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“Oh, Jesus Christ, Mav, this is not what I signed up for.”
Nick “Goose” Bradshaw stood stock still in front of the brick building. If Maverick didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought it was shell shock by the way that Goose’s eyes had gone glassy, as if he wasn’t truly seeing what was in front of them. Goose, the best damn RIO in the program, who faced off a MiG without breaking a sweat, was suddenly intimidated by a damn bar.
Maverick crossed his arms and pouted, but the action didn’t seem to reach Goose. “You said you’d go out with me tonight.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean--” Goose gulped, audibly gulped, and Maverick had to restrain the intense urge to roll his eyes. “--this!” he exclaimed, gesturing openly at the nondescript bar in front of them.
Maverick did roll his eyes at that and Goose, ever observant, narrowed his. “This is risky, even for you, Mav,” he said, sincerity creeping into his voice that made Maverick’s heart clench up. “You know it is.”
Goose’s eyes were full of worry, the Mother Goose that had protected Maverick time and time again shining through, and Maverick was about ready to just call it a night and get back onto his motorcycle. But another part of him, the part of him that buzzed towers and flipped off MiGs-- that crazy, impulsive, and probably stupid part of him was screaming. That little voice inside his head-- that quite honestly wasn’t that little-- knocked at the inside of his forehead, begging to be let out. Just this once. Just this one time, while they were young and stupid and in the middle of San Diego. Before TOPGUN started, before the competition, before everything. His heart ached for one night of normalcy, one night where he could have fun with Goose. One night where Goose could see him as he truly was.
“Come on, Goose, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few fairies,” he teased, and Goose’s face softened.
“You know it’s not like that, Mav,” he said, and his voice was so soft his heart ached. “You know it’s not.”
Maverick knew it wasn’t. Of course he knew. There was a reason that Mother Goose had earned his call sign, after all. In their first real squadron, Maverick had been a bit too drunk and perhaps shared some, er, confidential information with one Nick Bradshaw. Bradshaw, being the absolute saint that he was, had dragged Maverick home and thrown him in the shower to sober up. Half an hour later, shivering even in Nick’s sweats and old hoodie, Maverick stumbled into the living room where Nick had been pacing circles into the floor.
Nick had stopped once Maverick plopped down on the couch, worried eyes meeting his own. He wrapped his arms around himself as the memories from the bar filtered back through the haze in his brain. The shower had sobered him up, sure, but Maverick wasn’t sure he was capable of rational thought at that moment. He racked his brain for a reason why Nick had dragged him back from the O Club. Sure, he was drunk, but he wasn’t that wasted. There had been some singing, flirting with the girls around the place, and then he had slung his arm around Nick’s shoulder, and starting saying--
Oh God.
Nick seemed to notice the moment that Maverick had become fully aware of the situation, saw the panic in his eyes and immediately rushed towards him. “Oh, Jesus, man, it’s alright,” he said, but Maverick could feel the panic start to rise. He had only known Nick for a month. Information about certain preferences wasn’t information he had shared with, well, anyone. His chest was heavy as he tried to suck in a breath, the world was slipping away, and the one thing that Maverick had ever wanted was going to be taken away from him--
“Pete.” A strong voice cut through the whirlwind of worry as Nick crouched in front of him. He had placed his hands on Maverick’s shoulders and the touch was comforting, grounding Maverick back into his body. “It’s alright, man. I’m not going to tell anyone.”
Maverick’s breath hitched in his throat. “You’re not?” he whispered.
Nick smiled softly. “Of course not,” he said. “Who you’re into doesn’t have any effect on how well you can fly. I couldn’t give any less of a shit if you like guys or girls or even both, I just had to get you out of there before someone--”
The rest of Nick’s sentence was cut off as Maverick launched himself at his RIO and wrapped him in a crushing hug. Maverick felt as Nick’s arms tentatively wrapped around his torso and hugged back. “Thank you,” Maverick whispered, and he could practically feel Nick’s smile.
“Of course.” He held Maverick for a moment longer. “Uh, kind of can’t breathe, buddy,” he said, and Maverick pulled back with a laugh.
“Sorry, man.”
“You’re good,” Nick replied.
They paused, and Maverick glanced down. His hand gravitated towards his dog tags, grounding him as he spoke again. “It’s both, by the way.”
When he finally got the courage to meet Nick’s eyes, he was smiling. “Both it is.”
From then on, Pete and Nick were inseparable. No matter what stupid shit Maverick got into, Nick was there to protect him, talk his way out of a fight, or, memorably, lie through his teeth in front of the whole squadron when a very angry admiral was searching for Maverick, who had been hiding in his locker. When Nick gave him a stern scolding and afterwards gave him an ice pack from when he banged his head on the locker, the name “Mother Goose” was born.
That same Goose stood in front of him now: his best friend, his partner in crime, perhaps the only person in Maverick’s life who knew him for all he was. Maverick couldn’t stand the hurt in Goose’s eyes so he instead wrapped him in a one-armed hug and ruffled his hair. “Of course I know, buddy. It’s just… this is the one time I’ll be able to do this, y’know? Before classes start and we have no responsibilities, I don’t want to give people anything to question. Just this once, I don’t have to worry. I can be who I am and not have to pretend.”
Goose stared at him for a moment, then slumped his shoulders. “Alright, Mav, you win this one. You owe me big,” he added and Maverick smirked as he headed towards the doors. Goose took one step and paused. “You know, if anyone sees us here, we are totally and utterly screwed.”
“No one’s going to see us!” Maverick chided, bumping his shoulder into Goose’s to earn one a reluctant smile. “We’re far away from base, in our civvies, plus, no one from TOPGUN is going to be hanging around a place like this.”
Goose sighed, but Maverick could see the mischief swirling in his eyes. “I don’t know, all those public showers seem pretty gay to me.”
Maverick cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’ve been eyeing me up in the showers, Bradshaw?”
A hearty laugh escaped Goose as he opened the door. “You shouldn’t ask that, Mitchell.”
“Then you shouldn’t tell.”
Maverick pushed open the door to the bar, Goose in step behind him. From first glance, it looked pretty average-- the same sort of shithole he and Goose usually frequented. The same dim lights, beat-up barstools, pool table crammed into the back corner of the bar. There was a dance floor with some pop song Maverick didn’t recognize playing over the speakers. The only difference, really, was the distinct lack of women.
“Why are there so many guys here?” Goose asked as they pushed their way towards the bar.
Maverick stopped and shot him a look. “Really?”
Goose paused and reality seemed to catch up with him. “Oh. Right.”
Maverick felt a laugh escape him as he pushed playfully at Goose, his RIO pushing back and smiling along with him. “Goose, you look like you’re in enemy territory.”
“I have no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to do here.”
“The same thing that we always do,” Maverick said as they reached the bar. “Get drunk and cause mayhem.”
“Now that I know how to do.”
The two of them ordered their drinks and milled around, taking in the sights of the bar around them. The more he looked around, the more Maverick realized the subtle signs of what this place really was-- as if the scantily clad men roaming around the dance floor didn’t say that enough. There were small rainbow flags at each of the tables, and Maverick had seen multiple men making out in the darkened corners of the bar. It was a terrifying time to be queer, but they had each managed in their own ways. Maverick couldn’t help but smile, a small sense of belonging ringing true in his chest. And there Goose was beside him, completely out of his comfort zone but still there for his best friend.
Maverick smiled widely and slung an arm around Goose, hugging him tight. Goose just looked up at him. “What’s this for?”
“Just happy,” Maverick responded, and he could feel the tension drain out of Goose’s shoulders at the words. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“Of course,” Goose said, and wrapped an arm around Maverick’s waist. “I like seeing you be yourself.”
Maverick said nothing, only squeezed Goose tighter and watched the bodies move like a giant wave on the dance floor. Then, disrupting their quiet moment, Goose asked, “Do you think people think we’re a couple?”
Maverick snorted and tousled Goose’s hair. “I don’t see you getting down on your knees for me anytime soon.”
“Oh, you’ve completely misread this dynamic here, mister,” Goose countered, grabbing his hand and dragging him onto the dance floor. “What makes you think you’d be in charge?”
“Oh, you know, only that I’m the damn pilot,” Maverick said as he fought his way through the thrum of bodies. “Kind of my job.”
“You don’t give me enough credit,” Goose pouted, but his troubles quickly dissolved as he and Maverick got lost in the pounding bass, the sway of the storm they were caught in. Maverick closed his eyes and allowed himself to be moved, allowed the tension to fade away as he danced with his best friend, forgetting all the responsibilities of who he was supposed to be. Here, he wasn’t a soldier or a pilot, a Naval officer or anyone with responsibilities. Here, he could get lost in the music and the pleasant buzz in his head-- no masks, no hiding.
---
“I don’t think I’ve ever been grinded on before,” Goose complained as they made their way back to the bar.
Maverick simply laughed and paid for their next round. “You’re eye candy here, man. They can’t keep their hands off of you.”
“If only they knew, this man is off the market,” he said, holding up his left hand to flash his wedding ring. Maverick rolled his eyes.
The rest of the night consisted of them sitting at the counter, watching the patrons of the club like they were in a nature documentary. Goose kept narrating their movements, making up stories for each of the men he saw. Maverick protested at first but then joined in, narrating in an Australian accent the imaginary story of a man who had just left behind his wife and son to travel the country and find his long-lost lover.
The shenanigans continued well into the night, and Maverick couldn’t have asked for anything better. But, as they were getting ready to leave, Maverick locked eyes with someone across the bar.
Goose must have noticed the hitch in his breath because he glanced in the man’s direction and blew out a low whistle. “Damn, Mav, I’m not into guys but you sure know how to pick ‘em.”
Maverick flushed but didn’t look away from the man. Short hair that was a bright blond at the ends, icy eyes that stared into Maverick’s soul. “Goose, we gotta stop acting like we’re an old married couple. I don’t want him to give the wrong impression.”
Goose snorted and clapped a hand on Maverick’s shoulder. “What, don’t wanna give me a big ol’ kiss?” The fucker even had the audacity to pucker his lips, and Maverick shoved him away.
“You are seriously hindering my ability to get laid tonight.”
Goose cocked his head. “I didn’t know that was the plan.”
“It wasn’t until now,” Maverick admitted and knocked back the rest of his beer.
“Twenty bucks says you can’t.” Maverick barked out a laugh but when he looked at Goose, nothing in his eyes was joking.
“Oh, you’re serious? You think I can’t pick him up?”
“I know you can’t,” Goose said, smiling.
“You’re on, you little shit,” he replied, clasping his RIO’s hand in a handshake, sealing the deal.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said airily, and turned to leave. Before he took a step, though, he looked back at Maverick with an open expression. “Be safe, Mav,” he said, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will, buddy,” he said, and he couldn’t help the grin that split onto his lips. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Goose beamed, before his smile turned a little mischievous. “Go get some dick.”
Maverick was sure Goose could hear the audible slap as he buried his head in his hands in embarrassment.
When Maverick raised his head and looked back down the bar, the blond stranger was gone. He fought the wave of disappointment that washed over him as he scanned the bar. Through the haze of smoke and bodies crowded around the bar, there was no way Maverick was going to be able to find him again. Mav sighed and downed the rest of his beer before turning and slapping a fiver on the bar for a tip.
Before he could take his hand away, though, a large hand covered his. Maverick looked up in shock, and there was the mystery man right next to him: ice blue eyes and sharp teeth as he grinned easily at Maverick.
“Let me,” he said, and pulled out his wallet instead to pay for Maverick’s drink. “He’ll have another,” he said and the bartender nodded, busying himself behind the bar.
“Thanks,” he said, truly taking in the stranger for the first time. His eyes met spiky hair dyed blond at the ends, brutally sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw. But most of all, his eyes. Piercing eyes stared back at him, and Maverick got the feeling that he was being inspected, sized up, like his chest had been cut open for this man to look at and see Maverick bare.
“Couldn’t help but notice that your friend left,” the man said and casually took a swig of his beer. “Thought you might be lonely with him gone.”
Maverick smiled and took the drink the bartender offered him. “Oh, it’s probably good he’s gone anyways. Had no idea what to do in a place like this.”
The stranger cocked an eyebrow. “And you do?”
There was no misinterpreting that look, Maverick thought, as those eyes burned him and very deliberately trailed down his body. A low heat pooled in his belly and he felt his cock twitch.
“Depends on who I’m with.”
The man paused at that, then grinned. “I’ve got a hotel room booked across the street,” he said, so low he almost couldn’t hear it, and Maverick didn’t miss the way those icy eyes flickered down to his lips.
“Do I get a name before I follow a random stranger into a hotel room?” he asked, and the man’s lips shifted into a predatory grin, sharp and wanting.
“Tom,” he said and finished off the last of his beer. “But my friends call me Ice.”
Maverick snorted. “‘Ice’, huh? How do you earn a name like that?”
Ice shrugged and leaned against the bar, showing off his muscles and the graceful curves of his body. He was fit, no doubt about it, his build not dissimilar to Maverick’s own. A flash of worry shot through Maverick’s mind before he pushed it back, disregarding the quite ridiculous possibility that this was someone from base. No Naval officer in his right mind would be caught in a place like this. It was a good thing that Maverick was already off his rocker.
“It’s a long story,” was all that he offered. “And what about you?”
Maverick nearly gave him his call sign before realizing just how obvious it would be that he was a pilot, and that was something he did not need to worry about right now. “Pete,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Pete,” Ice replied, then slipped something into Maverick’s pocket. “Room 423,” he said, voice low. “I’ll see you there.”
Ice then strutted out of the bar and there was no missing the way half the patron’s eyes followed him out. Maverick smiled to himself as he dug into his pocket and found a key.
---
Twenty minutes later, Maverick found himself hovering outside Room 423. His hand hung suspended in the air inches from the door, poised to knock if he could just get the courage to do so. Finally, taking a deep breath, he knocked three times in quick succession.
A few moments after, the door creaked open, and Ice stood in the doorway. He wore an easy smile and leaned against the doorframe, all ease and confidence where Maverick was nearly shaking with nervous energy. “So. You came.”
Maverick smiled uneasily. “So it would seem.”
Ice removed himself from the doorframe and stepped aside. “Come on in.”
The moment the door had closed, Ice had him crowded up against the wall. Maverick didn’t even bother fighting back, simply let the other man’s big body shield his own. He felt small as Ice caged him in— a part of him screamed at his utter lack of control, but his weakening knees and heat low in his belly didn’t give a shit.
Even as he pushed Maverick against the wall, Ice simply stared at him. Maverick felt his gaze rake over his lips, his jaw, the small patch of skin above his collarbones. All he could do was stand there and let himself be admired, like this stranger was a general with the world’s sexiest surprise inspection.
Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, Ice leaned in and caught Maverick’s lower lip between his teeth. Despite all the self-control he was currently employing to keep himself from dry humping Ice’s leg, Maverick couldn’t help the way his knees turned to jelly and he softly groaned into his mouth. Ice simply leaned back slightly, pulling not all that gently on Maverick’s lip in the process. That elicited a louder groan as he snaked his arms up strong biceps to rest on a pair of broad shoulders. When his eyes flickered back open, Ice was staring at him with a deadly grin.
“God, desperate for it already, aren’t you?” he teased, pulling away as Maverick tried to grind against him. “Not so fast there, Pete,” he said, voice low. Maverick felt a wet heat along his neck and tilted it back just to feel those perfect teeth sink into the soft skin at the hinge of his jaw.
Ice pulled back again, but not far— his lips were so close that Maverick could feel them brush against his, feel that sweltering heat as he whispered, “I’m gonna make you beg for it.”
And that was about the point when one Maverick Mitchell lost all sophisticated thought.
Maverick launched himself at Ice, pushing himself off the wall and kissing him with a force he didn’t even know he possessed. The stranger laughed into the kiss but didn’t break it, not even as the backs of his knees hit the bed and he pulled Maverick down with him. He found himself straddled in Ice’s lap and, god, did this guy give as good as he got. Maverick knew he was a good kisser— guys and girls all around California, deprived sailors on aircraft carriers, and from one extremely drunken night, even Goose could attest. He considered himself a master at the art form. Each new lover was a puzzle he had to figure out, and Maverick loved a challenge.
But Ice? Jesus, kissing Ice was a revelation. The man stayed in control, dominating Maverick even though he had the better position. He gave just enough to get Maverick into it-- kissing him hard, licking into his mouth with long, controlled swipes, biting his lower lip in the process-- but holding back enough to make Maverick fucking desperate. No matter how much he tried to deepen the kiss, Ice wouldn’t let him. He would simply pull back and give Maverick a scathing look before going back in, wrapping his arms heavily around the man on top of him and holding him there.
After a few minutes, Maverick felt like he was going to explode. “Jesus Christ, Ice, get on with it already,” he said and tried to swoop in with a hard kiss but before he could, Maverick found his back on the bed and arms pinned above him by calloused hands.
“Has anyone told you you’re a fucking brat?” Ice questioned, and Maverick smirked.
“Once or twice.”
“Something tells me that’s an understatement,” he replied. Maverick thought he was going to lean back in and get this show on the road, but instead Ice towered above him, still pinning his wrists to the mattress. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, seemingly pleased with what he saw. “If you can lay here and not move,” he explained as he slowly released the pressure from Maverick’s wrists, “then I’ll suck you off.”
“Not gonna make me shut up?” Maverick asked.
“Well, if you insist,” he replied and swooped in with a bruising kiss. It was a little less controlled than before, a little more desperate and Maverick was fighting back the urge to buck his hips and grind against Ice. He could follow orders when he wanted to. True, it wasn’t very often, but Maverick figured this was a good cause. He kept his arms where they were, hands still laying above him even as Ice started his path downwards.
Ice’s touch was scathing as he trailed down Maverick’s body. He licked kisses onto his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. Maverick gasped as he bit down on his collarbone, then the other one, licking away the sting with the flat of his tongue. Warm, rough hands found themselves beneath the hem of his t-shirt and Maverick allowed him to pull it off of him and continue his exploration. His hands skirted all over his chest, the flat planes of his stomach, the curves of his shoulders. Maverick clenched his fists in order not to bury his hands in Ice’s hair and pull.
Ice continued kissing down his chest, his stomach, towards the waistband of his jeans. To Maverick’s annoyance, he didn’t seem to want to progress any farther than that, trailing his fingers lightly along the bottom of his stomach, enough to make the muscles there jump.
“Gonna get this show on the road?” Maverick asked, realizing too late that something that was supposed to sound sexy and suave instead was breathless and whiny. He was slowly losing higher function as those tricky fingers trailed over the bulge in his jeans, eyes going dark as he stared shamelessly at Maverick. This stranger must be experienced, Maverick thought, the agile and sure touches driving him far too close to his breaking point. When Ice ghosted the outline of his dick with his hot breath, mouthing ever so gently over it, even through his jeans it felt like heaven. Maverick moaned, forcing himself to keep his hips down and behave. He was far too close to his prize to let it slip away now.
Ice studied him as he continued his teasing. Maverick looked down, intending to give some scathing look that conveyed just how much he wanted Ice to get a move on. Instead, he found himself blushing as he noticed Ice palm himself through his jeans, eyes possessive and wanting.
“Come on, Ice,” he groaned, and this was getting dangerously close to begging. Maverick Mitchell did not beg. But it seemed as if this man had other plans. Ice trailed his finger down his cock, a touch Maverick could hardly feel through his jeans but enough to make him moan, low and needy. “Come on, Ice,” he repeated. “I’ve been good, haven’t I?” Ice just cocked an eyebrow at that as if deep in thought. He pondered this for a moment before making his decision.
And before Maverick had a chance to even breathe, Ice had ripped down his jeans and underwear and had Maverick’s dick hitting the back of his throat. He couldn’t help himself-- an embarrassing sound escaped his throat as he clamped his thighs around Ice and buried his fingers in his hair. Apparently their little game was over, though, as Ice simply continued to suck Maverick down, rough and unrelenting. His dick hit the back of Ice’s throat once more and he involuntarily pulled on that golden hair laced in between his fingers. That earned him a groan that went straight through his dick, a reward better than any medal or commendation that he could ever earn. The fact that Ice was sucking his dick with reckless abandon, as if this is the only place in the world he wanted to be was the only thing that mattered to him in that moment.
Ice continued at that brutal pace, letting Maverick as far down his throat as he could, burying his nose in the wiry hairs nestled around his cock. He seemingly only had eyes for Maverick as he had long forgotten about his own dick and was running his hands up and down the pilot’s body instead. Nails dug hard into Maverick’s sides as he pulled on Ice’s hair and he groaned, not even having the sense to be embarrassed about the sounds coming out of his mouth.
The stranger sucked, hollowing his cheeks, and Maverick stuttered out a curse. Teeth lightly grazed the skin along his shaft, long strokes of his wet tongue smoothing over the underside. All Maverick could do was lie back and watch as he moved a hand to cup Ice’s cheek and felt his cock through the soft skin.
Soon enough, the pooling low in his belly had reached a point where if Ice did not stop sucking his dick like his life depended on it, Maverick would come down his throat. Desperately, he tried to warn Ice, pushing at his shoulder and muttering some warning. After all, if nothing else, he was a gentleman. Ice simply met Maverick’s eyes as he slowly dragged his mouth back up his cock, smoothing the flat of his tongue over his length as he went. Once he reached the tip, he swirled his tongue around the tip, lapping up the beads of precome gathered there.
Maverick threw his head back into the mattress, unable to look lest he spill all over Ice’s face. “Oh my God, ” he moaned, laying his arm heavily over his eyes and trying in vain to regain control of his breath. 5 G’s had nothing on the way his heart was pounding, chest heavy and body going numb with the strain of trying to keep himself together.
Through his gasps Maverick felt a hand grab his wrist and hold it down, repeating the same motion for his other hand and holding his arms down at his sides. He looked down just in time to see Ice lock eyes with him as he slowly swallowed his dick, all the way down.
And that was about the time the world went white.
Maverick came hard, toes curling as he gripped Ice’s hair and curled around him. Ice, the bastard, worked him through it, sucking and nipping and teasing as Maverick came down from his high, chest working overtime as he gasped for breath.
Eventually, the sensations became too much and Maverick swatted at Ice’s shoulder. Ice slid his mouth off of Maverick’s sensitive dick with an obscene pop. He looked at the man above him with hooded eyes and a vicious grin. “That’s for being good.”
Maverick meant to come up with some witty response, he really did, but he was too busy staring at the patterns in the ceiling and trying to return to his body to say anything. Instead, he offered a breathless chuckle, watching Ice as he crawled back up his body traced the lines of Maverick’s torso. The stranger seemed in no hurry and continued to explore the pilot’s body as he came down from his high. Eventually his fingers found Maverick’s throat, his chin, then cupped his jaw as he kissed him softly. Maverick gasped into the kiss, sweeter and softer than anything he’d expect from this man. He grasped Ice by the elbow and pulled him on top of him, starting the exploration that he had been deprived up earlier. He slowly trailed his fingers under the hem of his shirt, flattening his hands over his stomach. He traced the lines of his pectorals, tweaked a nipple with his thumb which caused Ice to gasp softly.
Maverick smirked into the kiss and continued to rub over his nipple, twisting slightly and there it was again, that tender gasp that made Maverick’s heart jump with something he couldn’t quite name. Ice’s mouth fell open as he repeated the motion and the pilot took the opportunity to stick his tongue into the stranger’s mouth. Ice let him, brushing his tongue over Maverick’s own, claiming his mouth in a deep and bruising kiss. Ice groaned softly as the pilot’s other hand found its way down to his ass and squeezed. God, for all that Ice acted tough, he was falling apart right under Maverick’s hands. It was almost too easy, but Ice’s breathy, quiet moans and the heat of his mouth made Maverick’s dick harden again, interested in the possibility of a round two.
Ice broke the kiss long enough to slip his shirt over his head then continued, letting Maverick take over. Their tongues danced together and the wet heat of it was getting to him, his mind cloudy as all the blood in his brain rushed downwards. At some point, not even realizing it, he had started grinding against Ice’s hip. Ice must have noticed too because he leaned away, though his lips stayed close and eyes couldn’t seem to leave Maverick’s.
“Interested again, are we?” he questioned, backing away further when Maverick tried to surge up and reclaim his lips. The weight of Ice on top of him seemed a bit more possessive now, leaning on his hips and restricting Maverick’s movements. Their game was back, it seemed, and this bastard had gotten the upper hand without Maverick even realizing. He tried once again to surge up to Ice, freeing a hand to cup his cheek with, but Ice had grabbed it, guiding Maverick onto his stomach and twisting it behind him. Maverick tucked his knees underneath him, spreading them and propping himself up a bit. The position was just on the right side of painful, Ice’s weight pressing him down to the bed as he grabbed Maverick’s other arm and brought it behind his back. Maverick whimpered at that, the sound escaping him before he could try to tamper it down. He felt more than heard Ice’s chuckle, the man’s chest level with his back as he ground into Maverick’s ass.
Maverick shuddered at that, feeling the outline of Ice’s dick through his jeans. Here he was, completely naked, with a stranger holding him down, the rough material of the denim rubbing his ass red as Ice continued to grind into him. Goose would be appalled. Not even at the actions, not really, more of the fact that Maverick had let himself get into this position-- powerless, completely at Ice’s mercy.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, the noise muffled by the mattress.
He could feel the sharp teeth scraping the back of his neck as Ice smiled viciously. “Needy, aren’t you?” All Maverick could do was whine and try to grind his ass back, bare his teeth and tell Ice to get with the damn program. All that earned him was more pressure on his hands, pinning him down as Ice took what he wanted.
“I said I was gonna make you beg before,” he said, voice so low that he could feel it rumble. “That wasn’t just talk, Pete. I’m gonna have you begging for my dick before the night is over, keeping you right on the edge for as long as I can. And you’re going to just take it, aren’t you? Be good for me?”
As much as Maverick wanted to fight back, struggle for control, Ice’s words echoed in his head. Be good for me. Something swelled in his chest, strong and wanting. A warmth, a promise he didn’t know he was capable of wanting. Be good. Someone could take care of him, and the prospect shouldn’t have excited him as much as it did, but he still heard his breath hitch at the words. For this man, for this stranger, he wouldn’t have to be Maverick. He wouldn’t have to fight for his position, for his place in TOPGUN, for his composure when all he wanted to be true for himself. He didn’t have to be Maverick, for once he could just be… Pete.
He could be good.
Slowly he released the tension in his back, and goddamn if the approving purr from Ice didn’t make all the blood in his body rush to his dick. He felt Ice remove his wrists after squeezing them once, a silent warning to behave. Behind him, Maverick could feel him get on his knees, hear the soft clink of metal as he unfastened his belt. Soon, he could feel Ice’s hand gently wrap around his wrists. It wasn’t tight enough to really trap Maverick— he could easily get out of the grip if he wanted to. But they could pretend. “Is this alright?” he asked.
It was far more than alright, and all Maverick wanted to do was lie there and give himself up to Ice, let him use Maverick how he wanted. But there was no way to verbalize that without sounding desperate, and though he was more than willing to play this little game, Maverick Mitchell wasn’t known for being desperate. A brat, a disobedient little shit, yes. Part of him wanted to break the rules, test the limits just to see what Ice would do, but a larger, needier part of him just wanted to be taken care of. So he just nodded and waited for Ice to get on with the show.
But Ice didn’t seem to find that satisfactory. He squeezed tighter, making Maverick whine and said, “I need to hear it. Is this alright?”
“Yes,” Maverick gasped as he pushed his ass backwards, longing for contact. Ice swatted lightly at his bottom with his free hand.
“That’s it,” he said, and Maverick could hear him shift, hear his jeans fall to the floor, the shifting of fabric as he yanked off his underwear. “Tell me how much you want this.”
“I-I want,” Maverick whined, gasping as Ice yanked on his wrists and positioned Maverick upright, kneeling on the bed. “Fuck, Ice, I want it.”
“We’ll see,” he growled, fingers teasing. They ran up his shaft, fully hard and interested in the proceedings, worked them backwards to play with his balls. Maverick moaned as he cupped them, rubbing a spot behind them that made lightning shoot up his spine. But even better was the way Ice rubbed his fat cock in between Maverick’s ass. He could feel the hardness, the way he wanted him. Maverick threw his head back so it rested in Ice’s shoulder, grinding back into him.
Ice laughed low in his throat, and he could see the hardened expression through the corner of his eye. “That’s it,” he said. “You need it, don’t you? Gonna take it and keep making those pretty little sounds.” Maverick rewarded those words with a nice moan and could see Ice’s smile right before he threw him back down on the bed.
Before he even had a moment to adjust he could feel a blunt finger pressing at his hole. Maverick moaned loudly, pushing back, but Ice held his hips in place. His finger swirled around Maverick’s hole, spreading lube that Maverick didn’t even know Ice had, yet he was somehow unsurprised at the preparation. Slowly, torturously he pushed past the ring of muscle, crooking his finger inside. He slipped it out then pressed back in again, repeating the motion until Maverick was a quivering puddle in the sheets.
“God, Ice, fuck, more, please,” he groaned, practically begging for the man to go faster. But no matter how much he pleaded, how much he whined and moaned and cursed, Ice continued at his leisurely pace, stringing out sounds Maverick couldn’t control. It wasn’t nearly enough and that bastard knew it. He was just playing with his prey, seeing how far he could drive Maverick to his breaking point. He could only imagine the cocky grin on his face, the victory that Maverick hadn’t intended to give him this early but had no way to fight against now.
Finally, finally he added a second finger, scissoring them and making Maverick yell into a pillow. He felt tears prick at his eyes as those tricky fingers brushed against his prostate, the sharp jolt of electricity that went through his body causing him to shake. Ice just continued, not a care in the world, seemingly oblivious to the way Maverick was begging for more, for him. He simply continued his movements, pushing his fingers in, scissoring and pressing against that spot inside of him, teasing and playing with Maverick until he felt like he was going to burst.
When Ice added another finger, kept constantly pushing against his prostate, stroking it with every movement, Maverick stuttered out some sort of warning, unsure if he was even coherent enough to warn Ice that he was about to come. Ice, goddamn him, immediately removed his fingers. Maverick clenched around the air, feeling the vast emptiness and crying out with it. Ice just pushed him into the bed, dick grinding against him, tip teasing at the hole. He hadn’t even noticed, but Ice had put on a condom at some point.
“No coming unless I say so,” he warned, and Maverick didn’t dare argue. “You’re gonna behave, right? Take my cock so good, lie there until I say you can come?”
“Yes,” Maverick breathed, the overwhelming desire to be good for Ice taking hold of him once again. “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, Ice, I promise,” he gasped. “Please, can I-- can I just see you?”
Ice took pause at this for a moment, his movements stilling. Then, suddenly, Maverick was on his back, arms trapped beneath him, keeping them there despite the lack of any restraints, legs slung over Ice’s wide shoulders. Those icy eyes were now burning as they stared down at him, scalding Maverick with his look. He could only imagine what this stranger was seeing and how much he would laugh if he knew the truth-- that Maverick, the risky, confident pilot was no better than a little slut who’d do anything for someone commanding him.
“Please,” he begged, all shame gone out the window. “Please, Ice, I need it, I-I need you, please…”
When Ice took mercy on him and finally pushed in, Maverick closed his eyes and let the sensation overtake him. Ice’s smell, like wintergreen and clean sweat, the rough hands that ran over his chest and tweaked his nipples, and an overwhelming fullness like Maverick had never felt before. When he moved out, Maverick gasped, chest pumping desperately in search of air. It burned, even after being teased within an inch of his life. Still, he clenched around Ice, reveling in the low groan he got out of him.
Unlike before, Ice didn’t seem to want to go slow now. He thrust into Maverick with reckless abandon, all the self-control he had sported before gone in a flash of light. All Maverick could do was lie there and take it like he said he would, let Ice thrust in, hitting his prostate with every long stroke.
When Maverick started to whine, Ice grabbed the base of his dick, staving off the inevitable. “Not yet,” he gritted out and continued pounding into him, selfishly taking Maverick for his own. Soon enough, though, his movements became erratic. His strokes, so sure and steady before now faltered, his hips jittering as he buried himself deep in Maverick and came. Maverick surged up to swallow the moans that escaped Ice’s mouth and Ice let go of his dick, sticking his tongue in Maverick’s mouth and claiming him with a hard kiss as he spilled into Ice’s hand.
Vision blurry at the edges, Maverick collapsed onto his back, panting. Ice eventually slipped out and Maverick made a hurt sound at how empty he felt. Surprisingly, he thought he heard Ice mutter an apology. Maverick could almost laugh at that if not for the current fuzziness he was experiencing.
He felt himself rolled onto his side, a low voice softly talking as he nestled into the pillow. The heat next to him disappeared and Maverick reached out, disappointed when he couldn’t find Ice within reach. Finally, though, he heard bare feet padding across the hotel carpet and felt the mattress dip as another body joined him. A cool washcloth ran over his stomach, his thighs, his ass, cleaning up everything left. Maverick would have been surprised at the sudden gentleness if his vision wasn’t going black, sleep reaching her hands out to claim him.
The last thing he felt before falling into the abyss was a soft, hardly-there kiss at his temple.
---
There was a man in his bed.
Okay, maybe that was a slightly inaccurate statement. It wasn’t technically his bed, but considering the events of last night that were suddenly rushing back, he might as well claim it as his. Said man was on the other side of the bed, hard features somehow relaxed in the soft morning light. Content and still well-fucked, Maverick rolled over to check the time.
7:52 AM.
“Fuck!” Maverick exclaimed and promptly fell out of bed.
The stranger sat up, his sleepy features shifting into a condescending smile as he watched Maverick extract himself from the sheets. Maverick realized that he was fully dressed and laying on top of the covers, he must not have been asleep at all. “Having second thoughts?” he teased.
Maverick shot him a glare. “No,” he snarled as he searched for his pants. “Are you?”
“Nah,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning against the headboard. “I had fun.”
He paused momentarily. “Me too,” he admitted, surprised at the sincerity that had slipped through. Then, remembering the time, he continued to scramble to put his shirt on, lace up his boots as fast as he could.
Ice grinned lazily. “Running late for something?”
“You could say that,” he said. “I have to, uh, meet with my friend at 8:30. Goose is going to be so pissed at me if I’m late.”
Ice quirked an eyebrow. “Goose?”
Maverick froze, hoping that this man didn’t recognize a callsign when he heard one and make the connection that Maverick was, in fact, in the military and could very easily have his career ruined should a random stranger claim that he was having inappropriate relations. Maverick simply swallowed and grabbed his jacket from where it was, huh, neatly folded on the chair. “Yeah, he’s a friend. Weird nickname.”
“I’m used to that,” Ice said, and Maverick didn’t have time to process it before he was opening the door.
“Well, I hope you get to your meeting on time,” Ice said as Maverick rushed out the door. “See ya.”
Maverick simply waved and sprinted out to his motorcycle. And if he was blatantly disregarding the speed limit on the way back to Miramar, well, no one needed to know.
Maverick arrived on base in uniform with five minutes to spare. Walking into the break room, he found Goose lounging in a chair. When they met eyes, he simply sighed and handed Maverick a twenty. “Good job, soldier.”
Despite himself-- and he was a grown-ass man , Maverick blushed. “How could you tell?”
“Well, Mav, it’s not exactly subtle with all the hickeys.”
Maverick felt his cheeks go even redder as he stared at Goose. He was in a rush to get back to base before classes started and hadn’t really looked at himself in the mirror. Goose rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards the mirror on the wall and yep, sure enough, Maverick’s neck was littered with small bruises. He leaned in and inspected them, peering at the dark red spots that stretched over his collarbones, the sensitive part of his throat. One at the corner of his jaw caught his attention, the place where Ice had full-on bit him last night. The memory alone was enough to get Maverick hot and bothered, so he stepped away from the mirror and started doing crosswind calculations in his head instead.
Goose peered at him over his aviators. “I take it everything went well?”
Maverick chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“You weren’t showing up. I was scared something happened to you.” Goose’s expression was open, searching, and Maverick felt his cheeks heat in shame.
“I’m sorry, Goose. Everything was fine, I just didn’t watch the time close enough.”
Goose blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “You gotta get a scarf or something, man, you don’t need that being Viper’s first impression of you.”
“What, that I’m a hot commodity that has men all over California wishing they could get one last taste of him?”
“Well, first off, here, it’s women that you’re leaving heartbroken,” he said, expression soft. Goose pushed himself off the couch and walked over to Maverick. He reached over and zipped up Maverick’s flight suit, popped up the collar to hide the marks on his throat. “You’ve got to be careful now, Mav.”
“When have I not been?” he asked, looking for a laugh, but Goose’s expression stayed serious. Maverick sighed and clapped a hand on his RIO’s shoulder. “I know, Goose. I will be. You don’t need to go worrying after me.”
“That’s my entire job, worrying about you,” he said, but at least his face had split into a smile. “Sitting behind you in the cockpit, watching your back, all of that.”
“And you’re the best Mother Goose I could ever ask for.”
“Yeah, because I’m the only one who’ll put up with you,” he smirked as he started walking down the hall.
“I resent that accusation,” Maverick muttered as he trailed him out.
They didn’t make it more than ten feet out the door before Goose stopped dead in his tracks.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”
Goose stood in the middle of the hallway, completely stunned and Maverick had a good idea why. He would have had a similar reaction if not for his sudden inability to form a coherent thought. Because in the doorway to their classroom stood Ice, chatting with who Maverick could only assume was his RIO. That same spiky hair and icy eyes that Maverick did not think he would ever see again stood no more than twenty feet in front of them.
“Maverick,” Goose whispered, “I didn’t recognize, before-- Mav, that’s… that’s the guy.”
“Yeah, Goose, I know,” he replied, but he couldn’t seem to move himself from his position either.
“I thought… what was that whole ‘no one from TOPGUN is going to hang around a place like this’ thing? Cause you seemed pretty sure about that one.”
“Well I can’t help that the Navy is apparently full of a whole bunch of fucking queers!” Maverick hissed. “Who even is he?”
“Iceman Kazansky,” Goose said. “He’s the best of the best. Ice cold. He’ll play with you, wait for you to make a mistake and then go in for the kill.”
And Maverick, being the child he was, actually snorted. Goose’s eyes shot to him in a panic but more importantly, cold blue eyes looked away from his RIO and down the hallway.
Maverick could see the moment of understanding in Ice’s eyes, a glimmer of something that he couldn’t read flashing before he steeled his features over again and continued his conversation. He looked over at Goose, who looked like he had just seen Ice get down on his knees and declare his love for Maverick.
“I suggest we make a tactical retreat,” Maverick muttered.
“Good idea.”
Before they could do that, though, the rest of the TOPGUN class was filing into the room and Maverick had no choice but to follow them in. Goose followed behind him, and Maverick could tell it was taking everything in him not to drag him out of the room, wrap him in a blanket and hide him somewhere away from all the stupidity Maverick had just created.
It was going to be a long day.
---
“So,” Goose started, after the day was done and Maverick vehemently pretended not to know one Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. To his credit, Iceman did the same, treating Maverick with the same disinterest as he did everyone else, riling him up with talks of competition only when provoked. That didn’t make it any less awkward, though, nor did it make the hard-on he’d had to hide any more manageable. “What exactly did you do with him?”
Maverick nearly choked. “First off, you wanna talk about that here?” he hissed, gesturing at the crowded bar around them. “Secondly, is that something you actually want to know?”
Goose shrugged. “No one knows who we’re talking about. And, buddy, trust me, I’ve been asking myself that question all day, but I figured I’d rather know in case shit hits the fan than be left in the dark.”
Maverick scowled. “You sure have a lot of faith in my ability to be discrete.”
“Just cough it up, man. Scar me for life.”
Maverick glared daggers in his RIO’s direction but found no indication of backing down in Goose’s eyes. Finally, he sighed and leaned against the bar, talking in a low tone. “Well, once we got back to the hotel, he, uh… she,” he corrected himself, on the off-chance someone was listening, “she pushed me against the wall and caged me in. Real dom-type shit, no wonder where she--”
“Slider!” Goose suddenly exclaimed, and Maverick whipped his head towards the RIO, choking on his own spit in the process. Goose thumped his back as he coughed, watching Slider’s amused face through his teary eyes.
“Jesus, man, can’t expect you to fly if you get spooked like that,” he teased, playfully pushing Maverick’s shoulder. “The name’s Slider,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Maverick,” he responded, grabbing Slider’s hand and trying desperately to act like he hadn’t spent the night getting thoroughly fucked by his pilot. Maverick clocked the cocky grin, easy surety in his actions. It was no surprise that this man was Ice’s RIO.
“So, I hear you’re flying with Kazansky?” Goose said, naturally shifting the conversation to the one place Maverick didn’t want it to go. Maverick shot him a look of warning and tried to send a message through telepathy or some other shit to shut the fuck up, but Goose seemed oblivious to the chaos going on in Maverick’s head. For a man who was so concerned about looking out for him, Goose sure did have a knack for throwing him off the deep end.
Slider flashed a smile not dissimilar to Ice’s signature snarl. “That’d be ‘Mr. Kazansky’ to you.”
Before either of them could even respond, one Iceman Kazansky walked up next to Slider, grabbing Goose’s hand in a greeting. “Mother Goose!” he said. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too,” Goose said, his smile uneasy as he far too obviously glanced between the two pilots. Maverick was doing everything not to find the nearest window and throw himself out of it. Maybe he’d weird Iceman out enough to get him to quit. Or maybe he’d just straight up die where he was, right in the middle of the Officer’s Club. Yeah, that sounded nice.
“Oh!” Goose exclaimed, knocking Maverick out of his fantasies. “Iceman, this is, uh, Pete Mitchell.”
“Maverick,” he supplied, holding out his hand in greeting. Ice took it, those same calloused hands he had become so familiar with the night before grasping his firmly.
“Maverick, huh?” Ice said, eyes unabashedly running down Maverick’s body, sizing him up for the second time in just as many days. “You look familiar. Have I seen you around?”
Was it possible to die from humiliation? Because if not, Maverick was about to make history. “Believe it or not, we’re in TOPGUN,” Maverick supplied, going with the cocky answer to retain some of his sanity. Goddamn those icy eyes that refused to leave Maverick’s, challenging him to some game Maverick knew he couldn’t win. “You know, just your competition and all. The guys who are going to beat your asses.”
Iceman smiled, full of malice. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he purred.
Goose choked on his drink next to him, hacking up a lung while Slider stood there, completely oblivious to the fiasco Maverick found himself trapped in.
“You wish, Kazansky,” he said, rolling his eyes and taking a drink to hide the blush that had no doubt made itself apparent.
“Well,” Ice said, stretching his arms out, “I guess I’ll see you around. Then we’ll see who’s really in charge around here.”
Maverick retained his composure as Iceman and Slider walked away, the latter shooting a confused look at Goose who just shrugged. As soon as they turned away, though, Maverick buried his head in his hands. He could hear the distinct thud of Goose’s forehead hitting the bar behind him.
“I’m not even going to tell you how badly you fucked up,” Goose said, voice muffled as he groaned into the bar. “I’m gonna start writing up my resume. Maybe I could get a job as a flight attendant. Yeah, that’d be nice. Less likely to fly with idiots who jeopardize their whole career,” he said, and Maverick could feel the scathing look his RIO was sending his way.
Maverick rubbed his hands down his face, settling against the bar with Goose beside him. “You’d look good in the skirt.”
“Hell yeah I would,” Goose said, and Maverick was glad to see the grin returning to his face. “Might even outshine Carole.”
“I hope you’re not digging through her closet when she’s not around.”
“Nah, I’ve got my own drawer.”
Maverick snickered into his beer, bumping his shoulder into Goose’s as he laughed beside him. “God, Goose,” he sighed, “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?”
“That’s an affirmative, Maverick. This is Ghost Rider requesting a flyby of Maverick Mitchell’s utter disaster.”
“You’ve got a front row seat to this shit, man.”
“Well, since we’re already this deep, let’s cause a little more trouble,” Goose said, and Maverick could see the moment when his RIO started scheming. “Alright,” he finally said as he scanned the patrons of the O Club. “The bet is $20. You have to have carnal knowledge-- of a lady this time” he clarified with a meaningful look, “--on the premises.”
“On the premises,” Maverick repeated, and looked up.
Over the crowd, he met Ice’s eye and earned that all-knowing grin with which he was all too familiar.
Maverick smiled mischievously. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”