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Hold me close, tear me further apart

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“Everyone’s dismissed!”

Bradley heard Mav shout out the order to everyone else in the room, and the distant scrapings of chairs being pushed back, the soft thumps of military boots on carpet; but he didn’t take any of it in.

He could only focus on where Mav’s arm was stretched out like a band across his chest; ostensibly holding him back from throttling Hangman, but in reality making his lungs feel like they were constricting and his heart beat wildly in his ribcage as he felt the cloth that was pulled tight over his pecs start to dampen.

He knows Mav had smelled it; the first few drops were always perfumed and sweet and Bradley’s pack Alpha—no matter how angry he was with him right then, or how much he didn’t want to have that link with the man who had pulled his papers—he would never have forgotten the scent of his pack Omega’s milk.

His parents had been two Betas and he knew he’d been a shock when he’d presented age 16, but his mom had only had a few months to get used to the fact that her son was an Omega before she’d been taken from him just like his dad had. And then it had just been him and Mav; an Alpha who had always been a lone wolf who sought freedom in the skies before he met the Bradshaws, and an Omega who had no idea how to be one and who was in love with a man who only saw him as a child.

They were an unusual pack of only two, and they were broken apart less than two years later. But that hadn’t been quick enough for Bradley’s stupid Omega body not to imprint itself on Mav—fucking choose him as the Alpha it wanted.

And doing all it could to try and get Mav to choose him back.

Going into heat a month after his mom passed away; his body leaking slick and just pumping out pheromones meant to entice an Alpha to mate and breed him, and instead of having a fat knot in his pussy, all he ended up with was a tear-stained face, an aching arm from where he kept using his fingers and dildos to chase his release, and an aversion to Mav saying the word sorry in that guilt-ridden and helpless sounding voice as he called through Bradley’s bedroom door that he was sorry, Baby Bird, but I can’t knot you. You’re still only a pup.

(He said something similar when he pulled his papers, Sorry, Bradley. You’re not ready, you’re still just a pup, and Bradley hated it even more).

And while they managed not to talk about the fact that Bradley’s body went into heat like clock work every three months whilst Mav was stationed in one place to look after him; they couldn’t ignore the fact that his tits seemed to fill with milk because of Mav.

After his first failed heat, Bradley had woken up one morning with his t-shirt rasping against his nipples and a heavy ache in his chest. He’d tried to ignore it, but when he’d gone downstairs for breakfast, and he’d seen Mav stood at the stove in just a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and a faded t-shirt, the ache had gotten worse.

He’d thought maybe it was just puberty; his teenage hormones going out of whack.

But then he’d forgotten to take out the trash the night before and Mav had growled at him in disappointed frustration, and his arm had paused with his bacon speared on his fork, millimetres from his lips, as he felt a weird sensation in his pec. Like a release of pressure.

And then the fabric of his t-shirt had gone see-through, and his eyes had widened as he realised what the ache in his chest meant. Mav had watched with rapt horror on his face as Bradley’s pec—tits really—had started leaking milk; as if in offering to soothe Bradley’s ruffled Alpha.

Bradley had been appalled and embarrassed, and had shot up from his chair; hands coming to cover his chest, his fork clattering onto his plate. He’d run upstairs to his room and had locked the door, unable to face Mav.

But of course Mav hadn’t been able to leave things alone and had charged up the stairs after him, calling to him in distress through the door. That had just made it worse.

The more Mav became upset about Bradley being upset and not being able to help, the more his tits let down, and milk spilled from his nipples, soaking his chest. It was a vicious cycle and he’d only been able to get it to stop by pulling open his bedroom door and yelling at Mav to just fucking shut up because his chest fucking hurt and the milk won’t fucking stop while you’re upset, Mav.

The Alpha had snapped his mouth shut and had blinked at him in confusion, before his green eyes flicked to his chest (uncovered because his t-shirt had been ruined and thrown off in a huff), and he’d watched as a bead of milk bubbled at the tip of his hard, swollen nipple and then trickled down his pale, squidgy torso.

Before Bradley had even thought to move his hands to cover his tits, Mav’s mouth had been wrapped around one of his puffy, fat nipples and he’d been swallowing down his milk like a man parched. Bradley had gasped in shock and had let himself be pulled down onto Mav’s lap—the Alpha having been camped outside his bedroom door on the floor—and his hands had found their way into Mav’s soft hair as he felt each deep pull on his tit; sweet milk flowing from him to Mav’s mouth and filling his belly.

The effect had been almost instantaneous; the acrid, sharp scent of stress his body had been reacting to was no longer filling the air; replaced by the smooth, buttery scent of satisfaction as Mav suckled at his breast. He didn’t know how long they’d sat there, strewn in the hallway; milk dripping down Bradley’s chest until Mav could wrap his lips around his other nipple, and spilling down Mav’s chin and neck as he fed messily, but by the time they were done, his tits no longer ached and Mav’s eyes were dazed.

Of course, they didn’t really talk about that either. Just pretended like everything was normal the next day, with Mav just taking extra care not to get stressed about inane things. But sometimes he couldn’t help it, and every time, like clockwork; Bradley’s chest became heavy and swollen and his nipples tender.

One week—when Mav was getting reamed out at work by some Admiral who hated him and kept breathing down his neck—the Alpha had been unable to fully soothe himself with Bradley’s milk. He had tried the first evening, and in his haze of frustration and anger at the Admiral, had sucked and bitten down on Bradley’s nipple hard enough to bruise. He had instantly let go when Bradley had gasped in surprised pain, and had stayed clear for the rest of the week. But Bradley had still produced milk, so he was aching and sore, without the release.

He'd taken to wearing a strappy bralette, that was like a crop-top, but with padding over his nipples; to hide the state of his chest from others.  It was embarrassing and obviously wasn’t made for an Omega with his broad shoulders, but it was the best he could get at short notice.

The feel of Mav finally rucking up the material at the end of the week to softly suckle at him; laving his tongue over the areola he’d bruise, as if in apology, had made Bradley tremble in his arms.

Because that was the other thing they didn’t talk about.

Bradley’s body was clearly making the milk to soothe his Alpha, but Bradley’s reaction to it was a feral instinct and was difficult to hide; the scent of his slick as it gathered in the folds of his pussy and leaked into his boxers, so thick in the air he was surprised Mav didn’t choke on it.

But apart from nursing from his chest like a pup needing comfort, Mav didn’t touch him in any way that might be deemed inappropriate. No matter how much Bradley might have sobbed and begged. And he had, to his shame.

And then Mav had pulled his papers, and Bradley had chucked him out of his life, and suddenly he was packless, Alpha-less. And his milk stopped flowing.

He came across hundreds of Alphas in his time at college, and then Naval training and Top Gun (the first time), and not one of them made his tits heavy with milk.

When he’d realised it was Mav walking down the centre of their classroom that first time, He had wondered—wondered if his body would still react the same way to the Alpha who had such a hold over him, no matter how much Bradley didn’t want it.

He hadn’t had to wait long to find out; his tits starting to ache that first hop as Mav became exasperated and stressed at him over the comms. He had managed to hide the first drops of milk when he’d been doing push-ups on the tarmac with a combination of his black t-shirt and by pretending it was sweat; storming to the locker rooms immediately after and hiding his chest from everyone.

He'd gone back to his room and immediately rummaged in his bag for a bralette that he hadn’t wanted to pack, but for some reason had called out to him. Thank fuck it had. He’d pulled it on, and had instantly felt like he could breathe again; feeling the tight pressure on his chest, keeping the milk inside and his tits flattened.

He’d managed to hide it from Mav. They didn’t get very close, always keeping people or space between them. And Bradley vigorously washed and cleaned his chest every morning and every night; wiping away any faint traces of dried milk on his skin.

But then Hangman had had to open his stupid, smirking mouth and Bradley had reacted, and Maverick had gotten distressed and then—

He’d caught the twitch of Mav’s nostril as it flared at the scent of a long-forgotten memory haunting the air. Bradley had flushed with shame and Mav had thrown his arm across his chest—covering his dripping nipples as he did so—and had told everyone else to leave.

And now here they were.

The air between them taut with tension and sweet-smelling.  

Mav pulled back his arm and cleared his throat. “Are you okay, Rooster? I figured you wouldn’t want the others…”

“Yeah, I don’t.” He was quick to say; not sure why they were talking about it now, when they never had before.

“Right.” Mav nodded and carded his hand through his hair; subtly sniffing the air even as he refused to look at Bradley’s chest or him in the eye. “I didn’t realise you still—uh—that you still did…that.”

Bradley huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, even though that hurt and wasn’t what his body wanted. “I don’t. I mean I haven’t in years. Something else to blame you for, I guess.”

Mav had the grace to look ashamed, but even the sad slope of his eyes and the tight line of his mouth couldn’t take away from how attractive he was. How much Bradley’s Omega still wanted him.

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t.” He snapped. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I hate you saying your sorry.” He could feel himself getting worked up and angry, and his chest was just hurting more, but like his milk falling from his tits, the words just wouldn’t stop. “You only ever say sorry when you’ve done—or are about to do—something that is the exact opposite of what I want. So just don’t.”

Mav closed his mouth and nodded slowly. “What can I do to help then?”

“What?”

“You look like you’re in pain, and if I can’t apologise for causing it, what can I do to help?”

Bradley scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Unless you’re gonna suck my tits and get me off while you do it, there’s not much you can do to help, Captain Mitchell.”

“Okay.”

He blinked in shock and just stared at Mav, because what the fuck?

“What?”

Mav didn’t laugh to show it was a joke, nor did he leave. He just looked at him steadily; with his nostrils flared, chest heaving as he breathed him in, and a flush to his cheeks. “I said, okay.”

He didn’t know what to do. They weren’t the same as they had been all those years ago; they weren’t even pack. Not really. Just two bodies that recognised each other across time and space, and reacted accordingly.

“Uh, I—”

“Maybe take your clothes off and stretch out on one of the desks?” Mav offered quietly. “I can sit on a chair in between your legs and …help.”

Bradley swallowed, wondering if they were actually going to do this—Bradley still hated him, and Mav couldn’t take back actions of the past—but his chest hurt, and he wanted the comfort being able to soothe his Alpha offered, and, and, and—

He stripped off his flight-suit in silence; folding it on top of his kicked off boots, and laying his undershirt and boxers on top. The last thing he took off was the bralette. He could feel Mav’s eyes on him as his pulled it off; his swollen and tender tits released from their fabric prison, milk immediately dripping down his ribcage.

He kept his socks on.

Jumping on the nearest desk he sat so his legs were spread, his feet on the floor, and his ass perched on the edge. He tried not to feel exposed at being sat there pretty much naked with his cunt spread and dripping, but even though his tits were already leaking because of him, it was hard not to feel so vulnerable with Mav in front of him.

He’d felt vulnerable enough when he was in love with the man. Now that he was pretending not to be, it was even worse.

Mav didn’t say anything, just swallowed once, twice—as if to gather some courage, or control maybe—and then grabbing a chair, placed himself in between Bradley’s legs. He breathed in deeply through his mouth, and Bradley flushed all over knowing this was the first time the Alpha was purposefully acknowledging the scent of his milk and his slick.

“Do they hurt badly?” He murmured, bringing up a finger to circle the fat squish of one of his nipples.

Bradley bit back a whimper and glared at him. “What do you think?”

Mav nodded sheepishly, but didn’t try to apologise. He scooted the chair forward until his mouth was pretty much in line with Bradley’s tits, and then curling a tentative arm around his back, pulled him close and latched on.

The relief was staggering.

He let out a sob as Mav rolled his sensitive nipple on his tongue and sucked at him deeply; milk flowing fast and free, spilling out of the corners of his mouth as he couldn’t keep up with all Bradley had to give.

It felt so good. And the fact that it was Mav making him feel this way just made his gut clench.

“That helping?” Mav asked, pulling off his puffy nipple with a wet pop; not even bothering to wipe the excess milk off his face.

Bradley shifted on the desk, because whilst it was helping the ache in his chest, it wasn’t helping the ache in his pussy. His cock was hard against his belly, but he could ignore that. It was the phantom need to be filled that had haunted him since his first heat that flared to life in desperation when Mav nursed at him. “Sort of.”

Mav sat back and let his gaze drift to Bradley’s cunt; green eyes roving over the flushed and swollen lips and the way it glistened in the warm light of the classroom from where he was absolutely sopping with need. He nodded to himself and then ducked his head down to rasp a wet stripe over the line of his slit.

Bradley yelped in shock at the rough drag of his tongue over his pussy; fingers coming to curl and tug on Mav’s hair. He wouldn’t be moved though; just feasted on Bradley’s pussy like it was his last meal, swirling his tongue around his quivering entrance, and dragging it back up to lap at his puffy folds.

“Mav. Please.” His chest was filling up again, and every breath felt tight from the pressure of his aching tits, and as much as Mav’s tongue on his pussy was making his brain melt out his ears, he needed the Alpha’s mouth elsewhere. “Please.” He begged again, although the thought of begging Mav for anything put his back up.

Mav must have realised that as he pulled back with one last lick up his pussy and over the hard length of his cock, before he was stood up and pushing Bradley back onto the desks; crowding in close between his legs and latching at his nipple. His deft fingers trailed down over the lines of his torso until they were slipping in between his legs; pushing in to his swollen cunt. He shivered and closed his eyes at the obscene squelch as his pussy clenched around Mav’s fingers, drawing him in deeper so he could rub at that spot inside him that made him breathless.

Mav languidly thrust his fingers in and out of him as he slurped down his milk; slick gushing out of his hole and down his fingers to collect in the lines of his palm. The Alpha feeding it back into him with each slow push.

Bradley was writhing on the desk as Mav blanketed him, bearing down to take more of his tit in his mouth, and shove his fingers deeper inside him, as if that would ease more than the pain of arousal and shame he was feeling right then.

He gasped as Mav released his swollen nipple to take a breather and pressed a soft, milky kiss to his sternum. The action so unexpected he couldn’t bring himself to question it. He could feel the tightening in his gut and the throb in his pussy that meant he was going to come, and he guided Mav back to his messy chest so he didn’t have to look him in the eye when he let go.

His whole body juddered and spasmed a few minutes later as his release ripped through him; his inner muscles gripping Mav’s fingers that were stuffed inside him as more slick gushed out of him, and his cock spurted ropes of come all over his belly. Drops accidently hitting Mav on the chin and neck where he was still feasting.

When he weakly pushed Mav away—the tremors of over-sensitivity too much when he had tears streaming down his face, that he wasn’t sure were from the pleasure of Mav’s touch or the reminder of moments past that would forever be nothing more than memories—the Alpha collapsed back on his chair; dragging his crooked fingers out of Bradley’s sopping cunt more than a little reluctantly.

He leant back on his elbows and watched with wide eyes as Mav wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his clean hand, and then licked his slick-covered fingers clean with an intense look on his handsome face.

He stood up, righting his flight-suit as he did so, Bradley zeroing in on the fact that he was hard with confusion swirling in his mind, because that was new; and then he grabbed Bradley’s clothes and held them out while he got dressed on shaky legs.

They said nothing while Bradley covered himself up; Bradley sated and confused and still angry, and Mav breathing heavily; the smell of Bradley’s own weakness heavy on his tongue.

Once he was re-dressed Mav walked to the front of the classroom and grabbed some paper towel that was usually used to wipe down the board, and came back and did his best to mop up the puddles of slick and small pools of milk on the desks that Bradley had left behind. He flushed from head to toe, but Mav didn’t chastise him, just cleaned it up methodically and then stuffed the soiled paper towels in the pockets of his flight suits, because they couldn’t leave something like that in the classroom bin.

Knowing Mav was going to have to take it back to his accommodation with him to dispose of though? That was too much for him to handle.

He had to get out of there.

He scrubbed his hands over his red, tear-stained face and looking at Mav once, turned and strode towards the door.

“Rooster.” Mav called out to him as his hand wrapped around the door handle. He didn’t respond, but stopped all the same. “If you—If it happens again. Let me know. I’ll help.”

Bradley shuddered out a breath and opening the door, he left.

He didn’t say yes to Mav’s offer. But he didn’t say no either.

He guessed it would just come down to when it happened next time, and whether by then he’d worked out whether he hated Mav more than he loved the feel of him taking care of him.