Archive of Our Own ^beta

Maverick’s never liked formal wear.

He didn’t like it when he was a kid. When his, at the time, foster parents tried to get him to wear a bow tie for picture day. It was bright with neon colors and so very ugly. No matter how much Mav protested though, the tie ended up in the picture. That photo still haunts him.

It didn’t get any better when he joined the navy. Stiff dress whites became the common thing for any special occasion. Goose knew he hated them but told Mav he needed to wear them anyway. That it was standard regulation. It often left him feeling like a kid being scolded by his mother. Though Goose always won that argument, leaving Mav in those uncommonly itchy articles of clothing.

It was only out of pure respect for Goose’s memory that Mav wore the dress whites to graduation.

Now, as Mav stands in this too well-lit banquet hall, he begins to dread formal wear even more. As a Top Gun instructor, that meant receiving an invitation to every naval ball under the sun. Most he’d been able to get out of but not this time. This time Viper had in no uncertain terms told him that he had to go. It was no longer an invitation but an order.

So, against his wishes and better judgment, Maverick had ‘accepted’ the invitation. Thankfully this wasn’t a traditional ball that required his dress whites. It was just a black-tie event, which seemed pretty harmless at first. Sure, Maverick had never owned or worn a suit before, but it couldn’t be as bad as the dress whites.

He’d never been so wrong before.

The storter pilot had managed to rent a suit from a local tailor for dirt cheap. The tailor was a kind old woman who’d taken pity on him after seeing him wandering helplessly in her store. Though Mav will be forever grateful for her generosity, it didn’t take away from the fact that the suit felt terrible.

It’s too hot and stiff to ever be considered comfortable. Like it had been stretched one too many times. The fabric scratched along any exposed skin, leaving it slightly red. He could still feel the material even through his boxers and linen shirt. It feels like it’s trying to suffocate him and is doing a pretty good job of it.
For twenty four years, he’s avoided this and for good reason too. Mav would never have thought he’d miss those stupid dress whites. It’s moments like these that he misses Goose. The older aviator had always been better at these events than he ever could be.

But he isn’t here now, not anymore. So here Mav stands in his uncomfortable suit, nursing a warm drink at a plastic standing table. Maverick doesn’t know if hell is real, but he most likely imagines it’s something like this. He probably looks ridiculous.

Then strolls in Iceman and Slider, leaving Mav feeling even more inadequate. They both look right home in their suits. Like they’re second skins that belong to them. It’s the same way the pair looked on graduation day in their dress whites. As if they belonged there.

Ice, who’d chosen to stay around as an instructor too for some reason, looked devastatingly handsome. His hair was in its usual gelled form but had been combed over. The suit he’s wearing looks expensive too. The attractive bastard. He looks like James Bond, for God's sake. The two of them lock eyes across the room and Mav watches as Ice freezes mid-step, colliding with Slider’s back.

Slider looks at Ice then looks at Maverick. The broader aviator smirks. Mav feels immediately annoyed.

That’s been another thing entirely. Mav thought that they were good after Layton. Especially after the whole ‘you can be my wingman anytime’ exchange. As if some progress had been made in their relationship.

Whatever comradery between them seems to have died as soon they both arrived back at Top Gun. Ice had gone back to being his cold, ever distant self. The previously warm smile had all but vanished. It hurt Mav in a way he wasn’t ready to admit yet.

Mav often caught Ice staring at him whenever the blonde believed he wasn’t looking. It was something the shorter aviator had noticed immediately. Ice had been doing it since they met. As if trying to burn a hole into the back of Maverick’s skull. It had felt more intense recently, like dislike had evolved into hate.

God knows Maverick’s not the easiest person to get along with. But still, ouch.

So, against his better judgement again, Mav downs his drink and starts to make his way towards the pair. They may be assholes, but they’re the only assholes he knows at this thing. He’d rather stick with them than just be curled up in a corner alone.

—

Ice doesn’t particularly care for naval balls.

They could be stuffy on a good day and downright unbearable on bad ones. Though, for him, they did serve a purpose. They provide a great chance to get closer to the higher command and boost his reputation. It was often not about what you knew but who you knew. Ice is grateful that he was able to drag Slider along while his RIO was in town.

He’d heard that Maverick was going to be here tonight as well. Apparently Viper had strong-armed the shorter aviator into finally attending. Ice thinks they’re all going to be worse off for it, but hey that’s just his opinion.

Or maybe it was just better for Ice. Mav had been distracting him more often than not lately. Coming back as an instructor meant that he’s been put in closer quarters with him. Though the blonde had tried his best to avoid Maverick unless absolutely necessary. Like when they taught together. Something that the blonde both loved and loathed. Being close to Mav made his heart sing but also his stomach sink.

Ice knows he shouldn’t be feeling this way. Not in the navy, especially not with a man like Maverick. It’s getting bad. Ice swears to God that he tried to smell Mav as the black haired man walked past him a couple days ago. He caught himself just before Mav could notice, but it was close. Too close.

Maybe it was just savior syndrome. Ice had been so shocked it had been Maverick to save his and Slider’s lives during Layton. The blonde genuinely thought that the shorter aviator was out of his own head and was going to take them all down with them. Ice understood about Goose, but it was too soon for Mav to be back in the field.

Especially with his history.

Well, whatever this is, Ice hopes it fades hard and fas-

Green eyes lock onto him and the world stops. The blonde vaguely registers bumping into Slider’s back. The broader aviator lets out a noise, turning to look at him before following Ice’s line of sight. Out of the corner of his eye, Ice sees Slider’s face twist into a smirk. Oh boy.

There, a single high table, stands Maverick. Awkward, out of place Maverick. Though right now Ice isn’t focused on Mav so much as what he’s wearing. It’s a tux. No different from the ones he and Slider are currently wearing. Black suit and pants with a white linen shirt and a black necktie. But..but something about it lights a fire in Ice’s gut. It feels all consuming. A warm feeling of being plunged into a fiery pit, but it doesn’t hurt. On the contrary it feels almost cleansing. It burns away any hopes of forgetting Maverick or these feelings.

Fuck. Fuck. This is bad. Worse than the smelling thing.

He wants to tear that suit off of Mav’s body. Or maybe leave it on, fuck he doesn’t know. If Mav asked him to get on his knees right here in the banquet hall, he would. It’s a sudden thought that has his head spinning even more. Hell, at the moment he’d just be happy to look at him. Though it would probably be like staring at the sun until going blind.

If that was the case, Ice will happily go blind.

In his internal panic, Ice doesn’t notice the shorter aviator making his way over to them.

“Ice, Slider.” He greets, raising his empty glass at them. Ice doesn’t say anything. Slider chuckles and slaps a hand onto Maverick’s shoulder. God, he looks even better up close. Too good. And yet too bad at the same time.

Maverick sends him an uneasy look, a slightly tense smile making its way to his lips. Fuck Ice hopes it doesn’t look like he’s glaring at him again. Slider had told him a few times it looked like Ice hated Mav with the way he stared. The blonde hasn’t always been the best at expressing himself emotionally. So he tries to regulate his face to look more friendly.

Though based on the look Slider is sending him, it’s not working.

The shorter pilot clears his throat. He tugs a little at the collar on his linen shirt. “Oh God. It’s literally so hot in this fucking tux.” Mav complains, almost sounding like a whine. Slider takes a second to laugh at Mav’s clear misery. To which the shorter man glares at him for it. “I swear to everything I’m never wearing this again. Viper can demote me if he wants.” Mav snarks.

The black haired aviator looks down at his glass, most likely wishing it were full.

Slider laughs, a deep and boisterous thing. “You gonna burn that thing after this?” He jokes, taking his hand off Mav’s shoulder. The shorter aviator scoffs. “Debating. It’s a rental.” He swirls his empty glass, tugging at his sleeve as he does so.

Ice doesn’t know why he’s surprised it’s a rental. Maverick doesn’t come across as a person that would own a lot of formal wear. If any at all. Hell, this is the most formal thing Ice has seen him in, besides his uniform and dress whites.

Ice’s brain finally feels like it’s catching up with him. Of course, his perfect and analytical brain decides in this moment to fuck him over. All impulse control seemingly gone out the window when he blurts out,

“You do look hot in that suit. Want some help taking it off?”

Immediately the air around them freezes. Mav’s staring at him with widened eyes and an open mouth. His hand visibly tightens around his glass, most likely in an attempt to not drop it in shock. Ice imagines that he probably has a similar expression to Mav’s. Shocked and confused.

Beside them, Slider lets out a wheeze that sounds like a deflating balloon.

The broader aviator tries his best to stay upright as he laughs. A few eyes are drawn to the sound but quickly look away. Maverick is still staring at him and Ice wants to die. He doesn’t just do something like that. Doesn’t just say things like that. And currently not in public where anyone could hear him. The blonde’s not Maverick, his impulse control is legendary.

It was what kept him up late studying instead of going to clubs with the other aviators. It was what brought him to the top. It’s what made him better than everyone else. Better than Maverick, who seemed to have no control, impulse or otherwise.

They all stand there for a moment, with only Slider’s dying laughter to break the silence.

Maverick shakes his head, seeming to finally come out of the shock. “Wow.” He mutters, blinking. “I wasn’t expecting that. Not gonna lie.” Ice tenses. He wants to run away and hide under a table somewhere. Or maybe ask if he can be transferred to Antarctica. Yeah that would help.

The blonde’s hands clutch at the end of his suit. He tries to ground himself and not panic. Maverick seems like a chill guy who would definitely not rat him out for homosexual behavior. Ice has seen him smile at Wolfman and Hollywood as the pair held hands under tables, just out of sight. Though that doesn’t necessarily mean that Maverick himself swings that way. The distant, somehow painful memory of Mav chasing after their civilian instructor burns a hole in the back of Ice’s mind.

The blonde had been grateful when she transferred to DC.

Please don’t be the end of his career. Don’t be the end of his li-

“But I mean..” Ice looks up (when did he look down?). “If you’re offering, I’m down for anything.” If it were possible, Ice’s mouth hangs open even more. What? Had he heard him right?

Slider finally stops laughing and is now looking at Mav in disbelief. As if he also can’t believe the words just uttered by someone they clearly thought was straight. The shorter aviator looks between the two of them, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He asks. Then his eyes widened again. “Oh fuck was that said sarcastically? I’m sorry-”

Slider shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, Mav. Calm down.” The hand is back on Maverick's shoulder and Ice finds himself wanting to slap it away. “We’re just a bit surprised that you swing that way. You know, considering how much you chase skirts.”

The black haired aviator glares at him. “There’s this thing called being Bi, you know.”

Maverick’s looking between them as if they’re dumbasses. He looks like he’s about to start explaining the concept of bisexuality to them. Something Ice isn’t sure would go over in the environment they’re in right now. Hell, even the conversation right now is still dangerous to have.

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this here.” Ice points out. Mav hums and smirks. He tilts his head a little at the blonde. Their height difference means that Mav always has to tilt his head to look up at him but this feels different. Like a predator staring down some interesting looking prey.

“Well, if you do want to talk about it later-” Before Ice can think, Maverick’s somehow got a hand wrapped around the back of his neck. The shorter aviator pulls him down just enough to be able to whisper in his right ear. “-come and find me, Kazansky.”

Then the little shit has the nerve to bit said ear.

A bright, red blush quickly blooms across the blonde’s face. Before he can say anything or react to the bite, Mav’s already letting him go. Ice tries to keep upright and not stumble as Maverick waltzes away with a wave and a raised empty glass.

As if he hadn’t just set Ice’s whole body on fire and left him to burn. It’s taking all the awful thoughts Ice can muster to try and stay soft. A naval ball is quite literally the last place he wants to get an erection.

He looks at Slider but all it does is make the broader aviator laugh at him again. Motherfucker. He’s supposed to be his RIO but still betrays him like this.

“You’re so doomed.” Slider remarks, clapping a hand onto his back. Ice isn’t sure if it’s meant to be reassuring or mocking. Either way, he knows that Slider is right. He’s doomed. And watching as Maverick walks away, he is happily so.

—

Ice comes and finds him shortly after the banquet is over.

It’s just a little past midnight, with most people clearing out of the hall. Maverick doesn’t know what possessed him to act as he did earlier. Especially at a fucking naval ball. Perhaps it was Ice’s sudden words that left even him speechless. Or maybe it was the possibility that ice didn’t quite hate him after all. At least not to the degree that Mav initially believed.

Though this could be a hate sex thing. Something Maverick isn’t sure he’s down for.

Everyone is gone by the time that Mav is walking towards the wide double doors. A hand reaches out and grasps at his left wrist. It’s a tight but gentle grip. Maverick lets himself be pulled out of the building and into a nearby alley. He doesn’t say anything and neither does Ice.

The alley is far enough and quiet enough that nobody could hear them. For a moment, they just stand there. Gazing at each other with only the occasional car honk to disrupt the silence. Ice looks so unsure of himself and the situation.
The only lighting is a dim street light that flickers on and off periodically. Despite this, Mav can tell by the almost panicked look in his eyes that he never expected something like this to happen.

Neither did Maverick, if he was being honest.

Up until a few hours ago, he thought that Ice tolerated him at best and despised him at worst. Something Mav had come to accept. In Spite of the pull he felt towards the blonde aviator.

Now, as he stands here in a cold and damp alley, Mav wonders if Ice has felt that same pull too. If that’s the reason why he’s here. Or maybe this is all some grand scheme to get Maverick kicked out of the navy. Though he doubts Ice would want to be caught in a compromising position of any kind, planned or otherwise.

Maverick reaches his free hand up and Ice flinches back slightly. As if he’s almost been burned. The black haired aviator continues forward despite this. His right hand lands softly on Ice’s left cheek, thumb grazing over the slightly tanned skin. The flesh feels warm under his hand.

Ice brings a shaking hand up to cover his. The shorter aviator feels the trembling fingers as they desperately grasp at his hand. It’s clear that Ice is afraid of this. Of what this is and what it could be.

“Are you afraid?” Mav asks, not unkindly. His fingers shift from Ice’s cheek to join with the older man's own hand. Their hands join together so naturally it makes Mav’s head spin a little.

Ice visibly swallows, throat bobbing with the motion. Mav doesn’t even pretend not to look. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.” The blonde answers honestly. He squeezes Mav’s hand in reassurance. Though Maverick feels it more for Ice than himself.

“How about you?”

Mav smiles lightly. “Mostly just relieved honestly.” Ice raises an eyebrow at him.

“Relieved?” He inquired. It makes Mav laugh a little at the absurdity of all. And of how they both seem to have the emotional communication skills of kiwis. “I thought you hated me, honestly.” The black haired aviator admits. A worried line creases in Ice’s forehead. “What did I do to give that impression?” Now that makes Maverick send him a deadpan look. Seriously?

“You’ve been glaring at me ever since we met. Not the most welcoming of looks.” He hisses. Though his smile never fades. Ice lets out a groan and flops his head into the curve between Mav’s neck and shoulder. His breath tickles Maverick's neck. “Fuck, sorry.” He mutters into the suit jacket.

Maverick pulls their joined hands to the side. He brings up his free arm to wrap around Ice, caging him in. Despite his earlier, panicked behavior, the blonde doesn’t protest. Just brings up his arm to wrap around Maverick in turn. Now it looks like they’re dancing together. A thought that warms Mav’s heart.

“It’s fine, Frosty.” The nickname makes Ice snort. “I know you’ve only got the one look.”

Ice scoffs. “I’ll have you know that I’ve got plenty of different looks.” He counters. The blonde takes a second, just a second, to breathe Maverick in. The jacket smells of whiskey and the cheap cologne that Mav wears sometimes. Only for special events or when he’s at the O Club.

Maverick chuckles. “Lieutenant Kazansky, did you just smell me?”

The shorter aviator can feel the blush through the suit jacket. “Couldn’t be helped..” Iceman mutters. He tries to bury his face further but Mav taps him on the back of the neck. It brings Ice’s face up from the corner of Mav’s neck and shoulder. The black haired aviator takes a second to appreciate Ice’s eyes as they make contact. They’re a very pretty blue that reminds Mav of a cloudy summer sky.

“My question is, why tonight?” Beyond their exchange afterwards, Mav isn’t sure what prompted Ice’s sudden pickup line. If possible, Ice reddens even more. “It was the suit.” The blonde admits, shyly.

“Really? This itchy, uncomfortable thing is what’s got you so hot and bothered.” Mav teases. He leans forward to bump his forehead against Ice’s. The taller aviator scoffs at him. “Well, you look good in it.” He hisses. Ice leans forward so that their foreheads are pressed together.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ice confirms. Maverick smiles. “Ok then. Before this goes any further, what do you want this to be?”

The blonde looks at him questioningly. Mav squeezes his hand, which has become slightly sweaty. “I mean do you want this to be a one time thing or-” Ice cuts him off by connecting their lips together. It doesn’t take much effort, considering how close they are. Maverick lets out a soft noise as plush lips push against his own.

Despite his callsign, Ice’s lips are relatively warm. Like pressing his lips up against a candle flame. It’s not what Maverick thought it would be. It’s so gentle and tender. It kind of makes him want to cry a little.

They part, panting into each other’s mouth. Ice smirks.

“I want tonight-” Mav’s shoulders sag a little. “-and the next night. And the night after that. And all the nights to come.” The shorter aviator feels his face get warm. Heat pools in his gut at the words. “If you’ll have me.”

The black haired aviator sends him his own smirk. “You’ll have a rough time getting rid of me, Ice.”

“Then it’s a good thing I intend to keep you.”

It takes a bit to get to Maverick’s motorcycle. They’re both feeling very hot and heavy with want. Mav himself can feel his blood starting to flow down south. And at a quick rate too.

It also takes a minute to convince Ice to get onto said motorcycle. Something about helmets and safety that Maverick lovingly rolls his eyes at. Eventually they both get on, with Ice’s hands grabbing at Mav’s waist to steady himself.

A quick chat ensures that they’ll be going to Mav's place since they don’t want to disturb Slider. No matter how much Ice claims he doesn’t care. It’s also better because Mav lives alone now.

They pull up and Mav fumbles to turn off the bike, then to get his house keys. Ice isn’t helping by starting to place soft kisses on the back of his neck. It’s mostly covered by the suit jacket but Ice hooks a finger into the collar, pulling it down slightly.

After some cursing, Maverick finally finds the key and gets the door open. They both stumble through the door. The shorter aviator has just enough time to close and lock it before Ice is pushing him against it.

The blonde captures his lips again as he shoves a knee between Mav’s legs. The black haired aviator gasps, reaching his arms up to curl around Ice’s neck. Ice’s thigh presses hard against Maverick’s erection. He moans into the blonde’s mouth. This brings the opportunity for their tongues to mingle together.

Mav feels something hard against his thigh and raises it up to grind against Ice’s dick. The blonde hisses, hand coming up to grab at Maverick short, regulation standard hair. He holds him there, with their lips locked together. Mav can feel the desperation in the way Ice tries to seemingly devour him.

It’s getting hard to breathe. The shorter aviator unwinds his arms from Ice and physically pulls Ice’s face away from his own. Panting, the blonde blinks at him as his brain tries to catch up.

“Bedroom?”

Ice nods, dragging Mav along before he realizes that he actually has no idea where said bedroom is. Maverick giggles a little, grabbing his hand and leading the way. The door remains slightly cracked as they enter. Ice sheds his suit jacket and Mav goes to the same before a pair of large hands grab his wrists.

He looks up to see Iceman staring him down, hotly. The blonde is panting with sweat dripping down his brow. But his eyes remain just as sharp as ever. It feels like they can see down to Mav’s very soul.

“Leave it on.” Mav’s eyes widen and he raises an eyebrow. He’s about to ask what was up when he remembered. “You wanna fuck me in the suit.” It’s not a question but a statement. The sly smirk he gets in return is enough of an answer though.

“Kazansky, you kinky bastard.” Despite his words, Mav takes his hands away from taking off the suit jacket. “Though it’s going to be a bit hard with these-” The shorter aviator tugs at the black pants. “-on.”

Ice doesn’t respond, just grabs Maverick by the shoulders. He guides him to the bed where he lays the other out on his back softly. As if Mav is some gentle or delicate thing. He isn’t sure if he wants to be flattered or pissed. His knees dangle off the edge of the bed as Ice crawls above him. At this point, Ice has shed his suit jacket and has unbuttoned a few buttons on his linen shirt. Mav’s own suit is getting hot to the point of boiling and his erection is pressing uncomfortably against the front of his pants. Even though he’s wearing boxers, the material is still unforgiving.

Mav looks up at Ice and quickly decides that they’re both wearing too many clothes. He swiftly reaches up, beginning to unbutton Ice’s shirt in quick, hasty moves. The blonde helps him push the shirt off. Mav immediately goes to work kissing Ice’s neck and biting into the flesh of his shoulder.

Ice keeps himself busy by reaching down and unbuttoning Mav’s pants. The black haired aviator raises his hips as he tugs them down and off. Tossing them out of sight.

A large hand quickly slips into Mav’s boxers, grasping at his cock. The shorter aviator gasps into Ice’s neck. His hands come to dig his nails into the now exposed flesh of the blonde’s arms.

“This is a rental, you know.” Mav mutters.

Ice scoffs. “I’ll have it dry cleaned.”

With that, Ice hooks a finger into Maverick’s boxers. He pulls them down while still having a hand on Mav. Those are tossed the same direction the pants were. Mav makes a show of spreading his legs, revealing his entrance. Ice’s eyes shoot down to it immediately.

“Fuck.” The blonde curses. His hand leaves Mav’s cock, placing it just off to the side. He begins to look around frantically before his eyes land on Mav again. “Where do you keep your lube and condoms?” Ice hisses.

“Top drawer on the right.” Ice quickly reaches over, yanking it open. The contents clatter as he grabs the lube and the condoms. The condoms are tossed to the side while Ice uncaps the lube. Maverick watches through lidded eyes as Ice coats his fingers. Rubbing them together to warm them up.

He positions a finger at Mav’s entrance. The black haired man breathed in as the digit entered, slowly and burning. It feels like it’s forever until it’s all the way to the knuckle. Ice places a tender kiss along his forehead. Maverick would almost call it sweet if there wasn’t a finger up his ass.

“You good?” The blonde murmurs. He keeps placing kisses along Mav’s face. From the bridge of his nose to the corners of his lips.

Maverick hums. “Hmm, yeah. You can add more, if you want.”

Ice doesn’t seem to need anymore permission as he slips not one but two fingers in. Being so suddenly full catches Mav off guard. A moan punches out of him as if someone had just kicked him in the gut.

“Fuck!” He curses. Ice ignores him and begins to stretch him. It’s slow and methodical, like everything Ice does. Mav isn’t sure how long it goes on for. It could be hours, minutes even. About halfway, he finds his prostate and begins to abuse it habitually. Mav’s making sounds he’d never thought capable of being made.

And these are just his fingers. Maverick isn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination. But being here, with Ice like this, made him feel so inexperienced and oversensitive that he wasn’t sure what to do.

Tears began to well in his eyes and Ice stopped immediately.

“Baby.” The pet name makes Mav feel even hotter. He’ll probably die from heatstroke in this damn suit. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Ice places a kiss onto his temple. Maverick sniffles as the tears begin to flow down his face.

“It’s just a lot.” He hiccups, pulling his arms away to desperately try and wipe the tears now free flowing down. Now look at him. Crying like this. Maverick doesn’t cry. Not for anything or anyone. Everything feels too itchy and scratchy. “Too hot.”

“The suit.” Ice realizes. He stares down at the black suit jacket that is still draped over Mav’s body. The shorter man knows he wants him to keep it on but he doesn’t think he can. Not without overheating.

Without a word, Ice uses his free hand to carefully take the jacket off. Not the same speed as he’d done before with his own jacket. Slowly, delicately. As if unwrapping a present. Soon enough the suit jacket is gone, leaving Mav in only a white linen shirt.

“Ok now?” The blonde murmurs against Mav’s ear. He nods and Ice goes back to stretching him. That goes on for a bit before Mav is tapping him on the arm. Physical touch seems to be a good communicator for Ice. Something Maverick files away for later.

Ice himself seems content to just stay like this for hours. Like he’s got all the time in the world and wants to spend it fingering Mav. An idea that intrigues him, but for another day.

“Fuck me, Ice. Or I swear to god I’m spearing myself on your cock.” Ice’s pupils are so black now that Mav can barely make out the thin ring of blue along the rim. He looks like a starving animal. Maverick thinks he must look pretty desperate as well. His almost nude state doesn’t serve him well in that regard.

It doesn’t take much time after that for Ice to frantically undo his pants. Sliding them down along with his boxers. He’s quick to tear the condom foil and roll it onto his visibly hard cock. Maverick takes a quick peek as he does all this, trying his best not to gasp at the size. The last thing he wants to do is give Ice an ego boost but damn.

“Fuck Ic-”

“Call me Tom.” The request catches Mav off guard a little. But not too long. Maverick smiles.

“Ok. Tom.” It feels a bit weird calling him by his actual name and not his callsign. Sometimes Mav forgets that Iceman isn’t his legal name. “In that case, you can call me Pete.” It’s only fair really.

Tom smiles. A shy, content smile that displays the teeth that had snapped at him in the locker room all those months ago. Feels like a lifetime ago, actually. He doesn’t say anything as Tom throws his legs over his shoulders. Pete automatically links his ankles together as Tom positions himself at his entrance.

He looks to Pete for final confirmation, so he nods. Tom doesn’t need anything further and pushes full force into Pete. It’s not an immediate fill like the fingers. It’s a slow and progressive drag that makes the inside of Pete’s walls ache. Until he’s seated all the way, his balls resting against the curve of Pete’s ass.

Of all the times he’d imagined Tom like this, it wasn’t what he expected. Pete had pictured it being hard, fast and rough. Partially due to the ‘hateful’ way Tom looked at him all the time. He hadn’t expected tenderness or care.

They stay like that for a few minutes, just adjusting to each other. Eventually, Tom groans out, “Move?”
Pete nods. The blonde slides out all the way before slamming back in. It punches a desperate moan of Pete. Tom begins to fuck him in the same slow and methodical way that he fingered him. It feels almost worshipful.

Tom leans down and bites into the soft space just below Pete’s ear. He whispers, “You’re so beautiful.” It reddens Pete’s cheeks even more. He’s been called many things but never beautiful. The blonde continues to whisper pet names and sweet nothings as he fucks him.

The black haired aviator isn’t sure how long they stay like that. Slow and worshipful with Tom whispering into his ear. It feels like hours, maybe even days. Eventually though Pete comes and Tom follows him soon after. Tom pulls out and collapses alongside him.

As they turn and smile at each other, Pete decides that maybe formal wear is bearable after all.