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Flight Risk

Two years should have been enough for you to move on from a heartbreaking situationship. However, Jake's return to North Island proves that time doesn't necessarily heal all wounds.

▸ PAIRING: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader ▸ WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, unprotected sex (she's on the pill), lots of dirty talk, sexual banter, some angst, basically maverick!jake, jealous & possessive!jake (personal fave) ▸ WORD COUNT: 15.1K ▸ A/N: longest work yet and this jake made me frustrated and happy. this is basically if mav and penny started off as fwbs. planning a lot of jake pov scenes from this one because i want to write him as an emotional mess! for now, pls enjoy :)

—

Quiet mornings at The Hard Deck are your favorites. With all the rowdy patrons gone, you’re left in the peace of the bar. It’s just you, the sticky floors, and the sound of waves lapping up against the shore.

It’s been a few years since you took over for Penny. Her retirement with Maverick is well-deserved. The woman has the patience of a saint for dealing with military chaos for years before they chose to settle down somewhere quieter, somewhere less… government. Now, this is your life. Nothing you should be complaining about.

You like the hands-on work, you like being able to meet new people while also having regulars. The manual labor is almost gratifying. The motions of the day are muscle memory at this point. Restock any necessary bottles behind the bar, ensure you still have sufficient supply in the back, wipe down counters, and do your best to remove the residues from the previous night off the worn wooden floors. The number of people who come this way has increased over the last few months, something about training more and more graduates for air combat. Always preparing for a war that hopefully never comes.

Some faces are more familiar than others, ones that come much too often. Out of all of them, your mind tends to wander to a certain blonde, and your heart pinches at the thought. Even after years of absence, he never fails to remind you of the things you’ve lost.

You shake his face away from your head. Today is not the day. You haven’t thought about him in a couple of months. There are things here on the island that remind you of him, spots you can never scrub free of traces of him, no matter how many memories you try to put in their place.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin was a blessing and a curse. Once upon a time, you might’ve even considered him your best friend. The first time you met, he pulled all of his best lines to charm the pants off you. The only thing he left with was a hefty bar tab after he slid his phone on the bar counter to you, asking for your number. That bell ring is still the most satisfying one you’ve done to date.

He ended up on North Island often, pulled in for special detachments and training. Eventually, he even started training his own batch of recruits. With the amount of confidence and sweet-talking he brought to you, it was no surprise that you ended up in his bed at some point. Well, him in yours mostly because your place had a lot more privacy compared to the apartments he shared with Bradley.

And that one time turned into two and then three. After a while, you lost count of how many times you’ve come apart in his hands. It wasn’t only his witty remarks or playful banter that won you over. It was the quiet nights you shared when he told you about growing up in Texas, when you told him about what it was like growing up with both your parents in the military, when you both shared your secret fears and desires in the darkness of your room.

Jake was all hard edges and sharp lines. He was a shameless flirt and an incorrigible asshole. But he was also a devoted son who visited his parents states away every time he had a weekend off, a good friend who apologized for missing a night with you when he had to comfort Javy after a breakup, a man who squeezed your hand through your nightmares and held you close.

He was a man who was hard to miss in both senses of the phrase. Handsome. Smart. Loud. Loyal.

Falling for him was inevitable. Even now, as you’re trying to distract yourself with chores for the day, the pain from that night still lingers. Your whispered confession, the flare of panic in his eyes.

“I love you.” The words come out easily. They are ones that have been trapped in your chest for the longest time, restricting your heart from beating as freely as it should. You’ve known it for a while, choosing to bury them deeper and deeper until the feelings pile up again to the surface. With nowhere else to go, the only way to release it is to say it out loud. But saying it out loud makes it real and that terrifies you more than anything.

You and Jake are no secret to regulars. No official labels, but when he’s on the island, you’re his. Completely. It isn’t as if you’re sleeping around with anyone else, even when he’s gone. He’s rarely gone long enough for you to crave touch from someone else – not that you do. Jake has replaced the memory of every man before him, and spoiled you for every man after.

The silence speaks volumes. You don’t dare look up, instead opting to withdraw from him in favor of slipping on your shirt. Another barrier between the two of you. A belated protective shield for you.

When you finally chance a glance his way, there’s a storm of emotions clouding his eyes. You can recognize the ones you anticipate: disappointment, resentment, pity. He doesn’t move where he sits on your bed, still naked beneath your sheets. Your name comes out of his mouth like a scold. Your face crumples into a wince.

After the first few times, you both agreed that this is meant to be clean. A no-relationship relationship. Just sex whenever he’s in town. It’s a win-win for him who’s constantly on the road and for you who can’t imagine yourself managing anything else beyond the bar.

But who were you kidding? You never stood a chance with Jake Seresin. Nights with him aren’t just hours spent tangled in each other, chasing the sort of pleasure that only comes from familiar, experienced hands. They are midnight conversations and tender touches. They are your laughs encouraged by his kisses.

“I know” is all you can muster. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Jake doesn’t. He can’t possibly give you a response that would remedy this situation. This relationship.

“Look, forget about it. It was a mistake.”

“You made it complicated, sweetheart. I told you I don’t do complicated.”

“I get it,” you snap back, a little harsher than you intended. “I’m not asking for anything. I just… it came out.”

Jake licks his lips as his hand reaches up to run through his messy hair. Minutes ago, it was your fingers that rumpled through his blonde hair. It feels like a lifetime away now. His frustration is more palpable now. He grits his teeth when he coldly says, “Why did you have to go on and ruin a good thing?”

It’s like driving a stake through a gaping wound. “I fucked up, I’ll admit. But you don’t need to be an asshole about it. There are probably worse things in life than to have someone tell you they love you.”

A hoarse laugh escapes him. “Really? You think so? Because right now, it doesn’t feel like there is.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Well, I’m not the one that decided to fall in love with a fucking asshole.”

On some level, you’re probably aware that he doesn’t mean to be this cruel, throwing your feelings back in your face. It’s the heightened emotions and the exhaustion from a long day. However, you’re also the one who got rejected. The least he could do is be decent about it, be gentler.

“Love isn’t a goddamn decision, prick.”

“Name-calling, darlin’? Not your best attack.” Your humiliation and sorrow are replaced by fury. As someone you once considered a close friend, mocking you in this very moment feels like a bullet straight through you.

You swallow thickly, looking away. Any more from him and you may break down in tears, and the last thing you want to give him is your vulnerability. Clearly, he doesn’t deserve it. Nor did he ever want it.

“I should go.”

Looking at the darkness outside, you feel your heart soften. You’re pissed, but you’re not a complete monster. You won’t resort to being one like he did. “You should stay the night, it’s late. You can leave in the morning. Take the couch.”

A grunt. “You know that’s no longer a good idea. I’ll be fine.” He shrugs on his clothes quickly. The ticking clock on your wall feels like a bomb that’s about to explode. Only, you feel as if you’re already standing in the aftermath of it all.

You walk him out quietly, standing a foot away when he opens the front door. The evening breeze chills your hallway and you immediately rub the goosebumps rising on your arms. Jake looks up at you one more time, those three so-easily identifiable feelings still etched onto the lines of his face.

“I don’t think we should do this again.”

The final nail in the coffin. All you can do is nod in agreement. It hurts. Of course, it fucking hurts. But there’s nothing else you can do – he held up his end of the bargain and you let it fall apart in your hands.

“Be safe,” you say in response. It feels like the only appropriate one.

Jake nods and closes the door behind him. With the roar of his bike, he disappears into the night.

Two years. It’s been two years since that fateful night. Jake hasn’t been back since. It’s not just your bar that he avoids, it’s the entire base altogether. While you see some of his friends on occasion, his face is nowhere to be seen in the crowd. There are murmurs on where he’s located, even if people try to whisper it far away from you. But Jake isn’t one to stay under the radar for too long, his exploits are thoroughly discussed by many who pass through your bar. Last you heard, he is deployed in the Middle East somewhere on a long-term operation.

Part of you is grateful that you don’t have to deal with the awkwardness of being half an ex; it stings even more when you think you’re not even really an ex. However, after months of constant texting and late FaceTime calls even when he’s gone, his absence is noticeable. The ghost of him is apparent in the echo of his laugh by the pool table, the shadow of his broad frame when he leans over your bar and shoots you a wink.

But it’s been two years and you’ve moved on. Somewhat. You’ve seen other people since then – not only sleeping with them but actually going on dates in what hopefully would turn into something more.

No such luck.

The effort is exhausting and you find working at the bar much more rewarding. It’s small talk that is meaningful to you, building new relationships with soon-to-be regulars rather than vetting an unknown man to be your potential boyfriend. At this point, you can almost say for certain that there is not a lot of potential in the crowd you meet.

After two years, the ground beneath your feet is steadier. You hold nothing against Jake. You knew what you signed up for with him and it was neither your fault nor his that you ended up losing someone close to you. You’re thankful that you were able to tell him your feelings before he disappeared; it’s comforting to you that at least he knows, wherever he is, that he has someone who cares about him.

With that said, you also have no interest in reliving one of the worst moments of your life. Your embarrassment lives in the deepest corners of your mind. You’ve thought a lot about what you would do if Jake ever came back.

You would play it cool. You would be friendly. Cordial. But you also have no interest in a fresh start. You and Jake are going to be complete strangers with a lot of mutual friends.

It’ll be fine. It will work.

At least, that is what you tell yourself when you sense that familiar presence. You hate how attuned you still are to him. The sound of his footsteps, the laugh that the wind carries in, and even the way he opens the door. A slight creak that sounds almost thunderous in the sparse bar.

You don’t look up. You don’t need to. You continue wiping down your glasses and chatting with Irene, who probably spends too much time here. However, her company in the present is much appreciated. Your back faces the door and you have an excuse to keep your eyes fixated on the woman in front of you, rather than the blonde who’s getting closer and closer.

Andy – the second bartender you’ve hired since business picked up – is manning the side of the bar closer to the door. He can handle him. Irene’s voice blurs into the background and suddenly your heart is rushing in your ears and the only voice that slices through is Jake Seresin saying your name.

Fuck.

Two years. Two long years without him and you still can’t get yourself together when it comes to him.

Andy taps you on the shoulder, tells you someone is asking for you. You wish Irene weren’t so kind, wish that she would tell Andy to take care of the man himself. Instead, she leaves you to your misery with a comforting smile.

Taking a deep breath, you urge your heart to slow. It’s just Jake. You were friends once. You can be friendly.

You turn around.

Nothing could have prepared you to see how much Jake has changed. He’s still undeniably and objectively handsome, those sharp features and bright eyes could appeal to any man and woman in the vicinity. However, the five o’clock shadow along his jaw and the healthy tan on his skin give him that rougher edge that his boyish self never had. He’s older, grown.

Even so, there’s a softness to his eyes that’s new. His gaze has always been hard when he dials up his flirting game. This tenderness – it feels like the work of a woman.

Could it be? Someone has finally tamed the young and wild Jake Seresin? The thought hurls you with bitterness and annoyance. It’s been a few years. It’s entirely possible that in that time, he’s met someone who changed his mind about love.

Your mouth dries at the thought and you internally curse your body for reacting this way. Be happy, be nice. You inhale a shaky breath as you make your way towards him, a small smile forced onto your face.

“Jake Seresin.” Saying his name feels like a prayer and a curse.

He tips his head and then offers you that blinding grin. One that you’ve grown so used to receiving and have missed immensely. “How are you doing, darlin’?”

“Same old.” Your lips quirk up. “What are you doing back on this side of the planet?”

Jake leans over the bar, his large frame coming up too close to your personal space. The temptation to draw the invisible line that he cannot cross is there, but that would be a little too immature, even for you. His arms fold on top of the counter. “Looking for the prettiest girl on the planet.”

“Hm? Any luck?”

“Yeah, think I got it right on the first try.”

Your heart does a backflip in your chest. Fucking Jake Seresin and his snake charming tendencies. It’s almost painful how easily the two of you fall back into old routines – the banter, the flirting. You neutralize your expression to ensure nothing gives away how difficult this is for you. You’re not giving him the satisfaction of showing him how affected you are by him. Still, even after two goddamn years.

“What do you want, Hangman?”

“Iced tea.” Your eyebrows jump at that.

“Have I entered the twilight zone in which you don’t get drunk off your ass the moment you walk into this bar?”

That was a mistake, because you’re then rewarded by that full-bellied laugh. The one you grew fond of. Your heart does its thing again.

“As much as I would love to clean out your stockpile of IPAs – you probably have a surplus at this point, I do have to head to base after this.”

You take your chance to pull a fresh glass and prepare his drink, your back once again facing him. You run through the list of safe questions in your head. Don’t ask him how long he plans to be here, you’ll sound interested. Don’t ask him what he’s doing here, you’ll sound like you care too much.

You’ve learned the hard way that he hates that.

Instead, you settle for a simple “got it.”

Calm, cool, collected. That’s your motto for however long Jake has his fucking feet on this blasted island.

You turn back around and slide the glass over to him as he hops onto a stool. He tilts it back and takes long gulps, like a parched man in the desert. He cleans out the drink and immediately asks for a refill. You oblige and hand it back to him.

“How’ve you been?”

There are so many ways you can answer this question. Three C’s. Remember the three C’s. “Good, it’s been busy here. A lot of new faces but some familiar ones. Think Coyote was here a couple of weeks ago so you just missed him.”

“Yeah, he told me. The man’s getting married soon.”

Of course, he still talks to Javy. Why wouldn’t he? Unlike the two of you, they’re actually friends.

You mentally chide yourself for being so petty. On the outside, you nod. “Winter wedding. Good thing he’s doing it in Mexico City. That’ll be a fun trip.”

“You’re going then?”

“Yeah, winter is actually pretty slow for the bar so think Andy has it covered.”

Jake nods slowly. You observe his thinking face, another question on the tip of his tongue that he decides not to ask. The serious expression disappears as he flashes you another smile. “I’ll catch you then for sure.”

“Best man?”

“Best best man,” he replies with a wink and you can’t even stop the laugh that comes out of your mouth. His eyes gleam a little brighter. Jake straightens a little, looking almost awkward when he asks, “Are you bringing anyone?”

The implicit questions are there. Are you seeing anyone? Are you dating anyone serious enough to bring to a wedding? A wedding where your ex-situationship is the best man?

You think of the limited number of ways you could avoid answering this question. “Thought it was a small wedding, didn’t think I would get a plus one.”

“Javy would definitely let you bring one if you wanted.”

“That would be nice of him.”

“So are you?”

Stupid Jake and his stupid ability to push. You could lie, but that means you would have to find someone by that time to actually bring to this destination wedding. That feels a little much, even if it’s to teach Jake a lesson.

“Nope,” you shrug and your curiosity wins out, “are you?”

He seems to think about it for a bit, worrying his bottom lip. “No, not right now at least.”

Not right now. It definitely hurts more than it should.

Jake quickly adds, “I’m not seeing anyone. I just – you know, things can change between now and December.”

“Right, yeah, of course.”

When you look at him again, he seems to be contemplating something. The thinking face is back on. “I’ll be here for at least a month,” he starts. You have a bad feeling about where this is going, but you already know your answer. Your resolution stands firm. Thankfully, he keeps it in safe territory. “Teaching a new batch of recruits with Bradshaw, actually.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen him around in a bit so that’ll be nice.”

If you say nice one more time, you may actually choke on how nice you’re trying to be.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “It’s kind of crazy. To think they would trust me to teach other pilots.”

“Is it that crazy?” His eyes flare with surprise. “I mean, you and Bradley are probably the best aviators. You trained under Mav. Plus, you can be a tough teacher, but your confidence is something that gives other people confidence.”

Jake lifts his glass to his lips again, saying nothing.

That’s when you realize– “Are you blushing?”

He immediately scoffs, still hiding behind his drink. The ice clinks against the glass as he jerks it up higher. “I don’t blush.”

“Aw, Jake, you don’t have to be so shy about it.”

The tips of his ears turn a deeper shade of red as he rolls his eyes at you. “I’m not shy. I just… wasn’t expecting that from you.”

“Expecting what?”

“I don’t know, a compliment?”

“Am I really that mean that you don’t think I could compliment you?”

“It’s not that,” he huffs, curling his fingers together around his cup as he stares down into it. “The way we left things off, I didn’t think–” he pauses, “–I wasn’t sure how you would feel about me being here again.”

Oh. You shift a little where you’re standing. “I’m an adult, Jake. I can take care of myself so you don’t have to worry. My feelings are not your responsibility. It’s also been two years, I’ve moved on. It’s fine.”

His eyes flicker with something unknown. “I never apologized for—”

“You really don’t have to,” you interrupt, a coarse laugh slipping past your lips. “You definitely do not have to apologize.”

“No, I do. At least for how I responded. I was a dick. The situation at the time wasn’t ideal, but you deserve better than how I reacted.”

Your smile softens. “Well, thank you. The apology was unnecessary but appreciated.”

Jake returns your expression. “I’ll be around. I have to head to base, just wanted to stop by and say hi.” He drops a few bills on the counter. Before he turns, he looks at you again. Those blue eyes that still spark something inside of you. “It’s good seeing you.”

“You too, Seresin.”

With that, he’s gone and you’ve just survived your first interaction with Jake Seresin.

–

Jake wasn’t kidding when he said he would be “around.” Without fail, every night, he is back at the bar with the trainees. They are a boisterous crowd, reminding you of the Dagger Squad years back, before you even took over for Penny. Most of them are always by the darts or pool table, bickering about who’s the better player, which apparently translates to who’s the better pilot. There are a few that Bradley drags over to the piano, belting out classic rock songs that he and Mav used to bond over.

Even as a cocky pain in the ass, Jake has always been good at building connections. The peals of laughter following whatever story Jake tells reverberate across the bar, catching your attention and momentarily distracting you from whatever customer you were serving.

It’s kind of heart-warming to see Jake with the next generation of fighter pilots. You’ve seen him grow into his skin. From being a thoughtless asshole to a confident, skillful team player, Jake Seresin has created a reputation of his own. Maverick’s name will live on at Top Gun forever, but Jake won’t be too far behind.

Some nights, Jake would saunter over to the bar himself to grab the next round. He could’ve easily sent off one of his students with his credit card, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he likes showing off in front of you and them.

“Next round’s on me, darlin’.”

Before your heart can skyrocket traitorously, you snatch his card and ring him up for two rounds of beers for the entire crew. He doesn’t blink at the doubled amount, signing his check with a wink before whistling them over to grab their drinks. When one of them fails to thank you for the service, Jake will slap them on the back of their head and scold, “Manners.”

Still polite as ever.

“How’s your day going?” Jake asks as he slides onto a stool, taking a slow sip of his beer.

God, you know those eyes. That is a look that is all too familiar. That come-hither that has led you to the back room, his bed, a wall, and whatever remotely accessible surface he can press you against.

“Don’t even think about it,” you hiss.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you really think I wouldn’t know that look on your face after seeing it for years?”

Jake smiles with feigned innocence. “I was actually hoping you would remember.” His eyes drag lazily from your face, down your neck, to your curves, before flying back up. His pupils are blown wide as he wets his lips. You resist the shudder that creeps up on you.

Shaking your head, you hide your smile as you back up towards the bell.

Jake’s expression falters fast as he looks down at his hand, where his phone is. “My phone didn’t even touch the counter,” he argues.

“That look you’re giving me is pretty disrespectful, Seresin,” you smirk as you ring it loud enough for the entire place to hear. His phone clattering to the bar should’ve earned him a second ring but you decide to show mercy.

The room erupts into cheers, people – including his recruits – stopping by to give him a firm pat on the back. Comfort or gratitude, or maybe both. “Rookie mistake,” you pick up his phone and toss it his way.

Even with a tab that’s slowly mounting, Jake doesn’t lose the smile on his face. “Anything to get you more business, sweetheart.”

Shaking your head, you click your tongue. “I hope your credit limit has improved since the last time this happened.” Paying for the entire bar and getting thrown overboard was a memorable experience for him.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I came prepared this time.”

When the night comes to an end and you pull up Jake’s tab, all he can do is offer a sheepish look.

“I’ll get you the remainder tomorrow?”

Even if the bar is closing soon, you max out his credit card on the majority of the tab but still have his recruits toss him out onto the beach. When you look at him splayed out, covered in sand, he still has a dopey smile on his face. “Take an economics class and learn about inflation before you come back tomorrow, Seresin.”

Jake’s magnetism knows no bounds. It’s difficult not to be drawn and trapped into his orbit. Between his chiseled face and toned body (only half of which is visible, mind you), he also has the added appeal of that southern spell. The slight drawl to his syllables and the invisible cowboy hat. And this is all before he starts recounting stories of his adventures in the Navy with an added, “It’s all confidential, of course.”

Once, you were on the receiving end of all of that. Back when he still needed to talk you into going home with him. Now, you can see the full force of his charisma when even some of your regular girls – ones you know are not the type to fall at the feet of the first hot man to walk in – fall at his feet.

Even with all the attention on him, you find that his eyes always come back to you.

There is something incredibly flattering about the way his stare peruses you lazily, the slow stroll of his eyes up your body until your gazes lock. He doesn’t turn away, nor does he even blink. He isn’t awkward about the fact that he has been caught looking. Instead, he flashes you that blinding grin again, the one where his lips stretch wide to reveal his perfect set of pearly whites.

In another world, Jake probably could’ve been a model, like the ones on the cover of Vogue, with an equally attractive female companion. In this one, he’s a purely cocky and insufferable government asshole.

You always break your gaze away first. Sometimes he stares at you so intensely with that look in his eyes. A second longer and you may be one of those people falling at his feet and you certainly cannot have that happening.

Again.

When you close up shop for the day, you find him waiting outside, leaning against your car. His arms are crossed over his chest, emphasizing how thick his biceps have gotten since you last saw him. You didn’t even think that was possible. A toothpick flips between his lips as he smiles at you. “Drive you home?”

“I can drive myself home, thanks.”

“Just want you to be safe, darlin’.” You narrow your eyes at him and he holds his hands up in defense, yet that stupid smile never leaves his face. “I’ll be good, scout’s honor.”

“Woe are your fellow men if you were ever a Boy Scout.”

“Don’t disrespect the organization. For your information, I was an Eagle Scout.” He puffs out his chest proudly. “And I did swear an oath to help other people at all times. Hence, here I am tonight. Looking to help.”

“And how will you get home after?”

Jake’s eyes twinkle with something mischievous that you immediately scowl at. He laughs, “I’ll get Bradshaw to come get me. He’s not too far.”

It’s been a long day and you can feel the exhaustion disintegrating deep into your bones. Rather than argue further, having a driver for the night doesn’t seem like the worst idea. You toss your keys over to him and watch as he swings open the passenger door for you. Once you’re settled in, he jogs over to the other side.

You forget how familiar he is with your car. He knows just the right wiggle to get the old thing to start purring, where all the knobs are, and even to avoid the cupholder on the driver’s side where you constantly spill your hot drink for the day. Before long, he is pulling out of the lot and starting the short drive to your place. You make a mental note that Jake still remembers where you live – admittedly, he has driven there many times before. Perhaps too many times.

Jake always starts the conversation by asking how your day went. With anyone else, you keep it short with a “good” because they usually don’t actually care about your day, they want to get their beer. However, Jake actually does ask follow-up questions. Sometimes he asks you if you’re planning to change your beer selection for the season, or how work with Andy is going, or even if there’s anyone causing you any trouble.

“You let me know and I’ll handle it.”

You shake your head, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips. “The only trouble in my bar is you, Seresin.”

“Me? Trouble? Never.”

“Isn’t it part of Scout’s honor to never lie?”

He laughs, head tipping back as he does so. “Don’t think they make us swear that oath. How do you think I got away with so much?”

“And again, I say, trouble.”

Jake turns to you for a brief moment, his eyes shrinking as his smile stretches wider. You raise your eyebrow at him in question. He lets out a deep sigh but the delight does not seem to leave his face. “It’s always you,” he murmurs quietly.

You’re not sure if he intends for you to hear, but it might be best to ignore it. Your stomach is already fluttering uncomfortably, and you can feel your pulse racing, pressing against your skin. When your eyes fly over to his one-handed grip on the wheel, you can’t help yourself from studying the veins that run up his large hand. His other hand holds onto the gear shit, clutching tight.

The breeze from the open window carries in the memories you’ve tried to bury deep. Long drives on summer evenings when you don’t feel like going home just yet. His hand on your thigh, large and imposing. Parking on the side of a deserted road where he pulls you onto his lap and has you ride him until you’re a whining mess.

Fuck.

You mentally bat the thoughts away. The last thing you need is to get turned on in Jake’s presence. You can already feel your thighs pressing involuntarily together and you just hope Jake doesn’t notice.

Except, when you look up at him, his gaze is already trained on your legs where they are exposed underneath your shorts. It’s heated. There’s a weight to them that you can’t ignore. It only makes you shift even more. Your gaze shifts to his hands, his knuckles now white from how tightly he’s holding onto the wheel. Your eyes meet for a brief second and he follows the movement of your throat as you swallow the saliva that’s gathered on your tongue.

Luckily, your house is already in sight. You pull your eyes away from him, clearing your throat to look at the road ahead instead. He slows to a stop in front and turns off the engine, leaving you both in the silence, accompanied only by the winds blowing from the shore.

You pull yourself off the leather seat and get out of the car, hearing Jake do the same. Without giving him another glance, you walk up to your door. Your knees feel wobbly and you curse yourself for being so spineless.

Two years without him and you were fine.

Two years and your body still responds to him this way.

As you unlock your front door, Jake calls out, “Not going to invite me in for a drink?”

You stare at him from your front porch. He is again propped up against your car, arms crossed. Only this time, he isn’t smiling. He stares at you with that look. The one that reminds you of sex and regret. He looks like a man straight out of the movies. Good thing he never went into Hollywood.

It’s all too tempting to say yes, tell yourself that one drink can’t hurt.

But you always know where you end up with Jake.

“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome, Commander.”

Jake’s eyes shine with something dangerous. Desire. Want. He loves it when you call him that. He clenches his jaw. “You’re really going to leave me out here after addressing me like that?”

“Thanks for the ride, sweetheart.” You smile and disappear behind your door, breathing in deeply once you’re safe in the confines of your home.

If you were keeping score, you’d guess you’re at least a point ahead of him.

–

It’s a gorgeous day. The kind that feels like a nice break before the chaos that will inevitably occur at the bar tonight. You enjoy quiet afternoons like these. The sun sits high in a cloudless sky, and seagulls soar lazily overhead, caws sounding in the distance. A light breeze drifts in from the ocean, salty and soft, just enough to cool the warmth that kisses your skin.

You’re perched on one of the outdoor tables, your bar ledger in front of you as you’re scribbling down line after line of expenses. Each one makes you wince a little more. A bar is not the most profitable endeavor. While you enjoy the work, you know that you’ll never live a life of luxury running this place. It’s something you’ve come to terms with a long time ago.

Releasing a deep sigh, you reach your arms up in a stretch. The bar is taking a toll on your savings and your back. Aging isn’t a kind process.

While you mourn the numbers on your pages, you do have one good thing going for you.

Namely, the hooting and hollering happening down by the water.

Touch football has become a tradition for the Navy, at least for those who had been part of the Dagger Squad. Maverick’s success lives on through this team bonding activity that the members now pass on to their trainees. It’s become a ritual for them to bring out a new team out here to get more comfortable with each other. You’ve seen a number of them throughout the years and each group is always more enthusiastic than the one before.

You place your hand above your eyes, blocking out the sun so you can get a better look. Jake and Bradley aren’t difficult to spot. Two tall, muscular men running circles around their recruits. They seem to be enjoying the exercise much more than the people they’re supposed to train. The cheers and yells echo down to where you sit and you find your eyes following the silhouettes chasing after the footballs on the beach. Some of them fall over, rolling around in the wet sand, while others are tackled straight into the sea.

You can admit to yourself that you’re really only paying attention to one man. Since he’s been back, you’ve only seen him in uniform or in casual wear like denims and t-shirts. But it’s been a while since you’ve seen him shirtless. Even from this distance, you can see the shadowed lines of his sculpted six pack, his broad shoulders, and the curves of his structured arms.

It’s no wonder Penny enjoyed sitting out here. She got a good look at Maverick while she did her accounting, you just inherited the habit from her. Your work is long forgotten now, pen useless in your hands as your eyes continued to follow his form traveling across the sand.

Biting your lip, you replay all those times you’ve run your hands over that body, how much time you spent watching every muscle flex when he hovers above you. You could practically feel the whisper of his lips against your skin.

Fuck, you really need to get laid. Soon.

Not by him. Definitely not him.

You’re about to bang your head against the table when Jake perks up and waves at you. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face and you can already see that wicked glint in his eyes hidden behind his shades. You force a smile and return the gesture before hunkering down on your work again.

You curse your past self for thinking that manually keeping track of quantity and dollars would be a better idea than running the whole thing on a spreadsheet. Penny always liked the act of holding a pen and writing all of these digits down, said it made it more tangible.

More like tangibly painful. As you wrap up the last of your receipts, you make a mental note that it’s time to join the modern world and dump this entire thing into a software that would make your life infinitely easier.

Just as you’re about to stretch again, a figure steps up and obstructs your exposure to the sweltering sun. The brief reprieve from the afternoon rays is one you welcome, but not when you realize it’s Jake who’s shown up. The sun traces a glow around his figure, an unwelcome ethereal effect that makes him look more than human.

He shifts away and slides into the bench opposite you. A smug smile is still dancing on his lips as his chest and shoulders heave with heavy breaths. “Care to join?”

Your eyes fly to the crowd that’s still running around like headless chickens and back to him. “Absolutely not. Who do you think I am?”

Jake’s eyes begin to dangerously explore you. From your hair pulled away from your neck in a loose bun, strands messily swirling in the wind, to the shape of your smooth, exposed shoulders carrying the thin straps of your tank. His gaze trails down to your chest, where your cleavage peeks out from beneath the flimsy fabric that lifts and falls with the wind. You can’t deny that this top makes your tits look great, and no, of course you didn’t wear this just because you knew Jake was coming to the beach today.

You definitely did not.

That would be ridiculous.

You tell yourself that that’s the truth, and it helps you sleep at night.

Jake looks at you again, but his gaze has darkened. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you running around in a bathing suit,” he smirks. “Or if you prefer to run around wearing nothing at all, I don’t think I would mind, but let’s keep that for the bedroom.”

Scowling, you fling your pen his way and he easily catches it. Stupid Jake and his stupid military reflexes. “The only thing running around here is your imagination. Keep it in your pants, Seresin,” you snap.

“That’s not what you said before.”

“Years ago,” you bite back, “I’ve outgrown you, Hangman. You and all your bravado. We all know why they call you that.”

Jake laughs and you can’t help but drink in his sun-kissed skin. He looks golden. “You know full well I’ve outgrown that definition of my call sign. Now, Hangman just means something else – something you’re intimately familiar with.”

It takes you a second to divert your attention away from his radiant skin. When the realization of his words dawns on you, you involuntarily gag at his comment.

He opens his mouth and you cut him off before he could say a word, “If you even think about dropping a ‘that’s what she said’, I’ll personally ban you from the bar and charge you for every single drink from here on out.”

Jake doesn’t falter. He grins even wider, “Never took you for financial fraud, that’s kind of sexy.”

You sniff, turning away from him and back to your papers. “Orange isn’t really my color so, again, keep it in your pants.”

“Every color is your color, darlin’. We can both agree on that.”

That’s the first compliment he’s given you in a while. You feel your cheeks warm but you blame it on the blistering afternoon sun. Perhaps it’s time to take your work back indoors. Before you do though, you snipe back, “Well, red isn’t really yours so put on more sunscreen.” You gather up your documents and move towards the entrance.

Of course, you don’t miss the last wink he throws at you and the blatant ogling of your ass as you walk away.

Okay, so maybe his staring can be a little flattering.

–

Ever since Jake came back, you’ve been a little more than sexually frustrated. When you close your eyes at night, the image of him shirtless above you appears. From the way his blonde hair falls over his eyes, mussed up from a workout, to the way his blue eyes glitter deviously. Your imagination – worse yet, your memory – carries you through the whole scene of Jake’s fingers in your hair, his grip around your thigh, his cock—

Fuck, you barely last more than ten minutes most days.

You end up frustrated with your hands between your legs, pleasured but not completely satiated.

Jake Seresin is a blight you need to purge from your life.

It certainly doesn’t help that he shows his face night after night, flashing that smile at you from across the room. You have to remind yourself that you’ve done that more than enough times, you can’t do it again.

Instead, you focus your energy, including your insatiable libido that keeps growing, on your patrons. It’s not the best idea, especially when you start accepting and returning the flirty remarks you receive from men you usually wouldn’t glance twice at – not because they weren’t attractive (because they were), but because you simply had no interest in a full romantic commitment with any of them.

Being a bartender means you’ve endured a good amount of flattery, some more appropriate than others. You’ve never responded to them. You just take their money and you run with it. If they ever get too disrespectful – well, you know the drill.

Not tonight, though. You’re enjoying the attention you were getting, and the sources of said attention noticed that. When they flirt, you flirt back. You relish in the fact that you still have a little game left in you. It’s supposed to be fun, light. It helps ease some of the sexual tension that has you all wound up.

The bar is particularly busy so you have some regulars who are surprised by how welcoming you are and newcomers who are more than happy to oblige.

This behavior does not go unnoticed by Jake. His eyes are always on you after all.

When you’re bending over particularly low over the counter or giggling more over silly pickup lines, you could feel his gaze burning into you. You don’t acknowledge him. Instead, you flick your hair over your shoulder and smile at whoever you’re talking to.

The tip jar gets some much-needed love that night.

When you do look over at him, his eyes are still stuck on you. He barely pays any mind to whoever’s trying to speak to him. There’s a strange, sick satisfaction in the way his knuckles pale when he grips the cue by the pool table, the way he grits his teeth with a stiff jaw.

You add another point to your scoreboard.

With his eyes on you, maybe you do exaggerate your game a little bit. You sashay your hips a little more when you grab a beer. You brush your fingers against theirs. Even Andy shoots curious looks your way, but thinks better than to question it. There is a ninety percent chance that you’ll regret leading on these people tomorrow, but that’s a problem for future you.

Current you enjoys the suggestive looks these men are throwing your way.

Andy calls your name from the other side and tells you that you’re out of coffee liqueur behind the bar. “I’ll get it, keep these fellas company for me, will you?” You give them one last wink, receiving some excited howls, before heading towards the back.

The stock room is dimly lit by the sun setting outside. The light has been broken for a while and you make your tenth mental note to get that fixed. One day, you’ll get around to it.

When you hear the stock room door close behind you, you don’t need to turn around to know that Jake is standing there. His cologne and familiar footsteps reach you before his question does. “Having fun?” His voice slices through the muted rumbles of the outside.

There’s a heaviness to his question that sends a shiver up your spine. Rather than turn around and look at him, you purposely take your time scanning through the boxes to find the bottle you’re seeking. You bend over low to grip the neck of one before slowly rolling up, pretending to inspect it.

“What ever do you mean?”

Jake steps into your line of sight. His height towers over you, and you back yourself up against the supply. He leans over, palm pressed against the box near your head. He’s so close that you could smell the mix of beer and mint in his breath. You can feel yourself clench tight between your legs. He presses his tongue against his teeth. “I don’t like to share.”

Irritation pricks at your skin. You glare at him. “Newsflash: I am not yours, Hangman.”

“If you want me to take care of your little problem, you are.”

Your lips part in surprise. Frowning, you snap, “What are you talking about?”

A sour laugh bubbles up his throat. The sound isn’t comforting. It feels almost like a warning. “You think I haven’t noticed you sending me those fuck me eyes. How you press your legs together when you look at me.”

As if on cue, you instinctively press your thighs together. God, there’s always something about Jake when he’s more demanding than usual. The dark shadow across his eyes as he takes you in hungrily.

You lick your lips, his eyes dropping to them before darting back up. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you simply say.

“I know you better than you know yourself, sweetheart. You know this. So what is it that you want? Do you want me to take you here in the backroom? Because I could, it wouldn’t be the first time–” you gasped and he continues, “I could bend you over that bar outside, show those guys who you belong to. Who gets you this wet.”

Air refuses to leave your lungs, but you manage to spit out, “I’m not fucking wet.”

Jake laughs, “You’re telling me that if I stick my hand up your dress right now, you’re not wet? I can smell you from here.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, you’d like that.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You refuse to back down but so does he. All your emotions feel heightened in that tiny room. The anger, the wanton need. It feels as if you’re about to combust. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears.

Taking in a faltering breath, you grit your teeth. “I have a bar to run.” You move to pass him with your trembling knees, but not before he catches your arm.

He keeps his message short and simple. “Anyone touches you again, I’ll knock their teeth out.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”

“Maybe, but you’d look good on my cock again.”

Fuck. Your breath hitches, and the sound speaks volumes in the quiet room. The fucking audacity of this man. You yank your arm away from him and march to the door, swinging it open.

“I mean it,” he calls out, “I’ll knock out anyone who even tries with you tonight.”

Jake is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. He does not bluff. His confidence comes from a rightful place of pure experience and skill, both of which he has with you. Rather than risk a brawl, you decide to heed his warning.

You no longer find excitement in how some of the men flirt with you, spending the rest of your night ducking away from their grasp and ignoring their teasing. The disappointment and confusion are clear, but all you can do is offer a sheepish look. They can blame the six-foot blonde keeping his eyes on you.

It’s not the fear of Jake starting a fight per se, but rather the way you revel in the way his gaze prowls over you. Constantly present, clear in your periphery.

When you finally call it a night and shoo the last of your drunk visitors out, you lock up the bar and turn to find him standing there. There’s an air of ease around him, one that’s usually there, but it almost feels like there’s something more brewing. Something a little more sacriligeous. You tense when his eyes pull up from his phone to you. He quickly tucks his phone into his pocket and smiles at you.

“You always were a good listener.”

At that, you scowl. “That wasn’t for you. I just didn’t want to give them the wrong idea.”

His smirk only deepens. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He plucks the keys from your fingers and unlocks the car, swinging open the passenger door before you can protest. “Get in, darlin’. I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”

“That’s a first, you make it seem like it’s your full-time job,” you mutter but slip inside anyway.

He slides into the driver’s seat and turns on the engine. When he backs out of the parking lot, he stretches his arm across the back of your seat and looks over his shoulder, leaning closer towards you. You catch a good whiff of his scent again.

Fuck him.

He knows exactly what that move does to you.

When he finally backs out, there’s a knowing smile dancing on his lips.

There’s a thrum of anticipation in the car. Soft jazz croons from your crackly speakers and the wind whipping through your hair is barely a distraction. Jake is tapping his finger against the wheel in a consistent beat, his other hand on the seat between the two of you. His fingers are so close to your thigh, but they don’t touch. If you shift even a little bit, you could probably feel him on your skin.

However, you would not give him that satisfaction. You know that he wants you to do precisely that. To admit that you are as affected by him as he says you are.

That stupid smile is still on his lips. “Having fun?” You mocked, imitating his question from earlier.

His blue eyes sweep to you. “What ever do you mean?”

A glower mars your features. “You’re such a prick.”

“You fucking love it.”

“Ego the size of goddamn Jupiter, I’m surprised the president hasn’t kicked you off this planet yet.”

Jake chuckles. “Missed that mouth of yours.”

“Give you my fist instead,” you grumble under your breath.

“Not my thing, darlin’. But if you want to try, you know I always aim to please.”

You balk. “Kinky motherfucker.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Jake parks in front of your house, switching the engine off and drenching the two of you in silence.

The ride is short, but the stillness stretches for miles.

A heavy hush coils in the car again, thick with something unspoken. Still, all you can hear is the steady rhythm of Jake’s finger on the wheel, like a clock counting down to what you both know is inevitable. Your heart pounds loudly in your ears, masking all the white noise around you until all you can focus on is him.

Then, his hand shifts. Just an inch. Just enough for the edge of his pinky to brush the hem of your skirt.

You freeze, breath caught halfway in your lungs. Your body wants to lean into the touch, but you hold still. His pinky strokes the bare skin of your thigh – so faint, it could almost be accidental. But it’s not.

You know it. He knows it.

When you don’t pull away, his touch turns deliberate. His entire palm glides over your thigh, slow and steady. You could practically feel his pulse against your skin. The sight of his broad hand on your leg makes your stomach flip, and you swallow hard, trying to resist the whimper clawing its way up your throat.

“Darlin’,” Jake starts, voice rough and low, tinted with a touch of desperation.

You chance a look his way and catch the tension in his jaw, the heat behind his eyes. Your gaze falls to his lap, and you see the length of him pressing against his jeans, clear and thick even through the denim.

The sharp ache between your legs is sudden, insistent. This time, the sound that leaves you is impossible to hold back. A soft whimper that fills the car with heat.

Jake’s tongue swipes across his lips. The movement draws your eyes to them.

This is a bad idea, you remind yourself.

But that voice, one that is all too familiar to you, a voice that is soft, sly, and unmistakably yours, whispers back that this might just be the best one you'vel ever had.

His name is barely out of your mouth before he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and capturing your lips in his. You melt like molten lava into the seat of your car. His hands are fast to slide up your hips to cup your cheek as he presses his lips more insistently against yours. He tastes like bitter beer, sweet mints, and excruciating heartbreak.

But you relish in the flavors. A recognizable mix that belongs to you and only you.

The clouds curl between your thoughts, a delicious haze that has you pliant in his hands. He’s kissing you so intently, a determination and hunger that feels like homecoming. Every moan you let out, he swallows like it’s his last breath.

“Fuck, you taste so good. Missed you,” Jake mumbles against your lips, nipping lightly.

You can’t bring yourself to respond when he begins peppering wet kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His hand slides down to cup your breasts, his thumb dragging lightly over your sensitive nipple over the fabric. “Shit, Jake,” you groan.

“Let me take you inside, sweetheart. Wanna take care of you properly.”

Jake doesn’t wait for your response and hops out of the car. He circles to open your door and practically drags you out, your feet stumbling to keep up with his long strides. He presses you up against your door, one hand on your waist and the other buried in your hair. He tilts your head and slants his lips over yours again, tongue slipping into your mouth to tangle with yours.

His grip on you is firm, holding you up even when you feel your foothold go unsteady. You turn to unlock your door and he’s close behind and you can feel the thickness of his erection against your ass.

The room spins when he finally closes the door behind him and leads you to your bedroom. He scoops you up and tosses you onto the bed before climbing on top of you. He’s shrugging off his shirt in between kisses, flinging it somewhere across the room. Jake kisses you like tomorrow won’t come, like this is the last time he will get to indulge in the taste of you.

He drags his tongue down your neck and sucks lightly on the skin until you feel the bite of a mark. He loves leaving his traces on you, a territorial seal that tells everyone else that you’re his. You forgot how much you love it when he does that.

Jake leans back slightly, thumb against the blooming stain on your skin. “Fuckin’ gorgeous. All mine.”

He crawls down between your legs and hikes up your dress to your waist. He curses under his breath about how short these things are, how he could see your ass so clearly. However, his words taper off when he sees his favorite lace panties.

So sue you, maybe you were expecting something to happen tonight – if not with him, then someone else.

Oh, who were you kidding? There’s no one else. It’s always been him.

His finger slides down the damp line on your underwear and you clamp your legs together, embarrassed by how wet you are. How wet you’ve been the entire tonight. His large hands splay out on your thighs and pry them open again until he can see and smell you. “Shit, honey, your fucking pussy is dripping for me, isn’t it?”

The force of his gaze has you twitching underneath him.

He positions himself on his front between your legs, his mouth huffing hot hair too close to your sensitive skin. You’re so responsive to him, almost too responsive. He knows every little thing that makes you tick, every touch that makes you all too aware of his presence.

His lips rake kisses up your thighs, and he pauses when you squirm in his hold.

“You’ve never been shy,” Jake murmurs as he looks at you more closely, hooking his finger on your panties and slowly pulling them down to carelessly toss them aside.

“It’s been a few years, alright,” you grunt, throwing an arm over your eyes to avoid looking at him in your vulnerable state.

“A few years–” he stops, “Have you not–not since we last…” He trails off, the question dying in his mouth.

You roll your eyes, “Of course, I have. Just–I haven’t had anyone go down on me in a while.”

“Oh, darlin’,” he says it not in pity, but in a way that has your cunt seizing. Like he himself has waited too long for this moment.

The first touch of Jake’s mouth on your pussy has fireworks exploding behind your eyes. There is no hesitance in his movements, not in the languid way his tongue strokes up your folds, not in how his fingers dig into your legs as he pulls you down closer towards him. Your breath jerks in your lungs as he dips his tongue in and drags it up to your clit. His moans vibrate throughout your body until you’re arching off the bed.

God, Jake knows exactly where to put pressure, where to tease you. Your fingers cannot compare to the way his mouth moves on you, slow and anchored. He takes his time appreciating your taste and how you whine needily with every caress. Your hands fly to his head as he buries his tongue deeper into your cunt, collecting your juices and spreading it across your skin as he plants more kisses on your thighs. His mouth hones in on your clit as one finger slides into you.

“Fuck,” he groans, “you’re so fucking tight, darlin’. Like a virgin.”

Your pussy flutters around his fingers as he pushes another one in. It’s been months since your last good fuck.

You tighten around him again when he says, “God knows I’ve been in this pussy enough times before. Can’t wait to fill you up with my cock. Want to stuff you with my come.”

“Jake,” you cry out as your eyes slide shut. An expletive leaves your lips as he begins leisurely sliding his fingers in and out of you while he sucks on the sensitive nub.

It’s been so long. You’re so close. You could practically feel your orgasm clamoring to free itself. It’s so close but Jake doesn’t let you enjoy it that easily.

He pulls his fingers out and climbs up to slip your dress above your head, using the fabric to keep your hands together as he ducks his head to pull your nipple into his mouth. “No bra, darlin’? You’re trying to get me to kill a man out there.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“All that bending over, you probably had people peeking on these pretty tits, sweetheart,” Jake growls, tightening his hold on your wrists. “Is that what you wanted, hm? Tease strangers just to get me jealous?”

Maybe. You turn your face away in lieu of responding.

“You don’t need me jealous. You already have me. I would’ve fucked you if you just asked.”

“Go fuck yourself, Seresin.”

He laughs, “Missed this mouth. The things you say. The things you could do.” He kisses you again, and this time, there’s the tart tang of you on his tongue. His soaked fingers push back inside you and he traps every moan that leaves your lips. “So fucking wet for me. Could’ve had you warming my cock at the bar. Show all those guys who you belong to. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The mewls that escape your mouth are answer enough. The thought of him taking you in front of everyone, sitting on his lap with his cock buried inside you, has you clenching around his fingers again.

“Don’t come yet, darlin’. I want you falling apart on my cock. I’ve waited too long for this.” He drags his fingers out along with another protest from your throat.

Jake finally releases your hands as he moves on top of you again. It’s straight out of your fantasies. This same image has plagued your every thought. When you’re alone at home and all you have are your fingers and this memory of him. You had imagined him pleasuring you so many times before that this feels like a fever dream.

But Jake reassures you that he’s there with another kiss to your lips. The feeling is jarring, a delicious dose of reality.

“Don’t think I can wait any more,” Jake pants, as he shoves off his pants. You tuck away a mental note that he goes commando. That’s new. “I’ve been thinking about this pussy for so long, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” You smirk, confidence settling back. “How long?”

“Since I walked back into your bar that day and saw you again. All I could think about was kissing you stupid and bending you over the counter. Imagined how wet your pussy would be for me. Then again and again whenever I saw you at the bar, at the beach, driving you home. I’d stop the car and fuck you by the side of the road if you asked.”

Shit, you bite your lip and stare up at him with hooded eyes. He seems to enjoy that because he drags his tongue across his teeth again.

“But you’re no different, are you? I can still smell you in these sheets. Been touching yourself? Have you been thinking about me?”

A scoff that sits on the tip of your tongue falls when he runs his hand through your hair.

His gaze is loaded, pulling the truth from your lips rather than a poorly concocted lie. “Yes,” you confess, “been thinking about this right here. You on top of me.”

“Shit, honey, I could’ve been here all along taking care of you.” Jake shakes his head. “I’m here now, going to make sure you feel real good. It’s been so long, I don’t know if I’ll even fit inside of you.”

Before you can tell him off for his cockiness, he’s pushing the tip in. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s big. You forgot how big he is. He pushes in slowly, sweat beading his forehead as his biceps flex as he tries to carefully ease into you. You know he’s doing his best not to hurt you, but all you want is to be full of him.

You lift your hips up to meet him, legs curling around his torso. “Fuck, darlin’, don’t do that,” Jake groans. “I’m gonna come too fast.”

“Please, Jake,” you whimper. “Just wanna be full of you.”

Another pleased sound escapes him. He pushes all the way in until he can’t fit anymore of himself inside you. It’s mindblowing how big he is. It takes him a few more thrusts before he can bury himself completely inside of you, your pussy stretching to accomodate his length.

“Fuck, condom,” he pales when he realizes. His cock twitches inside of you.

Oh. Oh, he likes being inside you without it.

“I’m on the pill,” you admit.

“But–”

You cannot have him leave you when it feels this good. “I’m fine. I’m clean, are you?”

“Yeah, there’s been no one else.”

Those words catch you off guard but Jake is too distracted with fucking into you slowly. Your brain shortcircuits when he bends your knee so he can fuck into you deeper and harder. Your groans blend into a symphony in the quiet of your room, bouncing off the walls and echoing to amplify your pleasure.

Jake presses into you, slow at first, like he wants to feel every inch of you around every inch of him. His mouth is everywhere, finding your lips, then trailing hot kisses across your chest. “Fuck, you feel so goddamn good, darlin’. So tight.”

His voice breaks slightly as he tries to restrain himself from fucking too hard, too fast. He wants this to last, wants this to be as good for you as it is for him.

“You were made for me,” Jake breathlessly whispers. It isn’t a question. It’s a prayer he speaks into an honest truth. The kind that you say in confessionals, a secret that only one other person knows.

Your hips meet him greedily, chasing the friction and the stretch. He rocks harder inside of you at an angle that has you curving off the bed, the tip of his cock kissing the deepest parts of you. Every wet, desperate sound between your thighs interweaves with the shared moans and whimpers that fall from both your lips.

You claw at his back, your nails scratching your own territorial lines down his back, red against his tan skin. The sting yanks another deep groan from his throat.

“Do that again, sweetheart. Mark me. I’m yours.”

So you do, harder. Your fingers delving into the muscles of his back. He rewards you by snapping his hips forward, plunging himself so deep into you that you gasp. Everything feels like lightning striking the earth.

“You like that? Like me ruining this pussy? No one else can have you like I do. I’ll ruin you for everyone else.” He says it like a promise, a threat. All you can do is nod, biting his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming.

His hand slips between you, thumb circling your clit again with a precision that reminds you how familiar he is with you. Everything that makes you crumble under his touch.

It’s all too much. You can feel the blood climbing and rushing. His cock is dragging against your walls and his filthy, private thoughts sounding too loud in the cacophony of your moans.

You feel it building fast. Your orgasm curls tight inside of you.

“Come for me, darlin’. Make a mess on me. Let go.”

You obediently listen. Your body trembles, your ass lifting off the mattress in your final chase, as he follows with an urgent groan, hips stuttering with him holding you close. The orgasm crashes over you in waves, dragging you under.

But Jake is quick to breathe more life into you, kissing you deeply as the last of his come paints your insides. You feel the warmth spill into you as he holds you tight, tattered breaths against your lips.

Your chest heaves as you come down from your high. You’re a sticky mess. Your hair is a frazzled nest on top of your head, your skin feels clammy, and your pussy is dripping the evidence of his pleasure. But you’ve never felt more alive.

Jake presses a kiss against the side of your head before he slowly pulls out with a groan. He rolls off your bed and wanders into the bathroom, coming back with a warm, damp cloth. You lie there as he litters kisses all over you, drawing a laugh from your lips, as he wipes you down carefully.

“‘M gonna shower anyway,” you mumble.

“In case you were lazy,” Jake smirks.

You peel yourself off the bed and jump straight into the shower. The hot water cascades down your skin, stripping away the grime from your prior activities. Jake steps in behind you, his lips on the back of your shoulder as he scrubs you down with soap, massaging your tense shoulders and lingering around your breasts.

His moves are purposeful. When his fingers slip between your legs again, you come apart a second time under his touch.

By the time you tuck yourself into bed and Jake slides in to spoon you, your eyelids are heavy with a pleasant, sated sort of weariness, the kind you haven’t experienced in a while. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart” is the last thing you hear before sleep pulls you under.

–

Waking up the next morning is easy. You feel sore in all the right places, but you feel satisfied. A sort of peace that you didn’t even realize you were missing.

However, the regret washes over you all too fast. An overwhelming tide that pulls the rug out from under you. The weight of his arm across your middle and his face nuzzling into your hair as his light snores fill the room are reminders of what transpired. It’s proof of what you’ve just done.

The one thing you told yourself you would never do again.

Not after last time.

You mutter a silent “fuck” to yourself. Calm down. It’s just Jake. This is a one-time thing and it will never happen again. Never. He’s going to leave again and not come back for a while, just like he always does. He’ll disappear from your life just like he did last time.

Only this time, you won’t be pouring your heart out to him. You won’t be professing your love for him like a blind, lovesick fool. No matter how much your heart demands it of you.

When you look down at him again, you observe how his long lashes brush against his cheeks. You run your fingers delicately over the stubble on his jaw. God, he’s fucking beautiful.

The ache that haunts you from two years ago returns in full force. Your heart leaps in your chest as you swallow the realization thickly.

You’re still in love with Jake Seresin.

Two years have done nothing to diminish your feelings. It’s as if you buried them six feet under, only to dig them up again when he comes around. It’s a cycle that erodes the hope within you.

Jake will leave again and you’ll have your bar in this small town. You’ll continue your life as if he never came back. As if you’ll never see him again.

Seeing his smile and hearing his laugh in the bar. The echo of his overjoyed calls across the sand. You have just gotten used to having him around again. Not as yours, but almost adjacent. It’s a gut-wrenching thought. One you don’t let yourself dwell on too much as you painstakingly extract yourself from him,

The loss of his warmth is immediate. Your feet touch your cool floors to bring you back to the real world. Reaching for your t-shirt, you tug it on and pad downstairs to start the coffee. He always needs a cup with sugar and a splash of milk before he heads in to the station.

You go through the motions numbly. Grabbing the instant coffee from the top shelf, filling your kettle with water, and then waiting. Jake never sleeps in too late and the clock on your wall signals that he will likely be up in the next ten to fifteen minutes.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch the kettle boil. The slow whistling and the smoke seeping into the air distract your mind from spiraling over what happened last night. You don’t want to think about what’s next for you and him.

In fact, there is no you and him.

You have work to get to. Restocking, ordering more supplies, figuring out bills for the end of the month. Then you have to work on Penny’s boat, which means you have to take it out to the yard and–

“Morning.” His voice is a low rumble behind you. That gravelly, break-of-dawn voice you once started your mornings with but now feels like a distant stranger.

Your eyes flick to the wall again. He’s up earlier than usual.

“Coffee’s almost ready,” you say, opting not to turn around. God knows your resolve will falter the moment you see him.

Jake doesn’t let your decision last for long as he saunters up to you. A strong arm winds around your waist to pull you close. He tucks your face into his chest and his lips find your temple in a tender kiss.

He never plays fair.

He disregards your weak attempt to untangle yourself from him. “Missed you in bed,” he mumbles. Luckily, you’re saved from having to respond when the kettle screeches to completion. He moves to prepare his own cup of coffee. The only problem is that he keeps his arm around you as he navigates through your kitchen with too much familiarity. He finds the mug he gifted you a while back on the shelf above the sink, the sugar in your spice rack by the stove, and pulls the milk you always have in the right side of your fridge.

The entire time, he keeps his hold firmly around you. He maneuvers you around the kitchen with him as he works with one free hand.

“Are you heading to work early?” He asks as he stirs his coffee. “I could drop you off and pick up my bike.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll drop you off at the station, then head to the bar. You can get your bike later.”

You notice that he’s already dressed in the clothes from yesterday. He’s leaving. You know this already but seeing your worst concerns materialize still hurt. It’s mortifying how you’re still so hurt by something you’re already anticipating.

Your eyes are glued to the buttons on his shirt, focusing on the one hanging on to a loose stitch.

“Sweetheart.” There’s that drawl again. You hum in response, your eyes still fixated on his shirt. “Are you going to look at me at all this morning?”

Your throat dries. “Don’t feel like seeing your ugly mug this early,” you mutter with no bite.

Jake laughs and the sound is clear, resonating straight to your core. His chest rises as he does so, stretching the fabric across it even more. “Better sooner than later.”

There is a split second of silence before you feel his fingers on your chin, drawing your face up to look at him. He searches your eyes for a moment, lips tightening at whatever he sees there, then he dips his head and places a soft kiss on your lips.

You sigh into his mouth, tucking yourself closer in his hold. Your mouths move leisurely, soft in the early hours of the morning. There is no hurry in his movements, no agitation, nothing like last night. It’s as if you have all the time in the world to drown in each other’s company, quenching the parchness from two years’ worth of distance. He swallows your little whines and presses his fingers deeper into your hips.

When his phone beeps, it’s like a cold splash of reality. He curses quietly against your mouth, reluctantly drawing away to yank his phone out and look at it. A deep sigh escapes him. “I have to go, darlin’.”

Oh.

It’s bound to happen. You know this. So you nod quietly. “Yeah, let me get dressed and drive you over.”

“Rooster’s picking me up.”

Right. “Oh, okay.”

Of course, he wouldn’t want an awkward drive with you, not after last night. His training is probably coming to an end soon, and he’s going to be deployed elsewhere, far away from the island.

You avoid his eyes as you busy yourself putting things away. You hear him sigh again before he comes creeping back up behind you, his arm slipping around your waist again. There’s the feel of his mouth against the back of your head. “I’ll catch you later at the bar, hm?”

Unlikely. “Yep.”

“We need to talk.”

No, we do not. You do not need to rehash this conversation again. You’re a grown woman and you know when it’s time to let go. This is one of those times. Instead of saying this, you say, “Okay.”

He pauses for a moment, waits for something that never comes. Another sigh. You feel his lips on top of your head before he draws away from you, leaving a chill in his absence. The front door opens and closes, and you hear the crunching of tires on gravel growing distant by the second.

You slump against your kitchen counter, releasing a deep breath. This is fine. You have a lot to do today, so what’s an early start to the day?

Somehow, you keep your mind mostly off that dread that’s sitting in the pit of your stomach. You tell Andy not to come in too early so you have more to do to keep your hands occupied. Your arms are throbbing by the time you finish the prep work, and the real grunt work of running the bar hasn’t even started.

Right as you’re fixing up the final touches on the bar before you open, the door swings open and you’re about to tell whoever it is that you’re not open for another… 5 minutes. It’s been a long day. However, your words vanish when you see it’s Nat by the door.

She pulls her sunglasses up on top of her head as you round the bar to greet her.

“Nat! It’s been too long!” You wrap your arms around her in a deep hug. She laughs and returns the embrace. “What are you doing here? Where have you been? Tell me everything.”

Nat left long before Jake did. It’s been years since you properly saw her. She is your favorite person from the crowd of Top Gun graduates so far. Fierce, fearless, and fucking fabulous.

She grins, “Slow down, crazy. I am here for fun, I have been in a confidential location abroad that I will personally never return to. And yes, I’m doing great, how are you? How was sex with Hangman last night?”

“That’s great! And—” You freeze. “What? How do you—”

“I fucking knew it,” she hisses, laughing and clapping to herself. “I just knew when I saw him and his distracted ass that it was you again. It’s always you, isn’t it?”

You scowl. This reunion is no longer welcome at your bar, at least not with this topic of conversation. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on. I walk into base today and Hangman’s fumbling over a guide he’s been teaching for fucking years? His recruits are convinced that the legendary Hangman is losing it and finally ready to retire.”

You ignore the pinch in your heart at the mention of him. “I don’t want to talk about him, I want to hear about you.”

Nat offers a sympathetic look and it makes you feel shittier. “Alright, fine. Let’s sit and chat if you have time. I know you’ll get your crowd soon.”

That gets your spirits up as you two settle down. “First of all, who comes here for fun?”

–

Nat decides to abandon you when you can barely get two words out to her before a customer is flagging you down at the bar. The evening rush picked up fast and you can only send her apologetic looks that she waves off. She drifts over to the pool table where the recruits she met earlier are hanging around.

Surprisingly, you haven’t yet spotted Jake in the crowd. It’s bitter to realize that, but it also comes as a relief because you’re not ready for the “I have to go and leave you again and cannot commit to you” conversation. This would be the third time – fourth if you include the tragic rejected “I love you” two years ago.

You would think a girl would learn her lesson.

You’re grateful that the groups keep you busy. Plenty of familiar faces – some coming in from out of town for a new assignment or training, and others, like Nat, who are apparently here for “fun.” You’re still not entirely sure what that entails when there’s barely anything to do around here.

By the time the last customers leave and you’re wiping down the last table clean, you’re exhausted down to your bones. It is the kind of exhaustion you needed so you wouldn’t wallow in your self-pitying, woe-is-me thoughts before sleeping tonight. You had even sent Andy home early, preferring to do the grunt work yourself. That man’s been having a great week with your misery.

When you hear the front door creak open, you automatically say, “Sorry, we’re closed.”

“Even for a regular like me?”

Your head whips up to see Jake standing there, weariness evident in the shadows under his eyes. “Oh, you’re here late. What are you doing here?”

“Told you we needed to talk.”

Crap. Your heart drops to your feet at the thought. You drop the dishrag on the counter and cross your arms. It’s a small thing, but you feel more protected. A fence that separates the two of you. “Look, I don’t really want to have this conversation again. It’s fine. I’m an adult, I don’t need you to give me the talk every time you fuck me and leave. I get it.”

He grits his teeth and sighs. “That’s not why I’m here. I mean, that’s not what I was going to say.”

You tilt your head in question.

“Can you just come over here so we can properly talk?”

Chatting with him from this distance when he’s about to “break up” with you again is safe. Chatting with him with zero space for you to break into an escape between you feels like another incoming regret.

“I’m good.”

He closes his eyes for a second, exasperation radiating off him in waves. “Please don’t be difficult tonight. I just want to talk.”

Part of you wants to be difficult, just to show him how hard it is to be with him when all he does is push you away. But you see the desperation in his eyes and you cave. You cave so easily.

You go around the counter, maintaining a good two feet of distance from him. He looks at you, pained again, but lets it slide.

“I’ve been thinking about us.”

Frowning, you look at him in confusion.

Jake stops, seeming to mull over his words. “I’ve been thinking about what to say to you, but I don’t think anything I say could make up for all the time I’ve hurt you.” He swallows thickly. “This time—it’s not like last time. I’m not here to fuck around and leave.”

You take a deep breath. “Jake, you really don’t have to. Look, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

He quickly interjects, “That’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t want you to take care of yourself. I want you to let me take care of you.”

Uncertainty only sinks deeper into you.

“I’ve left you behind so many times before, sweetheart. It’s been a fucking miserable two years, you know. I’ve been trying to avoid coming here because it feels like all my mistakes are rooted here—”

Tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’ve always known that he has regrets, but you never thought he’d look at you and see a mistake.

“That came out wrong,” he huffs, running his fingers through his wind-swept hair. “My mistakes are not you. You— you’re the best thing to happen to me. My mistake is that I let you go time and time again. When you told me you loved me two years ago, I ran. When I’m in the air, I feel fucking invincible. But that time, I couldn’t even say the words you wanted me to say back. I was scared shitless. I didn’t want to disappoint you. We had a good thing, I thought that it was the only way I could satisfy you. I couldn’t guarantee that you would be happy with me. So I ran. I ran from what could’ve been a great thing between us.

“And being back here now, it just made me realize how much I miss all this, you. You’re all I ever wanted, and all I did was push you away because I was a coward. I want you to know that I want to try this time. I want to do right by you. I’m not leaving you again. I want to wake up every morning with you and go to sleep knowing you’re the last thing I see. I want to make you smile and laugh, but I also want to challenge you and tease you. Fucking highlight of my day when I get you all red and annoyed.”

You roll your eyes at him but can’t help the smile on your lips. That elation that’s been concealed so far deep is climbing up your chest and curling around your heart.

“When I came back here, I thought you would’ve… found someone else. Someone better. But there you were – same as always. Even after I hurt you all those years ago, you still smiled at me and welcomed me back. I want to say that you’ve always been my better half, but let’s be honest. You’ve always been a whole – you’ve taken up the entirety of my mind all this time.

“I wanted to wait until everything was settled before you know, we slept together again. I wanted to take you out to dinner and treat you right. Court you properly. Then you went ahead and showed me what I was missing, what I could lose when all those guys were flirting with you. God knows I’m a fucking asshole but I’m an asshole that loves you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. It was implied in his words, tucked hidden between the vowels and the consonants. But there’s something about hearing it for the first time. The words that you’ve been waiting for so long, words you didn’t think you would ever hear. Your heart is in your throat as he goes on.

“I confirmed my full-time position as an instructor at the station here. It’ll be mostly for special detachments, and I’ll be mostly here. I might be deployed from time to time, but this will be my home base.”

“You’re saying–”

“I’m saying that I’m staying, darlin’. I’m staying for you.”

All the words you had planned to say remain caught on your tongue. Your mouth is opening and closing, but nothing you say could even begin to express how you feel.

Jake smirks, “Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to give me a kiss? Thank me for all the hard work I did?”

Even in the most romantic moments, he proves to still be an insufferable piece of shit. But you laugh, roll your eyes, and come up to him.

“I’ll give you a kiss and a kick to your ass for putting me through all this. God, you owe me a really nice, expensive dinner. I know a good place in the city for that. Actually, maybe a lot expensive dinners for the years you put me through hell.”

“Whatever your heart desires, sweetheart.”

“You said you love me?”

“That should come as no surprise to you. You’ve always been the smarter one.”

“Yeah, all that time in the air probably sucked all the oxygen out of your brain.”

He laughs, kissing you deeply. “God, fucking love that smart mouth of yours, even better when it’s wrapped around my–”

Let’s end it there and say that you lived happily ever after.

Or at least, as happy as you could be with Jake and that unbearable mouth of his.

The one you love most, of course, when it’s telling you he loves you.

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