#iceman fic

Suddenly everyone seemed to be put off by your thick accent that wouldn't go away, no matter how hard you tried to adopt Californian speech. In your case, it only merged into some weird mix of both. The only solution was to stick to your own accent and not speak more than necessary around unfamiliar people.

You continued living by that in Miramar as well. Among all those aviators with—in a way rightfully—big egos you would work with for the next three months, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself. Of course you weren’t here to make friends and there could only be one whose picture would be on the wall while not everyone even graduated. Still, you would have liked not to be held back from having conversations outside of instruction. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn't want to be laughed at for your way of talking. What mattered was that you were deemed good enough at what you were doing to be accepted into this program.

From the first day, you noticed one man staring at you the whole time from the row behind you. You didn’t let yourself be bothered by it, despite admitting that there were less attractive men in this class. He had short blonde hair with bleached tips and green eyes that could stare into your soul if you looked into them for more than a second. The constant twirling of the pen between his fingers both annoyed you and subconsciously drew your eyes to his hands, a slip you quickly fixed by turning back around in your chair to look at the blackboard.

When you packed up after the last lesson and stood up, he blocked your way, standing almost too close to you. “Hey,” he said and you just nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “I’m Ice, what’s your name?”

You pointed at the embroidered name tag on your shirt and he smiled. “You don’t talk much, do you?” he asked, sitting on the edge of your desk.

“No,” you simply replied and took the chance of a free aisle to leave the room.

The worst thing was you would have liked to talk with him, but based on his tough guy behavior he had proudly shown off this week, you couldn’t be sure he wanted a serious friendly conversation and neither could you be sure he wouldn’t make fun of your accent if he heard it. Better be safe than sorry, even if safe possibly meant passing up on a date with the self-proclaimed best pilot of the class.

To your surprise, Iceman didn’t give up in the following days, attempting to catch you in the hallway for a quick chat prompted by things as trivial as him liking your pen and asking for the brand name. Also to your surprise, you persisted and always found a way out of the situation without speaking or only giving very short answers.

Maybe he was consoled by the fact that he was not the only one you avoided talking to as you only spoke during practice flights and when you had to answer a question—or had a question yourself—during instruction. You didn’t pay much attention to the other guys’ reaction except for low murmuring in some corners that might have just been regarding the topic, but you couldn’t play the mute pilot forever in situations when you had to talk. That didn’t mean you would start being more communicative privately, though.

After actually hearing your voice for the first time, Iceman brought the big guns in. Secretly, he found your accent kind of cute and not at all as big of a deal as you made it out to be. He had to get you to talk to him somehow. The next level was straight-up flirting with you. Professionalism was out the window all of a sudden, even if he kept it subtle in the classroom. On the volleyball court or in the corridors, however, he was more direct.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the club with me tonight?” he asked, sounding genuine and smiling with his arms crossed. “Most of the others are coming too and I like going with someone to these things.”

Frankly, you felt bad for rejecting him as you would have loved to accept the invitation, but you still didn’t know if it was a trophy chase like you had heard about Maverick betting with Goose that he would hook up with a woman he saw at the bar. So you resorted to shaking your head with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry,” you said and walked around him to go to your apartment.

You were the first person who left Iceman seriously frustrated and who didn't engage in his flirting at all. Sure, there had been people who already had a boyfriend or were not into men, but they had at least responded properly and it didn't affect him much. However, there was something intriguing about you that wouldn't let you get out of his head.

He couldn't need any distractions right now while working to get that certificate and have his photo hung up on the wall. The training was tough, everyone knew that by now, and there was no time or reason for him to come up with a new tactic to get a date when he wasn't sure if you would ever give in. Yet he often found himself sitting behind you during instruction and trying to figure you to no avail.

Normally, he didn't chase after people over an extended period of time. For one night maybe, but never over days or weeks like it was the case with you. It was always vice versa, so there was no need for him to come begging on his knees.

There's always a first time.

He was embarrassed to stoop so low as to visit someone at their place without knowing if they even wanted something from him. It made him feel like a desperate ex-boyfriend in a Doris Day movie. Still, he was on his way to your apartment. He only hoped nobody he knew would see him, especially if the walk of shame came after a couple of minutes when he would be turned down rather than an hour later, which would obviously be better for his reputation.

Standing in front of your door, he repeated in his head what he wanted to say. It would be extra humiliating if you rejected him now when it wasn't spontaneous flirting out of boredom in between classes but a planned evening walk to your apartment just to talk to you and hopefully ask you out.

When he was completely sure what he wanted to tell you, he raised his hand to knock on the door. As cool and nonchalant as he usually was, he was a little nervous now. He was leaning against the doorframe because standing still felt too much like a sales representative to him. He waited for a few minutes and just when he almost lost hope that you would come out at all, the door opened. Almost as if he was more surprised to see you than you were to see him, he turned to look at you with wide eyes before grinning.

A smile formed on your face and you crossed your arms, curious to know why he was here. “Hello, I’m sorry to bother you, but I really wanted to talk to you and I figured this would be a place where you couldn’t run away from me,” he explained with a light chuckle. “And I like your accent, if that’s why you never reply when I try to chat you up.”

This addition turned your skeptical frown into a relieved smile. “Y’know I could slam the door even if I can’t run away from you?” you joked.

Iceman’s eyes lit up at this longer answer than he was used to from you. It felt like he found a bucket of water in the desert. “That is true, but I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

You tilted your head, taking a small step forward. “Shouldn’t you be at the club?”

“I told you I prefer going with someone to parties over going alone,” he reminded you. “But if you’ve changed your mind, we can gladly go to the club.”

“Yeah?” You were surprised that he hadn’t gone with somebody else instead and that he still offered to let you come with him if you did want to now.

He nodded excitedly and your smile mirrored his. “Just let me change into something else, I’ll be right back.”

You head the front door close softly. What shocked you was that you didn’t hear anything from your boyfriend. Usually, he would call out to you, a newfound happiness in his voice now that he got to come home to you. Today, however, Tom never spoke a word as he stepped into your home. “Honey?” You called softly as you stepped out of the kitchen.

After a few seconds, you found him stepping out of the front entry, shoulders sagging and a soft frown on his face. The sight made your heart clench. “Tommy?” His head snapped up, eyes tired as he offered you a smile. You gave him a sympathetic smile in return, opening your arms wide as he walked toward you.

He collapsed into your arms, making you grunt slightly as you adjusted to support his weight. “Wanna talk about it?” You whispered into his shoulder as your hand ran up and down his back softly. He only shook his head. You could have guessed what was bothering him. It had been the same thing for the past week and a half. Maverick.

Wordlessly, you lead him to the couch. You sat down before pulling him on top of you. Your boyfriend barely put up a fight as he rested his head on your chest. His long body filled the entire couch, so much so that his legs hung over the edge slightly. His arms wound around your waist as he tucked his head into your neck.

You could feel his eyelashes flutter against the soft skin of your neck as he closed his eyes. The stress of the day rolled off him in waves as your hand moved p and down his back. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Tommy?” You whisper softly into his ear.

A beat of silence passed as your fingers drew delicate patterns over his shirt. He sucked in a soft breath, contemplating his response. But you soon realized that Ice wasn’t going to say anything. The pilot simply grabbed your hand and placed it on the top of his head, wordlessly communicating what he wanted.

There was a soft smile on your face as you began carding your fingers through his hair. For as perfectly styled as it was, there was a surprisingly little amount of gel. Your fingers moved slowly and gently through your boyfriend's hair, fingertips gently scratching at his scalp.

You could feel him melt into you at your soft touch. The feeling of your fingertips running across his scalp had him nearly moaning at the sensation.

This was how you remained for the next twenty minutes Eventually, Tom's breathing evened out and he was snoring softly. You smiled softly at the sound. After such a long day, you were glad that you were able to help him relax. Plus, you would never turn down an opportunity to play with your boyfriend’s hair.

Your fingers kept moving carefully through his hair, your other hand holding the back of his neck as he slept soundly. By now, you were simply running your hand gently across the top of his head, almost as if you were petting his head.

Your hand eventually slowed until it was just resting on his head. As your eyes slipped shut, you could feel his arms tighten around you and nuzzle further into your chest. Your thumb stroked softly over the back of his neck as you allowed sleep to finally pull you under.

a/n: Thank you all for reading. Feedback is appreciated and requests are open :)

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @supercatgirl006 @blueoorchid @dreamgirl3300 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @genius2050 @ice-doc-val @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess @fandom-life-12 @emmza63 @iceman-kazansky

“Y/N.” He smiled pulling your neck down for an actual kiss, “I’m great sweetheart. Just making sure I’ve got everything before our practical tomorrow. Viper wasn’t happy we shot him down today, so I think he wants to prove a point.”

“Pete giving you any trouble today?” You asked while plopping yourself down next to him. Cuddling into him you took a deep breath finding immense comfort in his scent.

He grinned pulling you right on top of him, throwing the manual off to the side, “Mav’s always giving me trouble. But I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about you. How was your day?”

You sighed placing your head onto his chest, “Not good T. Lost an infant. Another five-year-old isn’t doing great either.” You didn’t feel like elaborating. Tom already knew how you felt. Completely and utterly defeated.

Rubbing your head he squeezed you with his other hand, “I’m sorry baby.”

“It’s okay,” You whispered, “Occupational hazard I suppose.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” He placed his chin on top of your head, “It’s okay to be sad.”

“I know, you make it easier though.” Mumbling you closed your eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of your boyfriend’s heart. Always finding comfort in him.

“You can’t fall asleep yet sweetheart.” His vibrations of the laughing coming from his chest only soothing you further.

“And why not?” You pouted while still keeping your eyes closed.

He paused, not sure if he wanted to bring up his plan anymore. See, the guys at Top Gun didn’t believe Ice the last time they were all at the Hard Deck. They didn’t believe he had a doctor girlfriend. Ice refused to even look at another woman knowing you were working late that night. Really the only reason he ever went out was if you were stuck at the hospital. He’d much rather spend his nights in with you on the couch watching some dumb show neither of you paid attention to.

Mav and Goose teased that he had no game. Not accepting that he had a girlfriend. Nonetheless one that was literally smarter than all of them combined. Claiming that Ice was far too cold of a person to ever get a girlfriend like that. Let alone keep one for four years. But your Tom was a whole lot different than the Iceman that all the aviators knew.

They really didn’t believe him when he described you. Even a few other aviators had to agree with the pair. Not believing Iceman was emotionally capable of obtaining somebody like you for that amount of time. You sounded way too grounded, smart, and beautiful to be wrapped up in the life of an aviator’s girlfriend. But the two of you made it work. You always made it a point to communicate as much as you could, even when things were tough.

The whole group all about lost it when Ice showed off the engagement ring he carried around with him. He didn’t know when he was going to propose to you, but he wanted to have the ring ready to go for when it felt right. He’d bought it a few months ago, the longer he lived with you the more it reinforced that he knew you were it for him. He saw himself starting a family with you. Being forever happy with you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to babe.” He kissed the top of your head, “I was thinking we go to the Hard Deck tonight?”

You looked up at him turning your head in confusion. He never invited you to the Hard Deck. Not that you minded, at all. That was his place with the guys. You trusted Tom with your life. Of course, you’d let him have his place, “The Hard Deck?”

“Mhmm,” He rubbed circles on your back, “Maybe you could grab a few drinks, not think about the day?”

“Did you say the Hard Deck?” You asked again, making sure you heard him right.

“Yes.” He smiled, “There something wrong with it?”

You shook your head quickly, “No! I just haven’t been with you before.”

He frowned almost instantly, “Really?”

“Yeah, but it never bothered me. I promise. I know it’s your place.” You gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“No wonder they don’t believe me.” Tom sighed leaning back into the couch, pulling you right along with him.

Over time you found that Tom’s love language was physical touch and quality time. He always pulled you into him or onto him. He found solace in your touch, loving every single second of it.

“What are you talking about?” You laughed, “You’re confusing me tonight, T.”

He smiled at his favorite nickname, “The guys don’t believe that you exist. That I’m making you up.”

“Ahh, now you’re making some more sense my love.” You giggled, “You want to show them that I exist then?”

He smirked pinching your side, “I want to show you off baby.”

“I’ve got a lot of work to do if you want to show me off.” You sighed feeling the ugliness of the day consuming the way you felt as well.

“Hardly. You’re so beautiful.”

Blushing lightly, you never got tired of the shower of compliments he always gave you, “Shush you cheese.”

“Only for you.” He bopped your nose.

“Let me shower really quick and then we can go.”

“Yeah?” He smiled knowing you would do anything for him, “We don’t have to go if you’re tired and just want to relax.”

You shook your head, “And miss my chance to meet Maverick? The only human whose ever made you angry. Never.” You giggled hopping right off him and running upstairs before he could protest.

You opted for a nice floral sundress. One because it was over a hundred damn degrees in San Diego during the summer and two you had to dress to impress. Tom wanted to show you off and you wanted to try your best. Hopefully you weren’t as awkward as you normally felt you were.

“Baby, you look amazing. As always.” Tom winked pulled you into his side, “I’m so lucky.”

“Always such a mush.” You cooed wrapping an arm around his side.

“What? I can’t fawn over my beautiful girl.”

Blushing you rolled your eyes, “Shush, you know what you’re doing.”

He shrugged, “I love seeing you blush.” Chucking he gave you a squeeze before going to open the door for you. The ride to the Hard Deck was short, you lived close to the base. You didn’t work at the Naval hospital but the civilian one down the road.

Before he let you hop out, he stopped you, “I might act a little different than normal.”

“Like what?” You smiled seeing him so nervous.

“A bit of an asshole.”

Your turn to laugh, “I expected that, Tom. I do pay attention to your stories you know.”

He returned your smile with one of his own, “God, I love you. You know that?”

Nodding your head, you leaned in for a kiss, “I do. I love you to pieces too.”

Breaking the kiss, he quickly got out to open the door for you. Four years later and you never grew tired of his gestures. He always thought of you in everything that he did. How could you not be madly in love with a man like that?

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you close into him as you both entered the bar. Whether he was staking his claim on you or what you didn’t care, you loved being close to him. You loved it even more when he wasn’t afraid to show it. Who knew a bunch of Naval aviators would push him to do something so wildly out of his comfort zone. Tom at home was lovey and mushy always. Tom in public was sweet but never got too affectionate. Nothing like what he was doing right now.

Tom quickly spotted Slider pulling you along with him. He let you take the seat next to him white he stood behind you.

“I’ll be damned. Is this Y/N really out at the Hard Deck.” Ron put his aviators on top of his head eyeing the pair curiously. You adored Tom’s RIO. You guys often had him over for dinner once you moved in. He was good company and saw the rare soft side that Tom really only reserved for you on occasion.

“Your eyes don’t deceive you, Ronny.” You grinned using your favorite nickname for him. It still felt odd calling him Slider even though that’s exclusively how Tom referred to him as.

Ron looked up towards Ice waiting for his response, “What?” Ice questioned his RIO.

“Mav and Goose get under your skin that bad?”

Tom scoffed, “Hardly. I just wanted to go out with my girl. Is that such a crime?”

Ron smirked up at his friend knowing he was bullshitting him hard. Ever since Ice heard what happened to Cougar with the MIG’s and dropping out of the Navy as a whole pissed him off. Mav took Cougar’s spot. His rightful spot that he worked years for. Of course, he held resentment. Then he met the guy. He had to admit that you were right. There weren’t many people who could agitate Tom, Mav ended up being one.

Tom spotted him just as he was thinking of him sitting across the bar. Smirking Tom decided to lean down and give you a long kiss on the cheek hoping Mav would see before whispering, “Mav, 2 o’clock.” To you.

You looked over in that general direction and had to have spotted the man that seemed to torture your Tom. He looked a little shocked before replacing it was a cocky façade you were sure most aviators wore.

It wasn’t a moment later the man made his way over to where the three of you were.

“Your girl actually exists Ice?” Pete asked Tom but looked at you. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you.

Taking a long sip of your cocktail you eyed him up and down, “That’s it?” You looked back up at Tom curiously.

“What hon?” He asked you quizzically. Not having a clue what you were getting at.

“I was just expecting more that’s all.” You smiled sweetly at the man. Ron up and started laughing. Tom’s mouth almost completely dropped, and Pete looked a little pissed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pete questioned you with a confused expression garnering his face.

You shrugged, “For such a dominant callsign of Maverick I was just expecting more. That’s all.”

“What are you doing?” Tom whispered in your ear albeit with a small smile forming on his face.

“Pissing him off baby.” You kissed his cheek slowly.

“Why?”

“Because he pisses you off. Fair is fair.” You giggled before grabbing for your cocktail again. You weren’t sure what was coming over you. You weren’t overly attention seeking but when somebody wound up your boyfriend like that you just had to do the same back. Tom protected you fiercely it was your turn to do the same. Even if it was all just in good fun.

Pete stood there confused. You decided to rub salt on the wound, “Would you like a drink or?”

“Are you paying?” He smirked getting his confidence back.

“Ha!” You let out an obnoxious laugh earning the attention of a few more aviators unbeknownst to you, “You wish hot shot. Your boyfriend down there is paying.” You pointed straight to the blonde who was avidly watching what was going down between the group.

You looked up at Tom who looked pleasantly surprised. His girlfriend more than holding her own against the arrogant asshole that drove him mad.

“Goose.” Mav sighed rolling his eyes before darting off to go find him.

You smiled up to your boyfriend feeling the buzz start to take over as you downed your first drink a little too quickly.

“Ice! That’s your girl?” A group of aviators in uniform came over. Turning towards the group you smiled kindly to the trio that made their way over.

“No shit, you actually exist. How do you stand him?”

“Hollywood shut it.” Tom nearly growled stepping closer to your barstool.

“Easily.” You continued after Tom interjected.

“Really?” The one standing next to Hollywood spoke up.

Tom looked like he was going to explode on them if they didn’t back off soon, “Really Wolfman?”

“Just surprising.” He muttered looking away from the gaze that could kill.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You attempted to break the tension between all the men that happened out of nowhere, “Tom says great things about you all.”

“You too!” Hollywood clapped walking over to you, “Now I need to pick your brain on Iceman over here.”

“No way Hollywood.” Tom laughed blocking him from taking a seat next to you. He had his mask for work for a reason. He had to build up his reputation to be called Iceman, he didn’t want that to be ruined. He was cool calm collected Iceman who never broke in the air. Flew cold as ice. There is no way in hell he’d ever let one of them learn about the other side of himself. The soft side of him. The truer side where he felt his best when he was with you. He knew he was weak for you, but he always knew you were just as weak for him.

Tom never really believed in soul mates before he met you. But when he accidentally ran into you, literally, at the hospital you worked at his heart nearly stopped right then and there. He knocked you flat on your ass, but you were nothing but gracious. You started laughing, likely in embarrassment but it was a better reaction than anger. Tom insisted he buy you a coffee for the trouble and you accepted. You were on hour fourteen of a hell shift and a coffee sounded more than wonderful. From that moment on Tom believed. He was so thankful he literally ran you over.

Little did the two of you know that would kick off the world wind romance you found yourself in, but you couldn’t be more grateful. Tom was everything to you. You quickly fell in love with him, and it terrified you. You were so useed to shitty men and shitty relationships this relationship made you constantly on edge. Waiting on the other shoe to drop. But it never did. Tom just kept treating you better and better the longer you two dated. It was month four that you knew you loved him deeply. Luckily, he told you first which negated any fear you had in the relationship.

“Come on Ice!” Hollywood attempted to pout earning a laugh from Slider and Wolfman.

“Like I said. No fucking way.”

Smiling you loved watching the interaction between all of the aviators. He was different but he was still your Tom. He just threw that mask up to protect himself. You understood. You had to do the same thing at work. Feeling like you had to be a stone-cold bitch many times to prove yourself to your attending because you were a woman. There weren’t many woman surgeons let alone ones that specialized in pediatrics in the 80’s. You were sure that Tom would hardly recognize you at work, an almost heartless version of yourself.

A few more aviators came over seeing a crowd forming around you. Tom viscerally groaned knowing this was likely going to happen. He brought it upon himself but now the guys were picking on him by giving you so much attention. Tom wanted nothing more than to throw you over his shoulder and take you home away from all of them.

“Ice! She’s pretty. How in the hell did you manage that?”

Tom rolled his eyes knowing you heard the comment, “Shut up Merlin.”

Slider started cracking up seeing the irritation grow on his pilot’s face, “Hey Merlin, ever thought it was because he’s amazing in the sack?”

Your face grew bright red at the comment. He surely wasn’t wrong, but you certainly weren’t going to admit it to the now group of pilots that surrounded you and Ron at the bar.

Ice slapped the back of his head, “The hell is wrong with you?”

“Her face is bright red! It must be true!”

You shrugged grabbing your refreshed cocktail instead of answering.

“Oh, shut the hell up Goose!” Tom groaned flipping him off earning a roar of laughter from the Top Gun group.

“I always knew you were a legend man.” Slider commented while winking over at him making sure to dig his hole deeper.

“You’re on my shit list.” Tom tried to keep a straight face before joining in the group laughing at the situation.

For the next few hours, you chatted with random pilots finding the best conversation with Nick Bradshaw. He reminded you of your brother finding an easy casual conversation with him. You still made sure to give Pete a hard time, for the sake of Tom.

Tom pulled you aside when he had enough, “Ready to go home? I want some time with you sweetheart.”

You nodded finding it so attractive he wanted you to himself, “Let’s go.”

He helped you up from your stool waving the crowd of aviators off. The two of you blaming your work for your early departure. One perk of being a doctor is being able to use that as an excuse to leave anything you didn’t want to be at.

“For the record, I’m not only with you because you’re good in bed. But it’s a perk.”

He smirked, “Let’s utilize that perk when we get home, yeah?”

You looped your arm in his, “Hell yeah.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Yeah, your name is above mine.” He replies, not meeting your eye.

“No, that’s not it.” You shake your head and bite your lip to fight off the grin that’s eager to spread across your face. “I was talking about the fact that they messed up your callsign.” Ice furrows his eyebrows and for a split second, he forgets. His eyes roam over the letters that make up his callsign ‘Iceman’ right next to ‘Slider’ and thinks, what the hell is she talking about?

Then as fast as a split second can pass, he remembers and rolls his eyes.

“They spelt ‘Snowflake’ wrong.” You add, no longer holding any smile back on his account. 

Ice should know better by now. He should know not to engage, not to poke the bear, but as eager as you are to tease him, he’s as eager to receive it. At least that means you’re paying attention to him in some way. You’re a total smart ass, an impulsive flyer, and refuse to call Ice by his actual callsign simply because it amuses infuriates him. Despite all of that, you’re also beautiful, intelligent, and determined. And Tom might be a teeny, tiny bit in love with you.

“Very funny, Fox.” He pulls his gaze from the board and finally meets yours. He tilts his head to the side and lets a small grin show. When you’re beaming like that at your own joke and at there fact that you are truly ahead of him in points, he can’t help but smile too.

“Well, at least they got something right.” You take a step closer, slightly invading his personal space before reaching a finger up to point at your score. Ice doesn’t look, he doesn’t need to, he’s already memorized the number he has to beat. Instead, he roots himself in his spot and holds your eyes to his. He soaks in the moment of your close proximity, the feeling of your warmth and lets his grin grow wider.

You try to act cool and collected but inside, your stomach drops and flips like it’s on a rollercoaster, forcing the rest of your body along for the ride. You don’t want to step away, you don’t want to break this tension no matter how much you ache to. These moments that you share with Ice and the time you spend thousands of feet in the air within your box, that’s when you feel the most alive.

His eyes flicker down to your lips and you tilt your head up slightly and he - 

“Do we need to clear the room or something?” Goose breaks you and Ice from your trance on each other. You snap your eyes toward him and scowl at his playful, suggestive smirk and raised eyebrows. You love him to death but did he have to choose now, of all times, to be his quirky self?

“As if we’d give you guys a free show.” Ice chuckles as you take a step back, feeling a thousand degrees warmer inside your flight suit. 

“Name your price then.” Hollywood leans against the lockers and grins, his words send a chorus of laughs echoing around the locker room. You take that as your cue to leave. Sometimes you forget, for a blissful moment, that you’re the only woman in your class at Top Gun. The group of men you work with are great, really, but sometimes for a moment, they forget too. 

“You wouldn’t be able to afford it.” You wink at Hollywood before turning on your heels and leaving. You feel Ice’s eyes burning a hole in the back of your head up until the second you’re out of his field of vision. 

——

You and your RIO, Playboy, were on a cold streak. As quick as you rose on the leader board, you fell. When the dogfighting exercises grew more intense, you suddenly struggled to keep up. One loss turned into two. Two turned into three. And by then, you felt officially stuck in a rut and felt equally as shitty for trapping Playboy down there with you. He was a very talented RIO and you were failing him as his pilot. You were failing, period. 

There was no reason to believe you weren’t as capable as your male counters. You had earned the right to be in that Top Gun class among the other one percent, you are one of the best. But right now, stomping your way through the base after another loss, you feel nothing more than the uncomfortable jab that is rock bottom.

The last thing you want to do is ‘go at it’ with Ice over the rankings yet, somehow that’s what you end up doing.

“Hey, Fox!” Ice calls after you but, you don’t stop. You’re too determined to peel off this second layer of skin that once was a flight suit, too constricting and tight all of the sudden. “Hey, wait-“ 

He clasps his hand over your shoulder and pulls you to a stop before rounding on you. Suddenly he’s standing in front of you with his hand still lingering on your shoulder. Normally, you’d let it rest there, normally you’d let the warmth of his touch sink its way through your skin and settle in your marrow. But, right now you do not want to be touched or comforted. Just because you’re a woman does not mean you need to be rocked or coddled when things go wrong.

“What do you want, Jack Frost?” You shake his hand off you and fight the urge to smile when he does at the sound of your new daily nickname for him. You don’t want to smile. You want to sulk and wallow until all the self-pity has seeped out of your pores and you’re ready to get back out there and kick ass.

“Just wanted to remind you to check the leaderboard when you go in there. I’ve heard some mistakes have been corrected.” His smile transforms into a smirk, one that you know it’s harmless. This is the dance you two do, back and forth jabs with nothing but lighthearted intensions. Except now his words feel like a vacuum sucking all the air from your lungs. Despite what he actually says, all you hear is ‘you’re a failure, you’re a failure, you’re a failure, you’re-‘ 

“Unless I go in and see the words ‘Abominable Snowman’ written on that board, I’m going to assume nothing on there is correct.” Your normal warmth and frisky tone has turned cold and stony. Ice takes a step closer with more drawn in, maybe even slightly concerned, features and reaches out to rest his hand back on your shoulder. You side step him and shake your head before inhaling a pathetic attempt at a deep breath, all the air you manage to take in is short and jagged. 

“Look, I do not need you to remind me how much I’m failing right now. I do not need a reminder of what I, of all people, have to prove and how terrible of a job I’m doing at that. I just-“ You pause and blink away glossiness suddenly coating and stinging your eyes. “I want to be left alone.” 

A muscle in Ice’s jaw strains before he nods and replies, “Okay.” 

You take a step to move around him when his hand wraps around your forearm, freezing you in place. You glance up at him, now directly at his side, pressing up against him. His eyes flicker over you, they bounce between your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. You wish he’d get on with it, the longer he holds you there with your faces so close, the weaker your will to not smash your lips against his becomes.

“For what it’s worth,” his voice comes out husky “I don’t think you’re a failure. I think you’re pretty goddamn great.” His warm breath against the skin of your neck mixed with his words pulls a deep shudder out from inside you. He must notice the way what he’s said affects you, it’d be hard not to.

But if he does notice, he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he releases your arm and takes a step back to give you your space. 

——

You mope and you brood and you pout and you do it all over again until the sun has long set and Playboy is dragging you by your collar to the bar. He says it’s better to be sad and tipsy than to just be sad and you think there’s a lot to unpack there and make a mental note to sit down and talk to him about it later.

Right now though, you sort of agree with him.

“Can I ask you a question?” You’re three shots of bottom shelf vodka in and you should not be asking this question but, alcohol gets you more loose lipped and daring than normal and that’s saying something.

“Sure thing.” Playboy leans back in his barstool and grins.

“Why have you never tried to pull a move on me? I mean, I appreciate it. Being a woman doesn’t automatically mean I should be hit on. Everyone should treat me as their equal and in this case all your other equals are males and I’m pretty sure you don’t play for both teams, but if you do I totally supp-“

“Holy shit, Fox!”

“What I mean is, your callsign is Playboy for cryin’ out loud.” You laugh, a bit too hard, but Playboy laughs too so it’s okay. “I guess I just expected it from you. Am I like ... unattractive?”

“Oh my god, Fox.” Playboy groans and puts his face in his hands but, you can tell he’s laughing by the way his shoulders shake. When he pulls his hands away, he continues. “I’m going to regret telling you this and I’m hoping you’ll get too drunk to remember I even said anything.”

You narrow your eyes before taking another shot that was slid in front of you. If he tells you that you’re not all that pretty and you don’t actually smell like the honey lavender lotion you slather on everyday, you’d prefer to not remember that tomorrow too.

“You’re a bombshell.” You flush, mostly from the alcohol that courses through you but, the compliment doesn’t hurt. “But, you’re Ice’s girl.” 

You blanch. You were not expecting him to say that. If there was a numbered list of most likely responses to get from him based on your question, his actual response would rank around number 46. 

“I .. I am not!” 

“Aw, Fox.” Playboy coos at you. “You are.”

“I do not belong to anyone.” You poke a finger into his chest playfully.

“Okay.” He holds his hands up in defense. “You’re right, you’re technically not his. But, come on. The guy’s like completely in love with you.”

Suddenly, you’re dizzy. Both because you’re four shots passed your baseline alcohol intake and because Ice is in love with you?

No way. Ice only loves himself. And maybe his F-14. 

“Bullshit.” You murmur, suddenly finding the chipped lacquer of the bar top very interesting.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Playboys words have you dragging your eyes up to him, only then to follow his gaze to the entrance of the bar that Slider and Iceman have just strolled through. 

It should be illegal for someone to look as good as Tom Kazansky does in his summer whites. It’s a government issued uniform for Christ’s sake. Yet, he makes it impossible to decide whether you’d rather stare at him while he wears them or rip them off his body. 

You snap your gaze away from him and back to your RIO who’s smirking and wiggling his eyebrows while you frown. You let your forehead connect with the bar top as you groan and feel a pat on your back accompanied by Playboy saying, “We’re going to need another round.”

You should go home. You should kiss your annoyingly sweet RIO on the cheek and call it a night. But, you don’t. You stay and drink with him, happy to make him happy after still feeling slightly guilty about dragging him down in the ranks with you. After inhaling a dirty shirley and thirty minutes passing with your liver drowning in all the drinks you’ve consumed, you’re effectively trashed.

You’re in the middle of trying to follow the complicated backstory to Playboys even more complicated dating history when you feel a firm hand placed on your back. Just as quickly as it rests on you, it’s being pulled away and you look up to see Ice, grinning per usual.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite water globe!” You beam at him as his eyebrows draw together.

“She means snow globe.” Your RIO cuts in.

You snap and point in Playboys direction, “He gets me!” Ice chuckles and shakes his head. He tries to hold your gaze to his but you can’t stop looking around, swaying slightly to the music flowing from the jukebox.

“How much have you had to drink?” He catches your eye and notices the way they’re unfocused and slightly glazed over. He doesn’t need hear your response to know the answer is probably too much. 

“Not enough.” You grin lazily as Ice scoffs.

“Do you need to go home?” Normally, he’d try to conjure up a witty comeback but, not this time. Ice finds himself slightly worried, he knows you’ve had a rough past couple of days at Top Gun. He’s also never seen you drunk. He has no idea how to act or what to do, all he knows is he’d prefer to ensure you make it home safe. Not every guy at this bar is as respectful as him or your RIO.

“Are you trying to get me to go home with you, Sleetguy?” He can’t believe you’re three sheets to the wind but still manage to call him everything but Iceman.

‘Seriously, Y/N? That one was just bad.” Playboy snickers from beside you.

“So it’s true then?” Your eyes don’t travel to your RIO after his comment, they stay locked on Ice. “You are in love with me.”

Ice’s entire body jerks as if your words hit him with physical force. You don’t notice his involuntary reaction because the song changes to one you’re particularly fond of. Taking the opportunity with your concentration pulled elsewhere, Ice looks over to Playboy who is hiding his wide smirk behind the rim of his beer bottle.

‘You’re dead.’ Ice mouths.

Playboy winks.

“I’m not trying to take you home in that way, Fox.” He puts a hand on your shoulder to draw you back to him and prays to whatever God will listen that your drunk attention span is short. “I’d like to bring you home, make sure you pass out behind a locked door, then leave.” 

You all but moan at the thought of your big, comfy bed and eagerly agree to let Ice help you home. Playboy offers to pay for your drinks, calls you a ‘foxy mama’, then sends you on your way, trusting Tom with you completely.

Part of you is too drunk to walk straight, the other part uses that fact as an excuse to let Ice wrap an arm around your shoulders and for you to wrap an arm around his waist in response. They’ve got his callsign all wrong, you think to yourself, he can’t be Iceman when he’s this freaking warm. He’s like a furnace and you burrow yourself deeper into his side, his heat providing a kind of comfort you never knew you needed.

By the time you make it home, the fun part of being drunk, that small window of time when you feel like you’re numb and floating, has closed. All you feel is woozy and like the room is on an axis, tilting to the left one minute and to the right the next. You cling to Ice’s side shamelessly as he helps you inside and into your room. 

Ice has never been in your place before. Maybe if you were less in need of his assistance, he’d take more time to notice how every detail, big and small, about your home encompasses you. He’d see you in every place he’d look and it would be comforting in a way, to know you were all around him. For now, he settles on making sure you don’t topple over out of fear that if you do, you will not be getting back up.

He sits you on the edge of you bed and kneels in front of you, keeping his eyes pealed on your boots which he starts to untie. He can’t look up at you, he knows what he’ll feel in his chest if he does and now is not the time to feel that way, not while you’re in this state. 

You squeeze his shoulders a few times tightly while he works on getting your shoes off as if you’re trying to draw his attention to you. After the third squeeze, he gives in and glances up. You smile at him softly and yup, there’s that feeling right where he predicted it would be, deep inside his chest. 

“Will you stay?” You ask, your voice just above a whisper. 

You’re going to be the death of him.

“I can’t, honey.” He wraps a hand around your calf and lets his fingers stroke it gently, giving in to this overwhelming desire just the smallest bit. Your smile turns downwards at his words and he aches to find a way to flip it back upward. “You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow and see me here, you’ll call me a big Yeti and throw pillows at me until I leave.”

 He sees the way you fight (weakly) against a smile before it bursts through with a laugh to accompany it. His heart swells.

“Please,” you’re still smiling. “You can sleep on the couch. I just-“ He remembers the way you paused at those very words earlier today, like you were physically forcing what you really wanted to say out. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He sighs and thinks sleeping on the couch probably wouldn’t be too bad. It did look comfy based on the small glimpse he got of it earlier. 

“It’ll be my own funeral in the morning.” He gives your leg one last squeeze before letting go.

“I’ll pay for the service myself.” You still have your hands clasped to his shoulders.

“I want Madonna to sing as they lower me into the ground.” He smirks as you let out a bark of a laugh, so loud and pure he may burst if he doesn’t hear it again.

“How rich do you think I am? And how important do you think you are that Madonna would sing at your funeral?” You’re still laughing and holding him onto him, your bodies moving closer and closer like there’s a gravitational pull between you. 

“I’m very important, thank you very much. I’m going to be a number one graduate from Top Gun.” The second he speaks the words, he wants to rip them out of the air. But, you seem unaffected by them, still smiling at him fondly.

“Whatever propels your jet, you big Yeti.” You two could go back and forth like this all night, it’s what you do. But, Ice knows he should get you to sleep and hope you don’t wake up with a raging hangover that’ll fuel your distaste in finding him crashed on your couch tomorrow.

“Come on, Dandelion, you should go to bed.” You gasp dramatically as he stands up and press a hand to your heart, faking being hurt.

“I’ll let you get away with that just this once, Kazansky.” You lay back in your bed and melt into the pillows. “Count your blessings.” 

He chuckles as he throws the blanket over you and replies, “Oh, I certainly am. Goodnight, Y/N.” Your eyes flutter closed at the sound of your name rolling off his lips, sweet and smooth.  

“Iceman.” Tom comes to a halt in the threshold of your bedroom. After a beat of silence, he thinks he may have imagined it, you whispering his callsign. But then, “Ice.” He turns around, looking back at you. Your eyes are barely open and the sleepy smile you have spread across your lips looks so inviting, like you’re begging him with that smile alone to kiss you.

“For what it’s worth, I think I’m in love with you too.” Your eyes drift closed so easily, as if the words you’ve just spoken don’t leave him reeling.

——

The sun is pain. Once, you appreciated the golden light that coats your bedroom every morning in a welcoming, warm glow. Now, you despite it. You are never drinking again, you’re certain of this fact. You’ve had hangovers before, you’ve even muttered those same exact words before but, this time is different, you swear.

After you’re able to open your eyes without them burning so bad that they tear up, you notice a tall glass of water and two Advil capsules sitting pretty on your bedside table. You know you didn’t leave them there, which means ...

Oh.

Oh, no.

You screw your eyes shut again as the whole night comes rushing back like a tsunami, pummeling you in its wake. You doing shots with Playboy. Playboy telling you Ice was in love with you. You needing Ice to take you home. You begging Ice to stay.

You telling Ice that you love him too.

You are most definitely, absolutely, with no uncertainly, never, ever drinking again.

After chugging the water, popping the pain pills and seeing the time, you're grateful for your military trained internal clock waking you up so early. You were hoping Ice had already woken up too and dodged a bullet by leaving before you came out of your room. But, no dice.

You see him there, sleeping soundly on your couch, when you crack the door to your room open. What’s even worse is that he looks so peaceful, not a worry line or wrinkle on his face. You don’t have the heart to wake him up, he deserves that tranquility, even for just a little bit. 

And your desperate need for coffee outweighs your desperate need to get the awkward interaction you know is coming the minute he gets up over with.

By the time you do notice his eyes blinking away any remnants of the dreams he was clinging to, you’ve showered, a pot of coffee has been brewed, the eggs are done, and the bacon is cooking. You’re shocked at this ability to sleep for so long but, also you’re not because being in the Navy is exhausting. You know that first hand.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” You try to keep your voice light and airy despite the absolute pounding of your heart against your ribcage.

Ice rubs his eyes then pushes his hair back before furrowing his brows at you and asking, “Did you just call me something non-snow related?” 

“Anything’s better than big Yeti.” 

You can tell the second he registers the true meaning behind your words when every muscle in his body tenses. He comes to the realization that you remember the events of the previous night on his own and you let him. During the time he was sleeping and you were milling around on your tip toes trying not to wake him up, you realized something.

You truly do love him.

And what’s the point of hiding that? If what Playboy told you wasn’t true, if he didn’t love you back, Top Gun would still come to an end and then you’d part ways. If it was true, if he did love you back, then maybe you could stick together.

Loving a person like Tom meant having someone to push you but, also having someone there to catch you when you fall. You wanted that. 

When he doesn’t say anything, you start to panic and do what you do best in these situations, you ramble.

“I made some food. If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to eat. But if you don’t like eggs and bacon, I can probably find something else to make. And there’s coffee so, if you’re tired you can drink that. You like coffee, right? I’m pretty sure you do. Or you can take a shower, I think I have some spare clothes that may fit you. Or you could-“

“Fox.” You dart your eyes up to meet his. “A shower sounds great.” He smirks. You try ignore the heat pooling in between your legs (although it’s very hard when he looks at you like that) because at least he didn’t choose to leave.

“Okay, yeah, sure.” You clear your throat. You show him the bathroom and how to use the shower and grab him a towel. The last thing you tell him before you leave is that you’ll search for something clean for him to wear. After rummaging around for some of your dads old sweats, you knock on the door.

“Found some clothes!” You call out from behind the wooden barrier.

“Just bring them in here!” He calls back, his voice slightly muffled. You swallow thickly at the thought of going in there while he’s showering. Your shower has a curtain so, you wouldn’t directly see anything but, the idea of knowing what’s on the other side has more searing heat shooting through you.

The bathrooms slightly steamy when you open the door and place the clothes on the sink for him. You utter a strained “All set!” before turning to leave.

“Fox.” His voice is no longer muffled from the water or the door, in fact its crystal clear. You look over you shoulder and your eyes meet Ice’s, he’s pushed the curtain aside enough that you can see his face and the top of his chest and where hot water pools in his collarbones. 

Small droplets travel down the muscles of his shoulders, they dip below the valley of his pecs and curve over the peaks of his abs. When the particular droplet your eyes were shameless following falls off of his body, you shoot your eyes back up to look at this face, feeling heat gather in the cheeks of your own.

You want to touch him, you want to kiss him, you have to know.

“Is it true?” He doesn’t have to ask you what you mean, he knows. How could he not? You hold your breath as he clenches his jaw. His eyes stay locked on yours, they burn through you, see right into you. You hope he can see the way you silently plead for him to say yes.

“Yeah, it’s true.” Your heart is a jack hammer in your chest when he adds, “Did you mean it?”

“Yeah,” you don’t hesitate “I did.” Simultaneous smiles break out across your faces, filled with equal parts relief and bliss. He reaches out, grabs a fistful of your t-shirt and yanks you closer to him.

“Easy, Iceman, you’re going to get me wet.” You laugh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls your chest flush against his. He brushes a drenched hand through your hair before it settles against your cheek, rubbing small circles along your skin. 

“Do not call me by my callsign right now.” He groans as his other hand pushes its way beneath the material of your shirt and up your bare back. Had you purposefully chosen not to put on a bra after your shower hoping a moment like this would occur? Yes. Are you so glad you did when you feel his palm drag across your naked shoulder blades? Absolutely. 

“I thought you’d be happy to hear me call you that!” You squeal as he digs his fingers into your hip. 

“When we’re in those uniforms, you call me Ice. When we’re out of them, I want you to call me by my name. In fact, I want you to moan it so loud that the neighbors never forget the name Tom Kazansky.” 

“Whatever you say, Tom.” With that, he connects your lips slowly. It’s a kiss dripping with passion and greed and holds a promise that it will certainly not be the last time he kisses you that way. Your lips move together rhythmically, effortlessly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He coaxes a moan from you by way of nipping and sucking at your bottom lip, like he’s desperate to taste more of you. 

When he pulls away from the kiss, only to move his hungry lips to your neck, you take the opportunity and say, “For what it’s worth, regardless of what we’re wearing, I’ll always love you.”

“Trust me baby, that’s worth a whole hell of a lot.” He grins against your skin before pushing the curtain aside and pulling you with him under the hot water.

——

Why did your brother have to invite his pilot on your family trip? His incredibly hot, but annoying pilot.

Though, he was your big brother… it was his job to get under your skin.

You had originally had a beach trip planned with your friends, but a storm rolled in the day you were scheduled to leave and your friends decided it would be better to reschedule. So after you did that, you headed up to the mountains with the idea to surprise your family.

And that’s how you ended up walking in on… this.

“Ummm, is there a reason you’re naked in my bed, Tom?” 

You tried to avoid looking directly at him, even though your brain had taken a photo of the sight before you could look away. 

“Your bed? Last I checked this was my room.” 

He stayed in the same position on the bed as he looked you over, not at all embarrassed about being completely exposed. His head rested against his arm, the other draped over his sculpted abdomen. 

You didn’t respond, afraid you’d stutter and embarrass yourself further than the obvious blush covering your face and neck.

“You gonna stand there with the door wide open or come in and close it?”

You chose the latter and tossed your bag down before closing the door. “You know, this is actually my room, considering it is my family's cabin. This has been my room since I was 7.” 

Tom scoffed a bit and propped himself up on his elbows, “And last I checked, you were supposed to be at Myrtle Beach.” He got up, securing a blanket around his waist to give you the opportunity to actually look at him. “Which is why I’m in here and not sharing a room with your brother.”

You crossed your arms and focused on his blue eyes, which didn’t actually help you at all. The icy orbs causing your thoughts to just slip out of your mind. 

“W-well, there was a storm that was gonna last a few days, so we-we rescheduled.” You mentally kicked yourself. You sounded so unsure of what you had just said. And it had been the truth.

Tom tilted his chin up, his sly expression already telling you he didn’t believe you.

You scoffed and picked your bag up, “You know what, I’m just gonna sleep on the couch.”

As you hand touched the door knob, Tom’s hand covered yours, “Wait…” You brushed his hand off, “It’s fine, Ice.” You opened the door, “I’ll sleep on the-” 

Tom’s large hand pushed the door shut, holding it closed. “You’ve never called me by my call sign before.” 

You kept your back to him, “Sure I have.”

“No, I would remember.”

“Why is that something you would remember? I’m sure I’ve said plenty of memorable things.” He got close to your ear, “Because you’re the only person I prefer to call me Tom.” 

Ice practically purred the sentence into your ear. The gravel in his voice came from deep in his chest, causing it to rumble against your back. 

You let out a shaky breath, your face heating up, “This isn’t funny Ice. If you’re trying to get back at me for something, can’t you like dump ice on me while I’m in the shower or throw me in the lake while I’m fully clothed? Just don’t do this…” 

“Y/N-” “I’m already embarrassed, please don’t rub it in.”

He rested a hand on your shoulder and carefully turned you around, making you look at him. “I’m not, I swear.”

You didn’t look him in the eye, afraid that if you did he would just laugh at you. 

Tom sighed and tilted your chin up, “I know how you feel about me. You’re not good at hiding it…” You closed your eyes, hating the vulnerable position you're in because your body is on fire. “And maybe I’m too good at hiding it.” 

Your eyes shot open, looking directly in his icy blue eyes in search of the truth – trying to find that harsh critical glaze that waited for you to slip up, for you to make the mistake. 

But it was gone, the glacier of his irises had melted and all you saw was oceans – warm, loving oceans. Any trace of Iceman was gone, melting away to show Tom Kazansky.

He’d hidden his feelings for too long, he needed you to know. Your brother told him the day he invited him out on this trip, he should tell you because he was tired of seeing your love sick gaze on his pilot before watching it turn sad when he got hit on. And he had planned to, but you announced your plans to go to the beach and his plan got shot down.

But now here you were chest to chest as he confessed his feelings for you in nothing but a blanket. 

“Kiss me,” you said breathlessly, lids drooping as you looked from his eyes to his lips.

He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, cupping the side of your neck as he pressed you into the door and made you drop your bag.

That hand immediately buried itself in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer by the small of his back. He locked the door with his free hand before pulling you in by the belt loop of your jean shorts, not caring if his blanket fell.

You pushed away from the door, to go towards the bed, but he pushed you up against the wall. With the movement, the blanket fell from his waist 

You pulled back from him, panting as you looked down, “I feel overdressed now.” He smirked and his hands went to the button on your shorts, “I can fix that.”

His lips attached to your neck as he worked your button loose and pushed your zipper down. His teeth nipped at your pulse point, drawing a quiet moan from your lips as your shorts were hastily pushed to the floor. 

Tom wasted no time pulling away and getting on his knees to pull your underwear down your legs. 

Panting, you peel your shirt off and undo your bra clasp. You looked down as Tom began to kiss your thighs, nipping every other kiss. But before he could lift your leg over his shoulder, you tilted his chin up.

“As good as you most likely are, I need you inside me.” 

“Shit~” He groaned before standing and pushing you flush with the wall, kissing you deeply before pulling away. His hands went to the backs of your thighs, “Jump.”

You don’t hesitate and jump, wrapping your legs around him. “Please Tom~”

He smirked before bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing languid circles as he lined himself up. 

He looked back into your eyes, making sure you still wanted to do this before you went too far.

“I want you, Tom.”

The only four words he needed to hear before he was pushing into you, circling your clit the whole time.

The stretch was uncomfortable for a moment, but the gentle pleasure of his touch helped balance it out.

Once he was buried to the hilt, he kissed you gently but passionately as he waited for you to relax around him.

You relaxed into the kiss immediately, your crossed ankles bringing him closer to you. You moaned against him as his cock twitched and your walls fluttered. “You can move now~”

He nodded, lips hovering over yours as he braced his forearms on the wall and started to move.

“You feel so good~”

“Tom, fuck~”

A small grunt left his lips as your moans vibrated against them. 

His movements were slow, but calculated. He didn’t want to rush this, he wanted you to feel it all.

And you did. Your senses seemed to be in overdrive.

You could feel the pulse and the heat of his cock with every roll of his hips. You could hear the grunting and the groaning as he tried to keep quiet. The scent of sex and his shampoo was all you could smell. 

“Tom, baby, faster please~”

He nodded and pulled away from the wall. 

His arms wrapped around you, one hand going to your hair as he kissed you. He took a few blind steps to get to the bed and lay you down on it.

You both managed to get to the middle of the bed, barely breaking the kiss.

“You’re so beautiful~”

You smiled under him, “So are you~”

He smiled back and pressed his lips to yours, rolling his hips. 

“Oooh Tom~”

“You wanted faster… but I want to do this right~” He rasped out, interlocking his fingers with yours and moving your hands above your head.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and chest heaving. “I’ve been craving you since we met… it only amplified when I got to know you…”

You giggled and kissed his lips, “Is that why you were naked in my bed?”  

“That’s exactly why I was naked in your bed~”