How You Play The Game Part 3 | Rooster X Reader

How You Play the Game Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After two days apart, the continuous phone calls and texts have Bradley running up to meet you near Los Angeles for game three. He likes all of it, every minute with you. And then you tell him that his favorite part is your favorite part, too.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, masturbation, oral, and smut (18+)

Length: 7100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

You woke up with Bradley's big arm wrapped around you. His alarm was going off, but he was still asleep. You rolled over so you were facing him, but he just pulled you closer.

"Where you goin'?" he mumbled, eyes still closed. "Stay here, Ace."

Your smile was enormous as you bit your lip. "Bradley," you whispered, kissing his nose. "You have to go to work."

"No." He pulled you impossibly closer as you laughed.

"Your alarm is going off." He muffled your words with his lips on yours, and he rolled you onto your back as he kissed you.

"Don't care," he murmured, pressing kiss after glorious kiss to your lips. But then you laughed, and so did he, because his alarm kept getting louder and louder. "Do not move an inch," he whispered, pinning your hands above your head on the pillow and easing himself away from you. "I'm serious, Ace. I want to pick up right where I'm leaving off."

You giggled as you watched him climb out of bed and walk naked across your hotel room. The early morning light filtering in through the curtains lit up his tan skin. He was beautiful. His skin still looked summer sunkissed, and you tracked him with your eyes as he located his phone on the floor. 

"I told you not to move," he growled, climbing back into bed and crawling toward you, his big hands immediately holding both of yours. 

"I didn't," you whispered with a smile, turning your head to the side as his mustache brushed your ear. Then he eased his body back where it belonged, right on top of yours. What a thought. He was already familiar. You shouldn't feel this comfortable with someone you literally just met. You shouldn't be thinking about the next time you were going to see him. 

"Now where was I?" he muttered, frowning at you like he couldn't remember. "I think I was right about here." His kisses were probably the only thing you needed right now. Each one was more exciting than the last, and you wound your fingers in his pretty hair. He was hard against your thigh now, never shy about his reaction to you. 

You wanted him. There were eighteen condoms left to use. But when he broke the kiss and ran his thumb along your bottom lip, you pouted a little bit. "You need to leave."

He shook his head just slightly. "I need to stay."

"No, no, no, Bradley. You told me to tell you that you had to go to work today. You told me last night to tell you that the planes won't fly themselves, and that you aren't allowed to spend the day with me."

"Never said that," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed as his thumb grazed your cheek softly. "I'd never tell someone as pretty as you that I wasn't going to spend the whole day with them."

"Bradley," you whimpered, and he sighed. 

Then he buried his face against your shoulder and kissed you there. "It's just that I want to spend as much time with you as I can. While I can."

He said he would get a ticket to game three just to see you. Just to be with you up near Los Angeles. Your voice was soft as you asked, "You'll really come to game three tomorrow night?" You felt vulnerable. You never felt this way. You had to have the biggest bark and the biggest bite in your line of work, and you were always ready to be on offense or defense. But you didn't feel like you had to try so hard with him. You felt like you could breathe and enjoy yourself.

Bradley's lips were on yours again, and then he said, "I'll buy a ticket on my lunch break today. And when I text you, are you going to respond?"

"Yes," you whispered with a grin. "As long as you go to work like you're supposed to."

"Yes, ma'am," he rasped. "I can't wait to see you tomorrow night. And I can't wait to read your article later today."

You were basking in the warmth of his words, but when his lips started a trail down your chest, you knew you needed to be the responsible one here. "Go. To. Work."

He groaned as he rolled off of you again and stood with his hands on his hips. You propped yourself up and looked up at him as he gestured toward the floor. "Eighteen more condoms. Am I taking them for safe keeping, or should I leave them with you?"

You tapped your lips with your index finger and asked, "Are you going to need them between now and the next time I see you?"

Bradley scoffed and said, "I already told you, Baby, I like you the best. I was only joking about the blue feathers. I'm absolutely not going to try to hook up with the other Ace."

"Go to work!" you said, howling with laughter as you launched the pillows at him one at a time as he tried to get dressed. 

Then he had a big smile on his face as he picked up his Padres jersey and leaned down to give you one more kiss. "Keep this until I see you again. You looked so cute in it, thought you might want to wear it around."

You took it in one hand and wrapped the other around his neck to pull him close. Just one last kiss to hold you until tomorrow night. "Bye, Bradley."

"See ya, Ace." 

He left in his jeans and undershirt, closing the door softly behind him. And then you were alone with his jersey, eighteen condoms, and the aching need to see him again. So you pushed your apprehension aside and decided to keep fooling yourself into thinking this was all a good decision. 

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"You are distracted," Nat said as Bradley slid into the seat next to hers at lunchtime, his phone in his hand. You'd sent him a photo of you sitting at the desk in your hotel room wearing his jersey. 

"Am I?" he asked, examining every inch of the photo before he started typing a response. 

Nat gasped, and he looked up at her. "It's the sports writer! You went to the game!"

"I did," he said slowly, still typing a message. "And I'm planning on going to game three in Anaheim tomorrow night if I can find a ticket. And I'll probably go to each game after that too, because this is the kind of girl I've been dreaming of my entire life. She's cute, funny, smart, loves sports, and she's great in bed. And I just want to spend my whole day with her." He looked up and smirked.

"Doesn't she live in New York?" Nat asked, and Bradley could already feel his face falling. 

"Yeah," he grunted, hitting send on the text message that said, "Let me take you home where you can wear all my clothes, and then I can take them all off of you."

"Be careful," Nat warned before biting into her sandwich. 

"Weren't you the one who told me you could see me with six kids? Like a soccer player and a ballerina?"

Bradley hated the pitiful look she gave him. "I don't want you to get hurt."

That was the whole fucking thing. Bradley knew you could hurt him. It hurt the night after game one when he went home alone and then didn't hear from you in spite of the fact that he had given you his phone number. And it hurt him to think about you in New York where you lived, or in some other random city covering a sporting event. Because his home was in San Diego. And it would be next spring at the earliest before you'd be back to cover more baseball here. 

"I'm not gonna get hurt, Nat. It's just a fling." As soon as he said the words out loud, he wanted to take them back. They were all wrong, and they made him feel dirty. He'd had flings before, and they didn't feel anything like this. He'd been having occasional casual sex with Shannon for probably a year, and she never lingered in his mind after he threw away the condom and watched her leave. 

"Okay, well maybe you should reconsider going up to Anaheim tomorrow night?" Nat pressed. "I know I encouraged you to see her again, but maybe that's actually not the best idea."

"Nat, I know what I'm-" Bradley looked at his phone as another photo came through. In this one, you were lounging on the hotel bed where he'd spent the night with you wrapped up in his arms, still wearing his jersey. But it was open in the front, and your left hand was on your right breast. 

Ace: I kind of miss you. I keep putting off leaving for my exclusive interview with the Angels' bullpen, because my hotel room smells like you.

"Fuck me," Bradley muttered, rubbing his free hand along his face. 

Nat snatched his phone, and he let her have it. "Wow. Wow. Bradley."

"I know," he groaned. 

"She's hot. And that message is beyond flirtatious."

"Yeah," he said, his voice precariously close to a whine. "Nat, I like her. I like how she writes her articles, and how I know her favorite team now. I liked how she felt in my arms all night."

"You slept over?!" 

Bradley didn't reply. He just took his phone back and saved the photos. Then he sent you another text. 

I'd rather you do an exclusive interview with me instead. I think you'd really appreciate what I have to say.

Ace: By all means, tell me what you would say if I interviewed you, Bradley.

I would say you look sexy as fuck in my jersey right now. And that thing never had it so good.

Ace: You're right. An exclusive with you would be much better.

"Now you're just ignoring me," Nat said as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I'm going to sit with Bob."

Truly, Bradley hadn't heard a word she said. He also hadn't eaten any of his lunch. He had to inhale his sandwich while he walked back to the classroom for the afternoon, because yes, he was distracted. 

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Your boss was really riding you today. Apparently your submissions at 11:58pm after the first two games really had Greg Pfeffer rattled, because that was the first thing he said when you talked to him. The second thing he said was that he needed you in Boston as soon as you wrapped up in California. Apparently there was nobody else on staff he trusted to handle the Bruins head coach as well as you could. 

You knew what your strengths were. You were smart, crafty and organized. But you were also a woman. And sometimes the men you interviewed responded to you differently than they would another man. In a good way. You always seemed to be able to get more information out of players or coaches than anyone else. Just yesterday afternoon you managed to get two of the relief pitchers from the Angels' bullpen to admit they weren't quite sure how to throw to the Padres shortstop.

And then one of them asked you out to dinner. 

Never in a million years would you agree to that. You loved your job too much. And that was immediate grounds for getting fired right there. Honestly, there was no way he really thought you'd agree, right? Also, there was the fact that you'd decided it was better to eat some mediocre takeout back in your hotel room while you texted Bradley. 

But now it was Tuesday morning. Game three was happening tonight. And those texts while you ate dinner had turned into a phone call with Bradley. The two of you ended up talking for two hours before you could hear him trying not to yawn. He had been so sweet, you had to threaten to hang up on him. 

But you could still hear the last thing he said to you. "I should have driven up to see you tonight after work. Even just for an hour. Can't wait for tomorrow, Ace."

And what were you supposed to do now? You had hours to kill before you had to be at Angels Stadium. You were still wearing nothing but Bradley's jersey while you laid in your bed in the hotel across the street from the stadium just outside Los Angeles. You buried your nose in the fabric; it still smelled like him. He smelled so good. There was no way you could wait a few hours for him when just the feel of his Padres jersey brushing your nipples was making you squirm with need. 

You let one hand slide down the curve of your belly, and when you closed your eyes, it was easy to pretend like he was the one touching you. Because his body had been as sure as your own, like he already knew what to do with you. Inch by inch, your fingers moved closer to their goal, and when you started rubbing your clit in slow circles, you thought about Bradley's voice. About the deep, raspy register and the way he called you Ace.

When you touched your breasts with your other hand, you realized your hips were already up off the bed, thrusting slowly as your fingers worked your clit. Images of Bradley's handsome face and flushed cheeks flashed through your mind. The eager look in his eyes when he touched you. The feel of his arms wrapped around you while he slept. The way his breath felt on your neck all night long. The morning rasp of his voice as he seemed to instinctively know he was with you in the still dark hotel room before he had opened his eyes. 

"Oh, god!" you whined as you ran your nose along the collar of his jersey, inhaling his scent in short gasps as you clenched, imagining his heavy cock inside you. The swirl of your fingers became erratic as your hips thrust two more times, and you were coming hard for Bradley. 

When your body collapsed back onto the bed, you were almost startled to open your eyes and realize you were alone. Your loud breathing and soft whimpers were filling the room, but you were too deliciously sated to feel embarrassed about what you'd done. You should probably be getting a shower so you had time to pre-write some of your article about game three. You had emails from Greg about your successful interview article with the Angels' bullpen to respond to. But instead you reached for your phone and texted Bradley.

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

Ace: How early can you get up here today?

It sounded to Bradley like you still missed him even though he hadn't seen you since very early yesterday morning. He read your exclusive interview five times today already, and he was wondering if you'd indulge him and read parts of it out loud later tonight. And then he groaned as he turned on a shower in the locker room. He'd probably barely make it to the game for the seven o'clock start time, and tomorrow was a work day. 

Tomorrow was also game four. Bradley was the world's worst Padres fan at the moment, praying that the Angels would tie up the series and take this whole thing to seven games. Because he didn't even want to think about what his life was going to look like when the World Series was over and he was no longer running himself between two cities to see you. 

He made the shower a short one, dressing in some snug jeans and a clean Padres shirt before running out to his Bronco. 

I'm leaving work now, Baby. See you at the stadium?

You'd given him the address of the hotel you always stayed at along with your room number just in case he finished work early. You had also managed to procure a ticket in the nosebleeds for him to get inside the ballpark; he just had to give his name at Gate E. But he was going to have to turn around and drive the nearly two hours back to San Diego either late tonight or well before dawn tomorrow. He just hoped you'd want to see him again tomorrow night, because he would do it all again. 

There was traffic. "Fuck," he groaned, actually pulling up onto a curb to go around someone. He ended up fighting through gridlock the whole way up Angels Stadium, cutting back and forth between the highway and backroads. He paid forty dollars to park in the preferred lot next to Gate E, and then he sprinted up to the entrance along with other fans who were hoping to make it to their seats before the first pitch. 

Bradley gave your name and then his own at the window, and he was immediately admitted inside. "Can you tell me where the entrance to the press box is located?" he asked. The security guard gave him a long stare.

"Do you have credentials?"

"Nevermind," Bradley muttered, taking the ticket that was being handed to him and pulling out his phone. His heart was pounding as he listened to someone singing the national anthem while he fumbled trying to make a call. He placed his right hand over his heart, not wanting to be a complete prick as he picked a direction to rush off in as he called your phone. 

"Hi," you said very softly when you answered. He loved your voice. Memories of the late night phone call filled with your soft giggles washed over him. 

"Baby, how do I get to the press box?"

"Unmarked green door near section 133. I'll meet you there."

Bradley hung up and ran around the first base side of the concourse, narrowly dodging some teenage girls and a beer vendor as the singer wrapped up their rendition of the song. And then he saw the green door as it opened, and your eyes met his. 

"Shit," he gasped, feeling his feet slow before speeding up again. You looked perfect, and your beautiful smile was just for him as you let the door close behind you and came running. 

And then you were in his arms with your hands at the back of his neck and your lips pressed to his ear. "Hi," you whispered as you kissed along the side of his face just as the fireworks signalling the start of the game were launched, and the entire stadium was cheering. 

Bradley carried you to the door as you laughed softly. "I liked your exclusive article," he told you. "Read it five times today." That earned him a kiss on the lips, and then he watched you pull your lanyard out of your back pocket to unlock the green door. 

"I think you're my biggest fan," you replied as he carried you inside and set you down. 

"I absolutely am, Ace." Then you were pushing his back against the wall, your lips ghosting over his in the relative private of the vestibule that opened up into the press area buzzing with people. 

"I need you to be very well behaved tonight," you scolded with a little grin that made Bradley lean down and kiss you hard. 

"I will," he promised, loving the needy little sound you made.

You ran your fingers along his neck as you said, "I have an assigned seat in here. And my boss has been on my ass all day. No spilling any beers on me, I don't care how badly you want to lick it off later."

"One time and I have a reputation..."  

You bit your lip and looked up at him over your shoulder as you turned toward the other reporters. The game was about to begin as you pointed to some folding chairs, and he grabbed one on his way past. Then he wedged it in front of the countertop where your computer was sitting, between your chair and the wall. He sat down and then you settled in next to him, right there in his personal space. 

Bradley was smiling at you, and you were smiling right back. "Stop distracting me," you told him, barely turning in time to watch the Angels' pitcher throw the first strike of the game. "You're very distracting."

He draped his arm around your back as you started filling out the pitches on your stat sheet and typing away at the same time. "Thanks for securing that ticket for me. Wouldn't want to miss the chance to see you."

"It was god awful expensive. Even for the worst section in the stadium," you replied without looking at him.

Bradley's jaw dropped. "You paid for it? I thought maybe you got it comped or something. I could have found one online myself."

You just shrugged as the Angels left the field only to be replaced by the Padres for the bottom of the inning. "I got it for half the price you would have been able to."

Bradley knew that was still at least five hundred dollars. "I'll pay you back."

"No," you said softly as you looked down at your keyboard almost like you were embarrassed. Then you shrugged again, a little more aggressively this time. "It's okay."

But Bradley cupped your chin and gently guided your face so you were looking at him, your eyes unsure and hesitant. "I'd have had no problem paying full price. I just wanted to see you."

He ran his thumb along your bottom lip as you asked, "Is that really why you're here though?"

Bradley's brow scrunched in confusion as he examined your face. He knew the game was going on, but you weren't fighting him about missing a pitch or two. "Why else would I battle through traffic for two hours?"

You swallowed hard and whispered, "Because you wanted to fuck me again."

Bradley's stomach dropped. That was so far from the truth. "No, Ace. I wanted to spend a little time with you." You were silent now, but you weren't looking away as he added, "Sleeping with you is incredible, sure. But that's not why I'm here. I don't have to drive four hours round trip to get laid. I have six pack abs. But in order to see you tonight, it required driving up from San Diego. And when I tell you that I don't care if you invite me back to your hotel room tonight or not, I mean it."

Then you were kissing him and tugging him closer to you by the front of his shirt. And the Angels must have scored, because the rest of the stadium erupted in near deafening cheers. But you still didn't care to look away and find out exactly what was going on. You just kept kissing him, and your hand skimmed up his thigh, and Bradley had to pull away. 

"Ace, if you keep doing that, you'll make me look like a liar," he gasped as the cheering finally started to lessen. 

You chased his lips with yours and asked, "What do you mean?"

Bradley kissed you one more time and then leaned back in his seat, glancing down at the fly of his jeans where he was plainly a little hard for you. His voice was a little tight as he adjusted himself. "Truly, sleeping with you is not my priority tonight, but you turn me on."

Your hand was still resting on his thigh as you turned toward your computer and typed one handed. "How embarrassing... logging in to SportsCenter to watch a replay while I'm sitting right here in Anaheim." But you were smiling, and Bradley let his hand come to rest on top of yours while he caught his breath. It took you a minute to get your score sheet updated correctly, and then you were focusing on the players once more. But your hand still brushed his leg, and your fingers occasionally laced with his as you watched the game. 

Occasionally you murmured something about a stolen base or an earned run average, but Bradley was barely watching anything except you. All he knew was he hoped the Angels won. All he wanted was to stay with you as long as possible. 

When you kissed him sweetly during the seventh inning stretch, one of the other writers turned and said, "You brought your boyfriend again, New York?"

"No, Jack. He's actually my intern," you replied smoothly. The older man just looked between you and Bradley and then turned around.

"Intern?" Bradley mumbled. "Damn. I got demoted. Someone called me your boyfriend the other night." You started laughing as Bradley said, "What's next? Your dog walker?"

"I don't have a dog," you told him, smiling at him brightly and squeezing his thigh.

He laughed, too. "You want me to be your personal food fetcher?"

"Now that is something I could actually use."

Bradley was on his feet immediately, filling a plate from the catering stations and grabbing a bottle of water. 

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

Nothing felt as rushed tonight. Sure, you kept pulling Bradley in for kisses in the parking lot on the way to his retro Ford Bronco, but you didn't feel the need to immediately drag him back to your room. Not when he looked so gorgeous in the moonlight. Not when you felt golden inside since the Angels had managed to pull out a win. There would be at least five games. You were hoping you had at least two more chances to see him.

You shivered as he opened the door for you. "Bradley," you said with a laugh. "I told you my hotel is just on the other side of the parking lot. It's the hotel I always stay in."

"I'll drive you over," he whispered, kissing your cheek as he helped you in. Then you gave him an appraising look as he closed the door and jogged around to the other side. Was he really not planning on joining you in your room? The idea sent a jolt of sadness through you. But tomorrow was Wednesday, a work day for him.

"Bradley?" you asked softly as he pulled out of the spot. You could already see your hotel from the end of the aisle, and he turned to smile at you. 

"Yeah, Baby?"

You closed your eyes and whispered, "Do you have to leave right away? I want you to come up."

He didn't answer immediately. He pulled up to the entrance and put the Bronco in park and ran his fingers through his hair. "I wish I could say no to you. Just to prove my point."

When you leaned across the console and said, "I don't want you to say no to me right now," he shifted back into drive. You giggled as he pulled forward a little quickly and whipped into an empty parking space. 

And then you were walking backwards through the lobby, coaxing Bradley along as he said, "I shouldn't be coming up with you. I have work in the morning. And I told you I'm just here for your company." But he was smiling, and he was the one to push the button to call the elevator. 

Then it arrived, and the two of you were the only ones inside when the door closed. You tucked yourself against his chest when he opened his arms to you. "Just come up for a little bit?"

"A little bit," he confirmed, kissing the top of your head. "While you write your piece?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, kissing his neck. "Or you could stay for a while."

His arms were warm and so solid around you, and you heard him murmur, "I could stay for a while."

You pulled him down the hallway, laughing at the dopey grin on his face. "You could stay longer. We're only going to get a handful of these nights together. And I like it when my hotel room smells like you the next day."

He snatched the key card from your hand and unlocked the door, ushering you inside with his lips on yours. He tossed the key somewhere on the floor as the door closed behind him, and you dropped your computer bag with a soft thud. 

"This is a nice room," he whispered against your lips as he untucked your blouse and got one big hand on your lower back. 

"You didn't even see it yet," you gasped as he started sucking on your neck.

"I'll look at it later."

And then you were under him on your bed, both of you fully clothed except for your shoes. Bradley was running his lips and his mustache along your neck at such a leisurely pace, you were afraid you might actually melt. 

"Is that my jersey?" he asked, his gaze moving to the pillow next to your head. 

"Yeah," you whined as his tongue met the sensitive spot behind your ear. "I wore it last night and this morning."

Bradley groaned, and then you felt his hands at your waist and your hips. "I'm a weak man. A very weak man when it comes to you, Ace." And then his groan just got louder as you reached down for his hands and guided them slowly to the button of your jeans. He made quick work of it and the zipper, easing his fingers inside the waistband of your underwear. "Baby, you have an article to finish." 

He kissed along below your belly button, and you whimpered as you said, "I'll finish it in time. I promise." And then he was yanking your pants down and pressing his lips to your bare thighs as he worked your jeans and underwear all the way down your legs and off. He settled in with his face buried in your pussy, just like last time. Just like the first time. You'd never been with a man so willing and eager to do this.

"You're fucking soaked," he moaned, lapping up along your slit before separating you with his nose and kissing around your opening. 

"Bradley!" you whined, because he was already so invested. So you let him go for a few minutes, and it felt good. So good, you were almost convinced he could get you off this way if he took enough time to do it. But after a few more minutes, you tugged gently on his hair. When he met your eyes with his lips on your clit, he looked annoyed. 

He released you, much to your immediate displeasure, and asked, "Why won't you let me get you off like this? You stopped me the other night, too."

You pressed your lips together and looked at the ceiling before you answered. "It'll take forever."

Bradley sighed, and a second later, a jolt of pleasure rushed through you. When you looked down your body at him, he was swirling one long finger around your clit. "I'm in no rush. Other than you needing to submit your article in an hour and a half, we've got time."

"You must like a challenge."

Bradley raised one eyebrow at you, but his finger never stopped that slow, delicious swirl that had you bending one leg and running your foot along his side. He kissed the inside of your knee before he looked at you and said, "This is not a challenge. This is a privilege, Baby. You just tell me what feels good, and I'll get you there."

You couldn't be sure if it was his words or the way he was touching you, but when your pussy clenched gently around nothing, you were whimpering his name and agreeing. And then his mouth was trailing the softest kisses along your folds. You could tell you were dripping wet by the way his tongue glided so smoothly along. And then Bradley reached around your hips and tilted your body up at a slightly different angle that had his nose bumping your clit while he ate you.

He kept changing things up. A soft roll of his tongue would turn into a nibble. And then the nibbles would turn into suction with just the most beautiful amount of pressure. But his mustache was just fucking special, the way it felt rough and yet so fucking necessary. 

"Fuck," you whined softly. He was so good. But you'd felt this slow build before, and inevitably your partners ended up getting tired or annoyed by how long it took you. Bradley's movements were sure and steady, however. And now he was plucking at your clit with his lips, and your thighs tightened around his head.

"Good?" he asked, breathing a little heavy. 

"Yes! Don't stop!" you praised, your hips rocking with each little grab and release of his lips. He squeezed your hips as if he was letting you know he would get you off like he promised, and then he swirled his tongue slowly around your clit before licking a long stripe down with the tip of his tongue. 

"Do that again," you demanded, your voice barely a gasp. And once again he treated you to that swirl of his tongue. "Fuck." And the long stripe downward. "Oh."

"Again?" he asked, his voice raspy and amused.

You tangled your fingers in his hair and tugged as you said, "Don't you dare stop, Bradley." But he was already back at it with that perfect tempo and his prickly mustache. This time, when he licked down, he kissed his way back up, and you made the most desperate sound. "Again."

"I got you, Ace."

His tongue. His voice. His hands. His hair. His ridiculous nickname for you. "Oh god damn!" you whined, your voice breaking as you keened. The words and sounds were burning at the back of your throat before they could be released in a way that made any sense at all. And you rolled your hips slowly against his mouth as he cupped your body. You were close. So close. So-

"Yes!" you nearly screamed as tears stung at your eyes. Bradley grunted as you pulled his hair but he didn't stop. You were practically riding his face with one leg thrown over his shoulder when you felt yourself gush. His face was still buried in your pussy, but when he finally looked up at you, he was panting. 

"Ace," he groaned, his face all wet from you. He was licking his lips like you were the most incredible thing he'd ever tasted in his life, and even though you were still enjoying some little aftershocks, you needed more.

"I want you to fuck me," you said softly, and then his wet lips and chin were on yours. And you did taste pretty incredible as he bucked his fully clothed body against your core. 

"I won't last," he grunted. "Not after that. God, you're perfect."

Your body felt flushed all over from his compliment. "I don't care. I just want to feel you."

"You need to finish your article," he said, but he was already sitting back on his knees between your legs and unzipping his pants. He winced as he pulled himself free, his tip an angry, swollen red.

"Oh," you gasped, already clenching again at the sight of him. You scampered out of bed and nearly tripped on your way to your suitcase. "Eighteen condoms," you muttered, digging around until you found one of the double packs. 

A few seconds later, you were rolling one of them down his length. He'd barely gotten his pants pulled down to his thighs by the time you were bending over the bed for him. And then he was filling you up, and his arms kind of caged you in. And his mustache was rubbing your neck. And your actual first name was on his lips. And you were thinking about things you knew you shouldn't. You were thinking about how much it was going to hurt when you left for the east coast.

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

Bradley would have been embarrassed that he only lasted two minutes, but you didn't seem to mind. "I'll be better for round two. You just really wound me up."

You bit your lip and smiled at him as he removed the condom. "Going down on me made you hot?"

He looked up at you like you had two heads. "Yeah. Hell yeah. I'd spend the whole night doing that if you'd let me."

You looked ridiculously pleased with yourself as you grabbed his Padres jersey off the bed and slipped it on. "Maybe tomorrow night," you said playfully as you walked toward the desk and grabbed your bag on the way. "You coming?"

Once again, Bradley had you perched on his lap while you finished your article. You were cutting it very close tonight, and he was helping you proofread as you wrote. "You misspelled umpire," he whispered, pointing to your computer screen.

"Thanks," you replied softly, correcting your error. 

He didn't want to distract you at all, but he wasn't sure how long you wanted him to stay. It was three minutes until midnight. He was at least an hour and a half away from home. He needed to be at work in eight hours. But the way you were acting like he belonged with you was keeping his mouth shut.

You submitted your article at exactly midnight and then you turned to face him. "Are you ready for round two?" you whispered, grinning. "Round one with you was already way better than when I got off earlier today."

Bradley froze with you in his arms. "What the hell happened earlier today?" he asked, hating that he immediately felt a little jealous. 

But you leaned in and kissed him softly, your lips brushing his as you said, "I thought about you while I got myself off."

"Fuuuck," he groaned, wrapping you tighter in his arms. "That's hot, Ace."

Bradley was still hanging out of his jeans, and his cock was rubbing your thigh as he got hard for you. You were running your fingers through his hair as you rubbed your pussy along his length. Then you reached behind you on the counter and held up another condom, and when Bradley nodded, you opened it. And then he was inside you again. 

You went slow, with breathless fluttering kisses along his face. He tucked his hands inside the jersey, wanting to feel as much of your smooth skin as he could. "At least two more games," you whispered. "I have the Angels to thank for winning tonight."

Bradley laughed softly, bringing his hands up to your breasts but keeping his eyes on yours. "Let's keep this thing going."

"Mmhmm," you moaned. And then you kissed him like you and he had been doing this for years already. As if you knew what he needed. And maybe you did, because he was starting to think he needed you. 

"Ace, Baby." You were coming for him, absolutely coming undone in his arms as you moved your body. He wanted to tell you to make it last all night, but it was too good. And he was right there, too.

As you pushed his hair back from his forehead and let your cheek find his shoulder, your phone rang. Bradley jumped a bit, but you didn't seem concerned. 

"It's probably just Greg. My boss," you said with a kiss to his cheek. 

"Okay," Bradley grunted as you stood and left him to dispose of the condom. 

"Greg," you said calmly when you answered the phone. And then Bradley heard someone yelling at you. He was on his feet, brow scrunched in concern. This guy was loud, and you didn't even have him on speaker phone. And he wasn't letting you get a word in. You just hummed in agreement as you paced around the room, but when Bradley caught your eye, you headed back over. 

"It's okay," you told him with your hand over the speaker of your phone. "He doesn't like my nearly late submissions," you said with an eye roll and then a smile. Then you gently pushed Bradley down into the chair again before pacing away. And he was suddenly inadvertently privy to your email inbox.

At the top was your article submission receipt which you were currently telling your boss was time stamped for midnight, and that you didn't actually need him to call you from home in New York where it was three in the morning. Then Bradley's eyes fell to no fewer than six emails that had all been sent from different media outlets this evening. 

g.rutherford@msnsports.com   Opportunities With MSN Sports

tasha.park@majorleaguesports.net   Sports Writer Positions Open Now

jmv12@cbssports.com   Looking For a New Opportunity?

a.archer@velocityreport.com   We Have the Perfect Position For You

peter.stephens@barstoolsports.com   We Need You -  Join Out Team!

jheath@philainquire.com   Join the Sports Team With Highest Salaried Positions

"Damn, Ace," Bradley muttered, eyes scanning everything he could see without scrolling down further. But something told him there would be more of the same if he did. Everyone wanted you. 

"Sorry," you muttered, having ended your call without Bradley even noticing. And now you looked a little apprehensive.

"Your boss was yelling at you," he remarked as he stood.

"Oh," you said with a little shrug. "He's always like that. Ranting and raving is how he operates."

Bradley glanced back at your computer screen briefly. "Well I wish he wasn't shouting at you. Your articles are always the best."

You clearly wanted to say something, but you planted your hands on your hips and tapped your foot on the floor. "Bradley... I know it's late, and you have to get back home for work and everything... Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

He didn't have to think about it. "Yes."

And then your expression melted into a smile as you climbed into bed, still wearing his jersey. Bradley watched you pat the spot next to you, and he zipped up his jeans and climbed in as well. 

As you yanked the covers up over both of you, Bradley pulled you close so your back was pressed to his front. "Will you come back tomorrow night? If I can get you a ticket?" you asked him so softly, he held his breath to make sure that was all you had to say.

As long as you were in southern California, he would come to you. "I'll be back up no matter what, Ace." And after you kissed his hands and laced your fingers with his, he added, "I can't believe you thought this right here wasn't my favorite part about being with you."

Your breathing was evening out, and Bradley thought perhaps you were already asleep. But then you said, "This is my favorite part, too."

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

She asked him to stay until she fell asleep. Oh, Ace. He's a mess already. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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Bradley thoughts, you say? Man LOVES to lay on top of you, head on your chest as you gently scratch his scalp. Mans could stay like that forever if you let him.

Oh, absolutely! It’s super comforting to him, and one of his favorite places to be. It makes you laugh how he always manages to get himself settled into that position, too.

Like one night when you’re laying on your back on the couch, channel surfing and searching for something to watch before bed. Bradley had gotten home late from work, so he’s in the shower when you finally settle on reruns of Law & Order.

When he appears in the living room about twenty minutes later, bare chest still damp from his shower and sweatpants slung low around his waist, he grins when he sees the position you’re in—perfect for cuddling and getting head scratches.

“Bradley, you’re crushing me!” you laugh when your large husband crawls on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch as he rests his head on your chest.

“Sorry, honey,” he grins, shifting his position slightly, but not moving from his spot atop you. He hums softly as he gets comfortable, letting out a content sigh, his warm breath tickling your skin. “I could lay like this forever,” he murmurs, lifting his head for a moment to press a kiss to your chin.

“Maybe just until the end of this episode,” you tease, lifting your hand and running your fingers through his damp hair, your nails gently scratching along his scalp.

Bradley doesn’t even make it to the end of the episode before he’s fast asleep on your chest, relaxed and peaceful in the way he only is with you.

Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 10k words (.....yes. 10k. i know)

summary: You've been hooking up with Bradley for three weeks now. You're also hooking up with him tonight.

a/n: this is pure smut. honestly pure smut. 18+ i will now list all the things that you have to look out for. first and foremost i have NEVER written smut before dont kill me pls im trying my best. ok so

name kink, rank kink, choking, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyve had the conversation nothing bad will happen), oral sex!fem receiving, dom bradley, some "good girl" because i am a sucker for that, in general a lot of talking because bradley is A TALKER!!!!!!, a little strength kink? is that a thing? and a shit ton of begging

this can be read as a stand-alone most definitely, but is set in the same universe as "Tuesday Night" and “Not A Coincidence” and "Take Me On A Joyride" so maybe give those a read too?

top gun masterlist

You were behind the bar this evening, a rag in your hands as you wiped down the sticky wooden top for the bazillionth time and hummed along to the music coming from the jukebox. You were behind the bar most evenings, pouring beer and rum and whiskey and mixing cocktails (occasionally taking some sips of your own), smiling and laughing and flirting with customers left and right.

For the past few months now, the most regular of those costumers had been the Dagger squad.

They'd shown up here one random evening and hadn't left since. And it didn't seem like any of them would any time soon.

Not that you wanted them to, oh no. You had grown so close in so little time that it was scary at this point.

"Settle a bet for us, Junior."

Jake slid up to the bar as if it was second nature, putting an empty bottle of beer in front of him and resting one elbow next to it. You looked up at him and smiled, threw your rag over your shoulder and grabbed the bottle, condensation dripping down onto your fingertips. Rooster came up right behind him and your smile deepened even further.

"Hit me, Bagman", you challenged, set two full bottles on the bar top and then rested your forearms against the edge.

Jake grinned at you as he raised his beer in a toast.

"If you had to get with one of us tonight, who'd you get with?"

You didn't even flinch.

"Bradshaw", you said, quick like a shot, and watched Jake's face fall like he'd expected a different answer with just a tiny bit of amusement. You glanced at Rooster, who had already been looking at you, and whose only reaction to the fact that you were literally talking about sleeping with him was a small quirk of his lips.

"Bradshaw? Are you kidding? You- I'll give you a second to think about it, Junior. Don't you wanna think about it for a second?", Jake asked, regaining his facade, letting a tinge of his accent slip as he leaned in and winked at you. "You know, actually think about it. Imagine it. Picture it. Visualise it."

You decided to give him the satisfaction. So you pushed back from the bar top, crossed your arms, raised your eyebrows and eyed the two of them up and down - just because you could, just for the fun of it. Jake was in his usual jeans and shirt, leaning in with a self-assured grin and his hand wrapped around his beer bottle. Bradley was wearing one of those Hawaiian shirts that fit snugly on his bicep, his sunglasses tucked into the collar of the white top underneath, hair on the practically perfect side of unruly and his eyes fixed on yours so intensely that you had to bite down on your tongue for a moment there.

You counted to five.

"Bradshaw", you said again, dropped your arms and grabbed the rag from your shoulder. Jake's lips parted and a betrayed sort of gasp left his mouth before he started complaining - you shook your head and stepped over to the next customer and only allowed yourself to grin when you'd turned away, out of his sight.

You wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

You still didn't know whether to be surprised at this "bet" the both of them had made. You were pretty sure anyway that Jake had been the driving force in that. You knew the two of them well enough by now to not only be aware of their.... you could only call it a rivalry, really, but also of Jake's weird, warped sense of mischief. Maybe he had some narcissism problem or maybe some old trauma response. Who cared? Not you. It made for entertainment every night you were behind the bar. And also every night you were in front of the bar, drinking and dancing with the squad. You loved him, you really did. But definitely not enough to not put a stop to his ego whenever you could.

And if that way was by flaunting how very platonically you felt about him (because he was a self-named womanizer and couldn't understand how anyone could possibly not be attracted to him), you would.

...

It was 2am when Penny told you to pack your things and go. Most of the bar was empty already, except for three or four small groups of people, but those she could manage alone. Usually, maybe, you'd have declined, but tonight....

Well.

Jake had found someone to hook up with after his earlier disappointment and the rest of the squad had left at some point during the last hour too - the rest of the squad except for a particular pornstache guy.

Rooster had said goodbye to Fanboy and Payback ten minutes ago, had assured them he didn't need a ride home, he'd order another drink and then take an uber, had sat down on a bar stool, nursed his beer and watched you clean up and then pack your things. You'd sneaked glances at him now and then, so you knew that he'd watched you.

When you stepped out from behind the bar, he sat up and followed you out of the Hard Deck wordlessly. Armed with a purse, fumbling for your car keys, fighting down the smile on your lips and the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, you took a second outside to close your eyes and breathe in the mild evening air.

Then two arms sneaked around your waist. You let out a sigh as warm breath hit your neck.

"So you'd rather get with me than Bagman, hm, Junior?"

You chuckled, pushing back a little, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to relax for the first time tonight.

"I think you know very well that I'd rather get with you than Bagman, Rooster", you muttered, running your hands up his, up his arms, up naked skin until you could slide your fingertips underneath his shirt, up his shoulders... "I'd rather get with you than anyone."

He pressed a kiss right below your earlobe, bit down softly on the same patch of skin, soothed it again with a kiss.

"Oh, I know", he laughed quietly into your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You settled even further into his arms. "I'd rather get with you than Bagman, too."

You had to laugh as well - the image of Hangman and Rooster was truly funny. But it was difficult to keep laughing when Bradley pressed more and more kisses to your neck, trailing a line of them down to the hemline of your shirt, nuzzling his nose in there when he couldn't go further. You tilted your head back a little to rest it against his shoulder, a pleasant flush rising up within - a comfortable warmth, the knowledge that you were safe, secure, protected. The way he always made you feel.

"Just to be clear - I do get to get with you tonight, right?", you asked, a grin on your lips because you knew the answer very, very well. Rooster chuckled into your ear and let out a hum.

"What do you think?", he muttered, one last, open-mouthed kiss pressed against your skin before he pulled away, pulled at your hand to twirl you around, pulled a squeal from your lips, one that conjured a smile on his face every time. "Take me home?"

...

The ride home was silent except for the radio in the background, but you were pretty much tuning that out. The steering wheel was sturdy in your hands, the night lights bright and blinding and your concentration on the streets and the car was waning ever so slowly, ever so steadily because Rooster's hand was slowly, steadily inching up your thigh. He'd put it innocently just above your knee when you'd strapped yourself in, his thumb sweeping in circles over the fabric of your jeans, but by now he'd brushed so far up that you were finding it hard to direct your thoughts back to driving.

Luckily, the drive back home only took ten minutes.

You weren't sure you'd have survived even a second more. He squeezed your thigh one last time as you turned the ignition off, then unbuckled his seat belt, opened his door and got out and you were left alone in pure silence for exactly two seconds. You took a deep breath in and out. One day, and you knew that, Bradley would be the death of you. He could get you all riled up with so very little that you felt like you were going mad sometimes. In a very good way, of course.

And just as you were lamenting on the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, on the images your brain conjured whenever you were close to him, whenever you were touching him, whenever-

"Madam", Rooster smiled, leaning one arm on the opened car door and reaching the other hand out for you to take. "Would you do me the honours?"

You could only shake your head and grin at him, giddiness making you squirm in your seat as you pulled your hands away from the steering wheel and put one of them in his.

"I could never deny you any of your wishes, kind sir", you said, allowing him to pull you out of the car and into his arms instead. He hugged you close, tilted his head down to nuzzle your nose with his - you had to put your head back to be able to look into his eyes when you stood this close in front of him, nevermind kissing him.

"Really?", he smiled, his fingertips dancing along your side, hooking into your belt loops, pulling your hips flush to his. You grabbed at his biceps to steady yourself. Or maybe just because you could. "Any of my wishes?"

You let out a sort of agreeable hum and grinned up at him.

"Whatever you want", you nodded.

It was the truth, simple and just. You'd do anything. You'd let him do anything. You trusted him like you'd never trusted anyone before and up until now, you'd only ever been rewarded for putting that kind of trust in him. Something about this felt right. Something about him felt right.

"What if I wanted to spend the rest of the night between your legs?", he muttered, eyes flicking down to your lips as your breath hitched.

"Well", you whispered, because whispering was the only thing you still knew how to do. "As I said, I won't deny you anything."

His eyes met yours and his lip quirked up and then, before you could do anything more, he'd dropped down, wrapped an arm around your legs and hauled you up. You let out a gasp and crossed your arms behind his neck in reflex, a soft, shocked "Rooster!" falling from your lips. Bradley only chuckled, closed the car door with his hip and started carrying you to your front door with seemingly no problem whatsoever.

Gods. Sometimes you forgot just how strong he really was.

But then, in moments like these, he picked you up and threw you onto your bed or pushed you up against a wall and you remembered. And you felt that sting in your stomach that had you press your legs together every time.

Now you didn't even have to remember. Now you were dangling safely from his arms, your hands linked behind his neck, your fingertips buried in his hair, your eyes wide as you watched him, as you tried to steady your irregular breathing because shit, this was happening. This was happening like it had been happening for over three weeks now.

He sat you down carefully in front of the door, but you were in such a trance that you needed to take a moment (or two or three) to stare at him, at this man, this fairytale prince, this god. Your man, your fairytale prince, your god.

"You need to unlock the door, honey", he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and turning you so you were facing the door, his chest pressed to your back, his breath fanning the exposed skin of your neck and right, right, right, the door! The door. The lock. The key. The key in your purse! That key. The key for your door. Right. Key, key, key.... Where the hell was that goddamn key? You were sure it was somewhere there in your purse. You'd put it in there like you always put it in there. Key, Key, Rooster, Rooster's arms around you, Rooster's hands brushing over your skin, Rooster's breath on your ear, Rooster between your legs, Rooster- Key! Key, key, key---

There.

At the very bottom of your purse, finally! There it was. You pulled it out with an almost triumphant sound, unlocked your door to Rooster's soft laughter behind you and stumbled into the dark hallway in a half-intoxicated way that shouldn't have been possible because you hadn't drunk anything tonight.

You threw your purse to the side and switched on the light and turned to Rooster just in time for him to have closed the door behind him and reached for you, his hands on your hips - so big, splayed so wide, his fingers so long - crowding you against the wall, his breath fanning over your mouth and then, finally, his lips on yours.

For the first time today, you were kissing him. He was so wide, so tall, so huge, everywhere all around you, his arms, his hands, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his chin and his cheeks and his lips and his hair. Your hands sunk into that hair, tugging at the roots and grabbing his head as though your life depended on it, depended on keeping him safely, steadily right on front of you, right here, pushing you against the wall and leaving you practically no room to breathe, to touch, to feel anything other than him.

You wanted him.

With every fibre of your body, your soul, every particle, every cell, you wanted him. You wanted him everywhere all at once and you wanted him now.

So you bit down on his lip and allowed his tongue in and brushed your hands down his shoulders, down his chest to pull off that god-awful Hawaiian shirt that you admittedly found very attractive, but that was so incredibly, annoyingly in the way right now. You tugged it off his chest and down his arms and didn't care when it fell to the floor - that was where it should be, that was where it belonged.

You reached for the top then, for his waist to brush your fingertips below its hem, pushed it up, up, up until you could feel bare skin, washboard abs against your palms. That satisfied you for a moment - for a moment of running your fingers along the sharp edges of his stomach, for a moment of feeling his body heat, for a moment of being closer.

Luckily, Rooster had always been quite in-tune with you. He noticed the very second that your satisfaction turned to impatience, that your roaming, wandering hands weren't exploring, weren't enjoying anymore but were searching, longing for more - for more skin to touch, more, more, more.

He pulled away from your lips to get rid of his top, leaving you a panting, wide-eyed mess and by god, he'd only just gotten started. He hadn't even touched you. How were you already so wound up?

You blamed the fact that you'd had to stare at him from a distance for the past five days (you'd had late night shifts, he'd had early training days) and decided not to think about it further.

Especially not as his top joined his shirt on the floor, as he looked up at you with red smudged on his chin, kiss-swollen lips and unruly hair. His chest was heaving, his breath coming shorter than usual and his pupils had grown so dark you had to swallow hard.

Without thinking, you reached out and tried to wipe your lipstick off his skin.

That made him grin a little.

"Rooster?", you muttered, looking him right in the eyes. He let out a hum as he stared, a bit lost in thought it seemed and still quite shamelessly, only further at your lips. "Either take me to the bedroom or take a step back so I can get on my knees."

He let out a chuckle then and met your eyes, digging his fingers through your belt loops and pulling you a few inches away from the wall.

"I think you may have forgot something, honey", he said. "What about that wish I made?"

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to let your imagination run wild.

Rooster only grinned, and it seemed that your expression showed him just how much you didn't mind his wish at all, because he reached around you, grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, so effortlessly that it made you blush a little. You didn't even have to hold onto him, only had to wrap your legs loosely around his hips as he carried you through the hallway and into the bedroom.

That allowed you to focus all of your attention on pressing your lips to his skin.

He was warm. So warm. You trailed your lips all over his jaw, his throat, his shoulders, his bicep, and then, when you couldn't go any further down, Rooster had already found the light switch in your room and was dropping you onto your bed, pulling a surprised gasp from you.

The mattress was soft and bouncy as you landed on it, heat in your cheeks and your throat tightening at the sight in front of you - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw standing at the foot of of your bed, half-naked, sweaty, breathing heavy and looking down at you like he was a predator and you were his prey, like he wanted to devour you whole.

Which he did.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows at the same time that he advanced - pounding on you, almost, with a grin on his lips that set ablaze the slumbering flame in your abdomen. You didn't know which one of you got rid of your shirt, only that a few seconds later his lips were on yours, his hands reaching for your bra clasp and your shirt discarded somewhere on your floor.

You breathed hard against his mouth as his fingertips brushed along your back, along your bra, then slowly slid it off your shoulders, down your arms...

Cold air hit your breasts just as Rooster pulled away from you to fling your bra away to join your shirt on the floor, leaving you cold and panting, your eyes closing and opening again and staring at him as he stared at you, as he admired you, all bare, soft skin right there, right in front of him, just for him and nobody else.

You felt his palms against your ribcage then, pushing you down onto your back, onto the mattress, your breath hitching and your eyes closing in anticipation. He dropped a kiss onto your collarbone. Another just above your cleavage. Another onto the top of your breasts. His thumbs brushed right below them.

You wanted more. You always wanted more. You needed more.

But he was just trailing kisses along your breasts, never lingering for long enough, never biting or sucking or licking and as much as you were enjoying this... You needed more.

"Rooster", you sighed, dragging your hands through his hair because you needed more. He hummed against your skin. You could feel the vibration all over. "Roos, please."

He grinned - against your skin at first, before he looked up and right at you. "What was that?"

You bit down on your lip. God damn him. He always did this. Every single time, he did this. And the worst part was: You didn't even mind. You didn't mind begging, you didn't mind pleading, you didn't mind doing so much of it that you couldn't do, couldn't say anything else anymore. So you did just that.

"Please", you repeated, a little breathlessly. Rooster's grin widened.

And then he pulled away completely.

You could have screamed. You honestly thought, just for a second, that he would leave you lying there - panting and begging for him, with a bare chest and arousal heating up every part of you. But of course not. Of course not. This was Bradley fucking Bradshaw. He didn't leave you unsatisfied.

No.

Rooster got up from the bed only to grab you by the waist, to pull you down to the edge and kneel down on the floor. You swallowed hard. He fiddled with your shoes first, loosening the laces and taking them off, tugging down your socks and your pants and oh dear lord, you couldn't concentrate on anything he was doing.

He was kneeling in front of your bed. You bit back a moan from that alone.

Any and all forms of Bradley Bradshaw were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but to you, nothing would ever top the sight of him on his knees for you.

You tuned back in when your jeans thumped to the floor, when his fingertips danced softly, teasingly up your calves, up your knees, up your thighs. You clenched your jaw when he reached your underwear, when his eyes met yours again in one final reassurance that this was what the both of you wanted, and then he pulled it down your legs too and hooked his hands behind your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You took a deep breath - one, two, one, two.

One, two.

One, two.

You frowned and blinked open your eyes again.

Rooster was staring at you, blatantly staring at you with a knowing smirk plastered on his lips and his fingers digging into your hips, sure to hold you in place, not allowing you to push even an inch closer to him.

"Roos", you whined, for what already felt like the dozenth time tonight, your hand sinking into his hair, splaying out, tugging at the strands, trying your hardest to pull him in. He didn't move.

"Yes?", he asked, with that grin just deepening, telling you he knew exactly what he was doing.

Of course he did. Of course he'd make you- God, of course, of course, of course! It had been his idea. It had been his plan, his wish, his goddamn idea and now he was making you-

"Fuck", you grumbled, teeth digging into your bottom lip. You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to do this because he hadn't even had you lying here for five minutes and he already wanted you to do this. "Roos, just-"

He bit down softly on the skin of your thigh then, pulling a surprised gasp from you, leaving your sentence hanging half-finished in mid air. You had to tilt your head back, had to throw a hand over your face because gods, you couldn't look at him now! Not with his breath meeting your thigh, with the feeling of his moustache against your skin, not with that grin on his lips. If you did, you'd melt in less than a heartbeat. You weren't about to give in that easily.

At least that was what you told yourself. You repeated it in your head like a mantra - he had barely touched you, he was the one who'd wished for this, you wouldn't... you weren't... you hadn't...

Fuck!

"C'mon honey", he encouraged, pressing a kiss high up on your thigh. You let out a shaky breath. He was close, so close now and he had you wound so tightly, so incredibly tightly that you felt like you were burning up from inside and-

"Bradley", you gave in, the word falling, tumbling from your lips in almost a moan. "Please, Bradley, please."

He was on you in a heartbeat. Licking a stripe up your slit, tongue flattened and you cried out, digging your fingers deeper into his hair, pulling, pushing, back arching off the bed as he finally, finally gave you what you wanted, what you needed. He dove in like a starved man, licking, pushing, tasting you, devoured and ravaged you, took everything and gave everything at the same time.

Bradley was a god. You'd never had a man eat you out like this until you met him.

His hands pressing against your hips to hold you down, to keep you right there for him, not letting you move an inch from him, only letting you push impossibly closer, your mind, your body screaming more. More, more, more. More of him. More from him. More him.

His tongue found your clit. You cried his name into the vast nothingness of your bedroom, eyes squeezing close and hand cramping into the sheets next to your head, thighs clamping around his head, caging him in, his palms forcing your back still on the mattress.

You could faintly make out your own moans, your own voice as his tongue circled, traced and dipped -

More.

He drew your clit into his mouth. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, send a shiver through your body, make your legs twitch.

Please.

He sunk his tongue into you, brushed your clit, up and down and everywhere.

Bradley.

You were coming close. Close, so close. Every inch of your skin was tensing in anticipation, clenching, clutching. You babbled something of the sort, not listening to yourself, not able to, not starting or stopping, controlling none of your words, none of the sounds falling from your lips. Bradley loosened one of his palms from your hips and immediately you were pushing, arching up, held down a heartbeat later as he pinned his arm down again, his tongue working you, not faltering once and-

pressure.

His thumb on your clit.

You screamed out his name.

Your nails dug into his scalp. Your heels clasped around his back. Every single nerve in your body was on fire. And Bradley didn't stop.

He worked you right through your high, circling his thumb on your clit and sinking his tongue into you, holding you down, holding you close until you were panting, gasping, your legs unclasping from his head, your fingers loosening in his hair, loosening from the bedsheets, your eyes fluttering open, meeting his and only then did he relent. He pulled back softly, stilling his thumb and pressing a kiss to your thigh, watching you as you slowly came back to reality, back to him.

You blinked once. Twice.

He pulled his thumb from you as he rose up from the floor, running his hands along your sides instead, along your ribs, your breasts, your throat, studying the irregular rise and fall of your chest, mapping out your body beneath his. You watched with parted lips as he brought both his hands steadily down next to your head, as he leaned down to meet you in a kiss - heavy and heady and intense and full of all the right emotions. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

But before you could do any more, press yourself up or pull him down, he was gone again, hot breath meeting your lips and that familiar smile crawling back up onto his face.

"Enjoying yourself?", he asked, tilting his head to the side a little, catching the light of the overhead lamp. Wetness glistened on his moustache. You bit down on your bottom lip, doing your hardest to conceal the smile that was fighting to get to the surface.

Instead, you let out an agreeable hum and brought your hand up to his stache to wipe at it, to wipe some of you off him and admittedly, you already knew that wouldn't do much - but the simple act of innocently cleaning him off like that, fingers brushing above his mouth, just caressing his skin, it made something in your stomach churn.

"How about you? Now that we've checked one wish off your list... Any more?", you muttered, trailing your fingers along his cheek, down his scars, following those lines of skin you knew so well, burning them into your mind, burning him into your mind. You'd never seen anyone as beautiful. You didn't think there was anyone as beautiful out there. Your breath hitched, fingertips catching on a birthmark, before you snapped your eyes back up to his. "Any more wishes at all, Bradley?"

A sort of grunt left him as you did your best not to grin - you knew just what buttons to push, didn't you?

"You know", he muttered, dropping his head, brushing his nose down the sensitive skin of your throat. "I could think of a few more things."

"Yeah?", you asked, just on the right side of breathless again, skin tingling wherever he decided to place a few deliberate, almost chaste kisses. "Like what?"

He'd worked his way down to your breasts again, still holding himself up with both his hands.

"I could fuck you nice and slow, just like you deserve it", he said softly, the words flowing from him as easily as if he were talking about breakfast the next day. Rational, sober, collected. You, on the other hand, could feel the wetness pooling in between your legs again. You couldn't believe how reasonable, how practical, how composed he could stay while he said things like that - how he'd fuck you, how he'd eat you out, how he'd pull every single thought from your mind with his fingers and his mouth and his cock.

"Or", he went on, completely unbothered still, stopping in between words to drop kisses onto your breasts. "I could fuck you hard and fast, because that's what you want, right?"

A moan tumbled from your lips all of its own accord, your eyes fluttering shut again. He was conjuring visuals in your mind that had you clenching your legs together, hands clawing their way back up into his hair - you needed something to keep you here and now, to keep you grounded.

"I'm right, honey, aren't I?", he muttered, obviously satisfied with himself. "You want me to fuck you rough, don't you?"

You were sure you'd crossed some border into heaven and just hadn't realised it. This man would truly be the death of you one day.

"Yes", you breathed, scratching at his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair. "Yes, please, Bradley."

You could feel his grin against your bare skin.

"You look so pretty begging for me, honey", he smiled, raising himself up and before you could complain much about it, before you could as much as open your eyes again, he was dropping a kiss to your lips, long and longing, parted lips pressed against each other, breathing each other in.

Then he pulled away from you completely and you did let a whine fall from your lips after all, raising yourself up onto your elbows to blindly follow after him as he straightened up and then bent down to pull off his shoes, his socks, to fumble with his belt - all in fucking slow motion apparently, that's how long it took, two hours just to take off his goddamn socks and you were just sitting there, staring, blinking, hazy mind clearing up the way it always had to after you'd been so close to him, watching, staring, watching, staring...

An eternity, it seemed, until you grew too impatient and decided to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

You pushed yourself up, reached for his belt yourself, pulled it from its buckle, unhooked it, opened it finally, finally, finally! and blinked up at him again, all wide eyes and smudged lipstick and swollen lips and Bradley felt pretty sure he died a little just then - this had to be heaven, you had to be heaven. You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and your tongue ran along your lips and he had to swallow hard.

His jeans fell to the floor, chased quickly by his boxer briefs and you took a deep breath as you looked at him, leaning forward, leaning in to reach for him-

He took both your hands in his and pushed you down on the mattress again, another of those pathetic whines dropping from your lips at being denied the feeling of him.

"Fuck, Roos, please", you begged, sounding pitiful to your own ears by now, pleading for something you knew he'd give to you anyway, just so goddamn impatient that you couldn't even help the words rolling off your tongue.

He let go of your hands, reached for your waist instead to pull you up, to tug you firmly farther up the mattress until he could follow after safely, until he could nudge your knees apart and trail a line of kisses up your shoulder, his hands finding their usual spot next to your head.

"What was that, honey?", he grinned against your skin, holding himself up above you to look you right in the eyes.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled a moan from yourself and a similar groan from him, squeezed your eyes shut and had immediately forgotten what it'd been you'd said before. What it'd been he was asking about.

He brought one hand down to your thigh, squeezing tight, holding you even tighter to him, and pressed his hips down into the mattress, pulling another moan from you and, again, a similar groan from himself, making sure that you couldn't move against him on your own, that you were completely at his mercy.

As always.

"Please", you whined, desperate now, trying to rock your hips against his and not succeeding, not succeeding because he was holding you still, holding you down, holding you helpless and defenseless, withholding the one goddamn thing you wanted from him right now. And after all that talk too! "Roos, please, Bradley, do something."

You were far from whining now, breathless and moaning and sobbing basically, hands clawing at his shoulders and nails digging into his skin, begging and pleading and he was just holding still, doing nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing and you wanted more, you wanted something, anything.

"Look at me", he panted then - the only sign at all that he was somehow affected by this as well. "Look at me, honey, open your eyes."

And what else were you supposed to do but follow that command, grant him that wish?

So you forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look at him.

A thin layer of sweat gleaned on his skin. His stare was fixed on you and you alone. And his pupils had dilated so far that his usually hazel eyes were practically black now. You sucked in an unsteady breath.

"Good girl", he praised and you were done for.

You could have come from that alone.

Those two words, breathed into the nothingness of the room, onto your lips, onto your naked skin, sent a shiver down your spine, down your back and your hips and your legs, a shiver so violent that it pulled a moan right with it, a string of them. You barely heard Bradley's groan above you before he pulled away just the slightest bit, pulled away to brush his hand down your side, down your chest, down your hips, between your bodies, to reach for himself and stroke his tip through the wetness between your legs, your back arching off the mattress, into him, into more of him and-

"Wait", you panted.

Bradley froze immediately. His expression shifted to worry in the span of half a second, furrowing his brows and pulling away from you.

"What's wrong?", he asked, still breathless. You closed your eyes and took a breath, tensing, forcing yourself to keep down on the mattress, even as cold settled on your skin now that he wasn't warming you up anymore - inches away from you again. Considerate idiot.

"Just-", you stopped, opened your eyes, looked right at him. "Do you think Jake suspects anything?"

Bradley kept still for a few seconds. A shallow breath and another, your chest rising and falling and you had a hard time thinking, even now that he was barely touching you anymore. You were wound tightly, and you'd been so close, and now...

"You're not seriously thinking about Jake right now", Bradley said, almost accusingly.

You had to admit, it was a bit strange - you were naked, panting, your legs wrapped around his hips, and still you were thinking about Jake, about the bet, about what you'd said hours ago at the bar. You hadn't even been thinking about it, really. It had just come to you, overwhelming you, and you... you had needed to get it out. Still, you did have to admit, it was absurd.

So you bit down on your lip to conceal a smile, a grin, trailed your hands to his hair to brush it behind his ears, almost innocently (but just almost).

"I'm sorry, I just...", you whispered, stroking your hands down his scalp. "We've kept this between us for three weeks now. I don't want to have ruined that."

Bradley shook his head at you, dropped it to his chin, his curls brushing your nose, your cheeks, and sighed onto the skin of your throat.

"You're unbelievable", he muttered, dropping a kiss between your breasts now that he knew you weren't uncomfortable or afraid or anything of the sort in the slightest. Your breath hitched again. You didn't want to talk about this. You wanted him inside you, wanted him to make good on his promise from before. But you knew you had to, because otherwise the thought wouldn't leave you alone, even though the coil in your stomach, the heat in your body screamed bloody murder at you for it.

He looked back up, raised his chin again to meet your eyes.

"Don't worry about Jake", he reassured, one hand starting to softly, just so very softly, brush up and down your side. You had to swallow. "He won't even remember tomorrow."

He dropped another kiss onto your skin, a little further down, that grin, that moustache against your ribs.

"And I'll make sure you won't remember either, pretty girl. Alright?"

You nodded so quickly you almost got a head rush, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, head tilting back just the slightest, your fingers digging into his hair as his lips trailed down your skin, the covers rustling as he settled further back, as his breath ghosted over your center again.

"Need to hear you say it, honey. Say it for me."

"Please", you babbled instantly, not even thinking, not even close, not when Bradley was giving you such easy instructions to follow. "Please, Roos, please."

You could feel him shake his head, obviously unsatisfied, breathing hard, hands travelling up and down your thighs and nothing more, leaving you in some state of being touched but not really being touched and you felt like going insane again.

"Try again, honey", he tutted, and you were already about to plead, to beg even more when he went on - "Look at me, baby, look at me and try again."

You blinked open your eyes, tilted your head down to look at him, all pretty and wide-eyed, just like he'd asked, your fingers cramping in his hair.

"Please, Roos-"

He raised his eyebrows and you knew then, you knew where your mistake had been - you should've known before, you should've-

"Bradley", you moaned. "Please, Bradley, I want you. I need you."

He grinned at that, dropped a kiss to your thigh before flattening his tongue against your folds again, drawing another moan from you. Your eyes stayed fixed on his, but only because you knew he wanted you to, only because you knew he needed you to. His palms splayed out against the backs of your thighs, keeping them still, as always.

His tongue drew a circle on your clit and you arched off the bed, into him, a whine tumbling from your lips, followed by his name. He pulled back much too quickly, much too easily, with a much too satisfied grin on his lips, looking up at you for just a second before he leaned down to drop a kiss to your hip.

"Bradley", you complained, cut off by your own moan when you felt his fingers trail through your wetness instead of his tongue, all soft and slow and you rocked your hips against his hand - more friction, more touch, more, more, more.

You hadn't been kidding when you'd said that you wanted him. That you needed him.

Bradley chuckled, kissing his way up your body again, one hand next to your head to hold himself up just the way he'd done before, but his fingers brushing, stroking, his thumb on your clit, moan after moan spilling from you. You needed more. More.

You tried to shift closer, tried to cant your hips into his palm for more, blinking up at him and whimpering and fuck, Bradley was just human after all, how could he deny you anything if you looked at him like that? So he started drawing little circles with his thumb, little circles on your clit, and pushed a finger into you.

You rewarded him with the soft sound of his name rolling off your tongue, your hands reaching for his arms, clawing at his biceps. You had needed this, had needed him and now... Now you needed more. More, even as he pulled his finger from you and pushed in again, starting in a slow, easy rhythm, drawing little moans, quiet whimpers from you. You rocked your hips back onto him, pushed for more. More.

"More", you voiced your thoughts, begging, pleading again - you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted! And you'd been so close, you'd been so goddamn close, but now he was just lazily pushing his finger into you, with one of those grins on his lips that told you he knew what he was doing incredibly well too. He was a tease, a goddamn tease, and you-

"More what, honey?", Bradley asked, interrupting your thoughts, your spiraling thoughts as his finger moved ever so slowly, teasing, playing.

You let out a whine as he stilled completely, his finger nestled inside you, touching you but not touching you enough, not nearly enough and he'd make you go crazy one day, he would! You tried to push your hips into his hand. Not that it did anything.

"More what?", Bradley asked again, looked at you as you refocused on his face, his eyes because you knew he'd want you to. He always wanted you to look at him.

"Please", you whispered. "Bradley."

His smile deepened, but he didn't move.

"Nice try, baby", he chuckled. "But that wasn't the question."

You grumbled and tilted your head back, squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. You wanted more. And he was making you say exactly what.

Putting the power in your hands, it seemed - but you knew it wasn't that. He'd already promised you to do just what you wanted, had said it so easily, so soberly that he'd left you dazed. And now he was asking you to do the same.

You couldn't. He knew you couldn't.

So you let out a small whimper, let your head fall to the side to look at him again, eyes wide and teeth digging into your bottom lip and kept still as best as you could, even as the desire, the need to fuck yourself on his finger grew with every passing breath - trying to make sure that he wouldn't tease you further. He'd done that before already, you knew that he could and he would.

He seemed to have realised it too, your legs, your hips calm now, your eyes fixed on his.

"Please fuck me, Bradley", you said softly, only a little breathlessly, a little nervous around the edges, doing your best not to let your restraint show. You weren't used to just saying stuff like that out loud. It was different, somehow, to say it, and to say it right to his face too.

But as much as you tried to hide it, your body still had the same reaction - breath coming shorter, heat shooting straight to your cheeks, the coil in your stomach tightening again.

Bradley's eyes on yours didn't make it any better.

Neither did his grin as he pulled his finger from you, pulled a moan from your lips right with it, as he brushed it through your folds, up and down before his fingertip stopped on your clit.

"Fuck you how, honey?", he asked. He wanted you to lose your mind, you were sure of that. You bit down on your lip, furrowed your brows, forced yourself to think, to keep thinking even though he was drawing circles on your clit now, bringing you back to the endless loop of more, more, more in your mind.

"Fuck me-", you panted, starting and stopping, closing your eyes. "Rough, please, Bradley. Please."

He pulled his fingers from you entirely, chuckling as you mewled and blinked up at him again, as you watched him raise his hand to your lips. You parted them in reflex, let him push his fingers into your mouth, rest them on your tongue. This, finally, was something you felt much less nervous about. So you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his fingers clean.

Bradley had you well acquainted with the taste of yourself by now. Not that you minded.

You made sure to keep your eyes fixed on his as you brushed your tongue along his fingertips. He let out some sort of sound caught between a moan and a groan and a curse and, maybe, your name, and you had a hard time keeping your grin concealed as you sucked, spurred on not only the fire in your own abdomen, but in Bradley's as well, red heating up your cheeks and your legs growing restless.

You were getting impatient again. You needed more.

Luckily, it seemed that Bradley had about enough of this as well.

He pulled his fingers from you with a pop, shook his head with a grin, trailed a line of your spit around your breasts, around your nipples.

"You look sinful", he muttered, dropping a kiss to your lips before you could even begin to think about a response, all open mouth and breathing each other in, the taste of you on both your tongues. "Tell me again how you want me to fuck you rough, honey. Just once more. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, nodded without thinking, panting a bit now, pressing your legs together at his voice, at the look in his eyes, at... at him, at everything about him. You needed him. You'd do anything he asked.

"Fuck me rough, Bradley. Please."

His eyes darkened further. He brought his lips down on yours again, firmer now, heavier now, claiming your mouth, your tongue, your lips, claiming you, back to the familiar, thrilling predator and prey game that the two of you had abandoned at some point along the way.

"Good girl", he rasped.

You let out a pitiful moan. God, this man would absolutely be the death of you.

Good girl.

You couldn't press your legs together any further, couldn't possibly get any more friction, could only whine and whimper and moan and wait, wait as Bradley reached between your bodies and finally, finally, finally pushed into you.

You'd been waiting for this for the past five days.

You let out some pathetic sounding sob of his name as he pressed his hips snugly to yours, stretching you out in the best of possible ways, dropping his lips to your throat, to your neck. You clawed at his arms, at his shoulders, pulled him close to you, even closer. Eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, breath hitching.

Bradley gave you the entirety of half a second to adjust to him, half a second in which you could barely get past the moan of his name before he was moving, thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of you, drawing sounds you'd have been embarrassed about in any other situation.

But you could barely hear them.

You could barely do anything other than moan, anything other than scratch, hold, claw at him, anything other than let him wrap your legs around his waist and push in, pull out, push in again, his hold on your thigh so firm you'd see the marks tomorrow.

He fucked you with a relentlessness that reduced you to a mess of numb limbs, that pulled every last thought from you, one by one - with a rhythm, unfaltering, unwavering, with soft grunts and moans rolling off his tongue, with his mouth moving against your skin, working his way up to yours.

You met his lips in a frenzy, your hands tangled somewhere in his hair, your nails scratching somewhere down his back, your legs wrapped around his hips, your lips parted, your moans swallowed, his cock sliding in and out of you, the delicious drag of him building, setting alight the coil in your stomach.

You'd been waiting for this for too long. You wouldn't last much longer, not after he'd already pulled the first orgasm from you. Not after he'd been building you up for so long.

"Bradley", you moaned against his lips. "More."

He pulled back an inch and you blinked your eyes open, focused on him, on the blush on his cheeks and the rise and the fall of his chest as he slowed down a bit, drawing another whine from you, feeling different now, slower yes, but more deliberate maybe, more teasing maybe, hitting other spots, dragging it out, feeling more and less intense all the same and - most importantly - letting your close, so close grow weaker and weaker and weaker.

"You know-", Bradley panted, letting his thumb brush over the skin of your thigh, loosening his grip just the slightest. "You know how to ask, pretty girl."

A sob made its way past your lips. You wanted more, you needed more - you'd be good for him, you wanted to be good for him, but you forgot, you brushed right past it when he had you like this. So wasn't it his fault, really?

"Fuck me harder, Bradley", you whimpered - you'd lost the ability to feel embarrassed somewhere along the way. You didn't care anymore, not with his cock so slowly sliding in and out of you, not with his eyes on yours, not with... no, not anymore, you needed more now and you were desperate to get it, already rocking your hips back onto him in search of more - more friction, more touch, more him.

He pressed his lips to yours again, back to claiming you, back to firm, back to teeth and tongue before pulling away, pulling out, pulling another wail from you as he sat back on his ankles, hard and panting.

Then his hands clasped around your waist and you had no time to react before he had turned you over, your face smushed into the pillow, fingers reaching up to dig into the sheets.

He thrust back into you in one swift motion.

And you screamed.

You didn't know how he did it - you didn't want to know, really - but he hit that sensitive spot inside of you instantly, the new position allowing new depth, allowing new touches, new feelings, new and more and you couldn't think, could only touch, only feel.

Only touch, only feel him.

The drag of him, the push of him, the way he hit all those spots he needed to hit to have you up there, to have you close within seconds again.

He trailed his fingertips along your spine, sent a shiver through your body as he fucked you rough, just like you'd asked of him so very, very nicely. He reached your neck, reached around to your throat and when his fingers brushed along your jaw, he clasped his hand around it and pulled. Pulled you up, right to his chest, sweat sticking to your skin as you moaned his name.

You let your head drop back onto his shoulder, gave him more skin to touch, more of your body to claim, more of you to make his as he thrust relentlessly into you, as his other hand brushed between your legs, up your thighs until his fingers met your clit, pushed down and pulled an even louder moan of his name from you.

His hand closed around your throat at the same time.

You choked back a gasp, breath hitching, back arching off him and into him both, more and less clashing in your mind because this was what you wanted, this was what you'd begged him for, but all of it so suddenly, following each other so closely - too much, not enough.

You clenched around him.

Bradley let out a moan - his lips against your ear, the sound of it in every fibre of your body, of your mind, of your soul. And that was it for you.

You came with another cry of his name - a scream, a sob, maybe, or none of it, you weren't sure - maybe you let out no sound at all, rendered silent for once. The world was white for a second, your mouth dry, your throat hoarse, pleasure coarsing through every vein, every limb, every muscle, every bone.

You went slack against him. Your legs gave out, your eyes fell shut, your arms, your hands loose at your sides, and the only reason you didn't fall back onto your mattress were Bradley's arms around you - on your throat, around your hips. His fingertips circling your clit still, his hips snug to yours as he bit down on your shoulder, as he reached his own high, his moustache scratching deliciously against your skin, grounding you as your breath slowly came back to normal, as you won back the feeling in your legs.

You stayed still for a minute - just catching your breath, allowing yourself to take whatever time you needed to come back to yourself, to really notice the way Bradley held you up all on his own, the way his chest felt against your back, the way he had his lips pressed to the skin of your shoulder, the way his thumbs brushed ever so softly up and down, one along your throat, one along your stomach.

You never wanted this to end.

You were warm and safe and satisfied in his arms.

A slow smile spread on your face. Bradley's breath fanned softly over the shell of your ear. You could feel your own heart beat in your chest.

"Satisfied now, honey?", Bradley rasped, voice rough in all the right ways, his lips ghosting over your neck. You let out a soft hum in agreement. He chuckled against your skin.

"I'm gonna let go of you now, princess", he cautioned (you could just so push back the whine that wanted to escape) before ever so slowly, ever so carefully pulling his hand from your throat, pulling his arm from around you - softly pushing down on your back instead, hands wrapped around your hips again, laying you back down on the mattress and then turning you over. The bed was cold in comparison to him. Cold and lonely.

He had to pull out as he lay you down and that whine left your lips after all - you were empty and cold and lonely now and you wanted him, more of him, all of him again. Your legs were mushy and your mind still reeling, but you didn't have to think much anyway, not when you knew just what you wanted. You reached out, arms, hands in mid air as you tried to grab him, any of him.

He was sitting back on his ankles, running his hands through his hair, meeting your eyes as he saw you reach out for him. He looked positively exhausted.

You got hold of his hands and pulled him down, onto you. He brought them - and yours right with them - down next to your head in reflex, effectively pinning you down, and though neither of you had planned that, you still had to fight back a smile.

You were breathless, chest still heaving with the sticky intoxication of the moment, sweaty and hot and satisfied, truly, and you wanted him to wrap you up in his arms now and let you fall asleep on his chest.

Instead, he leaned in with a grin and kissed you. Kissed you with all the fiery passion fading into heady contentment, slow and deliberate, because he had all the time in the world now - it was the middle of the night and both of you were growing tired, your bones heavy, your muscles aching deliciously, your thoughts quiet, lazy almost. The middle of the night where romance could now dominate what had before been lust's reign.

That was what this felt like, Bradley's body on yours, his skin sticky with sweat, his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing down into the mattress. This felt like golden honey dripping down onto the reality of the moment, like gods' ichor flowing in your veins, like unnecessarily long and flowery metaphors for a feeling you felt too afraid to name this early on.

Bradley pulled away, let go of your hands and sat back once more - you followed him on some invisible kind of string, pushing up onto your palms, blinking at him in confusion.

He dropped another quick kiss onto your lips with a chuckle.

"Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?", he asked, a grin playing on his lips, his hands brushing over your ribcage, your stomach as though he, too, had some carnal need to keep touching you, to keep his fingertips moving over your skin at all times.

You closed your eyes, allowed the smile on your face to grow as wide as it wanted, and nodded at him.

"Yes, please, Roos", you mumbled, bathing in the yellow light of your bedroom lamp, in the soft buzzing of the ac, in the rhythmic tic-toc of your kitchen clock. In all these daily-life things, because they weren't daily-life right now. Right now, Bradley had just fucked you, right now, Bradley was sitting in front of you, right now, Bradley had his hands on your body, right now... Right now, you were happy, happy and satisfied, content with the world.

"Back to Rooster, are we?", he asked, drew his hands back from you and got up. Your smile deepened.

"I thought you liked your callsign", you quipped back innocently, eyes opening again as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off of your mattress, into the air, just because he could, just because you wanted him to. You didn't think you'd ever possibly get tired of his strength. He was a bit like your own, personally crafted superhero.

"I do", he muttered. You crossed your arms behind his neck, pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "But the entire squad uses it."

"Oh", you said, exactly like that, because oh, indeed. "So when I say Rooster..."

"I think of work."

You pulled back a bit to look at him, even as his eyes were focused on the wall, trying to find the light switch for the bathroom.

"And you don't like that", you concluded, teeth digging into your bottom lip as a thought struck you. "You don't like thinking of work, Lieutenant?"

Bradley froze.

Bullseye.

"What did you say?"

His eyes focused on you, fixated on you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed. You did your best try at an innocent smile, at a doe-eyed look somehow, but you doubted you achieved anything even remotely close.

"Lieutenant", you muttered again, heat pooling in your lap once more simply at the look on his face. You'd uncovered another one of his layers and you were already anticipating the consequences. "Do you want me to beg again?"

How did you get so good?

summary: you've never had a one-night stand and honestly, it shows.

prompt: when they just finished hooking up and he says "I just had my tongue inside you, you can start calling me by my first name," she *forgot* his name.

words: 2.8 k

playlist: I mean for this fic, is this one.

warnings: smut. like pure dirty smut, smut like i've never written before. i mean it. I've been obsessing over Rooster and I just like I wanted to write something and I have a couple of things but this was just self-indulgent, also I need practice for what's coming with 18.

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw masterlist

You usually weren’t the type to do a one-night stand. 

In fact, you were the opposite of doing such a thing. Nonetheless, when you were summoned back to Top Gun after years for a high-level mission after you’d just broken up with your fiance, you realized that you needed to live a little more, especially since if you were chosen and for some strange reason you didn’t make it, you didn’t want to regret it. 

Therefore, you weren't too close off when you were presented with the tall and tanned handful of handsome pilots that boisterously moved toward you. Instead, you chose to give them a little smile, play pool with the tiny white summer dress that you decided to wear and glance at them through your lashes, sipping on your drink slowly as you wondered who the best candidate could be. They all introduced themselves to you, always chuckling a bit as they heard your call sign, which was the usual reaction when they heard “y/n ‘Brat’ y/l/n”

But then, the first four chords rang out of the piano, and your knees when weak. 

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will but what a thrill, goodness gracious great balls of fire!” he sang, his voice deep and deliciously raspy, you felt your heart jumping as you turned to where the voice came from. 

He was taller than anyone in there, you could see it just by the way he was moving with the piano. Sun-kissed skin, sandy-brown hair that turned gold with the certain light of the room, broad shoulders, and a pornstache that would look awful on anyone except him. That’s how you’d first seen him and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him after that, and when they introduced you two, he couldn’t look away either, instead, he looked at you unashamedly. 

“...‘Rooster’ Bradshaw,” he announced as his palm slid into yours but you could only focus on his honey-burnt eyes and his smile.

“y/n ‘Brat’ y/l/n,” you muttered as your cheeks burned, his lips quirked up when he heard your call sign. 

After that, the night turned into a blur and you weren’t sure exactly how you ended up on the side of the blue bronco as gentle moans that were muffled with his palm left your lips while your eyelashes flutter as he rocked his hips forward against your core, his large hands gripping your hipbones so harsh that you knew bruises would appear tomorrow. 

“y/n,” he breathed out and you whimpered. “Get in the car,” He warned, his voice husky as he pressed his forehead to yours while his eyes remained shut, almost as if he opened them, he would fuck you open right there and then, in front of everyone. 

You also weren’t aware of how quickly he’d manage to reach his place since you were too busy being a moaning- whimpering mess as his hand climbed through your thigh and into your core. But you didn’t miss how he met your gaze, the look on his face said it all. “You are soaked, darling,” he whispered and you felt like crying as his thumb started to stroke a delicate pattern against your clit.

It all turned into a mess once he opened the door for you, as you stumbled through his porch, already pulling down the annoying Hawaiian shirt he’d worn that night and you were sure you’d left it outside once he’d managed to open the door to the small cottage he called home while you were already kicking your shoes off and fumbling with his belt. You continued to kiss as you enter the house and he let you down, your hands moving up and down, finding fabric and occasionally skin, moving, finding, touching, discarding clothes, more touching. 

It was a miracle you’d manage to reach his bed, honestly. 

But against all odds, there you were. In bed with the most handsome man you’d ever met, a man you’d met barely hours before, whimpering for him, moaning for him as you felt how hard he was in his boxers when he moved his hips against you. 

“Rooster, don’t tease” you breathed out as he struggled to undo the zipper of your dress, too distracted by the way you were bucking your hips forward to his while placing your hands on the small of his back, hurrying him up to fuck you already without saying it but you knew, he knew.

You were impatient for him. 

“You really are a brat, you know?” he murmured as his hands traveled from the zipper of your dress to the cotton panties that you were wearing. He hooked the fingers and pulled your panties down slowly before colliding his lips against yours, it was a bruising kiss, so fucking needy that it made you dizzy. 

Without warning, he’d pressed a hard thumb into your slit and you jolted, quickly your nails dug into his back and you were sure that there would be a pattern of crescent moons on his back tomorrow. As one of his hands stroked you, rubbing and flicking, his free arm fell into the side of your head while his nose pressed right under your chin, giving him access to your neck as you let out a silent moan. His knuckles pressed themselves into your clit and you felt your knees shaking, your walls clenching at nothing. You feel like crying. 

“Does that feel good, darling?” he muttered as he licked your neck and you couldn’t answer because he soon pushed two fingers into you and you screamed at the stretch while he watched you carefully. “I bet that feels good,” he whispered against the shell of your ear and you could swear you hear his smug smirk. 

His fingers speed up, forcing your entire lower half to vibrate and your knees began to shake. If you were doing this against his car and if he wasn’t holding you, completely supporting you with his body weight, you knew you’d have fallen over by the way he was touching you.

“Fuck,” you moan as you roll your hips against his hand, chasing your high, feeling yourself growing closer but then, Rooster withdrew his fingers altogether, you furrowed your eyebrows and you sighed in frustration as you pushed yourself onto your elbows, wondering where he went. 

“What the fu-FUCK,” 

That was the only thing you managed to say because Rooster’s face was already buried between your thighs. He pressed his tongue against your core, making you shudder. One of your hands quickly slid up into his golden curls as your head fell back against the bed. His nose pressed into your clit and his tongue teased your entrance and you couldn’t help but curled your fingers in his hair, tugging harshly at his roots, eliciting a groan from him.

And you screamed. 

You fucking screamed because there’s no way that he could be that good. His tongue expertly moved against you and you didn’t know if you were just hypersensitive from the earlier assault with his fingers but it felt like heaven as you felt his tongue working you open. You raised your head for a second and even in the dizziness, you watched as his shoulders muscles flexed as he used his strength to push your hips down, preventing you from squirming which only caused you to moan louder, and soon he noticed because those beautiful honey eyes met with yours and you realize how pretty he looks there. 

The sight alone made your vision go blurry as you aggressively fucked his face. And he complies, he growled against you and the vibration made you snap, as you fall into the bed. He then guided two fingers inside of you, giving you something to clench around and you began to see white spots on your vision. He continued to hold you down, as he gently sucked on your clit and worked on you with his fingers, your walls clenching around them and you just knew it was right there. 

But then he stopped.

“Who said you could stop,” you grumbled, throat sore and raw because of your screams, and Rooster chuckled while he shook his head before he kissed you softly, you could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned at the taste. 

“Honey, I want the first time you come to be on my cock,” he muttered against your lips. Your eyes fell on him and you saw how he got rid of every one of the items of clothing he had, he was simply pumping his cock, preparing it for you. 

You whimpered at the sight as you struggle to say anything. “Just fuck me,” you breathed, you pleaded. His lips quirked again and soon his cock pushed at your entrance. You gasped against his mouth, digging your fingernails into his back as he stretched you. He was big, he was the biggest you’d ever had and you winced a bit as he fully sank into you. 

“You are doing so good, darling,” his voice was gruffer as he kissed your face while you adjusted to his size. You moan loudly, mouth wide open as you gasp for air. Your body adjusts to the feeling of being full; stuffed beyond capacity, beyond everything you thought that it was possible. “You look so pretty like this,”

You were sure that he’d just ruined men for you. He was so good and you just couldn’t understand how tender he could be, he was a true gentleman. 

You whimpered under him as he began to move slowly and in one second, when his pelvis rolled forward, your clit managed to rub against the base of his shaft, and your nails dug into him. He growled and you were gone. You began to kiss his neck eagerly as he drove his hips forward, drawing sweet moans from your lips as you arched your chest up against his while your walls clench at the movement, soon he found a steady pace and your skin felt like it was on fire, burning up as if you just entered hell. 

But this? This was your heaven. 

“Faster,” you cried. “Faster, Rooster,” 

He complies with an incoherent noise of vague agreement as he lifted you from the bed and placed you on a desk nearby, things fall over and you were pretty sure something broke but you don’t care because of the way his hips snapped against yours and how he fucked impossibly deeper into you against the mahogany desk.

A growl escaped his throat as he ducked forward to kiss you, fucking you faster and harder, using all his strength to drive himself into you. He was unrelenting in his pace, rapid calculated thrust as he continued piercing you on his cock and you couldn’t help the tears of pleasure than came from your eyes by the way he moved. 

You screamed, you moaned, you whimpered. 

You even cried out his name again and didn’t realize it until he kissed your jaw and muttered “I got you darling, cum for me,” he groaned as he pepper your throat with feverishly kisses and you simply pushed your legs apart from him. 

Then, the tip of his cock brushed impossibly deeper into you, making you cry and you just knew you were there. You quickly began to kiss him, tongue moving against yours as his hand worked skillfully against your clit, he groaned loudly against your lips as your pussy contracted around his cock, squeezing him for all that he was worth. 

Your entire body tensed up. The coil on your stomach snapped and you screamed and Rooster continued to fuck you through your orgasms, before he came undone, pulling you impossibly close against him and continued to drive himself as deep as he could go. Your walls continue to squeeze him, fluttering around his throbbing cock as he stuffed himself into you. You were sure that you heard your name but you were too dizzy to even think about it. 

You both stayed there for a moment, panting before he left soft kisses on your neck and chest, holding you until you stopped trembling and he also stopped shaking. It takes you a couple of minutes to actually say anything or even move, the room doesn’t stop spinning immediately but soon Rooster carried you to his bed, still inside of you, and you feel comforted by it, he pushed the hair out of your face, his thumb tender against the side of your cheek. 

You closed your eyes and he kisses you until you fall asleep. 

You were woken by the sunlight on your face and a buzzing from your phone, it was 6:00 am and you needed to be on the base at 6:30 am. 

You stretched your arms and found nothing, the sheets were wrinkled and you could hear Rooster in the other room. You sighed, you realized that you’d broken one of the rules about one-night stands, you slept over. Cursing yourself, you tried to stand up as best as you could but honestly, you weren’t even able to walk completely straight. You brush your hair while looking at yourself in the mirror of the room, hoping that you didn’t look too fucked but it as a lost battle. You did what you could before you focus on retrieving your panties from somewhere in the room, between the discarded clothes that he had left on the room also the items that had fallen from the desk hours before indeed you had broken a glass of water but neither of you seemed too interest in cleaning up. 

It took you a few minutes to find your panties but thankfully, you hadn’t removed the dress, so you weren’t completely naked. Nonetheless, you know your purse and your shoes were somewhere in between the entrance of his house and the room, therefore you counted to fifty before you walked out of the room, as nonchalant as you could. 

He was in the kitchen, in all of his tanned and ripped glory, only wearing a pair of grey shorts that hang low on his hips. You couldn’t help but smile at the smell of the coffee and even smirk a bit once you see the red marks on his back, neck, and arms. It takes a few minutes for him to notice you but once he does, god, his eyes were practically beaming. 

“Morning, y/n,” he said, bringing the cup of coffee to his lips, his eyes looking at you unashamedly.

“Morning, Rooster,” you say as you try your best to walk as straight as possible as you reached for your shoes that were indeed left on the floor, but you notice how his lips are turning up when he realizes that you really can’t walk as usual. “I really have to go for my uniform,” you said sweetly, as you also picked up your purse from the floor. 

“I can take you,” he offered with a bright smile and you rolled your eyes, he was indeed a gentleman. “You know, I just had my tongue inside you, you can start calling me by my first name,” he said softly before he winked at you.

And your heart stopped because to the best of your abilities, your mind couldn’t seem to remember his name. You curse mentally as you try to recall the moment that he introduced himself but you can only remember his call sign and his last name. Soon, your cheeks heat up and you were sure that your whole face turned into a splotchy red, not a cute light blush. Under normal circumstances -at least that’s what you’d assumed- since it was a one-night stand you shouldn’t have needed to remember his name, instead you should’ve left in the early hours of the morning without so much as a goodbye. 

But now you were here and you could feel his gaze burning you while you tried to avoid his eyes by leaning into the counter.

“Oh my god,” he muttered as he let his coffee mug down.“You don’t remember my name?” he asked, and a hand goes to his uncovered chest with a dramatic gasp. 

You couldn’t help yourself, opting for covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry,” you whispered as you felt him walking around the counter, soon his hands rested on the edge of the counter beside your hip, he was pinning you down and you felt shivers as you let your hands fall down. Your breath caught in your throat as you realize how close he was and the way he was looking at you. 

You swallowed hard. 

“No, don’t worry,” he whispered nonchalantly as he leaned down to your ear after giving you a peck on the corner of your mouth. “It’s Bradley,” he whispered before he started to kneel down in front of you, one of his hands going up your skirt and touching you again. “And after this, I don’t think you’ll be able to forget it,”

And you never did. 

***

feedback is always welcomed!!!

donate: help me pls with a glass of wine after such hard core smut?

***

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

i’m all yours || bradley “rooster” bradshaw

summary: top gun pilots are the most competitive there is. throw in a little beach football + suntan oil, and you have yourself a recipe for peak entertainment. also chaos. 

words: ~1.4k

warnings: shirtless rooster, also everyone being super competitive, this is mostly just crack and fluff LMAO. also this was really poorly written i’m so sorry i have no idea how to pace fics. but i tried

a/n: requests are open :) during my socal trip i went to the beach two days in a row. and it kickstarted the rest of my inspo for this fic

“I should be flying right now, you know. It feels weird not to be flying right now.”

“Y/N, we came here to relax. Not to worry about what’s up there,” Phoenix placed her hands on your shoulders. “Give yourself a break, you’ve earned it…I mean, look at this nice weather! You’re going to love it. Now we need to get our asses out there before Hangman beats us to the coin toss.” 

“He’s such a ball hog,” you scoffed, and you two started running down the sand. “I’m putting you on my team!”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!” 

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