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Jake is losing his goddamn mind.
It’s a slow process that started at the Hard Deck and progressively worsened as their group bounced from bar to bar. With every stop, the source of his temporary insanity grows more and more enticing.
Rooster seems to be on a mission to drive Jake absolutely insane. When he pulled up to the Hard Deck, an hour late and with no acknowledgment of Jake, Jake’s attention was piqued immediately. It’s only gotten worse since then.
The shirt is a striking red, like a fire engine, and it pops against Bradley’s tan skin. He’d unbuttoned it somewhere in between the two bars, and now it hangs open, swinging with his movement. He’s not wearing an undershirt, and if Jake squints, he can still see the scratch he left down the side of Bradley’s torso last night. Then there are the dog tags, hanging low between Bradley’s pecs. The ones that pressed into Jake’s back less than 24 hours ago.
The worst part, though, is the hat. The cowboy hat. Jake’s cowboy hat, perched on Bradley’s head like he owns it.
Jake had scowled when he first saw it. Bradley hasn’t once acknowledged where he got it from, even as their friends lobby questions at him. Jake wants to walk over and grab it off Bradley’s head, but he knows that will only fuel Bradley more.
Jake’s never been to this bar before, but Bradley’s familiar enough with it. He’s chatting away with the bartender, a blinding smile stretching under his mustache. Like he can sense Jake’s gaze on him, Bradley turns his head and makes eye contact.
Bradley winks at him from under the brim of the hat, licking along the rim of his glass. Jake’s been half hard since Bradley unbuttoned his shirt and pressed into Jake’s back on the dance floor at the last bar. Bradley runs his eyes down Jake’s body, unashamed and leering. He pauses on the bulge in Jake’s jeans. It’s dimly lit, and he’s wearing dark pants, but Bradley seems to know. He always knows just how to play Jake’s body like a fiddle.
Whatever is between them is nothing tender or warm. It’s first and foremost a game, and one Jake intends on winning. Every time he looks at Bradley and feels his blood rise, Jake hates it. Just like he knows Bradley hates the way one look from Jake has him looking for the exit.
The two of them have never been able to communicate in any way that matters, but this, they’re on the same page about. The delicate game of attraction and sex. Except neither of them plays it like it’s delicate. They play at it like it’s war.
Bradley’s been on the offensive all night. It’s time for Jake to take back some control.
He slips away from the conversation that he was only half listening to and joins Bradley at the bar. The other man’s skin is glistening with sweat under the low lights. Jake wants to lean forward and lick it off. Bradley, like he knew Jake was going to come over, slides him a beer. Jake spins it in his hands, but doesn’t drink it.
“You stole my hat,” he says instead of a greeting. Jake flicks the brim of his cowboy hat, and it slides up, revealing some honey brown curls.
“No, I didn’t,” Bradley smirks. “You left it behind. Can’t steal something that was given freely.”
Jake narrows his eyes. “Maybe I thought you were just keeping it safe. I was planning on getting it back next time.”
“I guess you’ll have to earn it,” Bradley winks. He spins away and saunters off to join another conversation.
The thing is that there are rules. They’re mostly in Jake’s head, but he respects their sanctity. And one of the more important ones is that Jake will never go home with Bradley two nights in a row. Then it’s a habit. And he can’t form a habit. He’s always had an addictive personality, and too many hits of Rooster in a row, and he’ll be hooked.
Last night, Bradley fucked him hard into his mattress. They had gone line dancing, and Bradley told him his cowboy hat was stupidly attractive. Next thing Jake knew, he was ass up on Rooster’s bed, biting the pillow to keep from making too much noise as Rooster pounded into him.
That was last night. Jake, according to his self-imposed rules, needs to wait at least another 24 hours before he crawls after Bradley. In a dynamic marked by showmanship and competition, even their undeniable attraction comes with winners and losers. And if Jake chases after Bradley now, he gives the other pilot a win.
If Jake had any doubts that Bradley views their relationship in the same way, they would have been scuttled by tonight. Because Bradley is playing at war. The shirt is Jake’s favorite, and the dog tags serve to accentuate how Bradley’s abs move as he dances. The hat is just dirty pool. The dirtiest of pool. Jake imagines Bradley in it, riding him. Imagines fucking Bradley until the hat falls off.
Desire itches under his skin. Briefly, Jake thinks about picking someone else up. Filling the void with another handsome man. But he knows it wouldn’t hit the same. Even with all his precautions, Jake is slowly becoming addicted to Rooster.
He catches Bradley’s eye from across the room. Jake chugs the rest of the beer and then heads toward the bathroom. Bradley tracks him as he does. Jake doesn’t lock the door.
He leans over the sink and catches his breath. A glance at the mirror confirms that he looks absolutely wrecked, and he hasn’t even gotten his hands on Rooster yet. Flushed cheeks and pupils blown wide. Jake’s breathing heavily, and his breath hitches as he hears the door open.
Jake doesn’t look over, even as the door closes and the latch slots into place. Bradley comes into view behind him. Jake meets his eyes in the mirror. Bradley wraps his arms around Jake, one hand low on his stomach and the other cupping his pec. He drops a kiss to the back of Jake’s neck. The hat bumps against Jake’s head. They look like Jake’s deepest held teenaged fantasies, staring back at him in the mirror. He watches his own eyes dilate more, body viscerally reacting to Bradley. He wishes he could see Bradley’s face.
Jake turns around. Bradley traps him against the sink with two arms on either side of his torso. Jake kisses the corner of Bradley’s mouth and then kisses his jaw. He works his way down, peppering kisses along Bradley’s bare torso. He pauses to swirl his tongue around Bradey’s nipple, and then again to dip it into Bradley’s belly button.
Jake pauses there, scratching lightly at Bradley’s sides. Bradley fists his hands into Jake’s hair and pushes him all the way to his knees. Jake goes down easily, a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth. He loves when Bradley tells him what to do. Especially when Bradley does it without words.
Jake mouths over Bradley’s cock through the material of his jeans. Bradley groans, pushing Jake’s face harder into him. Spit pools in Jake’s mouth, making a dark spot on the front of Bradley’s light-wash jeans. He looks up and sees Bradley staring down at him, face flushed and hat tilted up just enough that the sweaty curls peak through.
Bradley grunts, running his hands through Jake’s hair. He pulls Jake back a couple of inches, and Jake gets the message. His hands are trembling slightly as he undoes Bradley’s jeans. He pushes them down just far enough to pull Bradley’s dick out.
He’s hard, the tip flushed an angry red, and precome pooled at the slit. Jake licks his lips when he sees it and hears Bradley groan. Jake fists one hand in Bradley’s jeans, pulling them taut. The other grabs Bradley’s hip to steady himself.
Jake licks the head of Bradley’s cock slowly. The salty taste of precome hits his tongue, and Jake groans at it. He swirls his tongue around the head, getting it nice and wet. Bradley curses above him, hips stuttering forward. Jake kisses down the shaft, nuzzling his nose at the base of Bradley’s cock. He flattens his tongue against it, dragging his tongue back up to the head. Bradley’s grip on his hair tightens, and his hips thrust forward.
“Wanna fuck my face in a bar bathroom?” Jake asks, wrapping a hand around the base of Bradley’s cock and pumping. “Want to hold me down and make me take it?”
“Jesus,” Bradley breathes out, voice low.
Jake swallows Bradley down to the hilt. One of Bradley’s hands leaves his head, and when Jake looks up, Bradley’s biting the back of it to muffle his moans. Jake keeps his eyes wide as he stares into Bradley’s. It takes a second, but Bradley gets the memo. Keeping one hand firmly in Jake’s hair, Bradley thrusts into Jake’s mouth.
Tears form at the corners of Jake’s eyes as the head of Bradley’s cock bumps the back of his throat. He blinks a couple of times before letting his eyes fall shut. He gets lost in the feeling of Bradley fucking his mouth. Bradley picks up pace, smearing precome across Jake’s tongue.
Jake’s cock is impossibly hard in his jeans, aching as it strains against the zipper. He loses track of his surroundings, focused solely on Bradley thrusting into him. Letting go of Bradley’s hip, Jake reaches up to grasp the dog tags. He feels them cut into his palm, grounding him. Spit and precome drool out of his mouth. Jake can feel it cooling on his hand, still fisted in Bradley’s jeans.
“Fuck, Jake,” Bradley whines. He’s whispering, but the words hit Jake like a scream. “You needed this so badly that you couldn’t wait for us to leave? Gonna choke on my cock because you’re so desperate for it you’d let anyone see you on your knees for me?”
Jake swallows around the head of Bradley’s cock, moaning. He knows they have to be quiet, but Jake wishes he could hear Bradley lose his mind. The idea of everyone hearing how good Jake makes him feel has Jake feeling dizzy.
He lets go of Bradley’s dog tags to palm himself through his pants. The pressure has him moaning around Bradley’s cock. Bradley thrusts hard into his mouth, and Jake squeezes his cock in time with it. He remembers feeling it deep in him last night, so deep that he woke up with an ache. He imagines Bradley bending him over the sink and fucking him right here. Watching them together in the mirror. He spurts precome into his boxers.
“God, your mouth was made for this,” Bradley babbles above him. “If I had known how much you like a dick in your mouth, I would’ve used it to shut you up years ago.”
Jake starts moving his head in time with Bradley’s thrusts. He rubs himself faster, pressing down against his dick. His hips tilt up, seeking friction. His cock twitches in his underwear. Bradley looks down at him, making eye contact. His brown eyes are nearly black, his face flushed a deep red. The shirt sticks to him with sweat, his curls matted under the hat. Bradley traces Jake’s lips, where they’re wrapped around his cock, breathing heavily.
Jake’s eyes flutter closed. He sucks hard on Bradley’s cock, and at the same time as he grinds the heel of his palm into his hard cock. Surprising himself, Jake comes, moaning around Bradley’s cock. His orgasm washes through him, his body singing as Bradley uses it to chase his own.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Bradley warns.
Jake doesn’t pull off. Bradley bites the back of his hand, spurting thick ropes of come down Jake’s throat. Jake swallows it, throat working as Bradley rides out his high in Jake’s mouth.
When Bradley softens, Jake pulls back carefully, avoiding eye contact as he tucks Bradley back in. He rises to his feet, wincing as his knees crack. His pants are uncomfortably tight and wet, come cooling down and making him wince.
Bradley tracks the movement looking down and Jake’s ruined jeans.
“Did you come?” Bradley asks, voice wrecked like he was the one just on his knees.
Jake flushes. His first instinct is to deny it. But Bradley looks down at him like he can’t believe it, eyes full of what looks almost like pride. The hat casts a shadow on Bradley’s face, marking him with something of Jake’s. It makes Jake feel like he won some kind of prize.
“Yeah,” he confirms, glancing away from Rooster. He reaches over to grab a wad of paper towels.
“Here, let me,” Bradley says gently, taking the wadded-up paper from Jake’s loose grasp.
Bradley drops to his knees. He plants a soft kiss on the sliver of Jake’s abdomen that’s exposed between where his shirt has ridden up and the waistband of his jeans. He gently unbuttons and unzips the jeans, pulling them down Jake’s thighs slowly. As Jake’s cock, softening and covered in come, comes into view, Bradley groans.
“Jesus,” Bradley whispers. He flicks his tongue out and licks along Jake’s soft dick. Jake hisses at the sensation. “All this for me? Just from my cock in your mouth in some crappy bar bathroom?”
Anything Jake says is damning at this point, so instead of words, he lets out a deep moan. Glancing down, he sees Bradley nosing at the curls at the base of Jake’s cock. Bradley licks over the sensitive skin of his lower abs and inner thighs. Jake’s thighs shake with the effort to keep standing. His cock twitches with interest, despite having just come.
“Gonna give me another?” Bradley asks against the skin of Jake’s right thigh. He bites lightly and then soothes the area over with his tongue. “You can fight against this all you want, but I can see what I do to you. I know you want nothing more than to come down my throat. To let me thank my savior on my knees.”
“Fuck,” Jake groans. He leans against the sink, letting it hold his weight up. A particularly loud laugh floats through the door, and Jake glances at the exit. The lock is still latched in place.
He’s half-hard hard again. Bradley licks along the crease of Jake’s thigh. His dick twitches and Bradley smirks against his skin.
“Show me how badly you want it,” Bradley taunts. He wraps his hand around Jake’s cock, slick with his own come, and pumps it a few times. “I want you begging for it. Begging for what only I can give you.”
“Fuck. You,” Jake grits out. He wants to reach for Bradley’s hair, but it’s covered by the hat, and Jake would rather never come again than let his hat touch this disgusting bathroom floor. Instead, he white knuckles the sink.
“Maybe later,” Bradley winks, and then his mouth closes around the head of Jake’s sensitive dick.
“Jesus!” Jake practically screams. Remembering where they are, he bites his lip and throws a palm over his mouth to muffle the sounds.
Bradley suckles on the head of Jake’s cock. He licks at the slick, moaning at the taste. The vibrations move through Jake. Bradley slides all the way down Jake’s dick, looking up at him when the head hits the back of Bradley’s throat. Bradley swallows around it, and Jake bites his lip so hard he tastes blood.
Bradley doesn’t move. Jake’s cock thickens in his mouth, desire flooding him. When he’s fully hard, Bradley pulls off, gagging a little. He spits on his hand and strokes Jake. Pressing two fingers into the sensitive point under the head, Bradley smirks as Jake screams into his hand.
“Wish I could hear you,” Bradley says hotly. “Everyone should hear you. Hear how good I make you feel. How you fight me in public but would let me do anything to you like this.”
Jake’s eyes roll back. His hips thrust forward, seeking the heat of Bradley’s hand. Bradley’s words fill him with shame and lust. He hates that Bradley’s right. He hates that Bradley knows every way to get him off, every way to turn him on. Every way to have him begging for more, even as he hates himself for it.
“Please,” Jake whispers. His cock bumps Bradley’s chin, and he whimpers. “Please, let me come down your throat.”
“See?” Bradley says. “You can be nice when you want.”
Any annoyance Jake feels at the comment is chased away by Bradley’s mouth around his cock. It’s wet, like Bradley hasn’t swallowed any of his excess saliva, and sloppy, with barely any rhythm. Bradley bobs up and down Jake’s cock, the noises obscene. Jake whimpers, gnawing at his lip and muffling the sounds with his hand. There’s spit and precome dripping onto his jeans, but he doesn’t care. Everyone will see them and know where they were, and the thought has desire surging through Jake.
Jake feels a finger, dry, brush against his hole, and that’s what pushes him over the edge. He bites hard on his lip, shooting come down Bradley’s throat. Bradley, the champ, doesn’t pull off or gag. He swallows as much as he can. As Jake softens in his mouth, some come dribbles out onto Jake’s jeans and the floor.
Bradley uses the paper tales still grasped in his hand to wipe off his mouth and dab at Jake’s jeans. He slides Jake’s pants back up, carefully tucking Jake’s sensitive cock back in. He tosses the messy paper towels out and rises to his feet.
Jake still has his hand clasped against his mouth. Bradley tugs it away, and urges Jake to let go of his lip. Seeing the red from where Jake’s lip broke, Bradley frowns. Gently, more gently than anything that’s gone on between them warrants, Bradley kisses Jake. he licks at Jake’s bottom lip, soothing the ache there. Jake lets Bradley kiss him slowly, comfortably, for a few moments before breaking away.
Bradley’s lips are swollen and tinged red, just as Jake is sure his are too. His mustache is a mess, and the hat slides back on his head, revealing a sweaty mat of hair. He looks well and truly fucked. Jake’s a little scared to turn around and see what he looks like.
Bradley must have the same thought because he breaks into a sheepish grin.
“I think I ruined your pants,” he admits. Jake can feel the wet spot where Bradley’s spit and his come landed.
“I think I ruined yours, too,” Jake admits, glancing down. There’s a dark spot on the light denim where Jake drooled spit.
“All’s fair, I guess,” Bradley shrugs. “We should head out before people see, though.”
It’s a weak excuse, but it has Jake smiling.
“We?” he teases, pushing off the counter and stepping past Bradley.
“Yeah, we,” Bradley confirms, with no hint of self-consciousness. “I know you have a third in there, just for me.”
Jake shivers involuntarily. Bradley’s hand runs down his spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“A bit full of yourself, huh?” Jake teases, but his voice has gone breathy.
“It’s not arrogance if it’s earned.”
And fuck, is it earned. Jake lets Bradley lead him out of the bar and towards the Bronco, ignoring the shouts and states of their friends. There’s very little, he’s learning, that he wouldn’t follow Bradley for.