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Maverick has always enjoyed figuring out what makes his partners tick. It’s half the fun of sex: sussing out all the right buttons to press, the perfect words to say, where to touch and how. He’s prided himself on being good at making others feel good, always has and always will. Figuring out kinks is a special kind of satisfaction—hell, it’s practically a kink for Maverick. Not dissimilar to taking his bikes and planes apart and putting them back together with a better understanding of what’s under the hood.
Being with Bradley is no different. After so long apart, the younger man is a mystery. There are traces of the kid Maverick once knew that surface occasionally, but more often than not Mav finds himself baffled by the man before him. Gone is the kid who balked at the idea of dark chocolate; he’s been replaced by a man who loves his coffee black and whiskey neat.
The first time he realized he no longer knew what Bradley’s favorite pizza toppings were, he had to take a moment to collect himself. Something so small and so inconsequential—yet it had been innate knowledge for years. To realize Bradley’s tastes had changed was just one of many wakeup calls, like realizing how tall and broad the other man has gotten, how damaged they both are, how far they still have to go to be truly okay.
Some revelations simply hurt more than others, and some completely blindside Maverick. Some, though, aren’t all that surprising when he thinks about it. It should make him feel creepy, or old, or gross probably, to compare Bradley now to the one he raised, but it’s impossible not to. It’s hard not to think of that baby-faced kid following at his heels and craving every scrap of attention when the mustachioed man he grew into isn’t all that different.
Uncovering Bradley’s praise kink hadn’t been much of a revelation at all, honestly. Maverick had seen glimpses of it during Top Gun; he’d seen the almost desperate need for validation in the clench of Bradley’s jaw. It’s not that different from the way Bradley craved his attention as a kid, always wanting to be told how good he was, how much Maverick loved him. He’s not surprised to learn it carries over to the bedroom; he’s pretty pleased, actually, the first time he murmurs a soft, “good boy,” as Bradley slobbers on his cock and gets a needy whine in response.
Similarly, Bradley’s possessiveness isn’t a shock. Maverick’s never been able to figure out how a kid as sweet as Bradley could be so bad at sharing; maybe it comes from being left fatherless so young, or maybe it’s from being an only child. Whatever the reason, he’s well aware that Bradley’s always struggled with sharing toys, food, and… well… Maverick. Especially after Bradley hit those awkward teen years, Mav had to be careful with the girlfriends he brought around, lest he send the kid into a fit.
Finding out that Bradley likes to mark him up—hickies, coming inside him, bruising his hips with his big strong hands, you name it—just makes sense. It isn’t a hardship to endure, either. Maverick’s quite content to lay back and let Bradley bite him, suck every ounce of affection into his skin until he’s almost embarrassed to go shirtless on the beach.
Almost.
So when Bradley lets out a choked off “Daddy” while slamming his cock as deep as it’ll go inside Maverick, that’s not really a bombshell either. Not when he really thinks about what Bradley’s been through and the kind of scars that leaves behind. If anything, Bradley looks more rattled by the word than Maverick feels, and that just won’t do.
Maverick catches him with a hand around the back of his neck before Bradley can go scrambling back too far. His dick slips out of Mav, but that’s about as far as he gets. Maverick invades his space, pulls him in close, kisses him soundly. “Calm down, baby bird,” Mav whispers as he squeezes the back of Bradley’s neck. “It’s okay.”
Bradley shakes his head. “S’not, it’s fucking weird.” His eyes are squeezed shut, but his cock is still hard. It’d be funny if it weren’t a bit heartbreaking at the same time.
“Maybe a little weird,” Maverick allows. He reaches out to run his other hand soothingly along Bradley’s flank. “But it’s okay, too. I don’t mind.”
Bradley’s still trembling. “What?”
“I don’t mind, Bradley.” His touch drifts, slowly; when Bradley doesn’t tell him to stop, Maverick gives in and curls his fingers around his cock. Bradley gasps softly and bucks up into the touch, a glob of precome pearling at the top. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?”
Bradley whimpers.
“I love taking care of you, baby bird. I love you.” Maverick doesn’t elaborate, but Bradley seems to hear everything else that’s unspoken. Unconditionally, no matter what, I’ll always give you what you need.
He finally opens his eyes. He swallows noisily. “You sure?”
Maverick tightens his grip and Bradley’s face goes slack. “Positive, darling. If you don’t want to call me that, that’s fine. I won’t bring it up unless you do. But if you do want that, I’m telling you right now that I don’t mind one bit.”
Bradley nudges him and they fall back onto the bed together. He slots easily between Maverick’s thighs but doesn’t slip inside him again yet, and Maverick makes a concentrated effort not to rush him. Instead he winds his arms around Bradley’s shoulders and draws him into a kiss, slow and dirty.
Bradley pulls back panting. “Daddy,” he whines softly, “want you.”
Maverick shudders. “I’m here, baby.” He reaches between their bodies and guides Bradley’s cock into him again. He sighs with satisfaction as he’s split open, filled up more than he knew possible. “That’s it, sweetheart. Your cock feels so good inside me, so perfect for daddy.”
Bradley’s hips jump and slam home, inching Mav up the bed until he nearly brains himself on the headboard. “Mav,” he gasps, “I don’t know—?”
“Do you want to be good for me?” Maverick asks as he locks his legs around Bradley’s waist.
“Always,” is the gasping reply, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
He runs his hand through Bradley’s hair, his touch soothing right up until it turns tight and he takes a handful of Bradley’s curls in his grasp. “Then fuck me good, baby bird. Be a good boy for daddy and give me your cock.”
Bradley practically sobs—but he obeys. He digs his elbows into the bed on either side of Maverick’s head and thrusts hard and fast. Maverick has to grab at Bradley’s shoulders to keep from being rocked across the sheets, locking his ankles at the small of Bradley’s back for leverage. It takes him a moment to gather his bearings; Bradley got his callsign for a reason, after all.
When he’s adjusted again to the length inside him, Maverick draws in a steadying breath. “That’s it, baby bird,” he murmurs. He runs his hands over the welts his nails raked over Bradley’s shoulders. The headboard slaps against the wall rhythmically. “Fucking daddy so good, huh? Filling me up, my big strong boy.”
Another sob that bleeds into a moan. Bradley mouths sloppily along Maverick’s shoulder, every whimper sinking into his skin and vibrating through his veins. Maverick clings to him tighter until Bradley isn’t thrusting in so much as he’s grinding his cock against Mav’s prostate. It’s relentless and perfect, and Maverick tells him so.
“Like you were made for me, baby,” Maverick gasps, “want to feel you inside me all the time.”
“Fuck, daddy,” Bradley cries brokenly, “anything, anything you want.”
“Just want you, baby bird, you’re all daddy needs.”
They crash into a kiss, teeth knocking together and moans rattling their skulls. Bradley’s thrusts never let up, dedicated and persistent in driving Maverick fucking crazy alongside all his desperate whimpers and trembling hands.
“Want you to come for me, baby,” Maverick says, “you wanna come for daddy?”
“Yes, fuck, yes.”
Maverick arches his back and grinds down against Bradley inside him. “Fuck me harder, Bradley. Let daddy feel your cock, show me what you got.”
“How are you even real?” Bradley asks, a moment of clarity, before his eyes flutter shut and he leans back. He sits back on his haunches and Maverick shudders as the angle changes, Bradley feeling impossibly bigger inside him. He watches as Bradley braces a hand on the wall, the other still wrapped possessively around Mav’s hip. “You good?”
“I’m perfect, baby bird,” Maverick says, “give it to me.”
Bradley moans lowly as he starts to thrust again. “I love you so much, can’t believe you’re here.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” Maverick can’t help giving Bradley a soft smile. They’re drenched in sweat, Bradley’s eyes are a little red with emotion, but Maverick can’t combat the overwhelming feelings of fondness that sweep him away. “Love you so much, always. My good boy, my perfect Bradley.”
“Daddy,” Bradley moans as his hips speed up. He’s barely looking at Maverick, can hardly keep his eyes open. He’s always an attentive lover, but Maverick likes him best like this: taking his pleasure, dick-stupid like a rabid animal, but still so beautiful as he gasps and cries for no one else but Maverick. “Daddy, please.”
“You need a little more, huh?” Maverick taunts just slightly. He clenches around Bradley’s girth, shocking a moan out of himself and Bradley alike. “Not enough to be fucking daddy’s hole, is it? Need me to tell you what a good boy you are? Need to hear how much daddy loves your cock?”
Bradley’s nodding even after Maverick trails off, less of a response and more of inadvertent reaction. “Close, close, m’so close daddy, please.”
“Fill me up, baby, need you to fill me up. Show everyone who your daddy belongs to.”
Bradley slams his hand against the wall once and pushes his cock as deep as it’ll go into Maverick. His whole body is tense and stiff until Maverick feels the first pulse of come; they relax together, twitching and shivering, as Bradley pumps his load inside Maverick.
By the time Bradley’s cock starts to soften, Maverick’s about to reach down and stroke himself off—it won’t take long, he’s right at the brink as it is—but Bradley bats his hands away.
“Let me, daddy,” he says, voice hoarse. He slips out of Maverick but quickly slides two fingers into the mess of come and lube instead, at the same moment he slips his mouth over Mav’s cock.
Maverick shouts as wet heat engulfs his dick and thrusts shamelessly up. Bradley can take it, something they both know well. He grips Bradley’s hair with both hands and fucks his mouth desperately, driven closer and closer to the brink as Bradley moans around him endlessly.
“Fuck, baby, so good for daddy, my best boy.” Maverick’s toes curl as his orgasm starts in the base of his spine. “Daddy’s perfect cocksucker,” he gasps, coming as Bradley lets out a guttural moan around his dick.
Bradley slurps him clean and only moves away when Maverick pushes at his head, oversensitive. It doesn’t last long, as Bradley cuddles close to him almost immediately, gathering Maverick in his arms. Not that Maverick protests; he likes being close like this, likes how big Bradley has gotten, how easy it is for him to move Maverick around as he pleases.
Maverick wants to sleep—he’s old, it’s almost ten o’clock at night, and he’s spent. But he can practically hear Bradley’s brain whirring into overdrive. “Talk to me, baby bird.”
Bradley sighs against his shoulder. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Maverick allows, just as he did earlier, “but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. I thought you youngsters were supposed to be all hip and free-spirited about sex.”
That, at least, gets Bradley to laugh. “It’s one thing to not give a shit about gender or where someone sticks their dick, but… I dunno, this is different.”
Maverick rolls his eyes only because he’s tucked against Bradley’s chest and he knows the younger man can’t see it. “Did you enjoy yourself, Bradley?”
A beat of silence, then an embarrassed, “... Yeah.”
“Great. I very much enjoyed myself, in case you missed it.”
Bradley licks his lips; he’s probably still tasting Mav’s come deep on the back of his tongue. “Didn’t miss that, no.”
Maverick grins up at him. “Then that’s all that matters. You want to call me daddy in bed, I don’t mind one bit. There are worse things you could call me.”
“How are you so chill about this?”
Maverick sighs. “I’ve been around the block plenty, Bradley. You’re not the first person to call me daddy in bed, for one.”
Bradley looks caught between embarrassment and jealousy; Maverick wishes he could snap a picture, he’s pretty sure that image could cheer him up even in the deepest of funks.
“Beyond that, I love you. There is nothing you could say or do that would change that. Not even telling me to leave and never come back changed that. Why would this?”
Bradley clings to him then. Maverick just holds him right back, even as it gets a little hard to breathe. Eventually, Bradley loosens his grip enough to kiss him, soft and sweet.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Bradley says, “after everything… fuck, Mav. I gotta be the luckiest guy in the world.”
“Pretty sure I’ve got that title reserved, actually.” Maverick pinches his side. “Now, are you gonna let your daddy go to bed all sticky or are you gonna be a good boy and clean me up?”
He can feel Bradley’s cock twitch against his hip but doesn’t mention it. Bradley, face flushed bright red, rolls away.
“On it,” he says, clearly doing his best not to let his burgeoning erection impact his walking. Maverick snorts and watches him disappear into the bathroom, returning after a moment with a damp washcloth.
Maverick lays back and lets Bradley clean him off. He’s diligent and gentle, even as he deliberately leaves most of his come inside of Mav. They both like it, so there’s no point in telling him off. By the time he’s finished, Bradley’s cock is standing at full attention.
“You’re not getting me dirty again,” Mav tells him, “and you’re not cleaning me off with a cold washcloth.”
“Okay,” Bradley says. “I can just,” he jerks his thumb toward the bathroom. “Won’t take long.”
Maverick reaches out and catches him by the hip. “I never said that.” He sits up, scoots closer, and opens his mouth expectantly.
“Oh fuck.” Bradley tosses the washcloth vaguely in the direction of the hamper before shuffling forward. “You sure?”
Maverick grins up at him, touched by the concern. It’s sweet and entirely unneeded. It’s a nice reminder of their love—even though he knows full well Bradley will never pass up a chance to shut him up in one way or another. That hadn’t been very surprising at all either; besides, most folks would love to shut Maverick up, which he knows plenty well. Bradley’s just the only one who gets to do it with his cock.
Later, after Maverick’s chased the bitter-salt taste of come out of his mouth with some water and they’re both well and truly spent, Bradley holds him tight.
“Thank you, Mav.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Mav hears it all: thanks for taking care of me, for being there, for knowing what I need.
Maverick smiles and leans into the embrace. “You’re welcome, baby bird.”