Jo

“Sweetheart…”

“What time is it?” You ask sleepily. “I’m sorry, I can get started on dinner.”

You try to sit up but Jake stops you with a firm hand. You won’t look him in the eye and that worries him. Out of the three of them, you were the freest with your emotions and affections. It’s not like you to hide something.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m just tired,” you promise, giving a poor approximation of your normally sweet smile.

Jake wishes Rooster was home – the other pilot was annoyingly better with emotional things, knowing just what to say to you. Jake preferred to fuck the feelings out of you, not talk about them. Sometimes you just needed him to make you breathless and needy until you forgot everything but his cock. Today is not one of those times and he’s not exactly sure what to do without his wingman to assist. 

“Talk to me,” he urges, holding your face. 

Your eyes slide closed at his touch. There’s a slight tremor in your lower lip, his only warning before you’re crying softly again. You crumple into his chest, burying your face against the side of his throat. Alarmed, Jake holds you tightly, rubbing his hands up and down your back as you cry yourself out against him. The little broken hiccups kill him. He wants to do something but he still has no idea what’s going on. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling away so he can look down at you. 

“My dad,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut as you fight not to start crying again. Jake’s heart sinks at those two words.  “I thought I was doing okay, but I guess it just hit me again today.”

“Darlin…” 

“It’s okay, I just needed a good cry I think,” you tell him, already minimizing your feelings. It’s something he and Rooster had to watch out for early in their relationship. Your need to put others first was admirable, but Jake was determined to teach you to be more selfish like him. You sit up fully and wipe away the wetness on your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I should probably get started on dinner.”

“How about a nice bath? After that I can start on dinner,” he offers, squeezing your shoulder. 

You look at him doubtfully and Jake sighs.

“What? I almost burn the house down once and suddenly all the trust is gone?” He questions, looking put out enough to make you giggle. “I’ll order us something. Come on,” he encourages, pulling you to your feet.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you to the bathroom. The lid of the toilet is already down and he corrals you to sit there while he kneels on the floor to start the water for the bath. He tests the temperature with the back of his hand, waiting until it’s hot enough to turn his skin red. How you stood that kind of heat, he’d never understand. Jake rummages through the bathroom closet, looking for the bath salts Rooster got you for Christmas last year. Lavender and camomile sounded like it would be calming. He dumps the entire packet in the tub and looks over his shoulder at you. You’re staring straight ahead with a blank look on your face that makes his heart ache. 

“Let’s get you undressed,” he says, helping you step out of your clothes. 

You rest your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself while he pulls down your sleep shorts. Normally the sight of your naked skin and all those soft curves is enough to make him half hard but it’s difficult to feel anything but worry when he looks up at your face and sees that far off expression. You step into the deep tub with his encouragement, sinking beneath the surface until only your head is above water. Jake kisses your brow before leaving. As soon as the door’s shut he calls Rooster. The other man picks up on the third ring, the familiar sounds of yelling and cheering letting him know they’re at the Hard Deck.

“You need to come home,” Jake says, not bothering with any pleasantries. 

“Need my help already?” Rooster asks. “Don’t worry, I’ll be home in a few hours to give her what you clearly can't."

“No dipshit. It’s her dad.”

“Fuck. How bad is it?" He asks.

"Well I’m calling you. Take a guess," Jake says. 

 "I’ll be there in 10,” Rooster responds.

Jake orders dinner and then paces the length of the living room until Rooster arrives. 

“Where is she?” The other man asks.

“I drew her a bath.”

“And you just left there? Alone?” Rooster accuses, brushing past him hurriedly to the bedroom. “What the fuck man.”

“I needed to order dinner and call your ass home,” Jake defends, following after him.

By the time he makes it into the bathroom Rooster is already stripping out of his clothes, talking to you in that soft tone of voice he drops into any time you’re upset. Water wells up over the edge of the old claw foot tub when he steps in and slots his body behind yours. You turn into his embrace. Rooster wraps his arms tightly around your middle and presses his lips to your neck. Jake knows from the tense look on your face you’re fighting not to cry. He hates how fucking helpless he feels standing there.

“Sit down,” Rooster snaps. “Stop hovering.”

“Well, all three of us can't fit in there,” Jake mutters. 

He doesn’t appreciate Rooster’s tone but he also recognizes the other man feels just as helpless as he does and an argument right now won’t do any good. Jake swallows his frustration and sinks to his knees, ignoring the way the water soaks into his jeans. He takes your face in both hands and kisses you, rubbing his nose softly against yours while whispering how much he loves you. 

“What do you need us to do?” Rooster questions.

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“Let’s just sit here for a while,” Rooster suggests. “The bath’s nice, right?”

It’s uncomfortable kneeling on the tile but Jake wants to be close by. You nod, eyes closing. A few moments pass and Rooster lays his hand over the one Jake rests on the edge of the tub.  Looking up, he meets Rooster’s concerned gaze, the other man’s brown eyes reflecting back the vulnerability and concern they both feel. It's a wordless apology that Jake accepts by turning his palm up to lace their fingers together. Neither of them speak but they watch you, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. They let you rest until the water turns tepid before helping you out and drying you off. Rooster wraps a towel around his waist and for just a second Jake lets himself get distracted by all the tanned skin and toned abs on display before he shakes it off and heads into the bedroom. 

There he digs through your dresser, pulling out some underwear, your favorite pair of leggings and a loose top. He works with Rooster to dress you, kneeling at your feet to encourage you to step into the clothes. He tugs them up your legs, rubbing his thumbs over your hips and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. Once your shirt is on, Jake leads you to the couch and leaves Rooster to dress himself. 

The food arrives shortly after but neither of them can convince you to eat. All you want to do is curl up on the couch with them, which they’re more than happy to do. He wants you close, where he can touch you and anchor himself to your body. Your head rests on his chest and Rooster rubs your feet while the three of you watch something mindless on TV. Jake presses a kiss into the side of your neck and you sigh quietly. 

After a few minutes you finally seem to relax, even letting a quiet giggle slip out in response to the show you’re watching. Jake looks up, catching Rooster’s gaze. The other man smiles and Jake happily returns it, both a little relieved to see something of their girl back. He already knows without asking they’ll both be calling in sick tomorrow. Rooster likely already has a plan to keep you busy and lift your spirits and for once, Jake will be happy to let him take the lead. 

He’ll criticize the other man’s choices of course, after all, he can’t let Rooster get any ideas.

♡

It was supposed to be a night of celebration. Your boyfriend had gotten a promotion to Lieutenant Commander and he'd made reservations at the best restaurant in town. 

Of course your boss would make you work late.

By the time you dragged yourself through the door, it was after nine. The only lights on were the ones over the sink in the kitchen and you sighed, knowing that Bob Floyd was sitting in the dark waiting for you.

You walked into the kitchen quietly, seeing him sitting at the counter, an unreadable look on his face.

"Robby, I'm so sorry. My boss made me redo an entire presentation at five o'clock and threatened to fire me if I didn't do it," you explained as you approached.

He didn't respond; he sat as still as a statue and if his chest weren't moving, you would have thought he weren't real.

Taking another step, you continued. "The presentation isn't until tomorrow afternoon but she demanded that it be finished before I leave. You know I'm-"

He stood up suddenly, the stool he was on clattering to the floor behind him. "Just shut up," he growled. You'd never seen him like this; anger and disappointment flooded his features and he swallowed hard.

"Is it always going to be like this? Your boss dictating when we can and can't have a night to ourselves?"

"I just need that promotion, Robby, then it'll be fine."

"Or...you can quit."

"Quit? Robby what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you quitting. And..." he said as he reached into his pocket and laid his palm flat on the counter. "becoming my wife. Do something you really want to do instead of working for that…tyrant."

When he lifted his hand, there was a beautiful diamond and aquamarine ring shimmering in the low light.

"I had planned to do this at dinner," he said softly. "I've been carrying this in my pocket for weeks trying to find the right time or the right words. But the only words that really matter are will you marry me?"

You couldn't stop the tears that fell from your eyes as you looked from him to the ring on the counter. You couldn't form the words to agree, so you nodded, crossing the rest of the space and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

Bob's arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close, burying his nose in your neck.

You loosened your hold first, taking half a step backwards to look into his eyes. "Do I have to put it on myself?" you smiled.

"Not at all," he chuckled, reaching for the ring and slipping it on your finger. 

You gazed at it lovingly, noticing that the blue of the gemstones matched your fiancé’s eyes. 

"Robby, it's really beautiful," you whispered.

the feeling of a hand wrapped around her throat, firm pressure applied to her carotid artery making the edges of her vision blur and emptying her mind wasn’t something she thought she’d ever crave. however, the euphoric release, the utter relief of having air flood her lungs as blood circulated freely when that pressure relents is something she wants and entrusts to one person.

silent when he needs to be. ever watchful. a knowing man. a man that didn’t waste words and lets his actions speak for him instead.

“look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your throat, sweetheart,” bob murmured. his voice, low and rough in her ear, was barely audible over the blood roaring in her ears. filled and surrounded by him, her mouth opens to agree, eyes rolling back in their sockets. his tongue slicks over her bottom lip before delving inside, further limiting what little air could fill her lungs.

bob pulls back and assesses, eyes roaming over her sweet face, lax in submission, eyes fluttering. he admires the way his hand looks encasing the delicate flesh & bone of her throat. she’ll need to breathe soon, and there’s only one more thing he wants from her.

“sweet girl, you’re so good. so, so, fucking good.” he says, knows she’s listening because she makes eye contact, albeit briefly…consciousness wavering, as his thrusts intensify. “give it to me, i can feel it. your pussy is fluttering around me. you’re there…come for me. now.”

the rush of oxygen whites out her vision, orgasm shattering her into a million pieces as her lungs fill. she barely hears bob’s groan above her, but feels his cock pulse, his cum emptying deep inside her.