#idk how to write shorter fics jesus christ

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 15 - Dirty talk

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: fingering, penetration, teasing, dirty talk, a little praise

word count: 1625

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

It was a huge relief, after the mission. You got to watch Maverick relax for the first time in weeks. The stress that had been very visibly plaguing his existence had finally gone. Watching his regular demeanor return more and more each passing day was a treat. You loved him, you loved seeing him smile, but it also came with extra perks. Now able to settle in at home with you more comfortably, Maverick was touching you a lot. Coming up behind you, kissing you for longer periods of time, purposely pressing himself against you in bed.

He was being a tease.

Waiting for you to cave first.

But two can play that game. That’s why now, after a very romantic dinner on the porch, you’re ignoring Maverick’s very suggestive stare from across the table. He watches from under his eyebrows, a slight curve pulling at the corner of his lips as you ramble about something he’s unintentionally tuning out. And maybe that was your goal, to get him absolutely entranced with some food and his favorite wine and you purposely dressing in something you know drives him wild.

You’re sure you’ve won the game when he suddenly stands, but then he dramatically stretches his arms above his head, feigning exhaustion. He makes some comment about cleaning up and heading to bed, but you can surely swear that the sudden smirk on his face as he picks up the plates and wanders inside has something to do with the brief discontent on your face.

You’re not gonna beat him at his own game, are you?

Huffing, you stand and help clean up. Maybe once you’re settled in bed, you’ll make a silly comment about how his age is starting to show. That will surely get him to crack, you think, what with his constant need to take a challenge and all.

After cleaning, your plotting follows you to your bedroom, where Maverick is already taking his shirt off for comfort. You try not to stare, try to continue playing hard to get, but that’s incredibly difficult at the sight of his spotted skin. Bruises, blotches of purple and red, litter his torso. Even after a week post-mission, they’re only starting to lighten up. 

“Like what you see?” he suddenly remarks, throwing you off guard.

“No,” you immediately bite, eyes darting away to resume your little game.

He smiles, playful. “Seems I’ve got you a little riled up, no?”

You focus on removing your own top, whether that be to initiate something or to simply change into PJs. You shrug, matching his smile. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maverick’s eyebrow cocks, a silent Challenge accepted. 

He’s biting back a grin when he launches himself after you, pinning you to the mattress with ease. You pretend to fight him off, mostly just squirming as he presses his body to yours. His solid warmth is comforting for a quick second, until it’s not, his hips rutting up against yours. The sensation wipes the smile right off your face. Maverick stares as he repeats the motion, teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip. The hard material of his jeans sends a pleasing jolt up your body. He grinds against you once more, the material rough against your inner thighs, and you whine quietly. 

“You done pretending?” he asks, his voice soft but patronizing.

“You’re imagining things,” you contend, eager to rile him up just to see where it takes you. 

“I don’t think I am.”

You stare up at him, trying to give him that very defying look he likes giving everybody else. “You are.”

Maverick continues to stare, and then his face softens. Above you, he leans down and gently presses his lips to yours. You giggle internally. Success. You’ve fucking got him. Soft lips tenderly move yours, calloused hands placed on your ribs, massaging at your skin. He’s got such a way of kissing you. It’s always deep, no matter the pace. Almost hypnotizing. That’s why you jerk in surprise when his hand is suddenly down your pants, the trailing of his fingers alone sending tingles up your body.

You gasp against his mouth, and he pulls away to watch your face as the pad of his middle finger parts you open.

You try to hold back your whimpers as he prods at your slit, bringing his finger up to his tongue and then back down to rub in circles. The bit of spit immediately helps slick you up, and his finger slips inside. He watches you with an innocent look on his face, like he’s still winning the game somehow. And maybe he is, with the way you’re desperately bucking against his hand. 

“Doin’ alright, honey?” he asks, tone as innocent as the look on his face—funnily enough—as his finger works in and out of you. 

You breathe out, slightly exasperated at his pace. He always does this; always likes to take his time loosening you up. Likes talking and frustrating you so that you grow needier. It’s a very torturous tradition. But it is pleasureful. 

Maverick notices the strained look on your face, raises his brows when a second finger elicits a sharp noise out of you. “You look frustrated.”

“You’re teasing me,” you whine, wrapping a hand around his free arm and squeezing.

“I’m not,” he insists. 

“Please, just—” 

Wrist slightly strained, he removes his fingers and waits for you to finish. “Please what?”

“Pete.”

He hums, his hand coming out of your pants to pull them down. Chills run up your exposed legs at the cool air in the room, Maverick’s warmth no longer covering you as he sits back to pull the rest of his clothes off. 

Forgetting all about your little game, you reach up for him with grabby hands as he settles in next to you. His hard cock presses against your thigh as he brings you close, your hips sputtering against him for contact. He’s seemingly amused at your enthusiasm, but his demeanor changes when he’s got you flush against him. 

There’s a very intense intimacy that comes with almost everything he does. The kiss, the talking, now this. You’re nearly breathless as you face him, faces inches apart, his expression serious and soft all at once. He likes watching you, that you know, his lips parted as he slowly stretches you around the tip of his dick. It’s little by little that he starts to push in, feeling your body tense in the one arm he’s got wrapped around you. 

A hot, blazing blush spreads in your cheeks. His gaze is overwhelming and just as intense as everything else. You try to hold eye contact as he pushes in more and more, until his hips finally meet yours. His cock fully inside you, you shudder. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, leaning to kiss your collarbone. 

Whines stuck in your throat, you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. 

He groans then, the noise right in your ear. “You feel good.”

The tight knot inside you tenses even more at his voice, so soft compared to the filthy, delicious ache down below. 

Maverick holds you tight when he starts rocking up into you, slowly at first. He gradually picks up the pace as he feels your body’s responses, eager and aching for him. Fingernails dig into his back, a frustrated whine finally escaping you. He’s hitting the perfect spot inside you, but not fast enough. And he seems to be doing it purposely. 

“Right there?” he asks, guiltless. 

“Harder,” you plead through heavy pants, clutching at him.

A sharp snap of his hips. You wail out. He gives you a long, wet kiss, pulls back and then snaps his hips again. 

“More, more, more,” you chant, head thrown back, exposing your neck to him.

He leans down to nip at your skin and trail his tongue along it when his pace finally meets your needs. Hard, heated thrusts. The sound fills the room, along with his breathy groans, and your spill of cries and incoherent mumbling. 

“You wanted this tonight, didn’t you?” he asks against your neck. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “Yes, yes.”

“I know,” he murmurs, his hands roughly adjusting you by your hips to fuck into you at a better angle. “I know you did, baby.”

“Oh, God,” you cry, moans trapped in your throat. 

“I always know.”

Fucking Christ. Him and his ego. Too bad you’re too out of it to even argue with him, the pleasure licking up your body like fire. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, a little bit more,” he urges, voice just above a whisper. “Just… ah, just a little.”

“Pete—I,” you stutter, the feeling in your abdomen threatening to spill.

His pace doesn’t falter, and he doesn’t slow. His thrusts do get a bit sloppy, but that’s from the angle, your bodies grooving together with every sharp motion. 

“Let it go, come on,” he coaxes, hands rubbing up and down your waist. “Let me feel you.”

The orgasm is earth-shattering, Maverick’s voice ringing in your ears as everything around you blurs in white hot bliss. He holds you through it, arms pulling you as close as can be. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, loud and pounding, just as yours is. Your cries are silenced by his mouth on yours, a soft and languid kiss.

Savoring the feeling, he grins against your lips. “I won.”

Even in the middle of the very overwhelming wave of pleasure, you pull back, perplexed. “You won what?” 

He tries to catch his breath. “The whole thing we had going on.”

He’s not serious. 

“Pete, you literally initiated this.”

Tongue in cheek, he visibly thinks about it. “I’m pretty sure it was you.”