Work Text:
Mav blames himself for the kiss.
He's usually pretty good at noticing when he's pushing someone's buttons. It doesn't often make him stop, but he's clearly missed that deciding line with Cyclone.
And Cyclone is now on a very short list of people whose good opinion he actually cares about.
Maybe it's because he's found a freedom here, and a place to belong that he never expected he could. Not on the ground, and definitely not on North Island. It's probably also the unexpected kindness of a role created just for him.
Ice had always watched over him, but they'd never worked closely together, not after their careers diverged. But here, he gets to consult, to fly, to share his ideas in a way he hasn't been asked to before, and to generally bother the Admiral because there isn't actually enough work to keep him out of trouble.
He's not complaining about this new development in their relationship, he's just not sure what it means when Cyclone looks at him like he's just suggested another fly by, but then gathers him up like a rag doll, and thoroughly kisses him.
He had been idly sitting on Beau's desk watching his boss hand write reports, maybe getting a little distracted by his fingers, while telling him about Bradley's upcoming visit.
He'd already recapped the day's graduate training hop. Cyclone himself had come up with the idea of maintaining some of the older planes so that potential life-saving technical knowledge and skills could still be taught.
Mav had been shocked when Cyclone had called him in for a meeting a week after the Uranium mission. He'd expected his discharge papers, but Cyclone had suggested the idea and the new job with deadly seriousness. There wasn't even a joke at Maverick's expense this time.
Today Beau had seemed happy, listening to him without looking up from his work, but adding the occasional hum as Mav had talked about Bradley joining Jake's squad at Lemoore, and them both getting promotions. It definitely hadn't seemed like a day where Beau was fed up with him. In fact that happened a lot less often than Mav might have predicted, because Beau had only thrown him out twice, maybe three times in the last six months when he'd actually got work to do Maverick for heavens sake.
Some of the other daggers were due back at the same time as Bradley, and they were organising a big night out. Apparently Mickey knew someone they wanted Mav to meet. It sounded a bit like a set up, but he'd thought it might be fun, and he wanted to see the kids again.
He hadn't really paid attention when Beau had slowly risen, and walked around his desk to lock the door. He had only realised something was off when Beau came to a stop directly in front of him, forcing him to lean back and brace his hands on the desk.
There was a fire in his eyes and a certain set to his mouth that made Mav wonder what he'd done this time.
He didn't have a chance to come up with a good excuse for whatever it was, before Beau had pulled him closer and pressed their lips together.
Mav is grateful for Beau's arms holding him up, or he might well have fallen off the desk in shock. He kisses back after a split second, because it's good. Really good.
He gets his own arms around Beau's waist and licks into his mouth. Perhaps he should start calling him Beau out loud instead of just in his head now that he knows what the man's tongue tastes like.
Up close like this he inhales the fresh ocean scent that clings to the man, and Mav can taste his afternoon coffee and the dark chocolate he knows Beau keeps hidden in his mini fridge.
He's just getting into the rhythm of kissing these brand new, plush yet firm lips, when Cyclone stutters, and pulls back with his eyes wide, looking like he's about to apologise.
Oh hell no Mav thinks and reaches up to dispel any doubts his boss might have, and pulls him back down into what he hopes is a very reassuring kiss.
It seems to work.
Mav gets dizzy with the heat of Beau's chest against his, and the drag of his stubble.
“Too many clothes,” Mav mumbles into Beau's mouth. He desperately wants to feel skin, and get his hands on the muscles he knows are hidden under that perfectly pressed uniform. He gets Beau's khaki shirt unbuttoned pretty quickly and slips it off his shoulders. They don't even have to stop kissing and Mav traces his tongue around Beau's lips before swiping it into his mouth, and gets a soft groan in return.
Mav can't quite pull his t-shirt off as easily, not while he's caged in by these strong arms. He gives in and reaches up to sink his hands into Beau's hair instead, relishing the chance to mess him up.
“You too,” Beau murmurs, as he pulls back leaving a stinging nip to Mav's bottom lip, and rips Mav's t-shirt off over his head. A second later and Mav feels the hot press of kisses along his throat and down to his chest. Mav arches up against the teeth and tongue savaging his skin and grazing his nipples.
“Shit,” he gasps, “that's good,” and Mav clasps the back of Beau's neck to keep him in place. There's going to be some fantastic bruising when this is all over.
Beau drags his wet lips off of Mav's skin, and fixes him with that look he gets when he's winning an argument.
“I know. I've been wanting to do that since your ridiculous training session on the beach.”
Mav's confused for a second thinking that Cyclone didn't show up that day until he'd already tapped out, but his mind goes blank when the man licks across his collarbones.
Mav's head thunks back against the wooden desk, and then Beau's slipping his hand underneath.
“Don't hurt yourself,” he teases, and Mav finds it hard to look away.
The kissing is nice, but Mav's getting a little sick of just laying there, and although he'd never say it out loud, he is a little worried about his back.
Despite feeling the Admiral's obvious arousal from where they're pressed together, or maybe because of that, he surges up and uses the resulting surprise to slip off the table and get to his knees. There's a little gasp from above, and Mav smiles, because this certainly isn't where he thought they would be after that terrible first meeting in the board room.
As soon as he gets the zipper open, he sucks at the fabric of Beau's regulation underwear, and lets himself have a little smile at the man's quirks.
“Damn,” Beau says, and leans over to steady himself. Mav can hear his breath quicken and muffled curses spill out of his mouth. It's a heady feeling, getting him to lose control. Mav buries his face between the other man's legs, breathing in his natural scent. It's rich and earthy, and somehow soothing.
He doesn't get to stay there for long though, before he's pulled back by the hair, and Beau is saying, “I want you to be sure Maverick.”
Mav gulps in a few breaths, his pulse racing at the sting in his scalp and the harsh angle of his neck. He refocuses on Cyclone's face, and he's seen enough of it to recognise real concern in his gaze.
“When have you known me to back down from a challenge?” he says with a wink. It doesn't seem to ease the tension on Beau's face, but he does loosen his grip, so Mav grins, and uses both hands to pull him out. Maybe he overestimated, because he does have to pause for a moment of strategy, before he leans in to drip his saliva over as much of this monster as he can. He gives a few kitten licks and a swirl of his tongue, and then carefully takes Beau's cock into his mouth sucking on the velvety skin, and slipping as much as he can down his throat.
Mav chases every gasp and sigh. It's been a minute, but even when he was dating or hooking up he never came across someone as well-endowed as the man in front of him.
Not only that, but very few people have kept him interested.
It's often been the same with work. Here on North Island though? Beau challenges him, keeps up with him, and might actually be a few steps ahead, on occasion. It's a little scary to compare him to the two other people he's ever felt like that about.
He tries to shake it off by focusing on the dick in his mouth, but his mind has always moved too fast. Good thing he can do at least two things at once.
He knows what visitors to the base sometimes say about him. Not within Admiral Simpson's earshot of course. It's the same whispers and snide comments there have always been. About him. About him and Ice. That Mitchell must have something on them, to get the favours he does. Either that, or he's good for them in other ways, to be worth so much trouble.
Tom never stood for it. Even without the legal back-up years ago he did what he could. Mav's not stupid enough to think he gets that kind of love or loyalty twice in one lifetime though.
And anyway it's not like that between them.
Mav licks around the head of Beau's cock, and kisses up and down the length in between long strokes with his hands. He adds in little grazes of his teeth for texture. He spends what feels like hours swallowing around the hot length of it in his throat, and makes sure he looks pretty doing it.
“So good for me Pete,” he hears, and leans into the man's leg, relaxing his throat, and concentrating on his breathing. Everything else starts to fade away.
His eyes start to water and his mouth is stretched too wide. It'll be red and sore tomorrow he thinks pleasantly. Still he stays where he is, pressing his nose into the curls at the top of Beau's thighs.
A stray thought drifts through his mind that he could do this forever. His joints are soft and his mind feels like soup. The concrete floor feels like sponge.
Mav just about registers Beau's voice. He doesn't want to listen, but he's forced to when Beau pulls himself out of Mav's mouth, holds the base of his cock with one hand, and grasps Mav's chin with the other.
“Wait,” he says.
“Why?” Mav rasps and licks his lips.
Beau closes his eyes and shakes his head at the ceiling.
Mav does wait, even though his fingers twitch with nothing to do, because so far he's learnt that a little patience with Beau Simpson is worth it.
“I wanted you to wait, because I didn't want to come without touching you too,” he says bluntly.
“God yes,” Mav pleads, his voice deeper than usual. “Please touch me Beau.”
Beau pulls him to his feet and then they're kissing again and shedding the rest of their clothes. Mav presses himself against Beau, knowing it's got to feel good. They're equally fit and well muscled but Beau's taller and broader body means he could easily manhandle him, and that only makes Mav's dick throb harder.
“I thought I said slow down,” Beau says, but ruins the effect by grabbing Mav by the thighs and sitting him up on the desk.
“Make me.” He replies, tipping his head to the side, and baring his throat.
Beau leans in close, hands braced on either side of Mav's thighs, and Mav gets caught up in the flex of his shoulders.
“I don't want to make you Pete. I want you to do what I say because you want to.”
He pauses to stroke Mav's dick firmly.
“Because it makes you feel good.”
Beau's breath is hot on his neck now, and Mav feels his breath come harder, and his legs spread.
“Because deep down,” Beau continues, “you just really want someone else to take control.”
Beau kisses his neck, and holds Mav up with one strong arm around his waist. He could let go now if he wants.
“Not someone,” Mav says, “you,” and feels his stomach lurch at the truth of it.
Beau stills and there's a moment when they're locked together, breathing heavily, waiting for what comes next.
“Trust you,” Mav whispers, and Beau tightens his grip, nosing at Mav's temple.
“I'd take care of you,” Beau replies, just as quietly.
“I'd let you,” Mav answers, and Beau's expression burns as he darts down to lick a wet strip from the hollow of Mav's throat across his cheek to the tender spot behind his ear.
He feels raw, and claimed.
Mav takes Beau's hand, desperate for his touch and pushes it between his legs. They both moan at that and Beau goes back to devouring his mouth. Mav can hardly feel his lips any-more.
He's going to have to come up with an excuse for his neck being all marked up when he meets up with Bradley. There's no way he'd let that go. The kid's been obsessed with Mav settling down since they'd reconciled. Wanting them both to try having a life outside the Navy, telling him workplace relationships never work. Bradley is still all or nothing when it comes to people, and Mav had found himself wondering whether it had been Phoenix or Hangman that had put him off...
Beau had scoffed and told him not to be such a gossip unless he was going to ask Bradley himself, but Mav wasn't quite brave enough for that yet.
A sharp sting brings him out of his thoughts, and back to his Admiral who gets his attention by pinching his inner thigh.
“I don't have any lube, and I want this to feel good,” Beau says, and rubs his fingers mournfully between Mav's legs.
“Okay,” he breathes, and takes Beau's cock in his hand. He looks down, lining them up and says, “lets just get off like this, a bit of spit should be good enough.”
It'll be more than enough to be a stand-out memory, he's sure of that. And while he'd love to know what it's like to be fucked by this man, he'll take what he can get, and perhaps they can salvage their working relationship out of it if they don't go all the way.
“Next time then.” Beau says matter of factly, and gets his hand around both of them.
Mav freezes.
It doesn't go unnoticed, and Beau pulls back so they're no longer touching.
“Are you having second thoughts? Do you want to stop?” Beau says.
“No! No.” Mav grabs Beau by the arms. “It's just, you really want there to be a next time?”
“Do you think this is something I just did on a whim?”
“Well...yeah,” Mav answers. There's no way Beau like, wants him for more than this, is there...
“Maverick.” Beau looks at him with exasperation. “I am not you.”
Beau leans back in, but instead of getting his hands back on Mav's dick he holds him firmly by the hips.
“I am not in the habit of spending one second longer than I have to in the company of a person I dislike.”
“Uh huh,” Mav replies not quite getting it, and distracted by the touch of the Admiral's rough fingers. Mav wonders what kind of work he's doing to get his skin like that. Maybe doing some renovations at home, wearing a tight t-shirt...
“And how much time have we spent together in the last six months?” Beau asks.
“Uh...a lot?” he offers.
“Yes. Exactly.” Beau replies, with a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth.
Mav smiles back, but feels a bit too dazed for anything else.
“And then you come in here, and proceed to tell me that after all of that time, after all of our conversations, - you plan to go on a date with someone else?”
“No that's not....I never thought....Ohhhh,” he says finally catching up. And like a movie montage, all of their interactions start unfolding anew in his mind.
“Well, at least there's one area where I'm ahead of you.” Beau says, smiling like he's won something, and there's no way Mav can have that. He pushes off the desk, and with this new confidence, dresses quickly while Beau just looks confused.
“You may not be prepared enough to have lube in your office but I happen to know there's a tube of something that'll do just fine, down the hall in the medical office. DO NOT go anywhere.” He says pointing his finger firmly into Beau's gorgeous chest, trusting that he won't, and kissing him firmly before slipping out of the door.
As he's skipping down the hall, certain he can wheedle something out of the Lieutenant on duty he hears,
“Maverick!”
He wonders how soon he can convince this man who makes his guts melt, who he actually respects, and who he's so utterly fond of, to fuck him in the cockpit of an F18.
Or better yet to get out from behind that desk and fly with him.
This might just be perfect.
Also, Bradley's going to kill him.