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Bradley’s drunk.
Anyone can tell. He’s slurring his lyrics and missing notes on the piano; his Hawaiin shirt is slipping off his right shoulder, a deep flush working up his chest and cheeks. Jake watches it grow through the night, each beer causing the red to creep even higher up Bradley’s chest until his cheeks are rosy.
They’ve only been at the bar for a couple of hours, but at this point, three days after they docked in San Diego, their nights are a well-worn pattern. Getting drunk and celebrating the fact that they all made it back. Cyclone graciously allowed them to have an extra week off, and Jake is trying not to count down the remaining days he has with everyone.
It’s Phoenix who finds him, off to the side, watching the rest of them make fools of themselves on the dance floor. The Hard Deck’s been closed since they came home; Penny is apparently on a sailing trip with her daughter. As a result, they’ve bounced around the bars and clubs each night. Tonight’s place is lowkey, with a decent-sized dance floor in the middle. There’s no DJ or band, just a new-age jukebox in the corner that their friends keep feeding dollars to. Jake’s sure they’ve commandeered the next hour of music.
“Not in the dancing mod?” Nat asks, sliding Jake a beer. He takes it gratefully.
Jake shrugs. “Not feeling the music.”
Phoenix follows Jake’s gaze, which hasn’t budged on Bradley since she walked over. He knows it’s damning, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Rooster and the woman he’s dancing with. Too close for casual, too intimate for strangers.
“Sure,” Phoenix snorts, and Jake’s face heats.
“Shut up,” he grumbles, finally turning away from Rooster to shoot her a glare.
“Hey, I didn’t say anything.” She holds her hands up, but her eyes are sparkling. “But he’d rather be dancing with you.”
Jake rolls his eyes to mask the way his chest clenches at her words. “He’s having a great time with me off the dance floor.”
Phoenix shoots him another look. “You know, for as much bravado that you fly with, you really pussyfoot it on the ground.”
She chugs the rest of her beer and then saunters back onto the dance floor, pulling Coyote into her orbit. Bradley tracks back to see where she came from, and his eyes land on Jake. Jake looks down immediately, playing with his beer bottle label.
He and Rooster have been playing what feels like a prolonged game of chicken for the past three days. Longer than three days, actually. It started when Jake went to visit Bradley in the medbay on the carrier, and Bradley told him that he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in real life. Jake had flushed head to toe, and of course, Bradley didn’t remember it the next day. Since then, it’s been a series of moves that could technically not be classified as moves if interrogated too harshly. Jake texting him every day at the same time to make sure he takes his pain meds. Bradley sitting close enough next to him in the diner that his leg is practically draped over Jake’s. Touches that last too long and comments that could be interpreted as more flirtatious than antagonistic.
There’s a lot between the two of them. A lot of history, a lot of bad blood. And now, there’s the fact that Jake’s killed for him. The karmic math of their relationship hurts Jake’s brain to think too much about it. Does his saving Bradley’s life cancel out how Jake brought up Goose? Does wanting to fuck Rooster make it okay that he’s the one who christened Jake, ‘Hangman’?
Jake doesn’t like to think too deeply about it. The fact of the matter is that Jake finds Bradley (not Rooster, as he’s ceased being known as in his mind) exponentially less annoying than he did just a week ago. And, well. He’s always been attracted to the other man. There’s just a lot less keeping Jake from acting on it anymore.
Whatever’s been building between the two of them feels like nothing Jake’s ever experienced before. It’s not a quick fuck before they go their separate ways. It’s not a ‘what could have been’ moment of reflection. It’s something that could be real and true. Like everything in their past was about building the perfect runway to finally take off from.
Now, one of them just has to make the first move. And it’s certainly not going to be Jake, when he can see Bradley plastered to the back of some random woman. Or, well, he was. Now, it seems that Rooster is making his way off the dance floor.
Bradley lumbers over to Jake, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed. He has a stupidly endearing grin stretching under his mustache, and his face glistens with sweat. Sometime in the past 10 minutes, Bradley unbuttoned his shirt fully, and his dog tags hang low between his pecs. Jake tracks how they swing with Bradley’s movement, bouncing off the expanse of skin. He watches them until they’re right in front of him. Jake swallows and looks up, making eye contact with Bradley. Bradley smirks down at him. Jake’s about to make a joke about public decency laws when Bradley beats him to it.
“Gonna dance or just brood in the corner?” he teases, leaning over the hi-top table to get into Jake’s space. Heat radiates from Bradley, and Jake can feel it through his thin shirt.
“Everyone’s asking me that,” Jake deflects. “What’s with the obsession with getting me to dance?”
“I bet you look great on the dance floor,” Bradley goads, giving Jake a look up and down. “People deserve to see you put that body to use.”
Jake fights the blush working its way up his chest. Luckily, his torso is actually covered, so it hopefully slips Bradley’s drunk eye. His mouth feels dry under Bradley’s heavy gaze, and he swallows thickly, hoping words will come to him.
They don’t, and Bradley fills the silence.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says lowly, shifting incrementally closer. His breath hits Jake’s cheek, and Jake shivers. “Show me what those hips can do.”
And then, like Bradley planned this out with impeccable timing, the song changes.
The first bars almost pull a laugh from Jake. He’s immediately sure-footed again, the familiar song filling him with confidence. Bradley watches as Jake smiles slowly, leaning back from Bradley and looking at him through his eyelashes.
“Who put this in the queue?” Jake asks, the corner of his mouth lifting up.
“I did,” Bradley says proudly. “So, are you going to dance with me or what?”
Bradley holds out a hand. Jake looks down at it and back up at Bradley’s face, smirking. He steps forward, past the outstretched hand, and towards the dancefloor.
“This is line dancing, Rooster,” he calls over his shoulder. “No such thing as dancing ‘with.’ Just try to keep up.”
Jake shoots him a wink and then takes his place in the line.
It’s been a while since he’s line danced properly, and longer since it was to Fake ID. But the moves come back to him like muscle memory, and Jake gets lost in the movement of the crowd. This he can do. This he knows how to make work. He wishes he had the foresight to wear his cowboy boots. He at least has his hat, perched easily atop his head.
Jake catches Bradley’s eye as the group turns. He smiles at him, wide and honest, and Bradley smiles back. The other man is clearly out of his element. He keeps missing steps and bumping into his neighbors, to the point where one of the guys has a permanent scowl on his face.
To save him, Jake switches places so that he’s next to Bradley. They’re close enough that their arms brush on every move.
“Follow me,” Jake says, directing Bradley’s gaze to his feet.
“Easier said than done,” Bradley laughs, nearly stepping on Jake’s foot.
“You’re the one who wanted to dance!”
Jake’s laughter joins Bradley’s, and the two break away from the fest of the group so they don’t mess anyone else up. Jake lets Bradley stumble into him a few times, tracking Jake’s dance moves. By the last run-through, Bradley almost has it down.
The song ends, and there are a few moments of silence as the next one queues up. Jake grins over at Bradley, the dim light of the bar making the other man glow. His chest glistens with sweat, and the open Hawaiian shirt sticks to his biceps. Jake licks his lips. He’s suddenly struck with the realization that he could do this forever.
Jake opens his mouth to say something probably too revealing and embarrassing, but the next song kicks in before he can. He recognizes the guitar immediately, his heart wrenching in his chest. Dolly Parton’s voice comes over the speakers, My Eyes Can Only See You flooding the bar and slowing the energy down.
People pair up, swaying to the slow country music. Jake swallows around the emotion that always wells up when he hears Dolly Parton, the nostalgia and longing that swirl through him. He makes to leave the dance floor, but Bradley grabs his upper arm.
“What?” Jake asks, masking how off balance he feels with annoyance.
“Where’re you goin’, baby?” Bradley’s voice is sweet like honey, sliding down Jake’s spine and settling in his gut.
“Where do you think?” Jake snarks back, and Bradley drops his hand. He holds it out between them, palm facing up.
“C’mon, dance with me,” Bradley practically pleads. “I spent $2 on these songs; it’s the least you could do.”
“Oh, is that what you think I’m worth? Two whole dollars?” Jake teases, but he places his hand in Bradley’s anyway. He curls an arm around Bradley’s waist and pulls him in, pressing their bodies together.
“I think you’re worth my entire life, but two dollars is all I had in my wallet,” Bradley mumbles, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Jake swallows thickly, almost missing a step. He recovers quickly enough. Taking the lead, he pulls Bradley with him. Bradley’s not drunk, really, more tipsy, but Jake figures it’s safest to keep their dancing tame for the time being.
“You know,” Bradley says casually, “I’m letting you lead right now. I could totally swing you around if I wanted to.”
Jake lets out a surprised laugh. “Sure, hotshot. That’s why you’re currently stepping on my toes.”
Bradley rolls his eyes, pressing down with his left boot purposefully. Jake pulls his foot out from under Bradley’s, stepping back to make the other man spin into his arms. Bradley hits his chest with a soft oof. He twists back around, pressing up close to Jake.
“You look good,” Bradley says suddenly, eyes tracing Jake’s face. Jake can’t stop the blush that paints his cheeks.
“So do you,” he says instead of snarking back. He can feel the heat from Bradley’s bare torso through the thin material of his shirt. His dog tags press into Jake’s chest.
Bradley reaches over and grabs Jake’s hat, lifting it off his head. He settles it on his own, winking at Jake as he does so. Jake smirks.
“Getting into the country aesthetic?” he teases, spinning them easily. Jake admires the way Bradley follows his guidance naturally.
“Nah,” Bradley answers, keeping his eyes trained on Jake. “Just testing out if a rumor I heard is true.”
“What rumor?” Jake asks, crooking an eyebrow.
“Steal the hat, ride the cowboy.”
Bradley smiles slowly at him, biting his lower lip and rolling it between his teeth. Jake’s focus becomes a single point; his heart pounds in his chest, and his palms are suddenly sweaty. Jake chokes on his own spit, gathering his thoughts that have started pinballing around his brain rapidly.
“And if it is?” Jake’s voice is remarkably sure for how off-balance he currently feels.
“Then I think I should take you home,” Bradley whispers softly. His breath ghosts the shell of Jake’s ear, and Jake shivers.
Instead of answering, Jake pulls back, looking up at Bradley purposefully. He steps forward and past Bradley, brushing their bodies together. He can feel Bradley on his heels as he walks out of the bar. Jake finds Bradley’s Bronco easily, leaning against the passenger door. He takes a deep breath, watching Bradley approach him, the cowboy hat still perched on his head.
“You good to drive?” Jake asks as Bradley pulls out his keys to unlock the car.
“Yeah,” Bradley confirms, rounding the car to the driver’s side. “Only had two beers.”
“Good.”
Something eases in Jake’s chest, knowing that Bradley isn’t drunk or even tipsy. They’re both clear-headed. He takes another deep breath and steps into the passenger seat.
The drive is silent, but it’s comfortable. Jake fiddles with the radio knobs, and Braldye slaps his hand away whenever he strays away from the presets. Jake laughs when he does that, teasing him about his particular taste. Other than that, though, they pass the time in silence.
Jake’s nervous. He doesn’t know why, really. He’s good in bed, and Bradley won’t regret this decision. But Jake knows this is more than going to bed together. This is something meaningful. Another step in their complicated history. One that will set them on a path that there’s no coming back from.
Jake doesn’t want to come back.
Bradley pulls into his driveway and cuts the engine. He makes no move to get out. He meets Jake’s gaze across the gear shift, smiling almost shyly at him. Jake returns the smile, butterflies erupting in his stomach. He feels giddy.
“Race ya?” Jake asks, and then he throws open the door. He can hear Bradley’s laughter mixed with the sound of him exiting the vehicle.
He makes it to the front door first, leaning against it to catch his breath. Bradley doesn’t give him a chance. He kisses Jake hard, pushing him into the door. Jake moans into the kiss, opening his mouth to let Bradley’s tongue slide against his. He reaches up and tugs on Bradley’s curls, pulling him closer.
Bradley sneaks a hand under Jake’s shirt, teasing at the waistband of his jeans. His fingers are cold from the air conditioning in the Bronco, and Jake shivers at the touch. He nips at Bradley’s bottom lip, tugging it at Bradley pulls away.
Jake keeps his hands in Bradley’s hair as Bradley fishes his keys out and unlocks the door. He lets Bradley lead him into the house, backing him up until Jake hits a wall. Jake steps into Bradley, kissing him again.
Bradley hums into the kiss, cupping Jake’s ass through his jeans. He pulls Jake incrementally closer, and Jake slides a leg between Bradley’s. He pushes at Bradley’s shirt until it falls off his shoulders, thanking earlier Bradley for having the foresight to unbutton it.
“Wait,” Bradley pushes Jake back gently. Jake pulls his head back, a string of spit connecting their lips. Bradley’s cheeks are a deep red, and his lips are swollen. Jake wants to devour him.
“This isn’t just for you to get something out of your system, right?” Bradley asks, breathing heavily and sounding almost shy. “Like, this isn’t some final move of one-upmanship in our storied rivalry?”
Jake likes him so fucking much that his cheeks hurt from smiling.
“No,” he says firmly, unable to keep the grin off his face. “I don’t teach just anyone line dancing, baby.”
Bradley’s cheeks grow redder at the term of endearment. “I don’t think I picked up on the lesson that well,” he says sheepishly.
Jake likes him so goddamn much.
“Gonna have to let me lead then, darlin’,” Jake says softly, cupping Bradley’s jaw and running a thumb along his lower lip.
Bradley’s eyes flutter closed, his breaths coming out in heavy pants. He closes his lips around Jake’s thumb and sucks. The warmwet sensation sends arousal surging through Jake. He pulls his thumb out and grasps Bradley’s face with both hands. Surging forward, Jake licks into Bradley’s mouth. Bradley hums, tilting his head back to give Jake more control.
Jake steps into him, and Bradley steps back, moving them through the house. He pulls Jake’s shirt off somewhere in the living room, and they both lose their pants by the time they get to the bedroom.
Bradley falls on the bad first, splayed out for Jake in just his boxers, dog tags, and Jake’s hat. The sight is sinful.
“I also don’t let just anyone take my hat,” Jake adds, crawling over Bradley. He licks a strip down Bradley’s neck, continuing down between his pecs and tugging at the dog tags with his teeth.
“I’m testing a theory, remember?” Bradley teases, sounding breathless.
“Thought we were testing it together,” Jake jokes, smirking up at Bradley from between his legs.
Bradley swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. Jake tracks it. He wants it between his teeth, but he has other matters to attend to.
Jake licks along the waistband of Bradley’s boxers, running his tongue through the ridges of his abs. The muscles clench under him, Bradley breathing heavily above him. Jake’s always loved this, having this kind of power over someone else. To make them wait in anticipation, to make them desperate for it. This is the first time in a while that Jake’s just as desperate, though.
Jake slips his fingers under the waistband and tugs. Bradley lifts his hips, letting Jake pull the boxers all the way off. On his way back up, he slowly kisses up the length of one of Bradley’s legs. He sucks at the thick muscle of his right thigh, just above the knee, until Bradley is whining.
“C’mon, Jake,” Bradley urges, fingers flexing in Jake’s hair.
“Thought you liked a slow ride, baby?” Jake teases, kissing along the insides of Bradley’s thighs. Bradley whines, tugging on Jake’s hair to get him to where he wants him.
“You’re the one,” Bradley huffs out, squirming as Jake licks near the base of his cock, “who always likes to play that fucking song.”
“Aw, and here I thought you enjoyed our little games,” Jake jokes, nosing at the curly honey-colored hair.
“You’re such a-”
Whatever name Bradley was about to call him is cut off by a moan when Jake swallows around the head of Bradley’s cock. He suckles at it, getting it nice and wet. Pulling off, he spits into his hand and then starts pumping Bradley’s shaft while sucking on the head.
Bradley moans, grip tightening in Jake’s hair. Precome hits Jake’s tongue, and he moans at the salty taste. Slowly, Jake works his mouth down the rest of Bradley’s cock. He bobs a few times, taking more and more of Bradley’s cock with each movement.
Bradley’s too big for Jake to fit entirely in his mouth, and when the head hits the back of his throat, Jake relaxes and eases down just a little further. Bradley curses, hands falling from Jake’s hair to grip harshly at the sheets. Jake’s throat flutters and more precome hits his throat.
“Shit, Jake,” Bradley moans, writhing in the sheets. “Your fucking mouth.”
If Jake didn’t have Bradley’s cock in his mouth, he’d say something snarky. As it is, his mouth is occupied, and Jake has no complaints. He twists his hand around the length of Bradley he can’t fit in his mouth, wringing out the most incredible sounds from Bradley.
Jake could spend hours between Bradley’s legs. The feel of his cock, heavy on Jake’s tongue, the taste of his arousal, the sounds Bradley makes. It’s all enough to have Jake rutting against the mattress. He can feel the wet spot in his boxers from where his own dick is leaking precome. Jake moans around Bradley, reaching down to palm himself through the fabric.
“God, are you touching yourself?” Bradley asks, voice strained.
Jake moans, reaching into his boxers to grab his cock. He strokes it in time with his other hand on Bradley, thrusting into his grip.
“You need it that badly?” Bradley asks sweetly, tracing a finger along Jake’s cheek and lips. “That turned on just from sucking my cock?”
Jake swallows in answer, and Bradley curses. His hips lift off the bed, and Jake chokes on the head of his cock.
“Fuck, sorry,” Bradley says quickly as Jake splutters.
Jake waves him off.
“Got lube in here?” he asks, voice wrecked.
Bradley’s face goes from concerned to aroused immediately. He reaches over to grab some out of the bedside table, the hat slipping off onto the pillow in the process. He hands the bottle to Jake, and Jake starts warming some up between his fingers.
Jake slides his boxers off and settles back between Bradley’s legs. He prods at the furled muscle with his finger, tracing Bradley’s hole and getting it nice and wet. Bradley keens at the sensation, his legs closing automatically. Jake places one hand on Bradley’s thigh, pressing it into the mattress to keep him in place.
“Gotta be patient,” Jake chides. “I’ll give you what you need, baby. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not,” Bradley breathes out, squirming. “I’ve just been dreaming of getting fucked by you for days, so if you could please hurry up, that’d be-”
Jake slides his finger in up to the first knuckle, and Bradley cuts himself off with a groan. Jake works his finger into Bradley slowly, waiting for the man to relax around him before he curls it.
“Jesus, Jake,” Bradley moans, shifting his hips down. “Right there.”
Jake hums, stroking Bradley’s prostate with the tip of his finger. Bradley’s cock is drooling onto his abs, a pool of precome gathering. Jake’s mesmerized by it. It’s like every stroke of his finger adds to the collection.
“Ready for another?” Jake asks, looking up to make eye contact with Bradley.
“I’m ready for anything you can give me,” Bradley shoots back. Jake smirks.
He pulls out and returns with two fingers. Bradley moans loudly, unabashedly, as Jake pumps his fingers in and out. When he scissors them, Bradley curses and then lets out a prolonged moan.
“God, are you always this loud?” Jake asks in awe. “Is this why they call you Rooster? Because you can crow?”
Jake crooks his fingers, and Bradley nearly screams. The noise goes straight to Jake’s cock, where it’s trapped between the mattress and his body. Every noise he pulls from Bradley has his mind going into overdrive.
“Not always,” Bradley gasps, eyes rolling to the back of his head as Jake adds a third finger. “Just with you.”
“Fuck, baby,” Jake moans, dropping his face to Bradley’s thigh. He bites it lightly. Working three fingers into Bradley, Jake ruts against the mattress, desperate for friction.
“I’m ready, Jake,” Bradley insists. “Fuck me, please.”
Jake groans, slipping his fingers out of Bradley. Bradley whines at the loss, though he was just begging for it. Jake crawls up the bed, lining up their hips. He realizes that he hasn’t kissed Bradley since they arrived, and that has to be rectified immediately.
He licks into Bradley’s mouth, kissing him filthily. Bradley scrambles at this back, nails s scratching lightly as he kisses Jake back. The buzz of his mustache against Jake’s upper lip sets him on fire. They kiss for a while, until Bradley gets desperate, bucking his hips up into Jake’s. The dog tags brush Jake’s chest.
“Thought you were gonna ride me?” Jake groans, the heads of their cocks making contact between their bodies.
Bradley smirks up at him. He sits up, hooking his ankles behind Jake’s waist, and then grabs Jake’s torso and flips them. A fresh wave of desire surges through Jake as Bradley pushes him down into the mattress, not even winded from moving. Jake has never wanted anyone more. He wants Bradley all the time.
Bradley straddles Jake’s hips. His tags hang from his neck, swaying with inertia. Jake’s cock slides along Bradley’s ass, and Jake moans like a whore, desperate for it.
“Patience, baby,” Bradley teases, grinding back again. “Slow ride, right?”
Bradley leans forward, reaching for something. Jake doesn’t care or know what; he’s distracted by the wide expanse of Bradley’s chest taking up his entire vision. He bites lightly at Bradley’s pec and licks around his nipple. Bradley moans, grinding his cock against Jake’s chest. Jake grabs the dog tags, pulling Bradley into him more. Jake’s about to move to the other nipple when Bradley pulls back, cowboy hat in hand.
“Gotta be dressed appropriately for what I’m about to do,” Bradley says, and Jake laughs.
Bradley places the hat on his head, and it immediately slides forward. Jake reaches up, tilting it back.
“I wanna see you, sweetheart. I need to watch you ride my cock like you own it.”
Bradley whines, soft in the back of his throat. He grabs Jake’s outstretched hand, kissing the inside of his wrist. When he drops it, Jake doesn’t move far. He brings his hand down to trace light patterns along Bradley’s chest, running a finger through the thick curls that race toward his cock.
Bradley’s dick is straining towards his stomach, steadily leaking precome and smearing it over his abs. The head is flushed red, slick with Jake’s spit and Bradley’s precome. Jake reaches for it, squeezing under the sensitive head. Bradley hisses.
“Wait, baby,” he whines, batting Jake's hand away. “I wanna get you inside before I come.”
God, Jake burns for him.
“That close, B? That close from just my mouth and my fingers opening you up?” Jake can’t help but tease, swiping a finger through the mess on Bradley’s chest. He brings it to his mouth and sucks, moaning at the taste.
“Fuck, Jake,” Bradley groans.
He reaches behind him for Jake’s cock and finally, finally, lines it up with his entrance. Bradley braces one hand on Jake’s chest as he sinks down the first few inches, moaning at the stretch of the head.
Bradley freezes, shifting his hips to get adjusted. Jake’s barely in Bradley, and he has to focus so he doesn’t come too soon.
“You feel so good, baby,” Jake says, running his hands up and down the sides of Bradley’s torso. “So hot and tight and wet, god. Like you’re made for riding my cock.”
“Jake,” Bradley keens, canting his hips down and taking a few more inches.
“That’s it, Bradley,” Jake encourages. “You’re taking me so well. Ride my cock like you own it.”
A broken whine comes out of Bradley. He lifts himself almost all the way off Jake, holding himself open with just the head, and then sinks down to the root. Jake gasps out a curse, grabbing Bradley’s hips tightly. He’s enveloped by Bradley; his mind is a single point, and it’s Bradley. The feel of him around Jake’s cock, under his fingers, above him.
Bradley barely gives him a moment to catch his breath, and then he’s bouncing on Jake’s cock. He leans back, placing one hand between Jake’s legs for balance and using the other one to keep the cowboy hat on. His knees come up, and then Bradley’s feet are planted on the mattress, and he’s using the extra support to ride Jake in earnest. Jake can sense when Bradley gets the angle just right. Bradley clenches around him, moaning. His eyes flutter shut as he works himself up and down Jake’s dick. The dog tags bounce against his chest with every move, glinting in the low light.
On a downstroke, Bradley stops his movements. He grinds his hips down into Jake, soft ahs tumbling from his mouth. Bradley’s eyelids aren’t closed, but his eyes are rolled to the back of his head. His lashes cast long shadows down his cheeks, where there’s a blush high on them.
“Right there,” Bradley moans, head tilting back. His grip on the hat loosens. His hand joins the other one behind him, keeping him upright. “You feel incredible, Jake.”
“Fuck,” Jake groans. He wants to throw his head back in pleasure, but the sight in front of him, Bradley riding him in his cowboy hat, is too good to tear away from. “You look so fucking good.”
“Maybe,” Bradley gasps, shifting up incrementally and then slamming back down, “you should take a picture next time. Something to remember me by.”
Jake’s cock twitches in Bradley, the thought turning him on even more. “God, baby, I’m never gonna forget this.”
He really won’t. He’ll be 80 years old, and he’ll still remember what Bradley Bradshaw looked like right now.
Bradley opens his eyes, tilting his head forward. He looks down at Jake with hooded eyes. Pushing into the mattress with his feet and hands, Bradley moves up and down Jake’s cock quickly. The sight is overwhelming. Jake reaches forward to grab the dog tags to ground himself.
“B, I’m close,” Jake warns. He’s barely done anything, but Bradley’s treating him so well that Jake can feel his orgasm forming.
“Fuck, baby, are you gonna come in me? Gonna fill me up? Show me who this cock belongs to?” Bradley practically goads.
Jake comes with a shout, and Bradley rides him through it. His orgasm comes in waves, sweeping him over the edge. He releases the tags to pump Bradley’s cock, desperate to get him there soon. Bradley throws his head back, the hat finally tumbling off and onto the ground. Come spurts from his cock, hitting Jake in the chest and chin. Bradley collapses forward onto his knees. Jake’s cock softens inside of him.
“Fuck,” Jake says one more time for good measure, and Bradley snorts.
“Yeah,” he agrees, breathing heavily into the crook of Jake’s neck. “Fuck.”
Jake laughs, and Bradley joins him, giggling into each other. Jake wraps his arms around Bradley’s torso, squeezing him.
“Gotta pull out and clean you up,” Jake mutters, nosing at Bradley’s hair.
“Mmm,” Bradley hums. “In a moment. Just wanna stay here for a bit.”
Jake smiles, dropping a kiss to Bradley’s temple. “Me too.”