big deal.

You just couldn’t help but think that maybe it wouldn't be as much of a deal if you were a size two instead of a size - no, no, no. Not now.

Let him. Just let him. Let him love you. Let him love you more.

“Please.”

He stood up to his full height, towering over you as you still were relaxed against the couch cushions. God, he was so pretty and so wrecked. His starch, white tuxedo shirt was rumpled, half tucked into his pants that he had unbuttoned at one point - and his cock was rock hard and straining against them.

You had done that. You had done that to him. Made him so desperate with want and need that he had had to touch himself. Would he let you touch him? Would he let you suck his cock? A whimper escaped your lips just thinking about it and Bradley ran his fingers over them. You could smell yourself.

“Come on. Lemme take you inside.”

Feeling like a lush, you let Bradley pick you up and thanked him by burrowing your face in his neck and pressing sloppy kisses to the exposed skin there. He smelled so good and his neck was so bite-able. You started pawing at the collar of his shirt, trying to push it as far away from his warm body as possible and more access.

As you nipped at his broad shoulder, he kneaded your ass with the hand not doing the majority of the work holding you up. It was a quick journey to the bedroom, but you didn’t want him to let go of you. You wanted him to be everywhere. His arms wrapped around you, his lips on yours, his cock inside you.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

Loathe as you were to let him go, you let Bradley untwine your arms from around his neck and sit you on the edge of the bed, only propped up by your elbows. The sheets felt scratchy against your bare ass and thighs, just how you liked them. You peered up to see Bradley already staring at you, a knowing smile on his face, before he shifted his attention to toeing off his shoes and socks.

In turn, you realized that you still had your heels on - the ones with the dainty little strap you were scared Bradley would break. (You weren’t really scared, but knew he’d get frustrated with the clasp and didn’t want to be out eleven-hundred dollars.) Once he laid his crisp white tuxedo shirt down on the bed - though not without giving you a cheeky smile and a show - did Bradley give you his full attention once again.

“God, you look so gorgeous like that.”

You could feel your cheeks warming at his unabashed staring. But he was one to talk! There was the slightest touch of pink on his shoulders from too much time spent out in the sun earlier in the day, but god if Bradley wasn’t absolutely stunning with his dress pants snug on his slutty little waist, while his tan chest had the slightest sheen of sweat on it. You wanted to lick him - everywhere.

He held out his hand and you cocked your head. “Shoes, kid.”

Oh. You raised your left leg up for him to take off your heel. The way you were sprawled out on the bed - with one leg up, no panties on, and Bradley’s eyes darting between your ankle and your wet pussy - made you feel powerful and desirable.

And god - did the stretch on your leg feel heavenly.

As predicted, Bradley did fumble with the clasp (as one would only expect with his big, strong hands), but he more than made up for it with the way he peppered kisses up and down your left leg, before switching and doing the same with the right.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” you sighed and closed your eyes, utterly blissed out.

Bradley chuckled. You could hear your Jimmy Cho hit the floor somewhere nearby. “What? Me taking your shoes off?”

“Mmmhmm, amongst other things…”

Once he let go of your right foot, you opened your eyes and scampered up on the bed - the fastest you’d moved all night - and watched, dazed, as Bradley fumbled with his belt and pulled his pants down, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. You let out a whine at the sight of the wet patch on them, the proof of his arousal and need for you. And oh god, his cock was so big.

So big and pretty and perfect and you desperately wanted it in your mouth. To have him fuck your throat until you had to tap out. You felt the slick still dripping down your thighs and made grabby hands at the waistband of his Calvin’s.

“Can I suck your cock? Please, please, Bradley?”

He swallowed thickly and glanced at the ceiling - the first sign all evening that he was just as fucking gone for you as you were for him.

Please say ‘yes.’ Please say ‘yes.’ Please. Please. Plea-

“And why should you get rewarded? Pretty sure you told me you’d give me five, not two. Not even halfway there yet…”

Reaching out for his hand, you threaded your fingers together and you pulled Bradley down for a kiss. “Please? Please?” you said between kisses as you pulled him closer and wrapped your legs around his hips, but he just grumbled.

He sat up and straddled your lap, but didn’t put his full weight on you. “How ‘bout we take this off before we get any further?” His hands fingered the hem of your chemise.

Reminded of its presence, you could admit that the pretty bow at the back of your neck suddenly felt too tight and confining. You scooched up on the bed to give Bradley better access to take it off, but not before he gave your nipples one final tweak through the lace. Being free of the white chemise meant that you were now totally bare before him. And now, it was like neither of you could get enough of each other, both your hands were everywhere, grabbing at your breasts, running over Bradley’s abs, cupping him through his boxer briefs, kissing and biting and sucking on each other’s lips and neck and shoulders.

Bradley pulled away for a second to get better access to your breasts and you took it as an opportunity to try and roll him over so he was on his back. However, your efforts were all for naught as he wrapped a strong hand around your wrist and held you in place.

“Uh uh, I told you that you’d be on your back for this next one. Got to let you rest up a bit, sweetheart.”

He took the opportunity to lay you back on the bed and drape his body over yours, relishing in the feeling of his muscular legs, his toned chest, his strong arms, and most importantly his throbbing cock. In your current position, there was just enough space between the two of you for you to snake your hand down between your legs and palm at his cock through his boxer briefs. Bradley sucked in a breath and guided your hand in his up and down his shaft.

“Need more of you…”

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me first.”

As if you weren’t ready for him the second you had walked out onto that patio earlier.

With an expert touch, Bradley started working you over, getting ready and soon you were squirming, desperate for more of him - for more of Bradley. It was intoxicating almost. This insatiable need to prove you could do it. That no matter how tired you got, you could come five times for him. Let him wring each one out of you like it was the only thing he was put on this Earth to do.

And right now, his fingers felt heavenly pumping in and out of your pussy while you thrust your hips up to meet his hand. But you knew you needed more. And you knew that Bradley knew that you needed more.

You wrenched your lips away from him and took pleasure in seeing how hard he was breathing. The two of you were a hot and sweaty mess and you desperately needed to remove any final barriers between the two of you.

“Fuck, I want your cock, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. Please.”

There was a brief pause - like time had stood still. Neither of you could deny how absolutely sinful and wanton and desperate his title had just sounded as it slipped from your lips.

Bradley moaned, deep and guttural. He said your name. “Didn’t we just talk about this? You think you deserve it?” You nodded in quick succession. It was all you wanted right now. It was all you could think about right now. Cuming on Bradley’s cock and letting the entire hotel hear you. “I know you can come without it - how about you clean my fingers off first, you got them all dirty again -”

He shoved his cum soaked fingers in your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself and started sucking. Your tongue swirled around his fingertips, making sure you didn’t miss a drop. Fuck, he had such big hands, such big fingers. Strong too. You would do anything he wanted. You gagged as he shoved his fingers further into your mouth and drool pooled at the corners.

“Don’t sound so smart anymore, huh? Were so perfect at dinner. Imagine if everyone saw you now? Such a fucking slut…”

Bradley took his fingers out of your mouth and wiped them on your chest, right in the valley of your breasts. It was sticky and wet, but you’d let him mark you all over a thousand times just so everyone would know you were his. You whimpered at the thought.

“Now be a good girl and lie back for me.”

You shifted to lie back on the bed - just as he had asked. Your head was cradled by the fluffy, white pillows at the top of the bed and your legs were stretched out in front of you. But you wanted Bradley on top of you. You wanted him inside you. You wanted him, you wanted him, you wanted -

“Knees up.”

Not waiting for you to obey, he held your legs wide open, leaving you completely exposed. You tried to roll your hips up for some sort of friction - anything, really - but Bradley let out a grunt of reproach and you immediately stilled. His pupils were blown wide and his hair was so messy - so unlike Bradley. Did you look that wrecked? Did you look that desperate? You hoped you did.

“You're gonna look so gorgeous on my cock, sweetheart.”

His words sent a wave of arousal over your entire body. Your face felt hot, your pulse quickened, your nipples hardened, and your felt your pussy clench on air. It was like you hadn’t already come twice that evening - you were that desperate and that horny for him.

And by the looks of the impressive tent in Bradley’s boxer briefs, he was just as desperate for you. Probably even more so since you hadn’t even taken care of him yet. Selfish, selfish bitch. Under your watchful stare, Bradley slipped off his boxer briefs, discarding them somewhere behind him. And god, did he look beautiful.

You made grabby hands at his cock and he chuckled. “Alright, alright.”

His cock pulsed in your gasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Such a pretty cock, wasn’t it? Seven and a half glorious inches with the prettiest veins and head to top it off. Your hand could barely fit around it. You’d become intimately familiar with it over the last six months and you still never got tired of how divine it felt in your mouth or thrusting in and out of your cunt. It was just as pretty as Bradley. The Pride of the Navy, you’d once called it. You could write sonnets about it. (You wouldn’t, but you could.)

Pulling back from your hands with a hiss, Bradley leaned his body over you and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, which then turned to one on your neck, your breasts, and then your tummy.

“Ready?” You nodded. Together, Bradley lifted your hips up slightly and you lined up his cock head with your entrance. And then there was the one thing you could never get used to: the stretch. Your back arched and you let out a breathy gasp.

The two of you fell into a perfect rhythm, knowing the exact way to bring the other to release. Once you got comfortable, Bradley grabbed both your wrists with one hand and held them up over your head.

“Ohhhh, Bradley,” you whimpered. It didn’t sound like you. Your heart was pounding like crazy and your chest was heaving with each breath.

It was addicting. The knowledge that you had to push through to five. Normally, you got sleepy and sluggish and slow after two or three, but pushing yourself to five - for Bradley - was addicting.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley, you kept repeating his name like a mantra.

Because nothing else was enough. Nothing else would convey how much he meant to you, how good he was making you feel as he drove into you again and again. You’d never felt closer to someone before in your entire life - never felt closer to God or the almighty or whatever you wanted to call them than you did right in that moment with Bradley.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. Again and again and again you cried out his name.

I love you, I want you, I need you.

Take me, love me, have me.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

“God, you’re such a good girl for me…”

That was all you wanted - all you ever wanted - to be Bradley’s good girl and have him lavish praise oupn you. To take care of him and be good for him.

Please let me be good for you.

God, you weren’t going to last for him. Your breathing was coming faster, the way his cock was thrusting into you was coming faster - it was all coming faster.

“How’d I get so lucky to have the most perfect girl in the entire world? Can’t believe I wanted to keep you to myself.”

“Bubs…”

His hands tightened on your wrists. Big, strong. “Because everyone thinks you’re the one in charge, sweetheart - everywhere. In every aspect of our relationship. But you’re not when we’re like this, are you?”

“No, no - you are. ‘Like when you tell me what to do.”

Whenever Bradley wanted to take control of something and let you get lost in the pleasure of him and get lost in him, you did. It didn’t happen all the time - not like this, at least. But he made you feel safe and protected. He was brawny and broad and big and strong and in his arms you never felt like anything bad was going to happen.

And it might be vanilla or boring or whatever, but you loved missionary sex. You loved being that close to Bradley. You loved feeling the weight of his body all over you. You loved being able to look into his eyes as he pounded into you and told you things he would otherwise never say about you. You loved how he would hold your hands above your head and thread your fingers together. You loved how good it all made you feel.

“You’re so strong, make me feel so safe,” you were rambling at this point, unknowingly debunking every insecurity Bradley had earlier in the evening.

Tell me I’m bad if only to patch me up later and tell me I’m good.

You cried out - loudly - as Bradley drove into you deeper and more than ever before.

“Bet you want everyone to hear you now, don’t you.” He paused to collect himself. “Hear how good you’re getting fucked?”

Your words came out slow, just like every thought running through your head. “Want ‘em to hear how well you take care of me. Hear how well you stretch me out.”

“Color?”

“Green,” you whined. You sounded beyond pathetic. He changed the angle, pulled your leg up higher around his hip.

You glanced down to see where the two of you were connected and let out a whimper. At the borderline obscene sight, your arms broke out into goosebumps and you felt your nipples harden. Fuck, he felt so good. You felt so good. And loved and cherished and full. So fucking full. And it was all you could think of - how full you were and Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

“Wanna be - good,” you slurred. The words felt heavy on your tongue, like you were underwater, sinking lower and lower. You arched your back, bringing yourself closer to Bradley.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

“You are. But right now I wanna take care of you, kid.”

“‘Do - you do. Always.”

You wondered what you looked like right now? Fucked out. Mouth open. Hair rumpled. Makeup smudged. A whiny, desperate mess. What did you look like? What did Bradley see?

You could hear him talking to you, telling you how you were such a good girl for him. Please keep talking. He needed to keep telling you how good you were.

How good your cunt felt around him. How sweet you smelled as he nibbled at your neck. How he couldn’t wait till his cum was dripping out of you. How he couldn’t believe that a whiny whore like you had been wearing white lingerie like some innocent little debutante.

“I could get you to do anything if I promised you my cock, couldn’t I?”

You whined. You still wanted to suck his cock. Would he let you? It always looked so pretty and felt so good in your mouth. As Bradley repositioned your leg, you let out a particularly pathetic cry.

(That one’s got quite the mouth on her.)

Rationally, you knew you could respond with words and say all kinds of things like yes and more and of course, Bradley, anything or just Bradley Bradley Bradley and even that one word you dared not even think. But it was so much easier to just whine and keen and whimper. Your back arched and you stared at the white and gold patterned headboard and then at the mirror above it. Could Bradley - no. He wouldn’t be able to see himself in the mirror.

But you wanted to - you wanted to see yourself in the mirror. See Bradley pounding into you over and over again, your back arched, your breasts pushed out, nipples hard as you played with them. Even your legs over his shoulders.

You imagined you looked pretty, seeing yourself how Bradley saw you. It caused a particularly loud whimper to escape your mouth. Because that was all you could do - whimper, whine, and keen. It was so much. All of it. But you liked it. You really liked it.

“God, sweetheart. You’re fucking milking my cock.” You whined. “Haven’t I taken care of you enough tonight?”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Bradley had taken such good care of you! He always did. Like you were the most precious thing on earth. Please, please, please. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

“S’ good to - me.” Was that your voice? It didn’t even sound like you.

“I know, kid.”

You could feel yourself tighten around his cock and slightly canted your hips up to meet his pelvis. A sudden sense of urgency coursed through your veins and your senses became even more heightened. With your hands pinned above your head, the only way for you to pull him closer was to dig your ankle into the back of his thighs, right near his perfectly tight ass.

It was wet and loud as your bodies collided and you knew if he moved just slightly you’d come: you were that keyed up and overstimulated.

Three. Three. Three.

But somehow, Bradley bet you to completion. “I’m so close,” he finished with your name like a plea. “Can’t wait for you…”

“Take it.” Take it. Take whatever you want. Take me.

His thrusts got sloppy and less precise, but he managed to pound into your g-spot a few more times before he let out a moan and spent himself inside you. You could tell it took a lot out of him, but he deserved it. Bradley deserved everything. Bradley was so perfect and strong and kind and - he was saying your name, trying to get you to finish with him still inside you. You loved the feeling of his cock and cum inside you. It made you feel absolutely divine. You were close. Would he be proud of you if you came just now?

“I got you, I got you,” he muttered.

He kept himself propped up on his left forearm, but brought his right hand - which had previously been holding your wrists above your head - down between your bodies, teasing you until he reached your clit. And just like you thought, it only took a little more for you to come in his arms.

“Gonna - ahhh! Come - please, please, Bradley. Bradley, Bra - ahhhhh,” your last cry was stolen from you as you got lost in the haze of your orgasm.

You felt weightless and floaty after you reached your high. Your legs relaxed from their tight hold on Bradley’s thighs. He pressed what felt like hundreds of kisses to your face, telling you time and time again that he loved you.

“There you go, good girl. Such a good girl. Listen to how pretty you sound.”

Eventually, he rolled off you and settled himself further down the bed so that his head was positioned near your left hip. As you caught your breath, you mindlessly ran your fingers through his hair. He has the softest, prettiest hair. It always got blonder in the sun, like he was kissed by the gods or something. You didn’t know how long you did it, it could’ve been five minutes or fifteen, but eventually Bradley let out a pleased hum and glanced over at your spread legs.

He clicked his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re just wasting all that. All that hard work…”

Your cheeks warmed. He was looking at the cum dripping out of you, staining your thighs. A perfect mix of the two of you - of your want and need and love for each other. Just like a child would be the perfect mix of the two of you.

And you were wasting it. It was dripping out of you right onto the sheets. Selfish, selfish bitch.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, ashamed to have disappointed him.

Bradley rolled over onto his stomach and slotted himself between your spread legs. “So, what’re we gonna do about this, huh?”

Whatever you want. All you could do was shimmy your hips, inviting him to take charge. His eyes were alight with mischief and he sprang up from his position on his stomach to grab your waist and throw you back down on the bed, except this time on your stomach. You let him manhandle you into some sort of child’s pose - ass up, face down into the down pillows. It made you feel vulnerable in the best kind of way.

“How about we try this?” Bradley ran his big, strong hands over your hips. “That’s my girl. Bet you like this, both of your holes completely exposed to me.” He slapped your ass lightly. You moaned when he did it again, except harder. “Color?”

Despite being a little muffled, you still spoke loud enough for him to hear you. “Green.”

Bradley’s hand slipped down to brush against your sensitive clit and then he slid his fingers into your pussy with ease and groaned your name. “So good, look at how much you came.” Your back arched and you burrowed your face even further into the fluffy white pillow. “Such a greedy fucking pussy we have here…”

In and out. In and out went his fingers - fucking his cum back inside you. You were whining. You were crying. You were floating.

“It’s all mine, belongs right back inside you.”

“Yours.”

Bradley chuckled. “Yeah, all mine. Mine to take.” His fingers dragged down your walls before sliding back in.

It felt divine.

“Oh - fuck. So much, Bradley.” It wasn’t too much; it wasn’t enough. You were floating. There were no thoughts in your head besides Bradley and coming.

Four. Four. Four.

“Can’t waste any.” Of course not.

You never wanted to waste any of Bradley’s cum. It felt so good inside you. You loved when he filled you up like this. Maybe he’d let you warm his cock later? He deserved it. And more. Anything he wanted.

Anything.

Bradley had done such a good job tonight. He was so perfect, so impressive. So beautiful. Everyone loved him. Bradley. His friends, his colleagues - you. You loved him. You loved him. You loved -

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, but you wanted to tell him. “Perf-ect,” was all you could manage. Love me, love me, love me more. “‘M close.” Again.

“Fuck, I know. Da - I’ll take care of you. Always take care of you.”

You let out a cry. Bradley always took care of you. Such good care of you. Always.

“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” you realized you were saying his name out loud and had been for some time. It was pathetic how far gone you were. “F-four. Four.”

But to your horror, when you took a breath to center yourself, you couldn’t. You couldn’t get back to yourself. You were still overwhelmed, almost like your body was taking too long to catch up to what was happening. It felt like you were on fire. Like you had run a marathon. Your breaths came in pants and you wanted more, you needed more. But how? If you already felt this overstimulated, how could you need more? Maybe it was the position? Ass up, face down? The throbbing and thrumming of your clit was driving you insane. And Bradley’s big, strong hands and fingers were overstimulating you in a way you’d never felt before.

Tell him. Tell him to stop. Tell him. He’ll do it. Tell him. Tell -

“- Bra-adley,” your voice sounded small, like it wasn’t connected to you, but it was still insistent, “I - I can’t do it anymore - please, I - yellow.”

His fingers stopped slowly - not so abruptly that you’d be in even more discomfort - and carefully turned you over so you were on your back with your legs laid out on the bed. Bradley propped himself up on his side and looked you over intently. Your heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. Your eyes fluttered closed.

It was quiet in the room except for both of your labored breathing. But even in your haze, you could tell it was too quiet.

Yellow.

You had never had to say it before. But you felt too overwhelmed. Like you were going to burst and cry and that Bradley would be disappointed in you that you couldn’t last. You felt your eyes fill with tears. You’d only gotten to four - if what you just felt could even be classified as four. You’d promised. You said you would try - and you failed.

Four. Four. Four.

You glanced up to see Bradley’s eyes were wide with concern. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, what is it?”

“Slower. ‘S too much. ” It had been. But you still wanted him beside you. Holding you, reassuring you, loving you.

“Want me to hold you?” He read your mind. He was so sweet and kind and you loved him. You loved him so much. You started to nod, but then remembered your words. “Please?”

Take care of me, hold me, love me.

Fuck. Even shuffling closer to Bradley made you cry out. You were so sensitive. And so overstimulated. But you still wanted to come again. You just needed to go slower.

Bradley’s hands grabbed your hips, pulling your ass against his crotch, and he wrapped his arms around your stomach. Oh, you felt so warm - warm and safe and loved. You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your lips, pressing a light kiss across each of his knuckles. At the same time, Bradley peppered kisses up and down your neck and across your left shoulder.

Had he marked you? You wanted him to mark you. All over your thighs, your neck, your breasts. Show everyone you were his. His good girl. Your cunt was still throbbing and needed to be filled again by him - by Bradley.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

It seemed like no time and so much time had passed since you’d been chanting his name, since he’d held your wrists in his big hands, since he’d kissed your breasts, since he’d filled you up with his cum. You whimpered, lost in the thought.

“‘Still need to come again - one more time for you.”

He made shushing noises. “‘s okay, kid. Like doing this too.”

It was hard to tell how long you laid there wrapped in each other’s arms. Safe and warm and loved. Bradley even started humming at one point. The song was pretty even if you didn’t know it. But everything Bradley did was pretty to you right now.

Eventually, you got a little too desperate again and started squirming against him. The rumble from his amused chuckles made you relax again, but you could tell he was more than ready whenever you were.

“Feel too empty…”

“Want me back inside you?” You nodded and twisted your head to press kisses to Bradley’s neck. “Front? Or behind?”

“Behind,” you whispered. It would make you feel smaller, more precious, to have his arms wrapped around you.

“Why don’t I let you set the pace this time, huh?”

His fingers ghosted over your sensitive clit and you whimpered. “Okay…”

Something about the way you were positioned this time made everything more intimate. You felt more dear. Not that you didn’t love missionary and whenever Bradley’s eyes were on you as you fell apart. But having his arms wrapped around you and being cocooned in his warmth and essence was absolutely divine after how wrecked you were.

It was overwhelming, but in the best kind of way this time. You were crying. There were tears streaming down your cheeks. And you felt so good. So good. Like you could stay like this forever. Like you would do anything to feel this good again. To make Bradley feel this good again. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

Did he feel good? Were you making him happy? Oh, you hoped you were. That’s all you wanted. To make him feel good and be good for him. You wanted to be good for him. Always. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

You should tell him that. Tell him how you wanted to be good for him. He had to know. He had to know because what if he didn’t and he thought you were selfish? He had made you feel good so many times tonight. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

Because no. You couldn’t come again until he did. Until he spent himself inside you and filled you up. You liked when he did that. When he made you feel full. With his cock nestled inside you. You wanted him inside you forever if it meant you’d feel that good.

Five. Five. Five.

You were so close. So close to doing what he had asked. What he had thought about all evening at dinner. Did he imagine this as he was getting his award? Did he imagine fucking you like this as you danced? Did he imagine he’d have fallen in love with the girl from the bar all those months ago?

Five. Five. Five.

It went on like that for a little longer, both of you letting out gasps and moans and whimpers as you neared closer and closer to completion. Bradley thumbed over your clit with his right hand, playing with the nub. Combined with the way he was kneading your breasts and sucking on your neck, you knew you were close.

You gasped as your pussy fluttered around his cock, except this time it felt different. Deeper. Harder. More intense. The pull behind your belly button crashed through you and you felt like you jumped out of your body for a moment. You clenched down on him, moaning as he plunged deeper inside you.

“Sweetheart, you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

Then don’t, the words were on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t get them out. Instead, all Bradley got from you was another slow and deep roll of your hips, followed by a strangled cry. He kept murmuring your name in your ear, saying how good you felt around his cock, how warm you were, how sweet you tasted as he licked your neck. Again, you could tell he was close as his thrusts got sloppier.

Five. Five. Five. Almost there. Almost there - oh!

“Bradley,” you cried out, gripping his hand on your breasts to try and anchor yourself to something because you felt like you were about to jump out of your skin. His dick was so big and stretched you just so.

“Five,” Bradley said. He bit your shoulder and you spasmed around him, before he followed suit, shooting his cum inside you. You whimpered at the sensation, feeling so full and dirty and beautiful, and shook in Bradley’s arms.

After both of you caught your breath, Bradley slipped out of you and the two of you laid on the bed, heads on the pillows, bodies tucked under the sheets, chests rising heavily as you stared at the ceiling in awe.

You had never felt like this before. Five. Five. Five. Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“Fuck,” Bradley stretched the word out. He crossed his forearms over his forehead and took another deep breath. “That - that was -” he broke off.

You arched your back one final time and stretched out on the bed before rolling back over towards him. You nuzzled his neck, trying to get as close to him as possible. But it wasn’t enough - you needed to be closer. You wanted to have his arms wrapped around you. You wanted to lick where the sweat was beading on his neck. You wanted him to consume you. Tell you that you were good. That you had done a good job.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you whispered back.

He tucked your hair behind your ear. “You alright, kid?” You smiled and nodded. “You did such a good job - always do such a good job.”

You preened under the praise and started peppering kisses across Bradley’s shoulder and neck. He was so pretty and warm and smelled so good. So pretty, so warm. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

After a moment, he tipped your chin up so you could meet his eyes and then pressed his lips to yours. Without breaking the kiss, you sprawled out on top of him with your legs on either side of his hips. Some of the cum still inside you even made its way onto his stomach with the new position - you weren’t supposed to waste any of it. You promised you wouldn’t -

It took Bradley saying your name twice for you to pull back for a moment. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

You laid your cheek down on his chest and started tracing the freckles on his biceps with your finger. “Wanna sleep right here.”

“You can,” he gave you a quick peck on the lips, “we just gotta do a couple things first, alright?”

Bradley rolled over so now he was leaning over you and pressed a kiss to your lips before he climbed out of bed. He pulled you over towards the edge of the bed and let your feet dangle off the side. “Now where’s my - aha.”

He grabbed his white tuxedo shirt that had been discarded on the floor earlier and brought it over to you.

“Arms out, kid.” Slowly, like you were wading through water, you held your arms up and Bradley slipped the shirt on you before fastening a couple buttons. “Alright, sit tight.”

He gave the wall lamp to your right another click and you squeezed your eyes shut at the slightly increased brightness.

“Sorry,” he muttered, before picking up the phone hidden in the bedside nook and dialing for room service. “Yeah, hi. Can I get a large order of fries and two ginger ales - wait, do you have Gatorade? Oh - no, she only likes the blue - yeah, then just the ginger ales and fries? Uhhh room 4114, I think? Yeah, under Bradshaw. Okay, thanks - yeah, have a good night.” He hung up the phone.

Food. He ordered food. And a soda. You were hungry. And tired. Really tired. Your thighs ached.

“Here.” Bradley grabbed a water bottle off the nightstand and gave it to you, cap off. You took a few greedy sips and then handed it back to him and he finished off the bottle.

You were still sitting on the edge of the bed. You hadn’t moved. It was like you were still waiting for Bradley to tell you what to do next. Was Bradley happy with you? Did he still want you so close to him? Would he hold you? You wanted him to hold you.

“Hey.” He was suddenly sitting next to you. Or maybe not - you felt like you were floating and had just gotten back on solid ground. Bradley grasped your chin. “Ahh, there she is. I’m gonna rinse off, you wanna come with me or stay in bed?”

You cleared your throat. “Wanna go with you.”

He smiled and kissed you on your forehead. “Then let’s clean you up first - I’ll be right back.”

And true to his word - and more importantly before you could muster up a reply to tell him not to go - Bradley came right back holding a slightly wet hand towel.

“Alright, kid, lay back.”

You flopped back on the duvet, but your legs remained hanging off the edge of the bed. At first, you squirmed at the sudden warmth from the towel, but as Bradley ran it across your upper thighs and towards your still wet core, you couldn’t help but find it soothing.

It felt nice - comforting - as he cared for you. You sighed and stretched, feeling like a cat. Languid and warm. Bradley chuckled and eventually stopped, but not before pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

“All set, come on.”

He stood up from his spot between your legs and held his hands out for you to grab so you could sit up. Then you followed him into the bathroom. He got you situated on the counter before he hopped into the glass shower without even turning it on or allowing it to heat up.

“You wanna come in with me?” You shook your head. No. The water was cold. You were warm - or at least you had been when you were in bed. And sure, you could have stayed there. But you wanted to be with Bradley.

So, after quickly going to the toilet while he got situated, you sat on the marble countertop, legs crossed at your ankles, and watched him. Watched the soap run down his body - down his tan chest and thick thighs - as he cleaned his body and scrubbed his face.

Without a doubt, Bradley was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. And he was yours. He was your boyfriend. He loved you. He wanted to spend time with you. And be with you. You you you you you.

“You sure you don’t wanna come in with me?” Bradley teased you. “Or are you just gonna stare at me?”

Had you been more coherent, you probably would have made a quip about how he was the one with the soapy titties this time, but you just shook your head and said:

“You’re so beautiful.”

You could see the blush creep up his neck at your sudden honesty. The water shut off a moment later and then Bradley grabbed a fluffy white towel off the rack and dried off in the shower. He dried his hair first, making it all messy and fluffy, before he wrapped the towel around his waist and approached you.

You swung your legs back and forth. “I look too pretty to go to bed.”

“Mmmhmm, way too pretty.” He kissed your forehead and then your lips. “But you’re gonna be mad at me if I let you go to bed with your makeup on…”

He had a point, loathe as you were to admit it. But instead of doing your skincare routine yourself, Bradley was the one who got out your makeup remover and serum and night cream. Granted, he snuck a little for himself and rubbed at your eyes a little too hard to get your mascara off, but he did a good job.

You had to draw the line at letting him brush your teeth for you, though, and did it yourself.

And then finally, Bradley held his hand out for you to hop off the counter and the two of you went back to the bedroom where he threw on a pair of sleep shorts. You were still a little slow to the chase, so while he made the bed with the fresh sheets in the closet, you held two of the pillows close to your chest and watched from the foot of the bed.

Luckily, Bradley shared your appreciation for hospital corners and tight sheets on a bed and once it was made to both your tastes, you slipped back in between the sheets.

They felt just as scratchy as they had earlier in the evening, but were just how you liked them. Bradley made sure you were settled before he walked around to his side of the bed and let you snuggle up beside him. His body was so warm and he smelled so good and you felt your eyelids getting heavy. It was a miracle you hadn’t truly fallen asleep yet. You always got a little sleepy after you orgasmed once - let alone five times.

Fuck - that had really happened. Bradley really loved you that much. More to the point, you really loved Bradley that much.

“Bradley?” He hummed and looked down at you. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“Come here.” You scooched up and kissed him sloppily. Eventually, he let you go and you let out a sigh as your shirt rubbed against your sensitive breasts. “Rest. I’ll wake you up when the food’s here.”

That sounded really nice. “Mmm, okay.” You yawned. “Love you, bubs.”

“Love you too, kid.” And then he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you were asleep before you knew it.

Some time later, a soft knock echoed throughout the room, but it didn’t seem loud enough to be coming from your door. You let out a soft grunt as you felt Bradley sit up in bed and begrudgingly opened your eyes.

The knock repeated - again, sounding a bit far off still and couldn’t be at your door with room service - and Bradley glanced at you and you shrugged before he eventually got up to investigate. Shuffling across the room and down the short hallway, Bradley threw on a grey crewneck sweatshirt and swung open the door.

A cacophony of voices soon hit your ears and that was when you realized that the bellhop wasn’t at your door delivering your french fries and ginger ales - he was at Jake and Sarah’s.

“ - I’m telling you I didn’t order this and I don’t want to be charged for it -”

You took that as your queue to join Bradley at the door and scampered out of bed. Mindful of the fact that Bradley’s shirt just barely covered your ass, you hid behind him. You were nosy - sue you.

Once you fell into Jake’s line of sight, you saw the eating grin on the blond’s face. He was clad in a pair of shorts and a ratty t-shirt. He didn’t look as handsome as Bradley did.

“Well, now, look who it is? Rooster, this order of fries for you? Or Miss Chatty fucking Cathy?”

Bradley puffed out his chest, but largely ignored Jake and instead turned towards the bellhop, who was apologizing profusely about the mix up.

Miss Chatty fucking Cathy who did he think he was?

“- This for Bradshaw?”

The bellhop nodded and handed Bradley the slip to sign before he took off. He even left the cart there, which he probably wasn’t supposed to do. Taking a page out of Bradley’s book, you also patently ignored Jake and glanced at the french fries and ginger ales and glasses of pellet ice on the cart. You turned your focus back onto Bradley, completely ignoring what he was saying to Jake. It was like the blond man didn’t even exist to you at the moment.

God, Bradley was so smart, so kind, so thoughtful. He took such good care of you. The way he kissed that stretch mark you hated on your stomach or the way he knew to lift your hips up the first time he slipped inside you. He treated you like you were the most precious thing in the world - except when he didn’t and even then you still melted and keened in his arms.

Oh, he was so perfect and handsome and beautiful. It was unreal how much you loved him - sometimes you wondered how he was yours? Just yours? He was so pretty and handsome. Pretty boy.

His hair was still wet from his shower and the perfect amount of messy. Maybe he’d play with your hair later? Would he let you wear his sweatshirt? It was probably warm and soft and smelled like him. Like his fancy cologne and something so Bradley. You just wanted him to -

“- Jesus, Bradshaw, what’d you do to the poor girl?”

You blinked, realizing you had been staring at Bradley’s face - his beautiful, pretty face - for god knows how long and tucked yourself behind him. Luckily, you were too far out of it to be too embarrassed (that would come tomorrow).

“I mean I heard what you were doing to her, but didn’t realize you also mauled her - Jesus, look at her thi -”

“- Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence.” You felt yourself heat up at the timbre of Bradley’s voice. His entire body was tense and you squeezed his hand.

He was so protective, so strong. He loved to take care of you. He always wanted to take care of you.

Take care of you. Take you. Take you. Take you.

“Apologize.” His voice was like steel. “Now.”

Jake looked like he wanted to scoff or even laugh, but something in Bradley’s face must have scared him. “Fine, fine,” he turned to look at you, “my sincere apologies, darlin.’” You didn’t appreciate the nickname and neither did Bradley judging on the growl he let out. “Alright, Jesus, fuck. I’m sorry for any inappropriate comments I may have directed towards you, okay?” You glanced up at Bradley and then fleetingly back at Jake before nodding.

“Alright, good - just promise you’ll knock twice on the wall if there’s going to be an encore, so I can know if I need to change rooms or not - enjoy the -” Bradley slammed the door shut in his face “- fries!”

“Fuck off,” he muttered and took your hand. It might have been a bit overkill for the short trip back to bed, but you couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry about that, you good?” You nodded.

The room service cart rattled as it made the trip further in the room and your mouth watered at the smell of the fries. You failed to stifle a giggle once you heard Bradley’s stomach growl.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, “you’re the one that made me work up an appetite!”

Both of you sat on the bed and got situated with your sodas on each nightstand and laid the fries between the two of you. For the first time, you noticed Bradley had turned the TV on low and watched as the closed captioning ran across the bottom of the screen.

“Moonstruck?” He turned towards you and nodded. “I didn’t even hear it.”

He blushed. “You were pretty knocked out.”

You wrapped your legs around Bradley’s under the covers. “Well, no one’s ever made me feel like that before…”

“Oh, really?” He looked too cocky - though you supposed it may have had some merit that night. You threw a fry at him. “Hey, these are eighteen dollar fries, champ.” You threw another one, which in turn made Bradley take the plate onto his side of the king-sized bed. “Miss Moneybags thinks we can just waste these…” he muttered.

You giggled. You spent the next few minutes wordlessly holding out your hand, waiting for Bradley to give you a couple fries until he got tired of it and just gave you back the plate. It was amazing how half a plate of fries and some ginger ale could have you feeling like your normal self again. You still couldn’t get over how spacey and out of it you had been. The two of you needed to talk about it, do a debrief of sorts.

Trying to get his full attention, you pressed your foot against Bradley’s thigh under the covers. “Owww, Jesus fuck - your feet are cold.”

“Sorry,” you giggled, but continued rubbing them up and down Bradley’s shins. He made a funny face, but kept his eyes on the movie, trying to play it cool.

You then handed him the plate of french fries balancing precariously on your side of the bed. Once the plate was placed on the nightstand, Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. A huge rush of affection surged through you for the man beside you.

He just made you happy. Every little thing about him. He made you happy. He made you better.

“I like when you take care of me.” Your face was buried so deeply in his chest, you didn’t think he had heard you until he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You tilted your head up to look at him. “You’re always so good to me. Make me feel so safe. Never trusted anyone else enough to do that.”

Bradley blushed. “Well, I - I was worried it was too much sometimes and I liked when you told me to slow down - well, liked is the wrong word, but I’m -” he cleared his throat, “we’ve never had to do that, but I’m glad you said something.”

“I am too. Like I said, you always make me feel safe.”

The two of you turned your focus back to the movie. It was your favorite part - Loretta was waiting for Ronny at Lincoln Center. It was all so romantic: La Boheme and Christmas lights -

Bradley cleared his throat, but kept watching the TV. “I know we don’t do that a lot…” That was putting things mildly. “But I really liked it - making you feel good - because it makes me feel go -”

“- You can say it turned you on, Bradley. It was rather obvious.” He finally turned to look at you. His cheeks were red - something you wouldn’t have found possible after all you had done together that evening. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Well…I’m pretty sure everyone in our hallway could hear how much it turned you on, so don’t think that’ll matter too much...”

Your mouth gaped open in shock and then you both dissolved into giggles. Your hands snuck under the covers and tickled Bradley’s sides, getting even more giggles out of him and he quickly followed suit.

“And can I - Bradley!” He stopped tickling you, but you had to take a breath to control your giggling. “Can I tell you something else?” He hummed. “I liked imagining you were watching us in the mirror above the bed.”

A smile slowly crept across his face. “Really?”

“Mmmhhmm. ‘Kept thinking about what I looked like, what you looked like - all of it.” You felt your cheeks heating up at the thought. You had a full length mirror in your walk-in closet that could definitely provide a different point of view.

It was like Bradley had read your thoughts when he said: “Maybe we can figure out something for our anniversary…”

“Six months.”

He kissed you. “Six months.”

“Are you gonna give me six orgasms then?” You wouldn't make it to seven months in your relationship if Bradley tried to give you six orgasms.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that, kid.”

You giggled. “Probably not.”

The two of you went back to mindlessly snacking on your fries and watching the movie. The fries were absolutely delicious and you were tickled that they remembered to give you mayo, something Bradley always made fun of you for liking.

By now, Loretta had found her father at intermission and both of them agreed not to have seen each other. Your favorite part was coming up soon, but seeing the awkward scene in the movie, you couldn’t help, but think of your own similar moment from earlier.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with Jake...”

Bradley’s jaw twitched and he took a long sip of his ginger ale before replying. “‘s not your fault Hangman’s an ass.”

“Still, I feel bad.” Your voice came out small.

“You,” he kissed your cheek, “are absolutely perfect and,” he kissed your nose, “I will gladly take any teasing Hangman sends my way if it means I get to think of you like that again.” He kissed your lips. “Got it?”

You ducked your head. “Got it.”

“Alright, good. Now there’s something really important I need to talk to you about…”

The impish smile on Bradley’s face prevented you from truly spiraling and instead you couldn’t help but giggle. “Go on.”

“How can I get you to wear that dress for me again? Because - not that I’m complaining - but I didn’t even get to take it off y - hey!”

You slid your hands underneath the duvet and started tickling Bradley’s sides in earnest. He soon joined in, attacking you instead.

The sound of your collective laughter and giggles and shrieks would surely keep your neighbors up for a little longer still.

----------------

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast delivered to your room - thankfully not by the same busboy - you supervised the bellhops as they put your various garment bags and assorted weekenders into the Bronco while Bradley checked out.

It had been a hell of a weekend. You had fucking ran Bradley ragged last night, to say nothing about the sloppy blow job he’d finally let you give him that morning. He had gotten an award, gotten to dance with you, gotten a slightly better handle on his nerves, and even gotten to one-up Hangman.

So, in Bradley’s books it was a win and he was more than happy to sign for the hundred and fifty dollars worth of room charges you’d both racked up over the last two days. He even got three times the points for it on his card.

From beside him at the checkout counter, Maverick cleared his throat. “So, I heard you kids had a good time last night.” Bradley froze, but Maverick just continued looking over his bill.

Fuck. Bradley had never had parents around to catch him sneaking around or having sex, but this very much felt like he had. He was going to get so much shit now. Because Hangman he could handle, but Mav?

Mav would probably go off on him about respecting girls and not calling them degrading names while having sex - nevermind that the girl in question liked to be called a pathetic slut or a whiny little whore in bed. ��

Plus, Bradley hadn’t thought he had been that loud, right? He didn’t know where Maverick and Penny had been staying last night, but there wasn’t a room on the other side of yours and there was no way it traveled further down the hallway, right?

(Though to be fair, you had elected to have room service for breakfast due to the smattering of marks Bradley had left on your neck and upper thighs. Because Jake hadn’t necessarily been wrong when he said it looked like Bradley had mauled you. It was another reason you had elected to supervise the luggage - outside. Alone.)

It felt like there were a handful of cotton balls in his mouth. “Wha - where’d you hear that?”

“Penny?” Maverick said as he looked at Bradley like he had seven heads. “She mentioned dancing with you and how nice of a time you were having considering all the - well, all the stress and pageantry.”

“Oh.” His cheeks were burning. “Yeah, yeah. Great time last night. Good time.”

“Yeah…” He then said how nice it had been to spend time with you, too. “Where is she by the way? We missed you guys at breakfast.”

The two men finished up with the desk clerk and then made their way across the lobby to where Penny was standing. You were still outside.

“Oh, we uhh got room service. Had a bit of a lie-in.”

Penny chuckled. “Bet you did - hey, you know Hangman was complaining about some noise last night to everyone at breakfast earlier. You hear anything about -”

“- Oh shit, I gotta go. The car’s ready.” He had no idea if the car was ready. “But I’ll talk to you guys later, nice to see you both. Have a good weekend.”

And before either of them could protest to the kiss Bradley laid on both their foreheads, he was already halfway across the lobby and hellbent on getting to the safety of you and his car.

Yup. His parents had heard him having sex. Monday morning was sure to be fun.

Outside, Bradley searched the valet stand for the Bronco and saw it - and you - further down the line behind a navy Lexus. You weren’t in the car yet and looked to be reading over something on your phone.

“All set,” Bradley called out and you glanced up at him and slipped your phone into your pocket, watching him as he made his way towards you.

You were dressed casually in your same denim shorts and another button down, which was sticking out from underneath his crew neck sweatshirt. The sunglasses perched on the top of your head only added to your artfully disheveled appearance. Though, tragically, the marks on your neck and chest were covered.

“What was the damage?” you asked, referring to the room charges.

Bradley pecked you on the lips. “One fifty.”

“Not awful.”

“Blame the eggs benedict for breakfast.” They had been worth every penny for the record. “All set with the bags?”

“Yup,” you popped the p. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

You leaned back against the passenger door and Bradley crowded into your space before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. He couldn’t resist you. Everything about you made him so happy. Who else wanted to spend the day together after being attached at the hip all weekend?

“Can we go back to yours? Take a nap?” Bradley liked how the sun hit your living room in the late afternoon. There was nothing like snuggling up with you on your couch and watching football on a Sunday afternoon. You had the prettiest candles and softest throw blankets at your place, too. He’d have to get some for the house eventually, but was more than happy to hunker down at your place today.

You nodded and looked exceptionally pleased he had even brought it up. “And I can finally take care of you, bubs.”

There was enough innuendo in that sentence to stop him cold. “You’ve taken care of me plenty this weekend, I need to rest up.”

A gasp of faux indignation slipped past your lips. “And here I was talking about the new sheet masks I got, all while you’re planning to debauch me again!”

Bradley chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before opening your door and waiting for you to get situated in the car. He wheeled around the front of the car to his own side and got in.

“Debauch is a strong word, no?” He started the car and turned up the radio. “Been reading too many romance novels lately?”

“I’m never letting you use my Kindle again…”

He laughed. “Fine, fine. Lemme just take you home, kid, and we can discuss the semantics behind debauched and defiled all you want.”

an: thanks to everyone for reading and all the positive comments and feedback about the teaser the last few days! i'd be remiss if i didn't thank @sometimesanalice, @heartsofminds, @howdysebby, @notroosterbradshaw, @dissonannce, @cherrycola27, and @ofstoriesandstardust for liking and giving me all caps feedback on all the very random screenshots i've sent you guys over the last couple weeks! the next thing i'm going to post for these two is an epistolary while bradley's deployed! x jordan

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #bradley fic

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gretagerwigsmuse · 5 months ago

Text

time for a reread since it’s been on my dash so much lately 🤭 i only picked parts from the current timeframe because we’d be here all night otherwise. but all three of these absolutely get me and you know absolutely why 🥺☺️

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too.

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him.

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first. He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure.

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months.

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break. But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar.

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling.

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm.

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself.

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

“You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you.

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#they’re so special to me #bradley fic

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ereardonlibrary · 5 months ago

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Golden Hour Ch. 10

Full chapter here

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writing-until-i-drop · 1 month ago

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Marking | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader | wc: 374

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! Hickeys, biting, kinda dirty talk? no actual smut, it's short, lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Bradley had been unbelievably clingy since getting back from deployment. Every second he wasn’t at work, he was attached to your hip. Not that you were complaining. It was Saturday and you were both off work, lazing in bed. You were propped against the pillows, strolling through social media, while Bradley laid with his head on your chests, humming softly.

“Can I give you a hickey?” Bradley mumbled, nuzzling his face into your breasts, muffling his voice. “Maybe two?”

“Feeling a little possessive?” You teased, tossing your phone to the other side of the bed. Bradley nodded, “Okay, baby, mark me up.” Bradley perked up, lifting his head for the first time in over an hour. You leaned down, lips meeting in a gentle kiss that put a smile on your face.

“Sit on my lap, honey, and take your top off.” Bradley rolled off of you and onto his side of the bed, you didn’t have the heart to point out that he was now sitting on your phone. You straddled his lap, pulling off the shirt of his you had worn to bed. One of Bradley’s hands rested on your back, bracing you, and the other cupped the back of your neck.

Bradley’s eyes were filled with desire, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. You had to bite your lip to keep from squirming on his lap and escalating things before he even got started.

“You’re going to look so pretty all bruised up for me,” Bradley kissed your collar bone, “Everyone’s going to be able to look at you and know you’re mine.” He moved up to your neck, “Tell me you’re mine, honey.”

“All yours,” Your voice was ridiculously breathy, even to your ears but you didn’t have it in you to be embarrassed. “Are you going to…?” Bradley chuckled, pulling away from where he was marking the front of your throat.

“You want me to?”

“Pretty please, Lee?” Bradley kissed his way to your shoulder before gently biting down, “Fuck, baby.” You had discovered an affinity for his love bites after Bradley had gotten a little too carried away going down on you, leaving bite marks and hickeys all over your thighs.

“So fucking good for me.”

#rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley fic #top gun fanfiction #bet writes #top gun maverick #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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ereardon · 5 months ago

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Darkness [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

WC: 500

Warnings: All angst

And in the darkness, she awakened.

Fingertips on her flesh. Lips on her throat. Sighs in her ear.

A beg, unspoken.

She knew what he needed. There was a secret, buried deep within the dark spaces of silence that lingered between them. It was what was unsaid as they moved in rhythm.

And when it was over, she held him in her arms and told him she would never let go.

Bradley was quiet, but she knew what he was thinking.

He needed her.

***

The first time, she tried to say all of the things that had come into her head for the two weeks that he was gone. But he returned a shell. Gone was the man who stood on top of the wooden bar and sang at the top of his lungs, pulling her up with him, grinning as they swayed to the loud piano music emanating from the corner.

The man who returned to her was a ghost of the man she loved.

And yet, she persevered.

She cooked his favorite meals, rented his favorite movies, organized trips to the beach. Nothing brought back the light behind his chocolate eyes.

But when he reached for her in the middle of the night, his limbs warm on hers, she knew that he was crawling out of a nightmare she’d never see.

And so she held him, flesh to flesh, lips on his, eyes closed but seeing all they needed to.

And when it was over, she held him tight and promised to never let go, and finally the tears that had been building started to flow and she knew that the man who had returned had lost a piece of himself out there in the skies.

***

Time passed, and things changed, but still she found herself reaching for him in the darkness, even when his side of the bed was cold. And the reminder that he was out there, in the unknown, burned a hole of fear in her stomach.

But when he returned, and his side of the mattress was warm, there was still an emptiness that surrounded the bed.

She stopped asking what had happened.

As the lines in his face grew deeper, and as their house filled with the sound of children’s footsteps that turned from whispers to thunder, the silence grew as a weight between their hearts.

And in the quiet, she closed her eyes.

In the quiet, she wondered what her life would have been like if he had never stepped foot in that jet.

In the quiet, she contemplated leaving.

But then flesh begot flesh, and he belonged to her again, if only for a moment.

And in the stillness, his eyes opened.

In the darkness, he pressed his hand to her cheek.

In the quiet, she opened her eyes.

And then his voice, husky and deep, penetrated the air that stood so still around them.

He asked for forgiveness, for the way he haunted her.

She leaned forward and tipped her forehead against his.

She needed him, too.

Tagging some people who may be interested:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @shanimallina87 @taytaylala12 @th3-oncoming-storm @teacupsandtopgun @djs8891 @callsign-magnolia @callsign-joyride @sio-ina-bottle @startrekfangirl2233-writes @horseshoegirl @desert-fern @blackwidownat2814

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gretagerwigsmuse · 2 months ago

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no no because i’m blushing 🤭 that was so hot and i can’t believe i haven’t read it before!?!!! like

“So pretty,” Bradley murmured. “Such a pretty pussy, taking my fingers so well. You know you have to, have to stretch her out so my cock will fit.”

and that cheeky lil shit with the song!?! he’s so smooth 🤭

my forever, every day (rooster x reader)

Pairing: rooster x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: rooster and his girlfriend get sidetracked on a drive down PCH.

Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI, swearing, sex, oral sex (m receiving), squint-and-you-miss it rank kink, also praise kinks bc of who i am as a person...anything else, y'all lmk

Length: 4.9k

the title is a lyric from bronco, by the driver era . this one was written for @jadore-andor (happy birthday, my dear!!) and tagging my loves @peakyrogers @winterrebel04 @blue-aconite 💙

It had been the perfect day off.

You’d both gotten a little more sun than you probably should’ve, and there was sand all over the floorboards, but it had been an absolutely perfect day off. Breakfast tacos, then lazing around on a beach in San Clemente, then an ice cream from the shop at the end of the pier and now driving back down to San Diego in your swimsuits while the sun sank over the ocean—what more could a girl ask for?

The bass faded and when you heard the first notes of the next song, you recognized it, too. You looked at Bradley suspiciously; normally, his music tastes skewed much more Indie Rock than Pop Punk, and the last four or five songs had been much more your speed than his.

“Bradley?” you asked.

“Yeah, gorgeous?” He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow.

“I love all of these songs,” you said, and it wasn’t really a question, as much as it was a request for an explanation.

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Bradley said. His hand slipped down the wheel to flip on his turn signal, while keeping his other arm stretched over the back of the bench seat.

You waited for him to finish merging lanes before you asked, “What do you mean?”

Bradley glanced over at you, then leaned forward to grab his phone, connected through an adapter to a cable to the cassette tape that would let his phone play music through the vintage console. On his screen, you saw a Spotify playlist, simply titled: “For Gorgeous 🖤”.

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at it, then back up at your boyfriend, his eyes on the road. Behind his sunglasses, you could see them flicking to you, not like he was nervous, but like he was gauging your reaction.

“You made me a playlist?” you asked.

“I mean,” Bradley said, shifting in his seat, “it’s not, like, a big deal. You just were so excited for your day off, and this perfect beach day that you wanted, so I thought it’d be good to end it with music you like.”

You scrolled through the playlist, recognizing most of the songs as titles you’d either shared with accompanying stories, or songs that were a part of memories the two of you shared.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you said fondly, setting his phone back in the cupholder, next to the empty ice cream cup from the pier. “The old school romantic.”

He scoffed, pushing up his sunglasses again, and the hand that was over the back of the bench seat flicked down to tug lightly on your hair. You wrinkled your nose, reaching up to grab his hand and pull it into your lap. You wove your fingers between his, your free hand tracing over the veins on the back of his hand.

You lifted his hand, after a moment, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, before settling it back in your lap.

“Thank you,” you told him. “Today was wonderful.”

Bradley squeezed your hand, his fingers brushing the tops of your thighs against where you held him.

“Of course, honey,” he said.

The song ran out and you went back to playing with his hands. You loved his hands, you were a simple girl like that, and his were enormous. Broad fingers, calloused palms, and always warm, always available to you.

The next song picked up, and you frowned for a moment, before you recognized it.

A memory flashed through your head—your blue sundress pushed up to around your hips, Bradley’s jacket on the floor of the bathroom of The Hard Deck, the lock digging into your back as your boyfriend lost himself between your thighs. Him whispering into your cunt that he couldn’t wait until he could take you home, he’d do this better later, that you tasted better than he could’ve imagined, and holding you on the brink of orgasm until the rest of the bar sang along with the guitar riff, covering your keening moans when you finally came apart on his tongue.

In the present moment, you looked over at Bradley, unsure if that’s why this was included on the list, to see a spot of color on his cheeks, his hand tightly clutching the steering wheel. The hand you still held was deliberately loose, but every other inch of him was radiating tension, and you’d place money on the fact that the same memory was running through his mind.

You tried to keep a laugh out of your voice when you asked him, “You didn’t think this through, did you?”

“Shut up,” Bradley muttered without malice, shifting in his seat.

You bit your lip to hide a grin, and continued to watch his growing discomfort. His wide shoulders were tense, and he lifted one of his knees to hold the wheel steady while he wiped his palm on the front of his board shorts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bradley said, without looking at you to confirm what expression you wore. You pressed your lips together to trap a giggle, before looking deliberately out the window, giving him a break.

The sun sank into the horizon and the world slipped into the blue haze of twilight as the song played out. Another one came on, something soft and sweet, and you started tracing Bradley’s hand again. This song was one that had gotten you through his last deployment, one you’d looped while you cleaned the empty apartment, or rereading his last emails. Bradley’s thumb rubbed against your palm comfortingly, and you knew he knew.

The lights flipped on on the side of the road, soft circles of light cutting through the blue haze of the evening, as the guitar strings faded. Another song picked up, a beat set by a bass, and unfamiliar lyrics. You frowned, looking back at your boyfriend.

“What’s this one from?” you asked.

Bradley lifted a shoulder noncommittally, focusing on the road. “Dunno,” he said, “just made me think of you.”

You hummed in acceptance, listening to the lyrics. It wasn’t an indictment or a compliment, and you leaned across the seat to take Bradley’s glasses off his nose as the night got darker.

“You don’t need these anymore, do you?” you asked, sliding them into your hair to hold it out of your face.

Bradley squinted on principle, but didn’t fight it as you stole his aviators to use as a headband. You looked out the front of the car, at the tail lights ahead of you flickering on, and you felt him watching you.

“What?” you asked, looking back to meet him. Even in the dim light, you could make out the deep brown of his eyes, flitting between the road and watching you.

After a long moment, he cleared his throat.

“You really don’t remember this song?” he asked. His voice was low, curious, like he held a secret, not like he was disappointed, so you answered honestly and shook your head.

Bradley nodded, then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Guess I’d better remind you, then,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Wait, I thought it wasn’t—”

Bradley leaned a little to the side, looking under your lowered visor at a sign flashing by on the roadside.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” he said, reaching over briefly to tug on your safety belt, before throwing the Bronco into a lower gear, slamming on the brakes, and turning off the 101.

You squeaked as the truck pitched to the side, reeling into an overnight campsite off the beach. It was one of those that you got access to via a statewide membership, and Bradley kept the car registered in case he and the guys wanted to go on a trip; tonight it meant he could just wave authoritatively to the park ranger in the box, and drive you guys through.

“What the hell, Rooster,” you gasped at his impulsiveness, but he was silent as he drove to the back of the lot. The car lurched to a stop and he was out of it before it fully stopped moving, his long legs eating up the distance from the driver’s side to the passenger’s door. He yanked open your door, reached around you to undo your safety belt, and pulled you to the edge of your seat. With one massive hand, Bradley spread your legs, settling between them, and he wound his other hand through your hair, tilting your head back to kiss you hungrily.

You whimpered in surprise and Bradley took advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. He kissed you like he did everything to you—with measured intensity, determined thoroughness, and sweet honesty. His lips were soft, knowing the perfect pressure and pull to tempt you deeper into his arms, and on his breath you tasted the cherry chocolate of the ice cream you’d split back in San Clemente.

Your arms wound around his neck, pulling you nearly out of the Bronco and against your boyfriend’s tall frame and he made a sound of approval deep in his throat. You felt it through his chest, and the hand in your hair pulled his aviators out of them before he ran his fingers slid down the exposed skin of your back, skimming over the ties that held your bikini top up.

When Bradley pulled back a breath, you were both panting, lips swollen, a little drunk chasing the taste of each other.

“You still don’t remember?” Bradley asked, his voice low, rough, the rasp of it sending a tremor through you.

You shook your head and Bradley’s eyes darkened, even as he smiled.

“Backseat, sweet girl,” Bradley said, stepping back out of your space, but you still felt his touch all over your skin. “Now.”

And, what, were you gonna say no to that?

You kicked off your sandals, leaving them in the front seat as you slipped under Bradley’s arm, and into the door he opened to the backseat of his car.

You heard Bradley chuckling at your haste as he followed behind you, pulling the door shut and then hauling you into his lap by your thighs.

You landed gracelessly, straddling him in the hunched space, and a moment later, his mouth found yours as he kissed you again. It was different like this, just as delicious but closer. Thighs over each other, stomachs against one another, limbs cramped in the tight space as you scrambled for purchase in each others’ bodies. Yours settled on Bradley’s shoulders, and you could feel his strong arms shifting, running over you, and then gone. You pulled back questioningly when Bradley’s hands lifted from your skin, to find him hastily shrugging out of his Hawaiian shirt.

“Presumptive,” you teased him, leaning in to kiss his neck while he tried to pull the shirt out from where it was trapped between him and the seat. You felt his chest constrict when your lips brushed against his pulse point and he yanked the shirt out from behind him sharply.

You expected him to toss it to the side, but instead, he fixed the garment around your shoulders, feeding your arms through it and buttoning one of the buttons across your chest. It was the opposite of what you expected from him, but when Bradley seemed satisfied, he surged towards you again, kissing you deeply. As his lips moved over yours, you felt his hands smooth over your skin, reaching under his shirt to untie your bikini.

Now that made more sense.

A couple quick tugs later, and your bikini fell to the floor of the Bronco; you broke away from Bradley’s mouth with a gasp when his warm palms came up to cup your breasts.

“Presumptive, she says,” he muttered against your lips, kissing you almost harshly. “I think you meant ‘possessive’, gorgeous.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing them into hardened points against his calloused fingers and the loose brush of his shirt. You squirmed in his lap, his words reminding you just how exposed you were.

“Babe, do you think—” you started, and he interrupted you with another kiss, with another pinch under his shirt.

“You think I’m gonna let anyone else see my girl?” he asked, his grip on you tightening.

His possessiveness sent another bolt of desire through you, and you leaned into his touch, pressing yourself into him. Bradley seemed more than happy with the motion, his fingers working over you and his lips latching onto your neck again.

When he grazed your skin with his teeth, your hips bucked into him, and you both moaned at the contact. You were both still in your swimsuits, but you could feel the outline of Bradley’s cock against your thigh, through the thin material of his swimsuit. One of Bradley’s hands fell to your hip, helping to guide your motion as you moved over his thigh. His legs were so thick, strong under you and tensed like this, and the dragging movement rubbed your swimsuit against your core, and Bradley let out a long breath as you moved over him.

“That’s it, honey, feels good, doesn’t it?”

You pressed your lips together, nodding, your hands coming to rest on his stomach. You could feel how tightly he was clenched, wound, just letting you use his body to seek your own relief. This man, this enormous, powerful man, letting you rut against him just because it felt good.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful,” Bradley whispered, and when you looked up, he was watching you closely. His head was back against the headrest, and his eyes were hooded as his hands guided your movement, admiration shining in them. “You have me feeling like a damn teenager, not waiting till we get home because I need to feel my pussy before then.”

You whimpered at the crude way he described you as his, but you rocked your hips again and it was true. You were his, entirely and completely, and you were needy.

“Babe,” you whispered, your voice thin as you rocked against him, needing more.

“I’m here, gorgeous,” Bradley told you, and one of his hands lifted to slip inside of your swimsuit. You looked down, couldn’t help yourself, moaning at the sight of his thick wrist against your stomach, his big hand stretching the black material of your swimsuit.

Your body jolted when he dragged a finger through your folds, and Bradley moaned when he felt the wetness gathered there. You were scratching him, your nails scrambling for purchase against his skin, as his finger pulled your arousal from between your thighs to rub over your clit. He felt so good, heavenly, unhurried and overwhelming and Bradley continued to guide your hips over him with the hand on your thigh. The slow motion dragged you against his finger, and he shifted his wrist to keep a finger against your clit but reach between your legs to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you moaned at the intrusion, the stretch another kind of overwhelming, and you felt Bradley still.

“You know better than that, sweet girl,” Bradley said, his voice low. “What do you say when I’m between your legs?”

“Bradley,” you whimpered, your hips rocking, trying to get his fingers deeper inside of you, but his hand remained frozen.

“Say my name like you mean it, honey,” he said slowly, moving his wrist again, repositioning.

“Bradley,” you all but sobbed, needing friction, needing something, needing more of him, “please, baby, please, I need to—Bradley–”

“That’s better, gorgeous,” he said approvingly, and then he shoved a third finger into you.

Your thighs jerked, hips automatically pushing away from the intrusion, but Bradley held you steady, not waiting for you to adjust before his fingers were moving inside of you.

You moaned as his long fingers reached deep into you, and you heard Bradley laughing quietly to himself as he leaned forward to kiss the curve of your jaw gently. The soft pressure of his lips was a wild juxtaposition to the merciless stretch of his fingers, and you writhed over him, desperate. His fingers curled inside of you, his thumb pressing steadily on your clit, and you ground against his hand, wildly chasing your pleasure.

“So pretty,” Bradley murmured. “Such a pretty pussy, taking my fingers so well. You know you have to, have to stretch her out so my cock will fit.”

You moaned, nodding dazedly, your hand falling to his swim trunks to find the cock in question.

Fuck, he was so hard.

Just from your pleasure, just from the press of your body against his; you moaned as you slid your hand over the length of him. Bradley let out a choked breath when you squeezed him over his trunks, and then he let go of your hip to brace himself, lifting you and his hips so you could slide the trunks down his thighs, and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped out of you.

He was so fucking strong, and when he sank back down, his cock bobbed in his lap, and you reached for him eagerly. Bradley moaned when your hand closed over him, warm skin against warm skin, and when you looked up at him, he licked his lips, his mouth slightly agape, watching you.

“You gonna jerk me off, honey?” he asked, his voice rough. “Work that cock up to fill you, while I stretch my pussy out to take me?”

You whimpered, bringing your hand up to your mouth to spit on it, before sliding your hand over his cock. A bit of precum was already leaking out of the tip, and Bradley swore softly when your thumb reached up to grab the pearl of moisture, mixing it with your spit as you worked over him.

You would never get tired of the sounds your boyfriend made.

He was never shy about talking to you, telling you what he wanted, how hot you made him, but it was his moans and groans that got you off. You loved when he sounded undone, knowing you were the one pulling those gorgeous sounds out of him, and you tightened your grip around his dick as you worked over him.

“Fuck, sweet girl,” Bradley groaned in response, his head dropping to your shoulder. He curled his fingers inside you, and you whined when he realized he was matching his movements with your hand over his cock.

“What do you think, gorgeous,” he asked gruffly. “You think you’re ready for me?”

You licked your lips, looking down at the length of him in your hand, swelling larger with every pull of your hand over him. You were never really ready, not before an orgasm, but you wanted to be stretched over him, more than you wanted to be ready.

“Please, Bradley,” you nodded, rising up on your thighs for Bradley to undo the strings of your bikini bottoms as well. It joined the top on the floorboards of the Bronco, and Bradley hummed to himself as he took you in, wearing only his shirt, rutting against his thigh and working his cock in your hand.

“Love you so much, sweet girl,” he said quietly, and your heart clenched at his soft admission, in the middle of a frenzied pitch.

“Love you too, Bradley,” you whispered. You leaned in to kiss him quickly, settling back down on his thighs, and pulling your hand over his cock again. “So are you gonna fuck me about it?”

Bradley’s eyes fluttered as your grip tightened and your words settled over him. When he opened them, you could barely see the brown of his irises, his eyes were blown wide.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, and then he batted your hand away, lifted your hips and impaled you on his cock.

You didn’t mean to scream.

But his thrust pushed all the air out of you, and all you could think was him, Bradley, Bradley, and you realized you were moaning it aloud, like a prayer.

“You’re so fucking tight, gorgeous,” Bradley gritted, his hands smoothing over your shoulders, his voice tight as he held himself still, waiting for you to adjust.

Not like you could do a damn thing.

Your body felt like it was on fire, full and stretched and absolutely alight with desire, every inch of you pulsing for him. You needed him to move, you needed to adjust, you needed him, that was what you knew.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl,” Bradley whispered, one of his hands coming up to pet your hair. You lowered your head to his shoulder, feeling molten, past numb, like being draped over him was the only way you wanted to stay forever.

Bradley was still running his hands over you, and you could feel his breath coming in measured pulls, as he tightly held onto control.

After a couple more moments, you felt a little more grounded, more adjusted. You became aware of the way your shaky breathing was echoing around the car, the windows fogged like Titanic, your sweet boyfriend holding himself in check until you told him you were okay.

“Bradley?” you asked weakly, reaching up slowly to cup the back of his head, even though you still didn’t feel like you could lift your head.

“Yeah, gorgeous,” he breathed, and your heart swelled at the care in his voice.

“I want to feel you, babe,” you told him, and you felt a shiver work through his body.

“Thank fuck,” he groaned.

He rocked up into you, a broken cry easing out of you as he pushed even deeper, your thighs widening to accommodate him.

“That’s it, sweet thing,” Bradley moaned, and he pulled out before thrusting into you.

The drag of him was absolutely heaven, thick and rough and reaching that deep part of you that only he could. You moaned as he set a rhythm against you, his strong thighs flexing to drive up into you, splitting you, completing you.

“Baby, it’s so good, you’re so good, you feel—fuck, baby,” you babbled, and Bradley groaned.

He guided your hand farther up his scalp, twining your fingers into his hair and you pulled slightly. His hips thrust harder and you whined at the ferocity of it, the perfection of it.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned, “taking me like you were fucking made for it, moaning on my cock like it’s all you wanted.”

In that moment, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t.

The whole world was this Bronco, wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms, feeling him pushing into you, the air thick with both of your sweat and sex and the moans you couldn’t stop from pouring out of you.

Bradley drove up into you, and his hands fell back to your hips, guiding your movement against him. At the top of your stroke, your pelvis pressed against his and your clit rubbed against him, and it sent white heat curling through your body. You were gasping and writhing and each sound you made seemed only to spur your boyfriend on, as he drove you higher. His thrusts were slowing, hitting deeper, and you felt your legs start trembling at the intensity.

“Are you close, baby?” he asked, almost growled, his voice close to your ear. “Tell me you’re close, gorgeous, you feel so tight, and I can’t—”

“Yes, shit, Bradley, I’m so close,” you moaned, your body pulsing, begging, trembling.

“Give it to me, baby,” Bradley ordered, his voice sharp in your ear, his thrusts unrelenting, as your legs drew up, involuntarily. “Come on this cock, baby, let me feel it, let me feel you–”

You came with a wail, your climax crashing over you like a wave that sent you tumbling. You might’ve choked, you might’ve cried, all you knew was the white hot heat pulsing through your body, leaving you limbless and sated in its wake.

You came back slowly, the darkness of night seeping in through the fogged windows of the Bronco, and you became aware of your boyfriend slowly moving your hips still, working you over him, coaxing you through it.

“Bradley,” you whimpered into his neck, and you felt his chest expand.

“You did so good for me, sweet girl,” he said, his voice soft, just on this side of undone, “so fucking good.”

“Baby…” you chided him gently as understanding dawned that he still hadn’t come yet. You moved your hips slightly, and Bradley’s hands held you in place sternly.

“Gorgeous, I’m so fucking close, but you were so sensitive, just give me a—”

Summoning strength you didn’t have and ignoring Bradley’s futile protests, you slid off of him, swallowing a moan when you felt wetness drip down your thighs as you moved. There wasn’t a ton of room in the backseat, but there was enough that you could lower yourself to the floorboards between your boyfriend’s knees, look up at him through sated eyes, and open your mouth, holding out your tongue.

“Fucking hell,” Bradley breathed, and you would’ve smirked, but what you wanted more than anything was to make him come.

So you leaned forward, tongue teasing just the tip of him, before you opened your jaw and took Bradley’s cock in your mouth.

He hit the ceiling of the Bronco, a stream of curses ripping from his lips as your mouth closed around him, humming slightly. Fuck, the weight of him. He was so broad, fat and thick in your mouth, and you tasted yourself on him, tasted how thoroughly he had fucked you, and you couldn’t help but moan around him.

“Baby, baby,” Bradley groaned, his thighs flexing as he held himself back. “Baby, I’m too close, I can’t be gentle—”

You pulled back with a pop, a stream of saliva falling from his cock to your mouth, and Bradley let out a sound that was almost a whine. That pretty sound had you reaching between your legs, brushing your fingers over your still sensitive core, just at how good he sounded.

“Fuck my mouth, Lieutenant,” you told him, and his eyes fluttered, before you added, “Please.”

His head fell back against the headrest and he groaned, a sound that went straight to your core. You took him back in your mouth, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock, and you felt a large hand settle at the back of your neck.

You whimpered when Bradley gathered the hair there, and started to guide you. Your eyes fell closed and you loosened your jaw, surrendering to the act of it. Yes, you were on your knees and it was your mouth around his dick, but the sounds pouring out of Bradley, the stern hand he kept on the back of your head, it felt like he was worshiping you.

He was so heavy on your tongue, and it was sloppy, but when Bradley started pushing your head faster, you worked your hand faster between your legs. He sounded so good, he tasted so good, and when you moaned you couldn’t have said if it was from the way he was pulling your hair, the building pressure between your thighs, or how good he tasted.

“You’re fucking perfect, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned. “Are you going to come again when I come? Is my pussy going to come for me, on my girl’s fingers while I fuck her mouth?”

You gagged, tears streaming down your face, and when Bradley moaned your name on a final curse and came down your throat, you climaxed on your fingers like he’d said.

Bradley’s thighs were shaking as he pumped down your throat, his hand in your hair smoothing over your hair and then curling under the back of your neck to haul you back up to his lap. Your limbs were shaking from your second orgasm, lungs heaving from how he’d choked you on his cock. Bradley dragged his lips over you, whispering praises and pressing kisses to everywhere he could reach, just shy of delirious.

You could relate.

The Bronco was steamy and humid, and it felt like your own little world. A sphere where the only thing that mattered was your sweet boyfriend, the honest perfection you found in each other, and the strength to care for each other even when you couldn’t explain it.

Eventually, Bradley carded his fingers through your hair, and pulled his swimsuit back up. He left yours on the floor, and buttoned his shirt over you carefully, continuing to finger comb your hair.

When you drove out of the campsite, the ranger avoided both of your eyes.

As you turned back onto the 101, Bradley kept your hand in his, driving with his knees when he needed to change gears. The music picked up again as you drove on, and, remembering, you turned to him.

“So, what was that song?” you asked, still uncertain.

In the moonlight, your boyfriend smiled, his eyes flashing as he lifted your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Don’t you remember, gorgeous?” he asked, voice still low. “That song was playing the time we pulled off the 101 so I could fuck you in the back of my Bronco.”

#bradley fic

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gretagerwigsmuse · 10 months ago

Text

rocketman: part ii - from the back of the cab

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw finally returns stateside for just about the best damn homecoming he's ever had. it's been three months of countless emails and facetime calls between the two of you, but what awaits you both now that bradley's back? and what does it mean for your relationship going forward? [read part i here]

OR a homecoming 159 emails in the making

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 10k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, and suggestive content. a lot of the italic words are direct references to the emails in part i or direct quotes from the rocket man by ray bradbury (read at your own risk because if you picture bradley as the rocket man, you'll cry). the next part will pick up right where this one leaves off and hopefully won't take too long to get out!

from the back of the cab to the airport // i am happy you and i got this hour

Having multiple people, let alone multiple people who loved him more than anything in the world, waiting for him when he got home from a deployment, no matter how brief or long, was definitely a newer experience for Bradley. There was almost a giddiness about him as he said his goodbyes to Bob and Payback and the other pilots he’d flown with from Lemoore. He couldn’t wait to see you in twenty seconds after it’d felt like he’d been gone for twenty years.

The countless (actually one-hundred and fifty-nine - he’d counted) emails between the two of you had been his saving grace these last three months. You’d emailed him almost every day, sometimes multiple times a day, much to the jealousy of his colleagues. He’d become addicted to them almost.

How did your cooking class go? What was your day like at work? Yes, he would love to go on a trip to Mexico. No, your mom is an absolute idiot. How did you touch yourself at night? Were you being a good girl for him?

And in twenty seconds he’d have the real thing. He’d have you in his arms, hugging him, kissing him, talking a mile a minute about any and everything under the sun.

(He knew Maverick would be there, too. He wasn’t being flippant about it or anything - all Bradley had wanted for the last thirteen years was for Maverick to be there when he got home. Last year, when he’d gotten back from three months out near Guam, he’d unabashedly cried from behind his sunglasses when he saw Maverick, Penny, and Amelia waiting for him. Amelia had even made a sign for him with terrible puns and lots of glitter. They’d had Bradley over for dinner - a family dinner - and he had felt on top of the world. Until he’d had to go back to his brand-new, empty house. Bitter with the sweet, he supposed.)

Off to his right, Bradley could see Bob and Callie hugging, and Reuben fussing over his wife’s noticeable baby bump. He smiled at the sight and the thought that he wouldn’t want to leave you while you were pregnant briefly floated through his mind.

And then, like he had conjured you up, there you were. You hadn’t seen him yet. But Bradley could see you as you craned your neck and stretched on your tiptoes, bobbing and weaving and stretching to try and find him in the crush.

He'd known you were taking a half day to pick him up and you looked so soft and lovely in your off-duty clothes - a simple pair of cropped jeans and a pale blue oxford that he'd later realize was his. Pale blue in a sea of khaki with your sunglasses perched on the top of your head as the sun still beamed strongly onto the asphalt.

Like something out of a movie, you turned your head and locked eyes with him. The two of you couldn't have been more than thirty feet apart and it was like everyone and everything around you had stopped - just for a moment. A blip in time. And then a smile crept across your face and your eyes lit up and the world started again.

“Bradley!”

With nary a glance back at Maverick, who Bradley had just realized was standing next to you, you ran towards Bradley and into his arms with so much force that he staggered backwards. His seabag made a solid thud on the ground as he wrapped his arms around you - one around your waist and another around the back of your neck. You burrowed your face in his neck and he couldn't resist holding you tighter, lifting you slightly so that the tips of your shoes kissed the asphalt.

This - this is what he had been missing for the last three months. Home. Home. Home. Bradley was home. With you. And holding you.

"Hey, kid." You tightened your hold on him at the moniker. "You miss me?"

“More than anything.” Not even a second after he put you down, your hands were running across his cheeks and neck. "Are you alright? Do you need anything? I have snacks in the car if you're hungry or -"

He cut you off with a kiss, your first kiss in three months. Thirteen weeks. Ninety-one days. Two thousand one hundred ninety-one hours.

Bradley knew he would have a lot more of these homecomings - had even had some with you already. But he would never forget this one - his favorite homecoming. Two weeks, ten days, three days; it was nothing. Nothing compared to being in your arms again after three months apart. Nothing compared to kissing you again after three months.

There was so much genuine love and longing in you - in him - that Bradley already dreaded when he’d leave you again. Because there would always be another time.

At least until he broke the cycle.

(Don’t ever be a rocket man. Promise me you won’t be like me.)

But for now you were safe in his arms, feeling and smelling and sounding like home and god - for now that was enough.

Your voice was similarly muffled. “Oh, bubs. I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re finally home.”

“And I can’t believe you’re in front of me right now.”

He wanted to touch you everywhere. Your cheeks, your hair, your shoulders, your legs, your breasts. Everywhere. There was no way he could ever get enough of you.

You tilted your head up and smiled at him. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Let’s go home.” The smile that lit up your face could guide Bradley home on even his darkest days.

Before setting off, he gave you another kiss, this one just as sweet, and the two of you started making your way to the gate and by the other families milling around. It was a bit awkward balancing his arm around your shoulder with his seabag, but it was all worth it to have you tucked into his side again. You were so soft and warm and smelled so pretty. He couldn’t get over it. Everything about you felt safe and precious.

“I can’t wait for you to see the house! I have almost everything situated, just a couple seasonal clothes and coats at my old place. I thought maybe we could go after work on Tuesday - unless you’re in a debrief or something or have other plans?”

Bradley squeezed you closer to his side. “Nah, I should be done by Monday afternoon, so Tuesday’s perfect.”

You nuzzled your face against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re home.” And then softer still, “I’m gonna keep saying it because it still doesn’t feel real.”

“Well,” Bradley steered you both away from the crush, “I’ll try my hardest to make it feel real for you later.”

And, God, it went straight to his cock, the way you peered up at him, eyes slightly widened. You even bit your lip, cheeky thing. His seabag slipped from his grasp and he wound both arms around your waist pulling you close to him again. All he wanted to do was play out one of those cheeky little emails of ours in excruciating detail. With his girl.

His wonderful girl. His sweet girl. His smart girl. His, his, his, his -

It was definitely verging on improper, the way he was kissing you now. But Bradley didn’t care. Not when you felt and smelled and tasted so fucking good -

“- Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw!”

You whined against Bradley’s lips when he pulled away. It felt like he’d just gotten caught necking his girlfriend behind the bleachers by his father - and well…

Bradley cleared his throat and hoped his cheeks weren’t too red. “Captain Mitchell…”

They exchanged salutes, Maverick’s face all serious until Bradley could see him fighting a smile. There was a beat and then Bradley wrapped his arms around Mav in a tight hug.

“Good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too, Mav.”

He let Bradley go to look him over much like you had. It warmed his heart to be fussed over by his dad. To have the two most important people in his life be there to pick him up and bring him home.

“Come on you two, ice cream? My treat?”

You gasped. “Now Captain Mitchell, you wouldn’t be suggesting we spoil Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s dinner with ice cream, would you?”

Bradley hadn’t had ice cream in weeks. And a vanilla soft serve with chocolate jimmies sounded like absolute heaven right now. But as much as he wanted to have ice cream with you and Maverick like he was celebrating a little league baseball win, Bradley wanted to go home with you even more. He would see Mav during the week while you were at the office.

Right now, he just wanted to go home with his girl.

“Nah, I think we’re gonna head home. But I’ll take a raincheck for Monday?”

Mav nodded. “Sounds good to me, I’ll bring the car round then?”

“Sounds good, thanks!” you chirped.

Wait, what? Before Bradley could even question him, Maverick was off towards the parking lot - leaving you in his direct line of fire.

Which, to be fair, you did look contrite. “Pete thought it would be easier if he drove, especially with all the people around…”

And was Bradley really going to be mad at Maverick for caring too much? For wanting to spend time with his kid after he got home from a three month deployment? No. Not even at the expense of a twenty minute car ride home alone with you.

“I should’ve told you earlier he was driving, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You both started making your way to the gate again. “Probably gave him an excuse to take the rest of the afternoon off, too.”

You giggled. “I asked if he wanted to get lunch beforehand, but he said he was wrapping something up.”

Bradley’s stride momentarily faltered. Right, he forgot about that - your little lunch dates with Maverick. Was it a little annoying and did it make him irrationally jealous? Sure. But it was also oddly sweet. There were a lot worse things than having your girlfriend genuinely like hanging out with your dad. Plus, Bradley’s didn’t think you really knew you had a crush on him.

“I’m sure you two had plenty of time to catch up while I was gone, but now you’re all mine, kid.”

You wrapped your hands around his upper arm and gave it a squeeze. With a few nods at his fellow aviators and other assorted crew members, you two made it through the gate and to the parking lot where Maverick was waiting in his 1962 Ferrari 250 GTE.

Otherwise known both as the smallest car in the world and Bradley’s inheritance.

The car was in really good shape and drove like a dream. But it was very much not designed for a 6’1” naval aviator - especially when one was relegated to the back seat. Because Bradley didn’t want you to be in the back seat alone and you had refused to sit in the front.

So, now his knees were up to his shoulders and you two were separated by an armrest because the damn Italians hated fun and had foregone a bench seat.

Though this did not stop you from laying a cheeky hand on his knee, inching it higher and higher up his thigh as you crossed the Coronado Bridge. You glanced over at Bradley and winked, stopping yourself from getting higher by holding his hand instead.

It was never a long drive back to his - your house, but today it seemed to fly by ever faster. Maverick was unusually chatty in the front seat, asking about your upcoming trip and if you needed a ride to the airport on Thursday morning, while also telling Bradley about the newly renovated ready room on base.

The chatter petered off into the background as Bradley suddenly zeroed in on the song playing on the radio - Everlasting Love. He found himself mouthing the lyrics.

Need you by my side, girl you’ll be my bride

You’ll never be denied everlasting love

That was you. That was you and him. Everlasting love.

He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. And while you and Maverick chatted and told Bradley some of the more lighter happenings of the last three months - mainly the raccoon garage saga - he was counting down the minutes till it was just you and him. Peace and quiet with his everlasting love.

Which was really everything he could ever want.

------------------

After a long shower with all his favorite products and even some new ones you had brought over, Bradley made his way downstairs and was greeted with the unfairly adorable sight of you chopping potatoes at the kitchen island. There was music playing, candles lit, and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen. He smiled, seeing you wearing the apron he’d picked out for you all those months ago and was relieved to see that it looked broken in from wear. Because, to be honest, it was nearly impossible to pick out clothes for you.

Originally, Bradley had wanted to get you some frilly old thing, dainty and cute and proper if only to feed some long repressed kink of his. But the denim apron was practical and you would get use out of it for plenty more years to come.

And he could always get you another one for special occasions. Because he had had a lot of time to think about all those special occasions with you while he was away…

A beautiful smile lit up your face as you saw him pad down the stairs. “My, my, don't you look cozy?”

Once his socked-feet were firmly on the hardwood floor, Bradley spun on his heels showing off his comfy joggers and plain, grey t-shirt. “Do I pass muster?” He pressed a kiss to the cheek you tilted up for him.

“I’ll think you’ll do, bubs.” He pulled you in for a hug from behind. “Mmmmm, you smell so good.”

He swayed you back and forth in his arms. “I should, I used all your shampoo…”

“Cheeky boy.” You craned your neck and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “You want a drink while I make dinner? You can lay on the couch for a bit if you want? You must be exhausted.”

“Oh?” He hadn’t even considered going into the living room, not when you were in the kitchen. “Uhhh, sure, yeah. I’ll take a drink.”

You smiled and pulled back from him. “Old fashioned?” He nodded. You got out a rocks glass from the cabinet and went over to the bar cart in the dining room for the whiskey and bitters. “I got those fancy bitters at that liquor store you like.”

“Did you take care of everything?” He said it to hide his own reddened cheeks, but you appeared equally as bashful.

“Tried too.”

“You gonna have one, too?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but we’re also having wine with dinner, so just one for now - here you go. Got to start you off slow, Bradshaw.” You slid the glass over to him and held your own out to toast. “To your long awaited homecoming.”

Your eyes locked over the rim of your glasses and you had both barely set them back down on the table before Bradley pressed a kiss to your lips. You tasted like sugar and whiskey and felt like home.

“Missed you, kid.”

“Missed you, too, rocketman. You have no idea how happy I am that you’re home.” You kissed him again. “Now, you gotta let me finish cooking. The table’s already set, so there’s nothing for you to do, but relax.”

“Fine, fine,” he heaved out a great sigh, “banishing me already and I’ve only been home for a few hours, I see how it is - owww!” You smacked his ass with a dishtowel. “Alright, I’m going, I’m going.”

The living room looked nearly identical to how it had when Bradley had left in December - minus the Christmas tree, of course - but there were still little touches of you everywhere. The pillows were arranged far nicer than Bradley had ever been able to manage and there were three new candles of differing heights on the coffee table. Plus, the cream colored cashmere blanket from your apartment that he always stole was artfully strewn across the back of one of the leather sofas.

With one glance back towards you in the kitchen - you were completely focused on some Russet potatoes - Bradley flopped onto the couch and tucked himself under the blanket. It was warm and cozy and so comfortable under there in his couch clothes in the house you two shared. Quiet, too, even with some Van Morrison playing from the kitchen. It was the kind of quiet that could lull Bradley to a peaceful sleep, especially after having been ensconced in constant noise for the last three months.

And he tried for half an hour - he really did. He thought of how excited you were to show him the perfectly organized closet and how you’d put all the little bits and bobs you’d gotten for him over the last three months in the guest room for him to look over at his leisure and how he’d corrected you on where the mail should go.

It was just - it was too quiet and too perfect and too comfy and he just wanted to be with you. Even if it meant sitting on one of the uncomfortable kitchen barstools.

You shook your head, but smiled as he approached. “You don’t have to watch me, you must be exhausted?”

Bradley shrugged. “Just wanna be near you, kid.” Were you nervous about cooking? Was that why you didn’t want him in the kitchen with you? He backtracked. “If that’s alright?”

You bit your lip and gestured for Bradley to sit at the island in front of you. There were a couple mise en place bowls laying around, but you quickly made room for Bradley and his drink.

“It’s like a taping of the Barefoot Contessa.”

You chuckled. “Let’s just hope the food’s as good as Ina’s.”

“Walk me through it.”

With a teasing smile on your face, you went back to mincing the garlic - with a glowing comment from Bradley on your newly acquired knife skills - and he just sat there, chin propped up on his hand watching you explain the next couple steps. You even got a yes, chef out of him when you asked him to turn the music down. The roasted potatoes smelled absolutely divine cooking in the oven and you had just finished snipping the ends off the asparagus when your demeanor suddenly changed. You fiddled with your apron tie and abruptly turned around to face him, looking almost surprised by the action, though you wouldn’t exactly look him in the eye.

“Actually, now that you’re here - or here at the table,” you huffed out a laugh, “there’s something I want to talk to you about that happened while you were gone - no, that’s not - something I was thinking about while you were gone?”

You put the burner down on the sauce pan, leaving the minced garlic to simmer before you were facing Bradley yet again. You looked nervous, unsure of yourself, as you played with the bracelet he had gotten you for Christmas. Had something happened while he was gone that you hadn’t told him about? Were you sick? Hurt? Was there someone - no, no, you’d never.

Bradley leaned back in his chair and hoped he sounded surer than he felt. “Sure, uhh, yeah, go ahead.”

“It actually has to do with some emails I sent you - last week, in particular. One of them is actually that email.” You looked down at the granite countertop as Bradley tried to think of which email would constitute italics. “But I also want to talk about one of the other emails, when I messaged you about that dream I had and kind of how that all falls into everything that we’ve been going through and probably will be going through -”

“- Because this is it,” he interrupted. Because you and I are it.

“Yeah. Because this is it,” you returned, equally as resolute. “So…”

Bradley sat up straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. “Which one do you want to talk about first?”

You fiddled with your apron bow. “Maybe the one from the thirteenth?”

“Which one was that?”

Now you definitely were avoiding looking at him. Your words came out slowly, like you dreaded saying them and Bradley had a sudden inkling that he knew exactly which email you were referencing.

“The one about me needing you. Needing you to take care of me,” you whispered the last part.

He could feel his cheeks coloring. “Oh. Right, yeah.”

Bradley had never received an email like that before. Had never even received a text like that before. It was just so raw and almost animalistic the way your need for him jumped off the page.

nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do. need you to call me good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl, anything as long as it’s yours.

“I shouldn’t have sent that one to you - especially since if I could’ve waited five more days, none of this would’ve happened. It’s just - I needed you so badly and wanted you - ugh, no! No, I shouldn’t have sent you that email. It wasn’t proper, it was embarrassing for you and me and I was just missing you so much and in such a different way that I’ve never experienced before when you’d been gone and - I couldn’t bear not telling you for another moment. Because no one was there to tell me what to do or -”

You threw your hands out and put them on the top of your head. God, it looked like you were about to cry. And it broke Bradley’s heart. He pushed his barstool back from the island and padded over towards you.

“Come ‘ere, kid.”

You let out a sigh and your eyes were swimming with tears as you fell into Bradley’s arms. You felt small in his arms - not necessarily in the physical sense, but like you were folding in on yourself. He needed to take care of you - take you, take you, take you -

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, whenever you want, it’s fine.” Bradley pressed a kiss to your forehead and squeezed you tighter. You held on to him tightly, which muffled your next words.

“I’ve never had someone who I need in that way. And it’s not even necessarily about the sex, itself. I could go months without having sex - had before I met you. It was never something I really needed to get by, I guess? I could take care of it on my own.

“But then - then I met you and you just? You make me need you - make me crave you, you tell me what to do, make me want to please you. And then you just leave for three months and I have to learn how to do all that on my own and it was just so hard? It felt like I dropped? Like everything caught up to me after all those months and weeks and I felt scared and lonely and needy and desperate for you and for you to tell me I’m a good girl and take care of me and be my d - be dominant with me.”

Your breathing quickened as you talked and Bradley felt you getting more worked up. He rubbed his hands across your back, hoping it would soothe the ache inside of you, if only a little bit. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, kid.”

i need you i need you i need you i need you bradley bradley bradley bradley

You sniffled. “I guess I just didn’t think - I mean, I knew other people would see it - and I did think that was kind of hot, especially when you called me out for it - it was only after, when I’d realized what I’d done that I saw how embarrassing it was for you.

“Like Joe from Comms being like hey, did you know Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s girlfriend is a horny, pathetic, subby mess for him? You gotta see it, man. She couldn’t even make it three months without getting fucked. He can’t even take care of his g -”

“- Stop it.” Bradley grabbed your chin. “You know that’s not true.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “But I was already feeling shitty about my mom and being so busy at work and how I loo -” you broke off and Bradley desperately wanted you to finish the thought. “I guess it all caught up to me.”

“But I wrote back. I wrote back and told you everything I wanted you to hear and what you needed to hear. And god, I’d do it again, I’d do it in a heartbeat if it brought you comfort and I probably should’ve done it sooner.”

nothing stretches me out like you do, nothing makes me feel as small as you do, nothing makes me flush like the sound of your voice against my neck as i come, nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do

You squeezed your arms around his stomach and breathed him in. God, he loved you so much, he’d say anything and do anything to make you realize that.

“I needed it, what you wrote me, and I needed to tell you what I said, but I should’ve waited so, I’m sorry, can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, kid. You message me when you need me, no matter how.” He kissed your temple. “I know we’ve never really talked about how that part of our relationship would work while I was gone, so maybe next time we just make a plan?”

You nodded. “I’d like that. I know it’s not like that all the time between us, so I didn’t even think of it before you left.”

“I hadn’t either,” he confessed.

Long distance d/s relationship reddit would be Bradley’s best friend over the next few days. Neither of you would have to go through that again, not if he had something to say about it. The whole idea of not being allowed to use anything besides your fingers to masturbate was a good start, but it was just that - a start. Because like you’d said, you two weren’t in that dynamic all the time, but you both needed it. It was new for both of you. You’d just have to come up with a list together.

But just to give you a little encouragement in the meantime…

“And let’s not forget…” You peered up at him. “You did tell me you read my email seven times…”

You giggled and shoved his shoulder. “Might’ve been an understatement.”

“Oh?”

“I think I came three times that first night alone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmhm.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and played with the ends of his hair. “‘Kept picturing you in your bunk writing it while fisting your cock. And then I was laying next to you in your bunk - and it had to be a secret. I had to keep quiet - just like at Thanksgiving - and not make a peep.”

“But you don’t like to be quiet…”

He crowded you against the island and rolled his hips against yours. The thin fabric of his joggers did little to hide how much he desired you, especially after the conversation you’d just had.

His subby little girlfriend. God, he couldn’t wait to take you apart bit by bit later.

Now say thank you Bradley. Good girl.

Though, that’s not to say that you couldn’t partake in a little preview now. Bradley’s lips crashed against yours, caught up in the furor and headiness of it all, and your body melted against his. Three months later and you still responded so well to him. Your breathy little sighs as he bit your lip and pressed countless kisses along your jawline and neck sounded like heaven. You smelled so sweet, tasted so sweet, felt so sweet - he kissed you again, coaxing your mouth back open.

“Bradley, bubs, I -” you gasped against his lips, “I need to turn the stove off if we’re going to -”

Without taking his lips off yours, Bradley reached behind his back and turned off the gas burner. The garlic still sizzled in the pan, but now without the risk of burning the house down. You could put fresh garlic on later, now he just wanted you.

His hands went back to their place on your hips before the left slid underneath your oxford and up your body. You stiffened slightly, but welcomed his touch, if only for a moment before you pulled back from him.

“We have to - I have to finish dinner.” He nodded, albeit reluctantly. You pecked his lips again.

There was something deeply erotic about waiting - even if it was just for a couple of hours.

Where are you going to have me first?

In our bed, in our house, after you make me dinner in our kitchen.

Bradley cleared his throat. “You said you wanted to talk about another email? The one about your dream, right? The one with our kid.”

It felt right saying it - our kid.

God, Bradley, I wish you were here right now so you could hold me and tell me you loved me because I just want to feel your arms around me and know you’re real. I want to tell you about the little boy - the perfect mix of me and you

“We can wait until dinner - or even after dinner, if you want?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond. “I’m sorry I’m dropping all this on you. I know you’ll say otherwise, but I shouldn’t have done this right when you came home - the dryer hasn’t even finished your first load yet. I know you’re exhausted and definitely have your own stuff to work through after being gone and we should be having sex on the floor or over the arm of the couch, not listening to me blubber -”

Bradley shook his head and interrupted you. He didn’t want to give you another moment to doubt yourself.

“- Hey, hey. I wanna talk about the heavy stuff with you, it’s okay. And I’d rather we do it now so we can really enjoy these next few days together - and maybe then have sex on the floor and over the arm of the couch. I don’t want this hanging over your head, kid.

“And you’re not alone in thinking about that over the last few months - it’s probably been even longer for me…”

You wiped at the tears pooling in your eyes. “Really?”

“You know you’re it for me, kid.” Have been since our fourth date went unsaid. “So, come on, walk me through it.”

You leaned against the back counter near the stove, while Bradley mirrored you against the island. You sighed.

“I love you so much - sometimes I’m scared that I love you this much and that it’s not quite been a year since we met. And I never thought I’d be so heart achingly in love with someone in the Navy, of all things, and just - sometimes it hits me that you’re not even fully mine? That a part of you will always want to be in the sky or out at sea because you have this other entity that tells you what to do? And when to do it and what to wear and how you should act? Where you’re Rooster and not my Bradley?”

Bradley frowned at the use of his callsign coming from your lips. It didn’t feel right, it didn’t sound right. He didn’t want to be Rooster around you. He liked that he didn’t have to be Rooster around you.

“And it makes me absolutely crazy because you love it and you’re not going to stop - and you shouldn’t stop, not for me! But, god, Bradley, sometimes I want to shake you and hold you down and beg you to stay. Like that fucking story.” You wiped your eyes.

“It’s all I wanted to tell you when I had that dream. About how I want you to come home so badly. I want you to stay here with me forever and never leave and to have that cute little boy who was the perfect mix of me and you and to have you here in my arms every night. And I know it’s selfish of me to ask or even make you think about it, but I want you right here. I don’t want you looking at the sky when you’re here and wanting to be up there. And I know you don’t either, Bradley. You give everything to everyone, you don’t do things by halves.”

You both stood there, Bradley stunned by your words, and you, seemingly stunned that you’d actually said them. He took a step towards you, but didn’t cross that final barrier to touch you. He remembered highlighting a particular passage from the story in his response back to you and how he never wanted you to feel the same way as Lily. He didn’t want to let it - flying, the Navy, all of it get a hold of him.

“Don’t ever be a Rocket Man.” I stopped. “I mean it,” he said. “Because when you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. Don’t start that. Don’t let it get hold of you.” “But-“ “You don’t know what it is. Every time I’m out there I think, If I ever get back to Earth I’ll stay there; I’ll never go out again. But I go out, and I guess I’ll always go out.”

You sniffled and wiped your eyes on your sleeve. “And I was so scared when you didn’t get back to me right away. Thought I’d scared you off…” You glanced down at the floor and played with your bracelet. It looked so fragile and dainty on your wrist. “I think I wrote five different responses to you after - deleted all of them.”

Bradley nudged your foot with his own and got you to look up at him. Even though it felt like his tattoo was burning into his skin - xxxix, xxxix, xxxix, the number ran through his head constantly as of late - he tried to put on a brave face. Everything you were saying was what he had been mulling over for the last three months. Thousands of miles apart and you both were still so in-sync. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“You turned my life on its head when you sent me that story.” Even weeks later, he was still in disbelief. “And I know it wouldn’t have changed anything - not really - but I kept - I keep wondering how my dad would’ve reacted to it? Or my mom? I don’t think it would’ve made anything different, but just knowing about it? Because I don’t want us to have kids and still be a ‘rocket man.’ I don’t want them - that little boy in your dream - to wonder if I want to be up in the sky more than I want to be with him. And be with you. I want to be around, I want to be their dad and your husband. I love it, I love flying. But I don’t love it more than being with you and having a family with you. I don’t want to die in an F18 with a family at home.”

You let out a sob and he wrapped his arms around you and slowly swayed you from side to side. “Kid, I got six more years and then I’m all yours.” He could feel your tears seeping into his shirt as you cried. “It’s like what I said after you sent me that story - I don’t want our kids chasing ghosts. Not like I did.”

“You’d give us your wild?” you whispered.

Bradley nodded and felt his own eyes welling up. “I want us to have what my mom and I didn’t. And it’s not that my mom wasn’t enough, but there was always a piece missing for both of us - Maverick, too.” You wiped the tears away from his eyes. “I love you, so, so much, kid. You know I’m gonna marry you. And I just want to be yours when it comes time for us to have a family.”

Honestly, it was a relief that you’d brought all this up. It only reaffirmed the thought that had been bouncing around Bradley’s head lately.

You two wouldn’t have kids until he was out of the Navy.

There were six years until Bradley could put in his twenty years and retire. It was a little fucked, honestly, and he was sure his therapist would have plenty to say about it. But why not avoid something that could end in tragedy for everyone involved?

Why run the risk?

Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

And he knew his logic wasn’t exactly sound. It didn’t entirely make sense even to himself. There would be plenty of times over the next six years where he could get into an accident or not come home from a mission. He understood that.

Except, currently, there wasn’t a kid waiting at home for him. There wasn’t a three year old Bradley waiting at home and being told by his mom that his dad wasn’t coming home. He knew that if you had a family, it would be harder for you to move on if something happened to him. And he didn’t want to put you and any future little nuggets through that. He didn’t want to be a rocketman with them.

Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

He wasn’t going to do that to your family. So, why not just wait to have a family until after he got out of the Navy? It seemed obvious. Perfectly so. The words had been ready to pour out of his mouth, except you beat him to it.

“I know,” your cleared the scratchiness out of your throat, “we talked about waiting to have kids until a couple years after we get married, but if you want to wait until you retire, we’ll do it. And then we’ll get all of you. I want to do everything with you, Bradley.”

Give you my wild, give you a child.

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and squeezed you hard. “I love you, I love you, I love you. God, I love you so much.” He kissed your forehead and cheeks and lips and tried his damndest to pour all the love he had for you into it.

“I love you, too, Bradley,” you said simply.

And maybe it wasn’t exactly healthy to wait and almost be consumed by this desperate need to control both your lives and have a countdown clock to when everything would be okay. Because maybe things wouldn’t be okay in six years? And maybe you and Bradley would get in a car accident tomorrow or maybe you both would have trouble having kids or or or…

But Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

He would need to talk about this with his therapist at some point. The therapist the Navy gave him eighteen months ago after he ‘recklessly’ went back to save Maverick. The therapist that he just never stopped seeing even though he was cleared from last April.

“We’re a bit of a mess, aren’t we?” Bradley asked after a moment.

You pulled back. “Maybe? And maybe it’s a little extreme for both of us to think like that, but we’ll make it work, okay? However we have to, we’ll make it work for us.” You punctuated your words with a quick kiss over his heart.

“Oh dear,” you said suddenly. Bradley tensed up. “I got tears on your shirt.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, I know you can afford to get me a new one.” You shoved his shoulder and you both laughed. And just like that, the mood was lifted.

Bradley had been right earlier - he felt lighter. You looked lighter. And that wasn’t to say that you’d looked gloomy or upset or scared before, but your shoulders weren’t as tense and you kept smiling, at him, at whatever you were cooking, at nothing.

This could be his life every night. You could be together like this forever. Cooking dinner side by side, talking about where the mail should go (it very much was not on the hall table, that was for damn sure), complaining about Mr. Harrington next door or arguing over who should vacuum. All the little things that made that big life together. The one you both wanted so badly.

And contrary to your earlier statement, you did make you and Bradley another drink before dinner. In fact, it probably was what gave you the courage to attempt to flip the chicken in the saucepan like a regular José Andrés. (Even more surprising was the fact that you didn’t drop any.)

Once the potatoes finished, you swapped them in the oven for the asparagus, hoping the former would cool while the latter was roasting. All the while, you talked Bradley through everything - how much oil you added to the asparagus, where you’d gotten the potatoes, and the recipe for the chocolate cake you’d made for dessert.

It was - well, Bradley didn’t really have a word for what it was. His first thought was how nice it was seeing you so confident and capable and proud of yourself. But his second thought was that it was also oddly stirring seeing you do all this for him while he just watched.

Watched his pretty little girlfriend bopping around the kitchen, bopping around the house making sure everything was perfect for him. All you needed was a pretty little dress and a string of pearls to match your earrings. His pretty little housewife. Mrs Bradshaw. Bent over the kitchen island, wearing nothing but a frilly white apron and a pearl necklace as he fucked you from behind -

“All set!” Your cheerful voice interrupted Bradley’s fantasy before it could really start. He had zoned out while you’d been prattling on about the herb cutting scissors you wanted to get at Crate & Barrel. “Shall we?”

Bradley readjusted himself before getting up from his seat and helping you bring the drinks and serving dishes into the dining room.

Mrs Bradshaw.

-----------------

“So, how is it?” you asked once the food had been served and the wine had been poured. You had your chin propped up on your fist as you watched Bradley take the first few, slow bites of food.

It was good. It was more than good, it was excellent. It was hot and perfectly seasoned and all the textures were just right. And it wasn’t just because he’d been on an aircraft carrier, eating out of the officer’s mess everyday. Because the food was actually pretty good on the carrier and the Aussies had even treated him to a couple meals.

But he wouldn’t be Bradley and you wouldn’t be you if he didn’t mess with you a little. He tilted his head back and forth, trying to look like he was mulling it over. “It’s good…”

You nudged his foot under the table once you saw the smile threatening to break out on his face. “You ass.” The words lacked any heat.

Bradley took another bite of potatoes before speaking. “It’s really good, kid, seriously. You killed it. Seemed like you really enjoyed it, too.”

“I did,” you nodded, “I just always used to be so nervous I’d undercook something and make everyone sick, you know? Or that people would be lying to me about the food and that it was burnt or under-seasoned or something? But those lessons really helped and made me more confident, which is exactly why you gave them to me, so thank you.”

Maybe it wasn’t exactly why he had given them to you, but…

“You’re very welcome.”

Dinner continued on with only light hearted conversation after that. What Reuben and Bob were planning for their leave (Reuben and his wife were going up the coast for a mini-break and then building out the nursery for their baby, while Bob was going home to see his parents), the work you had to finish up before your trip, and what you both were hoping to get out of your vacation (good food, a tan, reading plenty of books, and having copious amounts of sex).

All the while, Bradley had another helping of everything, except the potatoes, of which he had two additional helpings - you refrained from seconds entirely. You two must have sat at the table for over two and a half hours, talking and eating and laughing. It was perfect. Bradley helped you bring the dishes back into the kitchen; both of you were more than happy to deal with them a little later.

And then there was the dessert. The chocolate cake looked heavenly - Ina’s recipe, of course - and you asked Bradley if he wanted an espresso martini to wash it down.

“What? ‘You trying to get me drunk?”

You put your hand over your heart. “I would never! Though, I know your tolerance might be a little shot. Did that affect your stamina, too?”

“Ha, ha, ha hilarious.” He took the cake plate and knife from you while you went over to the bar to make the martinis. “I’ll have you know that the Aussies were very accommodating hosts.”

“The Aussies, huh?”

Bradley shrugged. It wouldn’t be an issue to tell you now, not after he’d been dying to mention it for the past few weeks. “It’s not classified or anything, they just don’t like us talking about it in the moment.”

“Wait,” you came back into the dinning room with a coupe half filled in your right hand. “Did you go to Australia?”

“Possibly…” You shot him a look. “We do this joint training exercise with them every year. Last year was my first year.”

“That’s so cool! Did you spend much time actually on land or…” You went back to preparing the drinks and tossed your next question over your shoulder. “When was it? I think I saw something about it in the news.”

“After you got back from London. It was just a week for the actual exercise, but there were a lot of meetings in the lead up, we did a couple war-games, too. We were mainly in New South Wales with the aviators, but went up to the North Western Territory for the actual exercises.”

Last year, Bradley hadn’t had the opportunity to really get too involved in the planning aspects and being on base - his promotion hadn’t come through yet, so he had been just a lowly lieutenant - but his elevated rank granted him that privilege this year.

“Wait, that’s so cool, I’ll have to read up on it more! I definitely remember hearing about it on the news, should’ve made the connection.” You came back over with the drinks. “How were the other pilots? This isn’t going to be some Manchurian Candidate bullshit, is it?”

Bradley barked out a laugh. “Nah, that’ll be Bob.”

“Did it have a fun name? They always seem to!”

Bradley took a sip of his martini. Damn it was delicious. “Exercise Talisman Sabre - R-E. You want me to cut the cake?”

You nodded. Bradley pulled the cake stand closer to his seat. The cake was stunning. The frosting was definitely homemade and the white piping on the top looked perfect. “‘You take a picture of it yet?”

“Of the cake?”

“Gotta commemorate this, it’s gorgeous. Need one with you, too!” You smiled bashfully as Bradley snapped a couple pics with his phone and then put it face-up on the table. The picture of the two of you at your Christmas party before his deployment smiled back up at him.

You sat back down in your chair. “Here’s hoping it tastes just as good.”

There would still be plenty of cake for leftovers, but Bradley thought the two of you deserved a little something extra tonight and measured the first piece a little bigger than he normally would.

“Oh. You can have that one. I’ll take a smaller piece.” He went to cut another piece, slightly smaller than his. “Little smaller.” He kept scooching the knife closer and closer for your approval until it was only about a third of the size of his piece. “That’s perfect, thanks.”

You took a huge first bite of cake and Bradley did the same. “Oh, god. It’s so good,” he said. “I need the recipe so I can make this every week.”

Your fork froze midair for a moment, before you took a slightly smaller piece this time. “I don’t know if I can handle this every week...” You chuckled.

Bradley moaned. “But the ganache! The whipped frosting on the top! Sweetheart, it’s so good. The world cannot be deprived of its beauty.”

That got a proper laugh out of you. “‘You writing sonnets about cake now?”

“I’ll write sonnets about you, this cake, anything you want, you got me in a good mood, kid.” He licked the frosting off his fork and then went back in for the final two bites.

“That might just be the martini talking, bubs. Here,” you slid your barely eaten plate over towards him, “you can have the rest of mine.”

Bradley frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I had extra batter and made some cupcakes. Had one this morning. I’m chocolate cake’d out.”

He was a little dubious since you loved chocolate cake, but took your words at face value.

“But first,” you swiped some extra frosting off your plate and streaked it across Bradley’s cheek, “you got a little something on your face, bubs.”

“Oh no,” he laid it on thick, “guess you’ll have to come over here and help me clean it off.”

In a flash, you were on him - arms wrapped around his neck, legs astride his thigh. Your feet remained firmly on the ground, but Bradley wanted all your weight on him, reminding him that he was here in the house you shared and not back in his bunk on the carrier.

“There we go.” You swiped the frosting off his cheek and sucked the excess off your finger. “My pretty boy again.”

He smiled. “You say that like you haven’t wanted to fuck me since we got home.”

Your jaw dropped at his words. “I’m trying to draw out the anticipation!” Bradley squeezed your hips and you shifted your weight on his thigh. This time your words came out quieter. “Thought you wanted me in our bed the first time back?” You pressed light kisses across his neck and jawline until you nipped at his ear. “The same bed I’ve been getting myself off in every night since I brought my stuff over.”

“But just like I asked, right? Just your fingers?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You ducked your head at the praise and then pulled yourself even closer to him before capturing his lips in a deep kiss. You tasted like espresso and chocolate and Bradley wanted to take you right there on the dining room table with little regard for the state of his stem and dish-ware. Slowly, you rocked your body on his lap and let out a breathy gasp against his lips. The seam on your jeans must have been driving you absolutely crazy, but you didn’t let up. And, frankly, Bradley didn’t want you to - all he wanted right now was to keep kissing you, keep pressing his chest against yours, keep grabbing at your hips over your shirt. Except that soon wasn’t enough.

He slipped his hand underneath your shirt and went straight for your lace bra. He smiled against your lips. Good girl. You wore his favorite one. His hand slid lower to drag his fingers across the soft skin of your stomach and side. God, you were so warm. So soft. But he couldn’t linger on the spot for too long after you pushed his hand away and gestured for him to get up.

Without separating yourselves for too long, you and Bradley made your way from making out on his dining table chair to making out on the couch. You were on your back, half wedged between the back cushion, and entirely under Bradley’s bulk.

God, had he missed this. Touching you, kissing you, holding you, fucking you. You’d already talked for hours, now he wanted to kiss you for them.

The couch felt ten times more inviting with you now than it had earlier in the evening when it had just been Bradley. Because now he had you underneath him with your head on the throw pillows he had made note of earlier, now the candles on the coffee table were lit and were the perfect complement to your perfume, and now the cashmere blanket he had always loved was half draped over you both.

This was where you’d watch movies together at night, where you’d open Christmas presents, where you’d ride him after a long day at work, where you’d have meals with the news on in the background, where your kids would watch TV.

“I love you,” you rasped against his lips. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeated.

It could have been twenty minutes or an hour later, but now the two of you were just laying side by side on the couch. You were wrapped in Bradley’s arms, nestled against his chest, where you had been pressing little kisses against his neck for the last five minutes. Occasionally, you’d play with the ends of his hair or drag your finger across the scars on his neck.

Bradley pressed a light kiss to your temple. “This has been really nice, thank you. I’ve never had someone to come home to - not like this.”

You tilted your head up and bit your lip, looking adorably flustered. “I always want to be here when you come home. And I wanted to do something nice for you, make you happy.”

“You made me very happy, always do.”

“Always, huh?” you teased. You kissed his neck. Nipped at his neck.

Bradley mimicked your tone. “Well, not when I saw the way you put the mail on the hall table…”

“You gonna punish me?” There was a little glint in your eyes as you said it.

While the idea had plenty of merit, Bradley didn’t want that tonight, he wanted everything to be soft and slow, so he could really get his fill of you. Plus, you’d be so fucking tight for him, so responsive to his touch, he wanted to make that drag out as long as possible. He wanted you to babble, he wanted you to beg.

“Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow if you’re good for me?” He pinched your side and you let out a giggle and then suddenly sat up on the couch, almost startled.

“I should do the dishes, don’t want to leave them for too long. You can head upstairs, though.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You sure you don’t need any help?” he said the last word through a yawn.

“Nope!” You smiled over your shoulder and headed off to the kitchen. “You’re off the hook. I’m gonna finish putting these in the dishwasher and lock-up while you go upstairs and get ready, okay?”

Bradley scrunched his nose. “Is this gonna be a normal thing? You doing all the housework? Because that’s not gonna slide, roomie.”

“Oh, so I’m just your roommate now?” you teased. You bent over the dishwasher to put some larger plates in the back. “I see how it is, Bradshaw.”

He doubled back over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Got a feeling you’re gonna be my last one,” he murmured against your neck before he pressed kisses against it.

It was like you melted against him. God, you smelled so pretty and tasted so pretty and looked so pretty and sounded so pretty giggling. And Bradley had never felt so welcomed home before. He couldn’t wait to do this with you every night.

“Bradley,” you sighed and turned around to face him. “The sooner you let me finish, the sooner I can come upstairs…” You pecked him on the lips.

Upstairs. Where Bradley would take care of you.

Take care of you. Take you. Take you take you take you -

He groaned and gave you a longer kiss. “Okay, okay, okay.” He kissed you between each word. “But this is the last time you’re getting away with this...”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You kissed him again. “Now go! Get into something comfortable, powder your nose, touch up your hair -”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he promised. “Don’t be too long, we can always do everything tomorrow morning.”

You waved him off good-naturedly and went about setting the kitchen to rights. Bradley smiled at the sight of you already appearing so at home in his house - your house and headed upstairs. With startling alacrity despite the numerous drinks he’d had and the late hour, Bradley quickly brushed his teeth, did his skincare routine, and turned down the bed for your arrival.

Even a floor apart, he could still hear the sounds of you puttering around downstairs. If he concentrated really hard, he could imagine exactly what you were doing.

You had just opened the silverware drawer, probably had just washed and dried something - oh right, he had noticed you used the hand-wash-only salad tongs for the asparagus. Then you opened the tupperware cabinet and got out some snapware and eventually opened the freezer, putting the leftover chicken piccata away for another meal. Then there was the sound of the cake plate on the granite countertop and more snapware. He was still surprised you hadn’t eaten much cake, much of any of the food really, but chalked it up to nerves or excitement at his homecoming.

With a sigh, Bradley laid back against the fluffy pillows lining the headboard. God, he had missed this. His high thread count sheets, your fancy Laundress detergent, his side of the bed - and more importantly, you being on the other side. He stretched and let out a groan, getting comfortable.

This was perfect. He was home - in the house you now shared. You were going to come upstairs - probably in some cute little outfit - and give him a proper welcome home. Bradley bet you even got a new matching set just for the occasion. The two of you had gotten all the tough conversations out of the way - for the most part - so now you could really enjoy these next few days together before your trip.

And Bradley was so excited to go to Punta Mita with you. You had done such an amazing job planning everything. He had done some additional research on his flight home earlier and definitely wanted to hit up the spa and maybe sneak in a round of golf over the ten day trip. Plus, you definitely had the cutest fucking outfits planned. He always liked that, imagining what you were wearing while he was gone. The sporadic pictures hadn’t been enough. You always looked so pretty and he always needed to tell you.

Pretty, pretty, pretty. His pretty girlfriend. Downstairs, making sure everything was all set. He yawned. Mmmmm, he hoped you’d be upstairs soon. His eyelids were getting heavy.

And it was so warm and comfy and his stomach was full and everything smelled so good and he was here.

Finally, he was here with you.

In your house, talking about your future.

Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a few minutes. Maybe if he just took a quick nap…

a/n - sorry for the cliff hanger, but it's the PERFECT spot for a break! next part will have that first night back AND the lead up to their trip, which will be in the final part! couldn't have gotten this done without all the encouraging messages and texts over the last few weeks - special shout out to @sometimesanalice @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @ofstoriesandstardust @cherrycola27 @heartsofminds and @greenorangevioletgrass xxjordan

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun imagine #rooster x reader #bradley fic

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