30-something. she/her. Sometimes I share the stories inside my head. New here. autumntouched on ao3 Here to be obsessed with Top Gun: Maverick Talk to Me Bob
Welcome to my TGM hyperfixation! I guess it's not going away anytime soon. Call me Autumn. While I love the TGM guys, this is also a Phoenix stan account and most of my fics are from her POV.
I'm here to interact with my readers and love getting to know you all so please never hesitate to jump in with an ask, message, comment, or reblog. I love those, and I promise that you are beyond cool enough to talk to me and no idea that you have about any of my fics is too overthought or trivial to share. Personally, I enjoy writing for other people so the more I hear from you, the easier it is for me to deliver. After some thoughtful conversations, I understand “likes” mean many things and allow people to express their appreciation in ways that they are comfortable. That said, because likes mean so many things, I find it helpful as a writer to get a line every so often. So, if you’re comfortable, I’d love to know what you love, what you resonate with, or any thoughts you have. If you want to say “I loved this” but do not want a reply from me, you can use 🌷
My asks are open, but I ask that if you're dropping something there, please at least take a moment to let me know what you like about how/what I write so I can give you more of it!
Alright, onto the fics below!
Tumblr Crash Course/Welcome - if you're new here!
28 Days of Phoenix Fics
Ode to Phoenix Masterlist
Phoenix + Hangman a.k.a. Hannix
Talk to Me Masterlist - multi-chapter, wip, also on AO3
Hannix Football Rivalry AU Series - 18+, NSFW (includes Your Jersey or Mine?)
Every Time It Comes Around - 18+, NSFW
Every Time It Comes Around Pt. II - 18+, NSFW
Every Time It Comes Around Sequel - 18+, NSFW
Every Time It Comes Around Sequel Pt. II - 18+, NSFW
Phoenix + Rooster
Surprised You Back (unfinished fic)
Welcome to the Family, You’re Getting Teased
Cookie Monster
Phoenix + Rooster + Hangman a.k.a. the Throuple Series
Have You Heard How Much I Love You
Celebrate Me Home - Part of @notroosterbradshaw‘s #hellodecemberplaylist challenge
Love in the Small Things - AO3 user @Unk365 prompt
Hangman
I’ll Make It Worth Your Pain (Hangman x GF!Reader) - 18+, NSFW
I saw Twisters ahead of my boyfriend, then went again with him. I promised no spoilers but apparently I gave away every time Glen was about to appear on screen because I started beaming 😬
It‘s been an exceptional year with you and I‘m hoping for many more to come!
You‘re such a blessing for me, thank you for everything that you do🥹!
Happy Valentine’s Day @dlea203 💕💕💕 The year has flown (and dragged lol) but you’ve made all of it better xx Hope you have a day as wonderful and very special as you are 😊🥰
The way that I just read this and short circuited. FOUR AND A HALF MINUTES?! 4 1/2 minutes and this man’s scenes dominate my every waking moment. Sweet Jesus, Glen wields too much power. Especially with that damn toothpick.
It’s Wednesday! Thoughts on a peek at Talk to Me? 😉
The airport is already crowded with Thanksgiving travelers when Natasha picks Rooster up from San Francisco International airport. She still can’t believe he decided to take her mother up on the open invitation when he had to fly so far to get here.
Still, it’s good to see him strut out of the terminal, duffle bag slung over his shoulder and aviators low on his nose, ignoring the heads he turns. A year and rebuilding his relationship with Maverick have softened his hardened edges, and he carries himself with a more relaxed confidence that makes people curious about who’s waiting for him.
It’s just her, albeit in a forest green swing dress and knee high boots that Gabby practically bullied her into.
“Hey!” he greets her with a warm hug. The first few months after she’d sealed the door on any romantic hope for them had been rough on their friendship, so she holds him a little longer. When they break apart, he peers into her SUV. “Just you?”
She presses the button on her fob to open the trunk for him to stow his bag. “Hangman’s apparently allowed in a study group so we’re picking him up on the way back.”
“Oh,” he hesitates but then decides to leave it. “So how much peace and quiet do we have left?”
Natasha laughs as she hoists herself into the driver’s seat. “Thirty minutes if traffic’s not too bad on the bridge.”
She lets Bradshaw handle the aux, his music taste more refined and specific than hers. It also lets her focus on navigating the sequence of mergers on a highway whose familiarity is more nostalgic than actual. She’d barely learned to drive before she left the Bay for good.
They fall back into an easy rhythm of conversation. His commanding officer annoys him, she looks up to hers. They’ll be up for promotion soon, assured by the grapevine that they’ll be joining Hangman as lieutenant commanders.
Hangman’s waiting for them outside his apartment building.
“If I have to hear one more person lecture me on the military industrial complex,” he gripes, tossing his bag into the trunk.
Natasha shakes her head when he slams her door behind him. “It’s probably good for you, and don’t take your choices out on my car, Bagman.” Although, she feels like he could be forgiven pretty much anything with the way the drape of his collared shirt shows off his chest and the fit of his pants on his thighs.
Trying to brush off the thought, she turns to make fun of him, but the look of surprise on his face sidetracks her. “What?”
Hangman’s eyes narrow and slide back and forth between her and Rooster. “What’s the occasion?”
“Thanksgiving, dumbass,” Rooster says.
“But why are you dressed up?” he insists.
Natasha suddenly notices that instead of his usual Hawaiian print, Rooster’s wearing a well fitted, dark polo shirt. Maybe it had slipped her attention because she’s been seeing him at least try something other than vacation dad chic in some of his most recent pictures. “Yeah, why are you dressed up?”
Hangman rounds on her. “Yes him, but what about you?”
It’s Rooster’s turn to notice. “How come you’re wearing a dress?”
“Ask Gabby,” Natasha grumbles. “She wouldn’t stop giving me shit about wearing jeans and a t-shirt, so I did it to shut her up.”
Somewhat defensively, he argues, “It looks pretty on you.”
The emphasis startles her. She thought they’d left this behind.
“You didn’t even notice until I said something,” Hangman pipes up from the backseat.
“Who invited you again?” Rooster jokes.
Checking her rearview mirror, Natasha sees hurt play across Hangman’s lips. Why are either of them doing this to her, she wants to ask. “Okay, the two of you have ninety minutes to grow up before we get to my mom’s.”
The holiday traffic and a stop at the Golden Gate Bridge overlook gives them slightly longer. Natasha parks on the street, knowing her mom will probably run out at least three more times to grab something from the store. Normally, she’d go up the driveway to the kitchen entrance, but she figures her mom would prefer she brought her friends through the front door.
“I’m back!” she calls, leaning against the foyer wall to take off Gabby’s boots.
Her mother peeks her head out of the kitchen, and her face lights up. “Bradley! Jake! We’re so glad you could make it,” she exclaims, holding out her arms for a hug from each of them as she comes through the dining and living room to hug them. They swallow up Valerie’s petite form in their arms.
Gabby comes bounding down the stairs in something different than what she was wearing when Natasha left. The full length burnt orange dress has a low cut square neck and puffed, full sleeves. She’s growing out her honey blonde color and hides the more obvious delineation by wearing it half up in a bun.
“You’re here!” she practically squeals and hurries right past Natasha to hug first Hangman and then Rooster. “Let me show you your rooms.”
Gabby’s tugging Rooster’s arm toward the stairs when Natasha intervenes. “I can do it. They’re my guests.”
Her sister tosses her hair, flashing the silver hoops in her ears. “They’re our guests, Nasha. But if you want to be a baby about it, you can show Jake to his room.”
“Mom!” Natasha protests.
Valerie waves her hands. “Why don’t you let Gabby help?”
Gabby uses her distraction to pull Rooster after her so that Natasha’s left with only her mom and Hangman to hear her complain.
“Fine! This way.” She motions for him to follow.
On her heels as they climb the stairs, he says quietly, “Looks like someone didn’t have enough time to grow up on their way home.”
It’s Wednesday! Thoughts on a peek at Talk to Me? 😉
The airport is already crowded with Thanksgiving travelers when Natasha picks Rooster up from San Francisco International airport. She still can’t believe he decided to take her mother up on the open invitation when he had to fly so far to get here.
Still, it’s good to see him strut out of the terminal, duffle bag slung over his shoulder and aviators low on his nose, ignoring the heads he turns. A year and rebuilding his relationship with Maverick have softened his hardened edges, and he carries himself with a more relaxed confidence that makes people curious about who’s waiting for him.
It’s just her, albeit in a forest green swing dress and knee high boots that Gabby practically bullied her into.
“Hey!” he greets her with a warm hug. The first few months after she’d sealed the door on any romantic hope for them had been rough on their friendship, so she holds him a little longer. When they break apart, he peers into her SUV. “Just you?”
She presses the button on her fob to open the trunk for him to stow his bag. “Hangman’s apparently allowed in a study group so we’re picking him up on the way back.”
“Oh,” he hesitates but then decides to leave it. “So how much peace and quiet do we have left?”
Natasha laughs as she hoists herself into the driver’s seat. “Thirty minutes if traffic’s not too bad on the bridge.”
She lets Bradshaw handle the aux, his music taste more refined and specific than hers. It also lets her focus on navigating the sequence of mergers on a highway whose familiarity is more nostalgic than actual. She’d barely learned to drive before she left the Bay for good.
They fall back into an easy rhythm of conversation. His commanding officer annoys him, she looks up to hers. They’ll be up for promotion soon, assured by the grapevine that they’ll be joining Hangman as lieutenant commanders.
Hangman’s waiting for them outside his apartment building.
“If I have to hear one more person lecture me on the military industrial complex,” he gripes, tossing his bag into the trunk.
Natasha shakes her head when he slams her door behind him. “It’s probably good for you, and don’t take your choices out on my car, Bagman.” Although, she feels like he could be forgiven pretty much anything with the way the drape of his collared shirt shows off his chest and the fit of his pants on his thighs.
Trying to brush off the thought, she turns to make fun of him, but the look of surprise on his face sidetracks her. “What?”
Hangman’s eyes narrow and slide back and forth between her and Rooster. “What’s the occasion?”
“Thanksgiving, dumbass,” Rooster says.
“But why are you dressed up?” he insists.
Natasha suddenly notices that instead of his usual Hawaiian print, Rooster’s wearing a well fitted, dark polo shirt. Maybe it had slipped her attention because she’s been seeing him at least try something other than vacation dad chic in some of his most recent pictures. “Yeah, why are you dressed up?”
Hangman rounds on her. “Yes him, but what about you?”
It’s Rooster’s turn to notice. “How come you’re wearing a dress?”
“Ask Gabby,” Natasha grumbles. “She wouldn’t stop giving me shit about wearing jeans and a t-shirt, so I did it to shut her up.”
Somewhat defensively, he argues, “It looks pretty on you.”
The emphasis startles her. She thought they’d left this behind.
“You didn’t even notice until I said something,” Hangman pipes up from the backseat.
“Who invited you again?” Rooster jokes.
Checking her rearview mirror, Natasha sees hurt play across Hangman’s lips. Why are either of them doing this to her, she wants to ask. “Okay, the two of you have ninety minutes to grow up before we get to my mom’s.”
The holiday traffic and a stop at the Golden Gate Bridge overlook gives them slightly longer. Natasha parks on the street, knowing her mom will probably run out at least three more times to grab something from the store. Normally, she’d go up the driveway to the kitchen entrance, but she figures her mom would prefer she brought her friends through the front door.
“I’m back!” she calls, leaning against the foyer wall to take off Gabby’s boots.
Her mother peeks her head out of the kitchen, and her face lights up. “Bradley! Jake! We’re so glad you could make it,” she exclaims, holding out her arms for a hug from each of them as she comes through the dining and living room to hug them. They swallow up Valerie’s petite form in their arms.
Gabby comes bounding down the stairs in something different than what she was wearing when Natasha left. The full length burnt orange dress has a low cut square neck and puffed, full sleeves. She’s growing out her honey blonde color and hides the more obvious delineation by wearing it half up in a bun.
“You’re here!” she practically squeals and hurries right past Natasha to hug first Hangman and then Rooster. “Let me show you your rooms.”
Gabby’s tugging Rooster’s arm toward the stairs when Natasha intervenes. “I can do it. They’re my guests.”
Her sister tosses her hair, flashing the silver hoops in her ears. “They’re our guests, Nasha. But if you want to be a baby about it, you can show Jake to his room.”
“Mom!” Natasha protests.
Valerie waves her hands. “Why don’t you let Gabby help?”
Gabby uses her distraction to pull Rooster after her so that Natasha’s left with only her mom and Hangman to hear her complain.
“Fine! This way.” She motions for him to follow.
On her heels as they climb the stairs, he says quietly, “Looks like someone didn’t have enough time to grow up on their way home.”
Fic ask continuation of your Every Time It Comes Around 👀
Hannix first time 🌶️🌶️ (smut) on the carrier or back at base, Jake calling Nat his girl/his baby for the first time and unable to keep his hands off her 😍
Haha wow! This is my first non Hannix Football Rivalry ask 😂
Nat probably pretends to be annoyed the first time or two he calls her his girl/his baby—she doesn’t want him to get too comfortable too fast—but she secretly adores it
I have a little bit of a queue but the good news is, my project deadline is this Friday. I can’t wait to get back to writing 😊
I apologize for this egregious wait. In the spirit of Every Time It Comes Around, here is Hangman's POV, which means yes, if you want it...there's a Phoenix Pt II...This post is obviously 18+ bbs
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin and Natasha "Phoenix" Trace
Warnings: Smut was requested so um, that's what's here.
The next time it happens, he's not alone
After Jake leaves Phoenix in the med bay on the carrier, they don’t talk about the kiss. In fact, they barely talk at all in between packing up their seabags and boarding their flight home with the rest of the team. There are red net seats on their flight off the carrier, and Jake struggles to bite back a smile when Phoenix drops down next to him. It’s close enough quarters that his thigh can touch hers without anyone looking twice. She startles at the contact, jaw tightening to hold in either a gasp or an expletive.
Fanboy sits down on his other side, but fortunately, he’s asleep before they’ve reached full altitude. Phoenix closes her eyes and leans her head back against the woven seat. A tickle of hope low in his stomach waits for her to slump onto his shoulder so he can feel the weight of her against him. But she doesn’t give an inch, just like always. When she pulls her arms in and crosses them over her chest, he can feel the snuff of hope in his abdomen and starts to think maybe the med bay really was a dream.
They switch planes in Germany, this time their seats like those on a commercial airline. He’s so sure they’ll sit together again that he doesn’t think to count the pilots and wizzos ahead of them, so his heart sinks when Phoenix hesitates between the open seat beside Bob and the empty ones across the aisle and chooses Bob.
She glances at him, a plea of apology in her eyes when he has to shuffle into the window seat while Fanboy teases him for suddenly turning slow. It’s Bob she finally falls asleep on, and Jake’s teeth hurt from clenching them with jealousy. It’s not Fanboy’s fault Phoenix bailed on him, but Jake can’t muster the better part of himself to take him up on conversation. He’d overheard Bob tell Phoenix that Fanboy still feels bad about not getting the laser lined up in time, even though Rooster had been able to pull off the drop. Knowing Phoenix would have something to say if he made Fanboy feel worse, Jake makes up an excuse about being tired and has to pretend he’s asleep instead of getting a drink off the beverage cart.
They land at North Island in the fresh darkness of dusk, and Jake hurriedly slings his bag over his shoulder. It’s been only a few days since they left, but somehow it feels like their training was a lifetime ago. One Jake wouldn’t mind leaving behind so much if it weren’t starting to feel like Phoenix has decided to ignore him. She’s ahead of him on the tarmac, in step with Payback, Fanboy, and Rooster.
Jake’s pride flares up, holding him back from catching up to her. Two can play this game. A hand falls on his shoulder, and he looks over to see Bob considering him with bemusement. Phoenix’s backseater glances around. In the shuffle for their bags and the promise of a real shower, no one’s paying them much attention.
“Phoenix told me to tell you she’s heading back to the Navy Lodge.”
No shit. They are all heading back there. Bob’s expression shifts, his mouth curling with a smirk. “Of all people, wouldn’t have expected you to be so obvious.”
Jake stops mid-eyeroll. “Obvious about what?”
Bob glances around and leans in. “About wanting to sleep with a fellow officer.”
The words jam a rod down Jake’s back. Shit. Bob gives his shoulder a light shake. “All she told me was to tell you where she’s going but just because I have a pair of BCGs doesn’t mean I can’t see where this is headed.”
Three weeks ago when they met, Jake would have bet all his darts winnings that Bob had the backbone of a newborn baby. Now he wonders if he’s ever gotten away with murder. Jake laughs and shrugs off his hand, trying to keep his cool. “I think we’ve both seen she knows how to handle herself, but thanks.”
“Any time,” Bob reminds him, his voice returning to its accommodating tenor as he follows Jake toward the parking lot. Of course it’s his luck that Phoenix is the type of woman who makes friends who would kill for her. If he fucks this up, he’s going to need a whole fist, maybe more, to keep track of the people coming after him. He watches Phoenix swing her bag into the trunk of Rooster’s Bronco and climb in with him, feeling a little sick to his stomach remembering how they looked on one another’s arms at Turbo’s wedding.
“Want a ride?” Bob offers while digging his keys out of his pocket.
Jake glances around and finds Coyote waiting for him with an arm propped on the roof of his rented sedan. His friend arches a brow to see him with Bob, and that decides Jake. He’s not ready to tell anyone what’s going on with Phoenix—if anything—just yet, and Coyote’s already asked him about acting weird. He’s going to have more questions now but at least Jake won’t be trapped in a moving interrogation room.
“As long as you’re a decent driver,” he agrees, a little prickly. Just because he’s crushing hard on Phoenix doesn’t mean he has to suddenly become a sap. Thankfully, Bob doesn’t seem to take his tone personally or try to pursue any further lines of questioning in regard to Phoenix. When Jake’s honest with himself, he finds it kind of sweet that she’d made a point of befriending Bob who seemed like he’d been overlooked by his other squads. He hopes the two of them stay together when they leave. He likes to know someone he trusts has her back.
Of course the Navy had decided that rather than pay for empty rooms for the few days they were gone, they’d have to check out and check back in when they got back. Phoenix is well ahead of him in the line to get her key and crowds into the first elevator to go up. Jake tries not to be obvious about checking his phone frequently, like looking at the screen enough will suddenly make a text with her room number appear. He should be embarrassed by how bad he has it, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. His phone vibrates right as the woman at the front desk holds out his key, and he nearly throws it in his rush to check it. Above the texts he’s ignored from his mom after letting her know he’s safe, is one from Phoenix. Do you happen to have Advil? Could use some in 309
“Sir?” the woman says impatiently, eyeing the last few people she has to get through behind him.
“Thanks.”
He’s in the elevator with Yale holding the door open for him to get out before he checks his key. “Fifth floor, thanks,” he says to Yale’s patient politeness. “Jet lag must be hitting.”
Now that they’re no longer competing, the other pilot gives him an easy smile. “Me too, man. Rest up.” He waves his hand free of the door, and Jake lifts his in response before pressing the button for his floor.
His room is at the end of the hall with a view of the beach and ocean when it’s light outside. He listens quietly for a minute to see if he has a neighbor, but it’s hard to tell. He starts to text back then remembers something Phoenix said the time she helped him end an argument with Cally during their ski trip and leaves it until he’s showered and scrubbed away the staleness and sweat of the boat.
He opts for a tank and shorts, having enjoyed the way Phoenix’s eyes lingered on him when they crossed paths at the gym. Jake snaps a picture of the wall of windows and finally replies. Your view as good as mine? Maybe you should come get it in 525
Not his finest work, but it’ll do. He sends.
And then, nothing.
He gives it 15 minutes, figuring she may still be in the shower. Women take longer, don’t they? But 45 minutes later, she still hasn’t responded. After another half hour of debating whether to hold out on her, he finally decides to swallow his pride and go to her. He palms an Advil and condom from his toiletries bag and takes the stairs down to the third floor. Less chance of running into anyone.
The hallway is empty. Quietly, he knocks on her door. No answer. He double checks their Top Gun group chat. Harvard, Yale, and Halo had done a taco run for everyone, but Phoenix hadn’t chimed in there. Doesn’t mean she hasn’t changed her mind and gone down to the lobby.
He goes downstairs to find nearly everyone either polishing off the tacos or taking turns at a game of ping pong. Phoenix isn’t there either. Not wanting to seem too obvious in his search for her, he stays to help with the leftover food and to heckle Rooster and Payback against Fritz and Halo. When he deems his time inconspicuously spent, he tosses Harvard some cash for the tacos and heads back upstairs.
Running over their exchange in the med bay, he tries to figure out if there’s something he missed. Phoenix had seemed almost reluctant to admit her feelings for him. Maybe she’s changed her mind or hadn’t wanted to deal with him pestering her or…
Or she’s waiting for him at his door. She’s wearing a Navy sweatshirt that swallows her torso over a pair of shorts that barely peak beneath the hem. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s rarely seen her hair down the way it is now, with one side tucked behind her ear. Not exactly out of his fantasies but certainly earning a spot going forward.
A soft smile lifts her mouth when she sees him. “Hey,” she says shyly. “I sat down and next thing I knew I was waking up.”
His heart skips happily up to his throat, and he reaches into his pocket. “Still got the Advil.”
Something in her eyes shifts when he comes closer, and she steps back against the door. “Just what I need,” she says softly, but he’s fairly sure she’s not talking about their cover. He crowds her into the narrow frame while he unlocks his door, and her gaze doesn’t flinch when her hand meets his at the handle.
They press it down together, before she reaches up to pull him in by his tank. Jake falls into her kiss as they stumble back into his room, his key falling to the floor so he can pull her into his arms as the door drags shut behind them.
Phoenix’s mouth on his is confident as she presses into him, her knuckles digging into his bare chest as if to assure him this is real. The slightly sweet taste of her toothpaste is still fresh on her lips, on her tongue, in their kiss. Her cheek is soft in his hand when he tilts her mouth into his.
He pulls back, and her dark eyes open in surprise, her lips part in a question.
“You want this?” he checks again, even though the edges of his tank are balled in her fists.
She smiles and presses her mouth to his again. “I want this,” she promises, her lips catching on his and striking the fuse of arousal low in his abdomen. “I want you.”
Jake doesn’t need another invitation. He pulls her back into a kiss, thrilling at the way she fits into him, at every throaty gasp and sigh he draws from her. Cradling her jaw, his stomach swoops as he discovers a startling delicacy beneath the stubborn set of the chin he knows so well. She shivers and tenses when his hands first glide down her neck before her shoulders melt at his touch. His pulse races as Phoenix slowly unfolds beneath his hands.
A blush flares across her cheeks and follows the path his hands travel over her skin. They’re breathing so hard that their chests push against one another in a scattered rhythm. He watches her face, still tilted at an angle, while he slides his fingers along the hem of her shorts. Both of their breathing hitches, her hands tightening in his shirt, when his palm cups the curve of her ass.
The words tumble out his mouth before he’s even called them to mind, spilling over from some fragment of a dream. “I never thought you’d be my girl,” he confesses into the heavy air.
Her eyebrows pucker. “Your girl?”
He freezes, realizing he’s gone too far too fast. “Not my girl. I mean, I just didn’t see us, like this…”
She moves her hands under his shirt to spread her fingers along the bare skin of his abdomen and then his chest, and their warm caress over his nipples goes straight to his groin. He tries to draw his hips back as his dick fills out, but she follows. “I kind of like the sound of that.”
“My girl?”
“It’s not a question anymore.” Phoenix grins, “But don’t get too comfortable just yet, dickhead.” Soon maybe, they’ll parse out everything that kept them from reaching this moment earlier but for now, Jake soars on the feeling that she wants this as much as he does. She reaches up and pulls him back down to her mouth. And this time, she coaxes his lips apart as she frees one hand to pull his palm to her chest.
They’re already at full throttle. There’s plenty of time to slow down later, he hopes, now that they know they’re both willing to explore this thing between them. Jake tugs off her sweatshirt and then her bra, filling his hands with the breasts that have taunted him in more private moments than he cares to admit. Once again, the firm reality is so much better than anything his mind could come up with. Phoenix gasps at his touch, forehead dropping to rest on his shoulder while she watches his fingers on her tits.
“I always wondered what your hands look like in the cockpit,” she admits breathily, and Jake swears as the blood rushes to his erection so fast it almost hurts.
“C’mere,” he growls, backing her into and down onto the bed so he can taste every inch of her soft skin, the tantalizing peaks of her nipples on the taut globes of her chest, the curves of her ribs, the scoop of her abdomen. He loves the way her voice catches on his call sign, her usual exasperation replaced with eager encouragement. Knowing she wants him like this makes him lightheaded, the unfamiliar desperate desire to please coursing hot through his veins.
Phoenix tugs at his tank. “Take this off,” she commands. He sits back on his haunches to do as she asks. When his head is free again, he looks down at her laid out beneath him with her dark hair splayed across the pillow, eyes alight in the glow of the bedside lamp as they blaze a hot path from his upper body to the now bulging crotch of his shorts. His dick jerks when her fingertips land on the trail of hair beneath his navel.
“Like that?” she smiles before tracing it to the top of his shorts. He’s so hard now that her fingers brushing dangerously close to the head of his dick make him catch his lip with his teeth to hold in a noise that would be sure to embarrass him. Phoenix’s eyebrows lift at the hint. Her touch is more curious than it is timid, deliberate so she can catch the minutiae of his reactions. Not that there’s any subtlety at this point to how much he wants her.
He folds his hands into the waistband of her shorts. “Let me show you what else I like.” Jake draws them off of her, feeling his own shorts dampen when she lifts her hips to help him with them. “Fuck, Phoenix,” he swears when he realizes she hadn’t bothered with underwear. Her clothes fall to the floor without a whisper. And then there she is, lying fully naked and beautiful before him.
“What was that about what else you like, Bagman?” she teases comfortably, making him feel too constricted in his shorts and briefs when she massages his flanks with her calves. How can only the sound of her voice threaten to make him lose his mind?
Jake scrambles off the bed and strips off his bottoms. Phoenix rolls onto her side to watch, the soft light floating along her curves. The look of mischief that overtakes her face when she sees full proof of what she’s capable of doing to him might be one of the sexiest reactions he’s ever gotten to stripping, and he’s suddenly nervous about living up to whatever she might expect of him. Of this. A rush of adrenaline comes with his nerves. Or maybe it’s the way she reaches for him.
“You really like to keep a guy on his toes,” he smirks to cover his fumble, settling back over her on the bed.
She lets the hand he runs along her side and then down to rub her hip coax her onto her back again. “It’s good to know someone can get the best of Hangman every now and then.” Phoenix drapes her arms over his shoulders, fingers pressing gently into the back of his neck to invite him back into a kiss that spares him having to admit just how easy it is for her to do that to him. Jake nearly loses his balance when she draws her knees up to press them into his sides.
He caresses his way along her thighs and calves, treasuring every quiver of her muscles beneath his hands, each little breath punched out of her chest by his lips, the soft, bitten back cry when his kisses finally land between her legs as he moves down her lithe figure. Jake groans when he finds her wet for him, smirking at her chuckle of surprise for his eagerness to go down on her. She tastes better than the empty conjuring of the dreams that have left his sheets sticky with cum for years. He moans into the eager rock of her hips, encouraged by her shallow breaths and the hand in his hair that curls and tightens with the slightest pressure when she wants more.
Above him, she hisses softly through gritted teeth, as if reluctant to vocalize exactly how much she’s enjoying what he’s doing to her. Spurred by the challenge, Jake goes all in until he’s rewarded with a gritted, “Yes, there. There! There! Oh my god.”
His balls throb in response between his own thighs, the dew of sweat on his abdomen blending with the slickness of the leaking precum from the heavy hardness of his dick as he shows her exactly what his hands are capable of in the cockpit. A distant part of his mind wonders if he’s going to have to deal with a boner every time he gets in his plane from now on because he can’t get her saying that out of his head.
Phoenix moans and shifts beneath his persistent mouth and fingers, curling up over him as she pants his name faster and harder. There’s no room for his call sign anymore, only the pleading “Jake” as she begs for him to keep going, begs for him to relent, begs for her release.
One hand braces herself on his shoulder, her neatly trimmed fingernails digging into his flesh with delicious pressure. The other bunches the sheets in her fist as she tries to withstand the end to which he’s pushing her. It’s like being in the air with her, the way she refuses to surrender her restraint to his brash intuition. Only here, there’s no danger in letting go.
To prove it to her, he moves onto his knees and replaces his tongue with his thumb. Above the heavy cant of their breaths and moans, he can hear how drenched she is from the mix of his spit and her arousal. Phoenix lets out a noise between a hum and a whine and drops her head onto his shoulder as he braces her. Jake kisses his way from her forehead, gasping when his mouth on her neck draws a hiccuped sob from her. Her hair catches in his stubble as it whispers across his cheeks.
If he has a neighbor, he can only hope that the walls are enough to muffle who they are if not what they’re doing.
He feels when she can’t hold out any longer and gives way, suddenly clenching hard around his fingers. “Jake!” she groans into a cry that she stifles with her knuckles, collapsing back as her hips chase down the reverberations of her orgasm on his hand. It’s disorienting, in the most breathtaking way, to simultaneously watch, feel, and hear her pleasure ripple through her: to see what it actually looks like etched across her features, to experience the lean strength of muscles known only to her and the few she’s trusted to see her like this, to know the breathless sound of his name on her lips. He’s shocked to realize that despite her indelible air of self-assurance, she suddenly looks incredibly breakable. His heart throbs in unison with his dick. For the first time since he tried to drive the thought of her out of his head all those years ago, it crosses his mind that there may be no way out from this. At least for him.
Phoenix trembles beneath him while she catches her breath. It has occurred to him that she isn’t the type of woman to hold stock in being told she’s beautiful or hot during sex, at least for right now. They can be more alike than they care to admit, and he knows saying anything about her looks would make her feel like this is too superficial or too vulnerable, and either will shut her down. But there’s a strange, sharp ache in his heart that wants her to know something. So after wiping his mouth as best he can, he settles for kissing her, hesitant at first that she might not like the taste of herself on his lips.
But Phoenix opens her mouth to him and wraps him in her arms, pulling him down on top of her, her breasts pressed his chest, her nipples now hard points on his skin, his abdomen held in the cradle of hers, making his arousal verge on unbearable. He jerks helplessly when she reaches between them and strokes his dick, her thumb brushing his tip.
“Phoenix,” he grunts, lifting himself out of her arms before it’s too much. “Hang on.”
The room feels cold outside her embrace while he grabs for the shorts he abandoned and finds the condom in his pocket. Embarrassed by how close he came to firing off like a teenager barely past his first time, Jake lets himself cool down some. If she sees through his cocky grin as he flicks the wrapper onto the nightstand and stands so she can see him roll the condom down his full length, she thankfully deigns to spare him his dignity this time.
He climbs carefully over her but pauses at the expression on her face. That sense of fragility lingers in the corners of her sated haze.
“We don’t have to,” he says as gently as he can. But she catches his arm when he tries to back off her.
“I don’t want to regret this.” It's the most vulnerable she’s allowed herself to be with him. So, he’s not the only one who feels like they’re walking along some precipice that they can’t see.
He touches her cheek, startled when she turns into it. “And I don’t want to mess this up, Phoenix,” he promises. His heart sinks that she doesn’t trust him enough not to pull the rug out from under her, but in all fairness his track record is a mixed bag at best.
Her eyes search for some answer he hopes she can find in his face. “Natasha. For now.”
“Okay, Natasha.” Jake kisses her, his hands moving to memorize the shape of her beneath him, whether for the first or last time he still can’t be entirely sure. He will take whatever he can get. She never hesitates to tell him what she wants, to catch his touch so he lingers or gives her more.
Her lips break from his, their faces still so close their foreheads touch. “Did you change your mind about fucking me?” she pants, eyes dark, hypnotic pools beneath his.
He shakes his head. “You’d kill me if you knew how much I’ve thought about it.” Having her in his arms makes him way too honest.
Jake feels her laugh in her chest as she helps him line himself up at her entrance. He pushes into her, breathing through the overwhelming tightness of her core. He wants this to last longer than he knows he will, especially once her legs close around him. His arm muscles burn, holding himself up so he can watch her face while he strokes into her, every deep thrust exposing the graceful column of her neck and widening her beautiful mouth farther into an “oh” whose sounds goad the rhythm of his hips.
Her noises are too much, the subtle bounce of the perfect swells of her breasts making him ache even while he’s inside her.
He can feel his control falling apart at the glorious heat of her, her hands clutching his back and his ass, the clap and friction of their bodies coming together over and over. She widens her legs so he can thrust deeper, and for a moment, he loses track of everything but the experience of being one with her, this woman who’s been a pain in his ass as much as his low frequency obsession. He reaches between them to try to bring her with him, but she brushes aside his hand. “I want to feel you come first,” she gasps, like they’re still in some kind of competition she’s determined to win.
An argument forms somewhere in his brain, but he only gets as far as, “Fuck, Nat.” Giving up has never felt so good.
“Now I get why all those women were willing to put up with you,” she whispers in his ear, and even his ego is too shot to rescue him from the incoherence of the feeling of her holding him close and tilting her hips up to meet him. Here, like she is in all he’s seen her do since they first met, she’s so much stronger than she looks.
“Yeah?” he pants. “You like being my girl?”
She kisses his shoulder. “I do.”
And he’s grateful he can give her what she wants when everything in him constricts then explodes. He feels the hot pulses of cum fill the condom as he finds his release deep inside her. Their fingers fumble together over her clit, their mingled strokes sending her bearing down on his still sensitive dick, and Jake feels like a whole galaxy unfolds behind his eyes when she orgasms around him, every contraction echoing like an arpeggio over and through his body.
With surprising tenderness, she runs her fingers through his hair as they come down, both trembling, pulses throbbing where their bodies overlap. “We’re fucked,” she chuckles hoarsely.
“As long as it’s good, who cares?” he gasps.
“Oh, so that was just good for you?”
He doesn’t answer right away, afraid of what might fall out of his mouth with the contours of her body still fitted so perfectly to his. Her face starts to fall, and Jake pulls himself together. “I didn’t think you were the kind to fish for compliments, Phoenix. I assumed you knew you’re worth the chase.”
For good measure, he kisses her pout and is relieved when it gives way to a smile. “Still nice to hear it, Bagman.”
When at last he pulls out, they struggle clumsily to disentangle their limbs from one another. It doesn’t help that he tries to kiss every bit of her skin that passes his mouth until she’s laughing and trying to push him away.
“You want the bathroom first?” he offers.
She shakes her head and burrows down into a fresh part of the bed while he takes his turn, cleaning up as quickly as he can. Phoenix comes back from hers with two glasses of water, and they’re both so thirsty that she makes two more trips before she crawls back in beside him. Her phone buzzes on the floor, and Jake leans out of the bed to retrieve it for her.
“Some brave souls are headed to The Hard Deck,” she reports.
Jake can’t resist the curve of her shoulder and runs his nose along it before kissing the top of her arm. “You want to go?”
“Now that I know what you look like naked?” she exclaims, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. “I’m going to need a minute before I can pretend that I’m not undressing you in my head.”
He tries not to kick himself for how stupid he’d been to spend so many years antagonizing her when he could have had this. “Is it Natasha or Phoenix now?” he checks.
Phoenix turns to face him, pulling the sheets up under her chin. His heart skips at how cute she looks with her cheeks still flushed from sex. “Whichever. I just didn’t want to have to forget what it sounds like to hear you come every time you call me ‘Phoenix.’”
Jake scowls because he’s definitely going to have to work not to hear the breathless way she called him “Hangman” when she uses his. “Are you serious?”
Her answering grin is unapologetic. “That’s your poor planning, dickhead.”
“I can still call you Phoenix, now that I know.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Try it,” she threatens.
If he’s not careful, he’s going to find himself falling in love with this woman. “Fine then, Phoenix. I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
That catches her by surprise. “Is this a general apology for being an asshole or for something specific?”
“I’m sorry I made a pass at you after you thanked me for never making one several years ago.” He remembers that evening a lot, the mingled notes of gratitude, frustration, and sadness in her voice when she told him that she hadn’t been able to do her job without men thinking she was there for something else.
“Oh.” She untucks her arm to shield her face, and he wonders if she’ll regret this, no matter what he does.
“It’s okay if you’d rather pretend this never happened,” he goes on, figuring it’s better to part ways while it stings instead of burns, or worse. “I promise not to bring it up or tease you for it.”
“I thought you said you wanted to do this.” Her voice is so carefully neutral that he can’t figure out what she’s thinking.
Jake swallows. “I mean, I do, but you, you asked me if you were going to regret this and I don’t want this to be something you’re ashamed or embarrassed about.”
She’s quiet for several seconds, the sheet rising and falling with her naked chest. Then, Phoenix scoots closer until she’s pressed into his torso, her cheek resting on his sternum. Tentatively, he folds his arms around her. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed, dickhead. But I also can’t pretend that this–just this alone–isn’t a risk to my career. And sometimes you’re a little too reckless, a little too careless about the consequences and that matters. That matters because they’ll never be the same for you as they are for me.”
He can feel her heart beating in frantic contrast to the evenness of her breathing. Is she…scared? Jake squeezes her, and is caught off guard by the warmth that fills him when she huddles deeper into his embrace. She inhales deeply, and the urge to protect her at all costs surges through his heart. “I’ll be careful, okay? But you don’t have to ever be afraid to tell me to back off either. I’m going to do my best.”
“Okay.”
When the quiet gets too intense, Jake turns on the TV to ease the moment. There’s a fairly decent rom-com on, but she prefers The Mummy. Every now and then, if it’s been a while since she’s laughed, he glances down to see whether she’s still awake. She meets his check with a smile then rubs her head on his chest. At some point, he realizes he’s been running his fingers through her hair while they watch. He stops, but a few seconds later she shakes her head.
“Keep going,” she says sleepily. “Please.”
“Okay.”
He wakes up to find the movie in its second run. He turns off the TV and settles around Phoenix's curled up form. Jake kisses her hair, and she loosens up some against the line of his body. "Night, my girl," he murmurs and tries not to worry about how right this feels.
It’s still dark when Natasha wakes up. For a moment, she’s disoriented by the weight blanketing her until she realizes it’s Hangman. She sleeps hot, but he’s a furnace, and it was cool enough when they drifted off that she didn’t think to turn on the air conditioning.
She moves her arm first to see whether he’s a light sleeper. When his breathing doesn’t change, she ducks out of his hold as smoothly and quickly as she can and feels her way to the thermostat. The air kicks on, a little loud, but he doesn’t move. Phoenix creeps back to the bed and stops short when she finds him watching her through half lowered eyelids.
“I thought you were sneaking out,” he mumbles.
“I was burning up,” she whispers before she realizes that’s pointless now that he’s awake. Well, not entirely pointless. Her eyes have adjusted enough to the dark to see his smile, and it’s not his usual taunting or roguish grin. This one is soft, sweet, a little bit vulnerable, and she follows through on her temptation to kiss it when she crawls into the bed. Hangman’s sure fingertips delicately trace the line of her spine, bowing her toward him.
When she’s pressed into his chest, his arms close around her, and he rolls her on top of him. The way he’s kissing her back, she suspects that he was awake longer than she thought. His growing erection nudges at her thigh, and the moan deep in his chest vibrates through her when she responds with the slightest pressure.
Every touch, moan, and gasp confesses how long and hard they’ve each fought this. Natasha shivers from the quickly cooling air and Hangman’s hand sliding down the back of her leg to hook it along his side. He drags his lips from hers.
“Here.” He maneuvers her farther up so he can free the sheet from between them and drape it over her shoulders. She’s left straddling him skin to skin, savoring how sturdy he feels beneath her and the slight strain in her thighs to accommodate the span of his torso. Natasha takes in the rise and fall of his chest, the pronounced curves of his pecs dotted with hardened nipples. Tentatively, she touches the pad of her finger to one. Encouraged by the way his abs hollow at the contact, she sucks two of her fingers then circles it more deliberately. He hisses, his hips lifting in response.
Before she can follow through on the invitation, Hangman intercepts her. He levers himself up enough to take one of her nipples in his mouth, humming hungrily at the contact. Natasha drops her head at the strength of his grip on her hip while his fingers match the pressure and teasing of his lips, tongue, and teeth on her other nipple. Arousal lances through her, electrifying every nerve into its own consciousness so his touch is concentrated and everywhere all at once. She’s never done drugs, but she begins to understand what people mean by chasing a high. Any thought except wanting more of him, of this, seems so far out of reach.
His moans compete with hers, their hands on one another learning to press different buttons than the jabs they’ve thrown at one another since training.
The demanding, molten ache between her legs grows with the hardness of his dick against her ass. Hangman has the kind of bravado that takes the surprise out of his size, so Natasha didn’t have too much trouble disguising that she was nonetheless impressed. What did fully surprise her was that he didn’t fly on size alone. She’s learning there are plenty of ways she wants his mouth to drive her crazy, as it is now, and just the memory of the friction of his strokes and the way his hard climax dislodged something at her very core has her reaching back to take his dick in hand.
“Let me get a condom,” he offers, the words skittering over her breast and making her gasp.
“Do you need it?” she checks. “Are you positive for anything?”
“No.” He uses the opportunity to move to her other nipple. The contrast between the fading heat of his mouth and the cold air are probably scrambling her judgment, but she doesn’t care. After he left her in the med bay, Natasha found a female nurse willing to check her birth control to make sure it was still in place after the mission. Just in case things ended up here. “Then I’m okay without it, if you are,” she promises.
Hangman pauses, letting her breast fall from his mouth. Before she can protest, he kisses his way up to her collarbone, then slides a hand into her hair to pull her to him. “You sure, Natasha? You’re covered? Because I don’t mind…”
The way he says her name feels so intimate that it terrifies her how much she enjoys it. “You’re supposed to be fucking me right now, Hangman, not trying to make me fall in love with you.”
She wants to take back the joke before it’s out of her mouth because they haven’t exactly figured out what this is and what any of these feelings are.
To her relief Hangman laughs. “I didn’t realize you were so easy, Natasha Trace.”
“At least for tonight,” she goes along, still a little unsteady from so carelessly dropping the four letter word anywhere near Jake Seresin. “But thank you for double checking.”
“I’m a man of my word,” he winks, “I don’t want to mess this up.” Natasha cups his face and kisses him so she doesn’t have to think about the flurry of butterflies the gesture sets off in her stomach.
The thing about imagining how someone kisses is that it’s always an imitation of someone else’s kiss, a memory of something known and liked. But this? Actually kissing Hangman finally? It’s as exhilarating as doing her damndest to outfly him, when the only way to possibly win is to give way to her intuition. Natasha has been kissed well in her life but never like this. He puts his whole body into it, challenging her to meet his strength, daring her to let it overwhelm her, and cradling her until she trusts him enough to surrender.
And he listens to her in a way she’s never known him to. Not only to what she says aloud but to every clue her body offers him. At a shift of her hips, he draws her closer. A tremor in response to his hand skating over her ribs slows his ascent until the weight of his touch is imprinted on her side. His mouth effortlessly matches the tempo of her kisses, their lips and tongues torquing the heat of their desire for each other.
She reaches back to run light fingers along the seam of his balls. He jerks beneath her, knees knocking into the back of her arms. Natasha thrills at finding him so velvety hard, his tip dripping along her backside. Slipping the hold of his mouth, she kisses the jawline she’s spent as much time secretly ogling as she has avoiding the flashes of keen interest in his green eyes. Reaching the shell of his ear, she laughs softly, having noticed earlier that his abs tighten at the proximity of her voice. Sure enough, they clench beneath her palm.
“Do you want me to blow you now or save that for your wake up call?”
A strangled noise punches out of his chest. “What was that you said?” he pants. “You’re supposed to be fucking me right now, Phoenix, not trying to make me fall in love with you.”
She nips playfully at his shoulder. “What did I say about Phoenix?”
He groans her name in reply when she teases his weeping tip with the edge of her thumb, circling his precome over his head and along his shaft, her hand slicker and slicker with it. His mouth ravages her chest and neck, tripping the switch to her brain as the constellation of her thrumming nerves takes over, echoing every touch, squeeze, and nip through her whole being.
Overwhelmed by the ache of wanting him inside her, she surges up and lowers herself onto his dick. Or at least its head. He’s large enough that she has to take the rest more slowly. She rocks her hips to ease him into her until the fullness is almost too much. Hangman’s head falls back.
“Holy shit, Nat,” he says hoarsely, voice shot. And normally, she can’t stand that nickname but she likes that it’s something that she can leave here, a secret between them. She clenches around him, to see what it does, and both of them get more wet when he grunts and lifts into her. Flashes of blue spark behind her eyes.
She wants to tell him how much she loves feeling so stretched and full when he’s inside her, but her brain checks in long enough to make her worry that it's too much, too soon. “You feel so good,” she breathes instead.
He lays back so she can brace herself on his chest as she rides him, his dick hitting so deep that she can feel it in her chest. Natasha has to grit her teeth against the volume of the noises trying to escape her mouth.
“Anyone ever tell you that you have the most perfect boobs,” he whispers loudly.
Embarrassed by the gratification that comes from the observation, and the way he is staring and fondling them, Natasha laughs haphazardly. “Funny enough, yes. The woman who fitted me for my flight suit said the same thing.”
“Always got jokes,” he pants, lifting her hair out of the way so he can pull her back down into a kiss. How is she supposed to roll her eyes at his mouth after this, when she knows what it’s capable of doing to her?
His arm between them is muscled and sturdy, his fingers as assured working her clit as they are his plane. Some guys have made her feel too loud, too vocal, but Hangman basks in every sound that falls from her lips.
As if sensing how close she is, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her ear to his lips. “That’s it, Nat. That’s my girl,” he encourages.
She can’t believe what those words do to her, turning her inside out. Her thighs and abs burn from the effort of riding him, but she doesn’t want to stop, submerging herself in a darkness entirely consumed by him.
Natasha cries out when his hips and fingers force her over the edge. Her arms give way, and she collapses into him. He flips them, holding her under him as he thrusts through the shuddering waves of her orgasm to his own release. She loves the sounds of him coming undone, his choked gasps and cut off moans, his unself-conscious loss of rhythm and sense before the heat of his cum surges inside her and the hot friction and hard pulse of his dick tumble her into another climax. Her fingers dig into the hard muscle of his back against the force of this one to undo her as she shakes through its throes.
Hangman kisses her down, so gentle and tender that her heart has trouble catching its rhythm. The exertion has left them sticky, their panting breaths competing to be heard over the thunder of their pulses. He tries to shift some of his weight off of her, but she catches him and holds him in place. He noses through her hair while he softens inside her.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” She touches his face in answer to the unexpected shyness in his voice. He kisses the inside of her wrist.
“May I turn on the light? I need to see what I’m doing so I don’t mess up the bed.”
Natasha stops drifting toward sleep as her brain slowly catches up to the moment. Right, she’d told him to go ahead without a condom. “Go for it.”
Light flares over them, and Hangman does his best to shield her to make the transition less painful. While her eyes are still adjusting, he pulls out of her and moves efficiently to use his tank to clean them up. He comes back from the bathroom with a hot washcloth so she can wash up enough to get to the bathroom herself.
He’s straightened out the sheets and covers and picked up the rest of their clothes from the floor by the time she gets back.
“I think we have another hour and a half or two before we have to be up,” Hangman leads, uncharacteristically uncertain. “If you’d rather sleep in your own bed…”
For a moment, she considers making her escape now rather than getting caught sneaking out later before the thought settles heavy weight in her stomach. “I don’t mind staying,” she says.
Relief washes over his face before he can hide it behind a roguish grin. She crawls back into the bed before he turns off the lights again and climbs in beside her.
“Natasha?” he asks, reaching out for her in the dark. His hand finds her shoulder and slowly slides up to cradle her cheek. He leans in, his lips just missing hers and landing under the curve of her bottom lip. He kisses his way up to her mouth. This kiss is soft and slow, not intended to start anything.
“Yeah?” she says when his lips still.
“Good night,” he whispers against her mouth.
Her heart hammers a warning that this may be going somewhere she isn’t prepared for it to go, and this time, she has to fight the urge to take her things and run. In the light of day, all the reasons this won’t work will be clear again. For now, maybe it’s okay to have just this.
For some reason, this sequence made me feel like Lewis gets nepo baby anxiety and spirals feeling like he constantly has to prove himself, but never truly can, and Glen and Danny are always there to talk him down
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 4/4
Fandom: Top Gun (Movies)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Jake "Hangman" Seresin/Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Jake "Hangman" Seresin & Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Natasha "Phoenix" Trace - Relationship
Characters: Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace
Additional Tags: One-Sided Attraction, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Training, Post-Mission, Vaginal Sex, Wet Dream, Alcohol, Drunk Sex
Series: Part 4 of Top Gun Maverick Keeping Dreams Alive
Summary:
Hangman and Phoenix, but mostly Hangman, have a lot of growing up to do from the first time they meet. Four times Hangman and Phoenix could have realized there is more than insults and competition between them and one time they do.
I’m hooked after your every time it comes around sequel 🥰
I just LOVE how you write the two of them together, would you ever do updates for that universe like the rest of the team finding out/another ski trip -where they share rooms this time 😍🔥 etc?
Like life moments of finding their feet after being friends/colleagues for so long?
Oh my goodness 🥹😭 Thank you for such a sweet note! I love these ideas so much
I will never say never to Every Time universe updates (who knows with the holidays!), but I’ve taken a pretty big step back from writing for the TGM fandom so I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. It took me months to deliver this requested sequel 🫣 But now that you’ve put this in my head, who knows what will spring to mind one day…
Fic ask continuation of your Every Time It Comes Around 👀
Hannix first time 🌶️🌶️ (smut) on the carrier or back at base, Jake calling Nat his girl/his baby for the first time and unable to keep his hands off her 😍
Haha wow! This is my first non Hannix Football Rivalry ask 😂
Nat probably pretends to be annoyed the first time or two he calls her his girl/his baby—she doesn’t want him to get too comfortable too fast—but she secretly adores it
I have a little bit of a queue but the good news is, my project deadline is this Friday. I can’t wait to get back to writing 😊
I apologize for this egregious wait. In the spirit of Every Time It Comes Around, here is Hangman's POV, which means yes, if you want it...there's a Phoenix Pt II...This post is obviously 18+ bbs
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin and Natasha "Phoenix" Trace
Warnings: Smut was requested so um, that's what's here.
The next time it happens, he's not alone
After Jake leaves Phoenix in the med bay on the carrier, they don’t talk about the kiss. In fact, they barely talk at all in between packing up their seabags and boarding their flight home with the rest of the team. There are red net seats on their flight off the carrier, and Jake struggles to bite back a smile when Phoenix drops down next to him. It’s close enough quarters that his thigh can touch hers without anyone looking twice. She startles at the contact, jaw tightening to hold in either a gasp or an expletive.
Fanboy sits down on his other side, but fortunately, he’s asleep before they’ve reached full altitude. Phoenix closes her eyes and leans her head back against the woven seat. A tickle of hope low in his stomach waits for her to slump onto his shoulder so he can feel the weight of her against him. But she doesn’t give an inch, just like always. When she pulls her arms in and crosses them over her chest, he can feel the snuff of hope in his abdomen and starts to think maybe the med bay really was a dream.
They switch planes in Germany, this time their seats like those on a commercial airline. He’s so sure they’ll sit together again that he doesn’t think to count the pilots and wizzos ahead of them, so his heart sinks when Phoenix hesitates between the open seat beside Bob and the empty ones across the aisle and chooses Bob.
She glances at him, a plea of apology in her eyes when he has to shuffle into the window seat while Fanboy teases him for suddenly turning slow. It’s Bob she finally falls asleep on, and Jake’s teeth hurt from clenching them with jealousy. It’s not Fanboy’s fault Phoenix bailed on him, but Jake can’t muster the better part of himself to take him up on conversation. He’d overheard Bob tell Phoenix that Fanboy still feels bad about not getting the laser lined up in time, even though Rooster had been able to pull off the drop. Knowing Phoenix would have something to say if he made Fanboy feel worse, Jake makes up an excuse about being tired and has to pretend he’s asleep instead of getting a drink off the beverage cart.
They land at North Island in the fresh darkness of dusk, and Jake hurriedly slings his bag over his shoulder. It’s been only a few days since they left, but somehow it feels like their training was a lifetime ago. One Jake wouldn’t mind leaving behind so much if it weren’t starting to feel like Phoenix has decided to ignore him. She’s ahead of him on the tarmac, in step with Payback, Fanboy, and Rooster.
Jake’s pride flares up, holding him back from catching up to her. Two can play this game. A hand falls on his shoulder, and he looks over to see Bob considering him with bemusement. Phoenix’s backseater glances around. In the shuffle for their bags and the promise of a real shower, no one’s paying them much attention.
“Phoenix told me to tell you she’s heading back to the Navy Lodge.”
No shit. They are all heading back there. Bob’s expression shifts, his mouth curling with a smirk. “Of all people, wouldn’t have expected you to be so obvious.”
Jake stops mid-eyeroll. “Obvious about what?”
Bob glances around and leans in. “About wanting to sleep with a fellow officer.”
The words jam a rod down Jake’s back. Shit. Bob gives his shoulder a light shake. “All she told me was to tell you where she’s going but just because I have a pair of BCGs doesn’t mean I can’t see where this is headed.”
Three weeks ago when they met, Jake would have bet all his darts winnings that Bob had the backbone of a newborn baby. Now he wonders if he’s ever gotten away with murder. Jake laughs and shrugs off his hand, trying to keep his cool. “I think we’ve both seen she knows how to handle herself, but thanks.”
“Any time,” Bob reminds him, his voice returning to its accommodating tenor as he follows Jake toward the parking lot. Of course it’s his luck that Phoenix is the type of woman who makes friends who would kill for her. If he fucks this up, he’s going to need a whole fist, maybe more, to keep track of the people coming after him. He watches Phoenix swing her bag into the trunk of Rooster’s Bronco and climb in with him, feeling a little sick to his stomach remembering how they looked on one another’s arms at Turbo’s wedding.
“Want a ride?” Bob offers while digging his keys out of his pocket.
Jake glances around and finds Coyote waiting for him with an arm propped on the roof of his rented sedan. His friend arches a brow to see him with Bob, and that decides Jake. He’s not ready to tell anyone what’s going on with Phoenix—if anything—just yet, and Coyote’s already asked him about acting weird. He’s going to have more questions now but at least Jake won’t be trapped in a moving interrogation room.
“As long as you’re a decent driver,” he agrees, a little prickly. Just because he’s crushing hard on Phoenix doesn’t mean he has to suddenly become a sap. Thankfully, Bob doesn’t seem to take his tone personally or try to pursue any further lines of questioning in regard to Phoenix. When Jake’s honest with himself, he finds it kind of sweet that she’d made a point of befriending Bob who seemed like he’d been overlooked by his other squads. He hopes the two of them stay together when they leave. He likes to know someone he trusts has her back.
Of course the Navy had decided that rather than pay for empty rooms for the few days they were gone, they’d have to check out and check back in when they got back. Phoenix is well ahead of him in the line to get her key and crowds into the first elevator to go up. Jake tries not to be obvious about checking his phone frequently, like looking at the screen enough will suddenly make a text with her room number appear. He should be embarrassed by how bad he has it, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. His phone vibrates right as the woman at the front desk holds out his key, and he nearly throws it in his rush to check it. Above the texts he’s ignored from his mom after letting her know he’s safe, is one from Phoenix. Do you happen to have Advil? Could use some in 309
“Sir?” the woman says impatiently, eyeing the last few people she has to get through behind him.
“Thanks.”
He’s in the elevator with Yale holding the door open for him to get out before he checks his key. “Fifth floor, thanks,” he says to Yale’s patient politeness. “Jet lag must be hitting.”
Now that they’re no longer competing, the other pilot gives him an easy smile. “Me too, man. Rest up.” He waves his hand free of the door, and Jake lifts his in response before pressing the button for his floor.
His room is at the end of the hall with a view of the beach and ocean when it’s light outside. He listens quietly for a minute to see if he has a neighbor, but it’s hard to tell. He starts to text back then remembers something Phoenix said the time she helped him end an argument with Cally during their ski trip and leaves it until he’s showered and scrubbed away the staleness and sweat of the boat.
He opts for a tank and shorts, having enjoyed the way Phoenix’s eyes lingered on him when they crossed paths at the gym. Jake snaps a picture of the wall of windows and finally replies. Your view as good as mine? Maybe you should come get it in 525
Not his finest work, but it’ll do. He sends.
And then, nothing.
He gives it 15 minutes, figuring she may still be in the shower. Women take longer, don’t they? But 45 minutes later, she still hasn’t responded. After another half hour of debating whether to hold out on her, he finally decides to swallow his pride and go to her. He palms an Advil and condom from his toiletries bag and takes the stairs down to the third floor. Less chance of running into anyone.
The hallway is empty. Quietly, he knocks on her door. No answer. He double checks their Top Gun group chat. Harvard, Yale, and Halo had done a taco run for everyone, but Phoenix hadn’t chimed in there. Doesn’t mean she hasn’t changed her mind and gone down to the lobby.
He goes downstairs to find nearly everyone either polishing off the tacos or taking turns at a game of ping pong. Phoenix isn’t there either. Not wanting to seem too obvious in his search for her, he stays to help with the leftover food and to heckle Rooster and Payback against Fritz and Halo. When he deems his time inconspicuously spent, he tosses Harvard some cash for the tacos and heads back upstairs.
Running over their exchange in the med bay, he tries to figure out if there’s something he missed. Phoenix had seemed almost reluctant to admit her feelings for him. Maybe she’s changed her mind or hadn’t wanted to deal with him pestering her or…
Or she’s waiting for him at his door. She’s wearing a Navy sweatshirt that swallows her torso over a pair of shorts that barely peak beneath the hem. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s rarely seen her hair down the way it is now, with one side tucked behind her ear. Not exactly out of his fantasies but certainly earning a spot going forward.
A soft smile lifts her mouth when she sees him. “Hey,” she says shyly. “I sat down and next thing I knew I was waking up.”
His heart skips happily up to his throat, and he reaches into his pocket. “Still got the Advil.”
Something in her eyes shifts when he comes closer, and she steps back against the door. “Just what I need,” she says softly, but he’s fairly sure she’s not talking about their cover. He crowds her into the narrow frame while he unlocks his door, and her gaze doesn’t flinch when her hand meets his at the handle.
They press it down together, before she reaches up to pull him in by his tank. Jake falls into her kiss as they stumble back into his room, his key falling to the floor so he can pull her into his arms as the door drags shut behind them.
Phoenix’s mouth on his is confident as she presses into him, her knuckles digging into his bare chest as if to assure him this is real. The slightly sweet taste of her toothpaste is still fresh on her lips, on her tongue, in their kiss. Her cheek is soft in his hand when he tilts her mouth into his.
He pulls back, and her dark eyes open in surprise, her lips part in a question.
“You want this?” he checks again, even though the edges of his tank are balled in her fists.
She smiles and presses her mouth to his again. “I want this,” she promises, her lips catching on his and striking the fuse of arousal low in his abdomen. “I want you.”
Jake doesn’t need another invitation. He pulls her back into a kiss, thrilling at the way she fits into him, at every throaty gasp and sigh he draws from her. Cradling her jaw, his stomach swoops as he discovers a startling delicacy beneath the stubborn set of the chin he knows so well. She shivers and tenses when his hands first glide down her neck before her shoulders melt at his touch. His pulse races as Phoenix slowly unfolds beneath his hands.
A blush flares across her cheeks and follows the path his hands travel over her skin. They’re breathing so hard that their chests push against one another in a scattered rhythm. He watches her face, still tilted at an angle, while he slides his fingers along the hem of her shorts. Both of their breathing hitches, her hands tightening in his shirt, when his palm cups the curve of her ass.
The words tumble out his mouth before he’s even called them to mind, spilling over from some fragment of a dream. “I never thought you’d be my girl,” he confesses into the heavy air.
Her eyebrows pucker. “Your girl?”
He freezes, realizing he’s gone too far too fast. “Not my girl. I mean, I just didn’t see us, like this…”
She moves her hands under his shirt to spread her fingers along the bare skin of his abdomen and then his chest, and their warm caress over his nipples goes straight to his groin. He tries to draw his hips back as his dick fills out, but she follows. “I kind of like the sound of that.”
“My girl?”
“It’s not a question anymore.” Phoenix grins, “But don’t get too comfortable just yet, dickhead.” Soon maybe, they’ll parse out everything that kept them from reaching this moment earlier but for now, Jake soars on the feeling that she wants this as much as he does. She reaches up and pulls him back down to her mouth. And this time, she coaxes his lips apart as she frees one hand to pull his palm to her chest.
They’re already at full throttle. There’s plenty of time to slow down later, he hopes, now that they know they’re both willing to explore this thing between them. Jake tugs off her sweatshirt and then her bra, filling his hands with the breasts that have taunted him in more private moments than he cares to admit. Once again, the firm reality is so much better than anything his mind could come up with. Phoenix gasps at his touch, forehead dropping to rest on his shoulder while she watches his fingers on her tits.
“I always wondered what your hands look like in the cockpit,” she admits breathily, and Jake swears as the blood rushes to his erection so fast it almost hurts.
“C’mere,” he growls, backing her into and down onto the bed so he can taste every inch of her soft skin, the tantalizing peaks of her nipples on the taut globes of her chest, the curves of her ribs, the scoop of her abdomen. He loves the way her voice catches on his call sign, her usual exasperation replaced with eager encouragement. Knowing she wants him like this makes him lightheaded, the unfamiliar desperate desire to please coursing hot through his veins.
Phoenix tugs at his tank. “Take this off,” she commands. He sits back on his haunches to do as she asks. When his head is free again, he looks down at her laid out beneath him with her dark hair splayed across the pillow, eyes alight in the glow of the bedside lamp as they blaze a hot path from his upper body to the now bulging crotch of his shorts. His dick jerks when her fingertips land on the trail of hair beneath his navel.
“Like that?” she smiles before tracing it to the top of his shorts. He’s so hard now that her fingers brushing dangerously close to the head of his dick make him catch his lip with his teeth to hold in a noise that would be sure to embarrass him. Phoenix’s eyebrows lift at the hint. Her touch is more curious than it is timid, deliberate so she can catch the minutiae of his reactions. Not that there’s any subtlety at this point to how much he wants her.
He folds his hands into the waistband of her shorts. “Let me show you what else I like.” Jake draws them off of her, feeling his own shorts dampen when she lifts her hips to help him with them. “Fuck, Phoenix,” he swears when he realizes she hadn’t bothered with underwear. Her clothes fall to the floor without a whisper. And then there she is, lying fully naked and beautiful before him.
“What was that about what else you like, Bagman?” she teases comfortably, making him feel too constricted in his shorts and briefs when she massages his flanks with her calves. How can only the sound of her voice threaten to make him lose his mind?
Jake scrambles off the bed and strips off his bottoms. Phoenix rolls onto her side to watch, the soft light floating along her curves. The look of mischief that overtakes her face when she sees full proof of what she’s capable of doing to him might be one of the sexiest reactions he’s ever gotten to stripping, and he’s suddenly nervous about living up to whatever she might expect of him. Of this. A rush of adrenaline comes with his nerves. Or maybe it’s the way she reaches for him.
“You really like to keep a guy on his toes,” he smirks to cover his fumble, settling back over her on the bed.
She lets the hand he runs along her side and then down to rub her hip coax her onto her back again. “It’s good to know someone can get the best of Hangman every now and then.” Phoenix drapes her arms over his shoulders, fingers pressing gently into the back of his neck to invite him back into a kiss that spares him having to admit just how easy it is for her to do that to him. Jake nearly loses his balance when she draws her knees up to press them into his sides.
He caresses his way along her thighs and calves, treasuring every quiver of her muscles beneath his hands, each little breath punched out of her chest by his lips, the soft, bitten back cry when his kisses finally land between her legs as he moves down her lithe figure. Jake groans when he finds her wet for him, smirking at her chuckle of surprise for his eagerness to go down on her. She tastes better than the empty conjuring of the dreams that have left his sheets sticky with cum for years. He moans into the eager rock of her hips, encouraged by her shallow breaths and the hand in his hair that curls and tightens with the slightest pressure when she wants more.
Above him, she hisses softly through gritted teeth, as if reluctant to vocalize exactly how much she’s enjoying what he’s doing to her. Spurred by the challenge, Jake goes all in until he’s rewarded with a gritted, “Yes, there. There! There! Oh my god.”
His balls throb in response between his own thighs, the dew of sweat on his abdomen blending with the slickness of the leaking precum from the heavy hardness of his dick as he shows her exactly what his hands are capable of in the cockpit. A distant part of his mind wonders if he’s going to have to deal with a boner every time he gets in his plane from now on because he can’t get her saying that out of his head.
Phoenix moans and shifts beneath his persistent mouth and fingers, curling up over him as she pants his name faster and harder. There’s no room for his call sign anymore, only the pleading “Jake” as she begs for him to keep going, begs for him to relent, begs for her release.
One hand braces herself on his shoulder, her neatly trimmed fingernails digging into his flesh with delicious pressure. The other bunches the sheets in her fist as she tries to withstand the end to which he’s pushing her. It’s like being in the air with her, the way she refuses to surrender her restraint to his brash intuition. Only here, there’s no danger in letting go.
To prove it to her, he moves onto his knees and replaces his tongue with his thumb. Above the heavy cant of their breaths and moans, he can hear how drenched she is from the mix of his spit and her arousal. Phoenix lets out a noise between a hum and a whine and drops her head onto his shoulder as he braces her. Jake kisses his way from her forehead, gasping when his mouth on her neck draws a hiccuped sob from her. Her hair catches in his stubble as it whispers across his cheeks.
If he has a neighbor, he can only hope that the walls are enough to muffle who they are if not what they’re doing.
He feels when she can’t hold out any longer and gives way, suddenly clenching hard around his fingers. “Jake!” she groans into a cry that she stifles with her knuckles, collapsing back as her hips chase down the reverberations of her orgasm on his hand. It’s disorienting, in the most breathtaking way, to simultaneously watch, feel, and hear her pleasure ripple through her: to see what it actually looks like etched across her features, to experience the lean strength of muscles known only to her and the few she’s trusted to see her like this, to know the breathless sound of his name on her lips. He’s shocked to realize that despite her indelible air of self-assurance, she suddenly looks incredibly breakable. His heart throbs in unison with his dick. For the first time since he tried to drive the thought of her out of his head all those years ago, it crosses his mind that there may be no way out from this. At least for him.
Phoenix trembles beneath him while she catches her breath. It has occurred to him that she isn’t the type of woman to hold stock in being told she’s beautiful or hot during sex, at least for right now. They can be more alike than they care to admit, and he knows saying anything about her looks would make her feel like this is too superficial or too vulnerable, and either will shut her down. But there’s a strange, sharp ache in his heart that wants her to know something. So after wiping his mouth as best he can, he settles for kissing her, hesitant at first that she might not like the taste of herself on his lips.
But Phoenix opens her mouth to him and wraps him in her arms, pulling him down on top of her, her breasts pressed his chest, her nipples now hard points on his skin, his abdomen held in the cradle of hers, making his arousal verge on unbearable. He jerks helplessly when she reaches between them and strokes his dick, her thumb brushing his tip.
“Phoenix,” he grunts, lifting himself out of her arms before it’s too much. “Hang on.”
The room feels cold outside her embrace while he grabs for the shorts he abandoned and finds the condom in his pocket. Embarrassed by how close he came to firing off like a teenager barely past his first time, Jake lets himself cool down some. If she sees through his cocky grin as he flicks the wrapper onto the nightstand and stands so she can see him roll the condom down his full length, she thankfully deigns to spare him his dignity this time.
He climbs carefully over her but pauses at the expression on her face. That sense of fragility lingers in the corners of her sated haze.
“We don’t have to,” he says as gently as he can. But she catches his arm when he tries to back off her.
“I don’t want to regret this.” It's the most vulnerable she’s allowed herself to be with him. So, he’s not the only one who feels like they’re walking along some precipice that they can’t see.
He touches her cheek, startled when she turns into it. “And I don’t want to mess this up, Phoenix,” he promises. His heart sinks that she doesn’t trust him enough not to pull the rug out from under her, but in all fairness his track record is a mixed bag at best.
Her eyes search for some answer he hopes she can find in his face. “Natasha. For now.”
“Okay, Natasha.” Jake kisses her, his hands moving to memorize the shape of her beneath him, whether for the first or last time he still can’t be entirely sure. He will take whatever he can get. She never hesitates to tell him what she wants, to catch his touch so he lingers or gives her more.
Her lips break from his, their faces still so close their foreheads touch. “Did you change your mind about fucking me?” she pants, eyes dark, hypnotic pools beneath his.
He shakes his head. “You’d kill me if you knew how much I’ve thought about it.” Having her in his arms makes him way too honest.
Jake feels her laugh in her chest as she helps him line himself up at her entrance. He pushes into her, breathing through the overwhelming tightness of her core. He wants this to last longer than he knows he will, especially once her legs close around him. His arm muscles burn, holding himself up so he can watch her face while he strokes into her, every deep thrust exposing the graceful column of her neck and widening her beautiful mouth farther into an “oh” whose sounds goad the rhythm of his hips.
Her noises are too much, the subtle bounce of the perfect swells of her breasts making him ache even while he’s inside her.
He can feel his control falling apart at the glorious heat of her, her hands clutching his back and his ass, the clap and friction of their bodies coming together over and over. She widens her legs so he can thrust deeper, and for a moment, he loses track of everything but the experience of being one with her, this woman who’s been a pain in his ass as much as his low frequency obsession. He reaches between them to try to bring her with him, but she brushes aside his hand. “I want to feel you come first,” she gasps, like they’re still in some kind of competition she’s determined to win.
An argument forms somewhere in his brain, but he only gets as far as, “Fuck, Nat.” Giving up has never felt so good.
“Now I get why all those women were willing to put up with you,” she whispers in his ear, and even his ego is too shot to rescue him from the incoherence of the feeling of her holding him close and tilting her hips up to meet him. Here, like she is in all he’s seen her do since they first met, she’s so much stronger than she looks.
“Yeah?” he pants. “You like being my girl?”
She kisses his shoulder. “I do.”
And he’s grateful he can give her what she wants when everything in him constricts then explodes. He feels the hot pulses of cum fill the condom as he finds his release deep inside her. Their fingers fumble together over her clit, their mingled strokes sending her bearing down on his still sensitive dick, and Jake feels like a whole galaxy unfolds behind his eyes when she orgasms around him, every contraction echoing like an arpeggio over and through his body.
With surprising tenderness, she runs her fingers through his hair as they come down, both trembling, pulses throbbing where their bodies overlap. “We’re fucked,” she chuckles hoarsely.
“As long as it’s good, who cares?” he gasps.
“Oh, so that was just good for you?”
He doesn’t answer right away, afraid of what might fall out of his mouth with the contours of her body still fitted so perfectly to his. Her face starts to fall, and Jake pulls himself together. “I didn’t think you were the kind to fish for compliments, Phoenix. I assumed you knew you’re worth the chase.”
For good measure, he kisses her pout and is relieved when it gives way to a smile. “Still nice to hear it, Bagman.”
When at last he pulls out, they struggle clumsily to disentangle their limbs from one another. It doesn’t help that he tries to kiss every bit of her skin that passes his mouth until she’s laughing and trying to push him away.
“You want the bathroom first?” he offers.
She shakes her head and burrows down into a fresh part of the bed while he takes his turn, cleaning up as quickly as he can. Phoenix comes back from hers with two glasses of water, and they’re both so thirsty that she makes two more trips before she crawls back in beside him. Her phone buzzes on the floor, and Jake leans out of the bed to retrieve it for her.
“Some brave souls are headed to The Hard Deck,” she reports.
Jake can’t resist the curve of her shoulder and runs his nose along it before kissing the top of her arm. “You want to go?”
“Now that I know what you look like naked?” she exclaims, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. “I’m going to need a minute before I can pretend that I’m not undressing you in my head.”
He tries not to kick himself for how stupid he’d been to spend so many years antagonizing her when he could have had this. “Is it Natasha or Phoenix now?” he checks.
Phoenix turns to face him, pulling the sheets up under her chin. His heart skips at how cute she looks with her cheeks still flushed from sex. “Whichever. I just didn’t want to have to forget what it sounds like to hear you come every time you call me ‘Phoenix.’”
Jake scowls because he’s definitely going to have to work not to hear the breathless way she called him “Hangman” when she uses his. “Are you serious?”
Her answering grin is unapologetic. “That’s your poor planning, dickhead.”
“I can still call you Phoenix, now that I know.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Try it,” she threatens.
If he’s not careful, he’s going to find himself falling in love with this woman. “Fine then, Phoenix. I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
That catches her by surprise. “Is this a general apology for being an asshole or for something specific?”
“I’m sorry I made a pass at you after you thanked me for never making one several years ago.” He remembers that evening a lot, the mingled notes of gratitude, frustration, and sadness in her voice when she told him that she hadn’t been able to do her job without men thinking she was there for something else.
“Oh.” She untucks her arm to shield her face, and he wonders if she’ll regret this, no matter what he does.
“It’s okay if you’d rather pretend this never happened,” he goes on, figuring it’s better to part ways while it stings instead of burns, or worse. “I promise not to bring it up or tease you for it.”
“I thought you said you wanted to do this.” Her voice is so carefully neutral that he can’t figure out what she’s thinking.
Jake swallows. “I mean, I do, but you, you asked me if you were going to regret this and I don’t want this to be something you’re ashamed or embarrassed about.”
She’s quiet for several seconds, the sheet rising and falling with her naked chest. Then, Phoenix scoots closer until she’s pressed into his torso, her cheek resting on his sternum. Tentatively, he folds his arms around her. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed, dickhead. But I also can’t pretend that this–just this alone–isn’t a risk to my career. And sometimes you’re a little too reckless, a little too careless about the consequences and that matters. That matters because they’ll never be the same for you as they are for me.”
He can feel her heart beating in frantic contrast to the evenness of her breathing. Is she…scared? Jake squeezes her, and is caught off guard by the warmth that fills him when she huddles deeper into his embrace. She inhales deeply, and the urge to protect her at all costs surges through his heart. “I’ll be careful, okay? But you don’t have to ever be afraid to tell me to back off either. I’m going to do my best.”
“Okay.”
When the quiet gets too intense, Jake turns on the TV to ease the moment. There’s a fairly decent rom-com on, but she prefers The Mummy. Every now and then, if it’s been a while since she’s laughed, he glances down to see whether she’s still awake. She meets his check with a smile then rubs her head on his chest. At some point, he realizes he’s been running his fingers through her hair while they watch. He stops, but a few seconds later she shakes her head.
“Keep going,” she says sleepily. “Please.”
“Okay.”
He wakes up to find the movie in its second run. He turns off the TV and settles around Phoenix's curled up form. Jake kisses her hair, and she loosens up some against the line of his body. "Night, my girl," he murmurs and tries not to worry about how right this feels.
It’s still dark when Natasha wakes up. For a moment, she’s disoriented by the weight blanketing her until she realizes it’s Hangman. She sleeps hot, but he’s a furnace, and it was cool enough when they drifted off that she didn’t think to turn on the air conditioning.
She moves her arm first to see whether he’s a light sleeper. When his breathing doesn’t change, she ducks out of his hold as smoothly and quickly as she can and feels her way to the thermostat. The air kicks on, a little loud, but he doesn’t move. Phoenix creeps back to the bed and stops short when she finds him watching her through half lowered eyelids.
“I thought you were sneaking out,” he mumbles.
“I was burning up,” she whispers before she realizes that’s pointless now that he’s awake. Well, not entirely pointless. Her eyes have adjusted enough to the dark to see his smile, and it’s not his usual taunting or roguish grin. This one is soft, sweet, a little bit vulnerable, and she follows through on her temptation to kiss it when she crawls into the bed. Hangman’s sure fingertips delicately trace the line of her spine, bowing her toward him.
When she’s pressed into his chest, his arms close around her, and he rolls her on top of him. The way he’s kissing her back, she suspects that he was awake longer than she thought. His growing erection nudges at her thigh, and the moan deep in his chest vibrates through her when she responds with the slightest pressure.
Every touch, moan, and gasp confesses how long and hard they’ve each fought this. Natasha shivers from the quickly cooling air and Hangman’s hand sliding down the back of her leg to hook it along his side. He drags his lips from hers.
“Here.” He maneuvers her farther up so he can free the sheet from between them and drape it over her shoulders. She’s left straddling him skin to skin, savoring how sturdy he feels beneath her and the slight strain in her thighs to accommodate the span of his torso. Natasha takes in the rise and fall of his chest, the pronounced curves of his pecs dotted with hardened nipples. Tentatively, she touches the pad of her finger to one. Encouraged by the way his abs hollow at the contact, she sucks two of her fingers then circles it more deliberately. He hisses, his hips lifting in response.
Before she can follow through on the invitation, Hangman intercepts her. He levers himself up enough to take one of her nipples in his mouth, humming hungrily at the contact. Natasha drops her head at the strength of his grip on her hip while his fingers match the pressure and teasing of his lips, tongue, and teeth on her other nipple. Arousal lances through her, electrifying every nerve into its own consciousness so his touch is concentrated and everywhere all at once. She’s never done drugs, but she begins to understand what people mean by chasing a high. Any thought except wanting more of him, of this, seems so far out of reach.
His moans compete with hers, their hands on one another learning to press different buttons than the jabs they’ve thrown at one another since training.
The demanding, molten ache between her legs grows with the hardness of his dick against her ass. Hangman has the kind of bravado that takes the surprise out of his size, so Natasha didn’t have too much trouble disguising that she was nonetheless impressed. What did fully surprise her was that he didn’t fly on size alone. She’s learning there are plenty of ways she wants his mouth to drive her crazy, as it is now, and just the memory of the friction of his strokes and the way his hard climax dislodged something at her very core has her reaching back to take his dick in hand.
“Let me get a condom,” he offers, the words skittering over her breast and making her gasp.
“Do you need it?” she checks. “Are you positive for anything?”
“No.” He uses the opportunity to move to her other nipple. The contrast between the fading heat of his mouth and the cold air are probably scrambling her judgment, but she doesn’t care. After he left her in the med bay, Natasha found a female nurse willing to check her birth control to make sure it was still in place after the mission. Just in case things ended up here. “Then I’m okay without it, if you are,” she promises.
Hangman pauses, letting her breast fall from his mouth. Before she can protest, he kisses his way up to her collarbone, then slides a hand into her hair to pull her to him. “You sure, Natasha? You’re covered? Because I don’t mind…”
The way he says her name feels so intimate that it terrifies her how much she enjoys it. “You’re supposed to be fucking me right now, Hangman, not trying to make me fall in love with you.”
She wants to take back the joke before it’s out of her mouth because they haven’t exactly figured out what this is and what any of these feelings are.
To her relief Hangman laughs. “I didn’t realize you were so easy, Natasha Trace.”
“At least for tonight,” she goes along, still a little unsteady from so carelessly dropping the four letter word anywhere near Jake Seresin. “But thank you for double checking.”
“I’m a man of my word,” he winks, “I don’t want to mess this up.” Natasha cups his face and kisses him so she doesn’t have to think about the flurry of butterflies the gesture sets off in her stomach.
The thing about imagining how someone kisses is that it’s always an imitation of someone else’s kiss, a memory of something known and liked. But this? Actually kissing Hangman finally? It’s as exhilarating as doing her damndest to outfly him, when the only way to possibly win is to give way to her intuition. Natasha has been kissed well in her life but never like this. He puts his whole body into it, challenging her to meet his strength, daring her to let it overwhelm her, and cradling her until she trusts him enough to surrender.
And he listens to her in a way she’s never known him to. Not only to what she says aloud but to every clue her body offers him. At a shift of her hips, he draws her closer. A tremor in response to his hand skating over her ribs slows his ascent until the weight of his touch is imprinted on her side. His mouth effortlessly matches the tempo of her kisses, their lips and tongues torquing the heat of their desire for each other.
She reaches back to run light fingers along the seam of his balls. He jerks beneath her, knees knocking into the back of her arms. Natasha thrills at finding him so velvety hard, his tip dripping along her backside. Slipping the hold of his mouth, she kisses the jawline she’s spent as much time secretly ogling as she has avoiding the flashes of keen interest in his green eyes. Reaching the shell of his ear, she laughs softly, having noticed earlier that his abs tighten at the proximity of her voice. Sure enough, they clench beneath her palm.
“Do you want me to blow you now or save that for your wake up call?”
A strangled noise punches out of his chest. “What was that you said?” he pants. “You’re supposed to be fucking me right now, Phoenix, not trying to make me fall in love with you.”
She nips playfully at his shoulder. “What did I say about Phoenix?”
He groans her name in reply when she teases his weeping tip with the edge of her thumb, circling his precome over his head and along his shaft, her hand slicker and slicker with it. His mouth ravages her chest and neck, tripping the switch to her brain as the constellation of her thrumming nerves takes over, echoing every touch, squeeze, and nip through her whole being.
Overwhelmed by the ache of wanting him inside her, she surges up and lowers herself onto his dick. Or at least its head. He’s large enough that she has to take the rest more slowly. She rocks her hips to ease him into her until the fullness is almost too much. Hangman’s head falls back.
“Holy shit, Nat,” he says hoarsely, voice shot. And normally, she can’t stand that nickname but she likes that it’s something that she can leave here, a secret between them. She clenches around him, to see what it does, and both of them get more wet when he grunts and lifts into her. Flashes of blue spark behind her eyes.
She wants to tell him how much she loves feeling so stretched and full when he’s inside her, but her brain checks in long enough to make her worry that it's too much, too soon. “You feel so good,” she breathes instead.
He lays back so she can brace herself on his chest as she rides him, his dick hitting so deep that she can feel it in her chest. Natasha has to grit her teeth against the volume of the noises trying to escape her mouth.
“Anyone ever tell you that you have the most perfect boobs,” he whispers loudly.
Embarrassed by the gratification that comes from the observation, and the way he is staring and fondling them, Natasha laughs haphazardly. “Funny enough, yes. The woman who fitted me for my flight suit said the same thing.”
“Always got jokes,” he pants, lifting her hair out of the way so he can pull her back down into a kiss. How is she supposed to roll her eyes at his mouth after this, when she knows what it’s capable of doing to her?
His arm between them is muscled and sturdy, his fingers as assured working her clit as they are his plane. Some guys have made her feel too loud, too vocal, but Hangman basks in every sound that falls from her lips.
As if sensing how close she is, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her ear to his lips. “That’s it, Nat. That’s my girl,” he encourages.
She can’t believe what those words do to her, turning her inside out. Her thighs and abs burn from the effort of riding him, but she doesn’t want to stop, submerging herself in a darkness entirely consumed by him.
Natasha cries out when his hips and fingers force her over the edge. Her arms give way, and she collapses into him. He flips them, holding her under him as he thrusts through the shuddering waves of her orgasm to his own release. She loves the sounds of him coming undone, his choked gasps and cut off moans, his unself-conscious loss of rhythm and sense before the heat of his cum surges inside her and the hot friction and hard pulse of his dick tumble her into another climax. Her fingers dig into the hard muscle of his back against the force of this one to undo her as she shakes through its throes.
Hangman kisses her down, so gentle and tender that her heart has trouble catching its rhythm. The exertion has left them sticky, their panting breaths competing to be heard over the thunder of their pulses. He tries to shift some of his weight off of her, but she catches him and holds him in place. He noses through her hair while he softens inside her.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” She touches his face in answer to the unexpected shyness in his voice. He kisses the inside of her wrist.
“May I turn on the light? I need to see what I’m doing so I don’t mess up the bed.”
Natasha stops drifting toward sleep as her brain slowly catches up to the moment. Right, she’d told him to go ahead without a condom. “Go for it.”
Light flares over them, and Hangman does his best to shield her to make the transition less painful. While her eyes are still adjusting, he pulls out of her and moves efficiently to use his tank to clean them up. He comes back from the bathroom with a hot washcloth so she can wash up enough to get to the bathroom herself.
He’s straightened out the sheets and covers and picked up the rest of their clothes from the floor by the time she gets back.
“I think we have another hour and a half or two before we have to be up,” Hangman leads, uncharacteristically uncertain. “If you’d rather sleep in your own bed…”
For a moment, she considers making her escape now rather than getting caught sneaking out later before the thought settles heavy weight in her stomach. “I don’t mind staying,” she says.
Relief washes over his face before he can hide it behind a roguish grin. She crawls back into the bed before he turns off the lights again and climbs in beside her.
“Natasha?” he asks, reaching out for her in the dark. His hand finds her shoulder and slowly slides up to cradle her cheek. He leans in, his lips just missing hers and landing under the curve of her bottom lip. He kisses his way up to her mouth. This kiss is soft and slow, not intended to start anything.
“Yeah?” she says when his lips still.
“Good night,” he whispers against her mouth.
Her heart hammers a warning that this may be going somewhere she isn’t prepared for it to go, and this time, she has to fight the urge to take her things and run. In the light of day, all the reasons this won’t work will be clear again. For now, maybe it’s okay to have just this.
Her heart hammers a warning that this may be going somewhere she isn’t prepared for it to go, and this time, she has to fight the urge to take her things and run. In the light of day, all the reasons this won’t work will be clear again. For now, maybe it’s okay to have just this.
If only you knew where this is going, dearest Natasha😝🤭…
