Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Baby,” Bradley moans into Jake’s neck, hot breath ghosting over his skin.

Jake writhes beneath Bradley with every thrust, fingers slipping against Bradley’s sweat-slick skin, searching for purchase along the defined muscles of his back.

“You always feel so fucking good,” Bradley murmurs, moving his forehead to rest on Jake’s. “Like you were made for me.”

Jake can only whine, high and reedy, tearing his focus away from the gorgeous man above him; he doesn’t think he’ll last another second if he doesn’t. It’s electric, sparks flickering from every spot where his skin slides against Bradley’s.

Eyes falling to the plush modern chair beside the window, Jake suddenly remembers the last time he saw Bradley sitting in the same one.

When he asked for a divorce and Bradley accepted it without a fight.

His heart clenches in his chest, turning his head to look back at Bradley as his vision gets blurrier and blurrier and—

Jesus.

Ears ringing, heart pounding in his chest, Jake shoots up in bed, avoiding looking down at the traitorous tent beneath his sheets. Rubs his knuckles against the ache beneath his sternum, persistent against his ribs, the one that refuses to go away.

Groaning, Jake picks up his phone and shuts off the alarm that interrupted his dream. There’s a text from Ellen, saying she’ll be at his place in thirty minutes, and reminding him that the grand opening at Harry’s requires semi-formal attire.

Jake sometimes longs for when he was a loner, when he didn’t have friends in the nightlife industry opening gay bars named after themselves. Or at the very least, friends that didn’t ask him to tuck in his shirt for a night out.

How good Jake knows he looks is a small consolation prize, smoothing out his stark white button-up and light grey slacks and leaving the top few buttons of his shirt undone. But still, fuck Harry and his dress code, there’s no way Jake’s putting on a tie on a Thursday night.

Harry is lucky Jake and Ellen love him to pieces because when they get there, Jake strongly considers turning around. Instead, they congratulate their friend and magnanimously accept beautiful cocktails garnished with dried orange rinds. The space is all hues of blues and purples, pounding club music that Jake would’ve rather left in his twenties.

Well, more like his early thirties.

Basically, it’s the kind of place he hasn’t seen since he was married to a musician with an affinity for dark clubs and their copious amounts of Maker’s Mark. Jake has been crossing his fingers that said musician will not be making an appearance.

Because Jake’s life is the way it is, ten minutes in, he finds out that he’s not quite that lucky.

Jake smells Bradley before he sees him, strong and woodsy, can taste it on his tongue.

He doesn’t have the mental capacity for this. Not with his dream so fresh in his mind. He can still feel the ghost of Bradley’s taut muscles beneath his fingertips. Raising his eyes slowly, he hopes desperately, futilely that it’s not him.

Of course.

Bradley’s nervous smile stares back at Jake, blotchy red dusting his cheeks. He looks fucking good, too, with navy slacks practically painted across his thighs.

“Jake.” Clear liquid, ice, and lime slosh around in the tumbler grasped in Bradley’s big hands. Bradley clears his throat after a moment, averting his eyes. “Ellen. Nice to see you both.”

“Bradshaw,” Ellen answers, drier than a desert. “Pleasure, as always. I’m going to grab us a couple of waters,” she adds, patting Jake’s arm before sauntering off.

Jake bites down on a complaint about her leaving him alone.

“I was hoping you’d be here.”

Jake doesn’t know what to do with that. Anything seems better than admitting he was hoping for the exact opposite if only to keep his cock in line, so he lies, staring at the floor and ignoring the incessant need in his veins to tangle his hands in Bradley’s curls. “Yeah, it’s been a minute.”

“I know this isn’t an ideal time for this, but can we talk? Somewhere a little quieter?”

Being trapped in a small backroom with Bradley, having his bulk within touching distance…Jake cannot possibly think of a worse idea. Words are sticking in his throat, and Jake gulps his drink, delaying for a few precious seconds as he decides how to get out of this.

“I want to apologize,” Bradley adds when Jake doesn’t answer.

Jake doesn’t know what to do with that either. “Nothing to apologize for. We’re good.”

Mercifully, Jake is saved from having to expand upon that by his phone buzzing in his pocket, close to fumbling it on the ground as he pulls it out in his haste to look at something besides Bradley’s earnest eyes.

“I have to go,” Jake says as he stares at the screen, faux apologetic. “Vick isn’t feeling well, need to cut out early so he can go home.”

“Wait, Jake—”

“It was good to see you,” Jake cuts him off, heart pounding.

As he steals a glance at Bradley’s handsome face over his shoulder, Jake decides that he really, really wishes he was lying.

+

Well after two in the morning, Jake’s feet are aching, and he’s cursing himself for choosing a career of being on his feet for hours on end, silence echoing loud in the empty bar. He’s about to fling a rag against the wall out of irritation for how much shit there is left to do before he can finally crawl into bed when he catches strokes of navy out of the corner of his eye.

Jake tries not to groan out loud, remembering the visceral, mouth-watering reaction he had to Bradley’s bulk wrapped up in his suit earlier tonight.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jake says, proud of how even his voice comes out even as scrubs at an invisible spot on the bar top and refuses to meet a molten caramel gaze.

“I know.”

He gnashes his teeth in frustration because otherwise, he’ll scream. “Then why are you?”

Bradley all but ignores him. “The place looks great. Brighter than before.”

“Ellen wanted it to scream Austin, whatever that means.” Jake sighs, holding up a bottle of Ketel One in defeat and finally looking at Bradley. The puppy-dog eyes are out in full force and Jake doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry. “Drink?”

“I’m good.”

Jake is already pouring by the time he registers the words. “Listen, I’m as surprised as anyone that you drink vodka now, but I promise to keep my judgments to a minimum.”

“You’re talking about earlier?”

Jake raises his eyebrows as if to say obviously.

“That was club soda.”

Blinking the surprise out of his eyes, Jake stares down at the vodka now sitting uselessly in a rocks glass.

He wants to ask if Bradley quit drinking or if tonight was a one-off. But he’s too scared the answer will begin and end with Kevin Bradshaw.

“Why are you here?” Jake repeats instead, walls staying firmly in place.

“What would you say if I told you Kevin and I were separating?” Bradley asks, sounding much closer than he was thirty seconds ago.

Praying to whatever God that’s left for some semblance of composure, Jake tries not to choke on air.

Deep breaths. In and out.

Except now he can feel Bradley’s cozy scent taking up residence in his nose and that’s not helpful at all.

Shallow breaths. In and out.

“That you shouldn’t be getting advice from your ex about your current husband,” Jake answers a few moments later after he thinks the words will come out calmly. He’s proud of himself for being able to look Bradley dead in the eyes, challenging, even as Bradley encroaches on his side of the bar.

“That’s not—I’m trying to—" Bradley stutters, wringing his hands in frustration.

Jake stays silent, words straining on the tip of his tongue as he waits Bradley out.

“Tell me you still feel it too,” Bradley whispers eventually, barely audible. His hands jerk against the bar top like it’s taking considerable willpower not to pull Jake in. “Whatever this is between us. That feels like it’ll never go away.”

“I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you,” Jake answers, weary exhaustion seeping into his words. “So that part isn’t a surprise, no.”

“Then why?”

“Because it’s not enough, Bradley, what do you not understand about that?”

Bradley freezes, face pained like the cutting edge of Jake’s words is hitting him physically.

Jake sighs, rubbing his eyes. “If it were, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Bradley looks like he wants to argue more, but there must be something telling on Jake’s face that makes him halt. “Okay. I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”

“If I weren’t your ex,” Jake says slowly. “I’d tell you that you probably need to learn how to be alone.”

Bradley barks a dry laugh, tugging at his shirt sleeves. Jake is struck suddenly, by how many habits of his own that Bradley still carries with him, fidgeting like he can’t bear to let go.

It’s intoxicating, how close he is, messing with Jake’s senses, his willpower. There’s something thrumming beneath his skin, itching to flick the buttons of Bradley’s colorful shirt underneath that suit jacket and slip his hands into his navy slacks.

“You’re probably right,” Bradley mutters, bringing Jake back to Earth.

Jake steps sideways, putting space between them so he can finally breathe. “You should go.”

Bradley nods, backing up and making his way toward the exit. Jake resolutely does not watch him leave.

“Hey, Jake,” Bradley calls, turning around in the doorway. “You look good. You always look good.”

Warmth blooms in Jake’s chest as he lets himself go back in time, to the night they met, only for a moment.

After Bradley disappears, Jake pours the Ketel down the drain, the smell of rubbing alcohol sticking in his nose.

Jake has stopped trying not to be irrevocably charmed by Bradley and his wide array of loud Hawaiian shirts. The ones that his manager Natasha only lets him wear when he’s not on stage, lest anyone think he’s trying to be the next Jimmy Buffet.

Jake doesn’t bother pretending Bradley’s mustache, which frames annoyingly biteable lips, doesn’t work. That his larger-than-life presence in every room isn’t heady and exciting.

It probably has to do with the way Bradley always finds his way back to Jake, no matter how many people are clamoring for his attention. The way he keeps Jake in his line of sight no matter who he speaks to.

It’s enthralling. It makes Jake feel special.

Jake doesn’t remember the last time he felt special. Worthy.

“Come on tour with me.”

Jake chuckles, kissing the taste of whiskey from Bradley’s lips. “You can’t ask me to do that.”

“Why not? We could do this every night,” Bradley says, hands sweeping out to flaunt what he’s referring to—a party full of people in some swanky Hollywood Hills home, no shortage of champagne even on a Wednesday night, lights of the city glittering beyond the backyard.

“Because I have a life in Austin, Bradley. A business to run.”

“Ellen could keep everyone in line without even lifting a finger.”

Jake snorts a laugh into his wine. “That may be true, but you’re kind of missing the point.”

“Sorry, baby, I just want you with me all the time,” Bradley admits, wrapping his arms around Jake like an octopus, trapping Jake against the railing on the deck. “Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“You don’t need to be literally attached to me for people to know,” Jake laughs, pushing against Bradley’s hold. That doesn’t work, so he turns, pressing a kiss to the corner of Bradley’s mouth.

“Oh, I know,” Bradley assures him. “I have other ideas.”

“Like what?”

+

“Gonna love you forever,” Bradley whispers, fingers tracing featherlight over Jake’s cheekbones, practically laying on top of Jake in their fluffy hotel bed.

Jake giggles. “You’re drunk.”

“S’are you.”

“Can’t believe we got fucking married,” Jake whispers, staring at the ring Bradley slid on his finger mere hours ago.

Jake just hopes this lasts.

(Spoiler alert: it didn’t.)

“It’s not as dramatic as they’re making it out to be,” Bradley explains one day over breakfast, spinning around lazily on a stool.

Jake almost didn’t come. Was pretty sure he couldn’t do this, sit next to Bradley in the kitchen, side by side and staring out of the window at Lake Austin beyond the backyard. He was moments away from suggesting they eat somewhere else, too scared to make the trek to Tarrytown and visit the burial ground of his last meaningful relationship.

His only meaningful relationship if he’s being honest.

So, it takes Jake a few seconds to catch onto what Bradley’s talking about, still a little busy taking in the morning light of his old kitchen, staring down at pancakes on a chipped blue plate as if Bradley doesn’t have an eight-figure net worth.

Jake is about to make a joke about them before remembering the task at hand.

“You mean what happened with Mav?”

“Yeah.”

Jake can feel the hesitancy in the air, through the warmth of Bradley’s skin sitting next to him at the kitchen island. “Bradley, if you’re not ready, we don’t have to…”

Bradley shakes his head vehemently. “No, Jake, it’s okay, I want to tell you.”

Fiddling with his coffee, Jake adds milk and sugar that Bradley obviously bought for him, even though he’s been drinking it black as of late.

“I’m tired of fighting with Blue Dream about the direction my music is taking.”

Ah. Jake should’ve guessed that, honestly. He remembers all too well the endless arguments the last time Bradley was working on an album, nearly half a decade ago, now.

The more things change, the more things stay the same, he thinks idly.

“I can’t do this with him breathing down my neck anymore. Second guessing my every move.”

Jake nods, trying to keep his face neutral.

“I’d rather take the risk of being unsigned than answer to someone else for yet another album. This isn’t going to be like the last one.”

Jake clears his throat. “That’s good, B. I’m proud of you. That couldn’t have been easy.”

The tension bleeds from Bradley’s shoulders like he thought Jake was going to disagree with him. “Thought it’d be easier, this time around now that I’m sober. But it was so much worse. It’s like Mav still doesn’t trust me at all.”

“Maybe he’s scared,” Jake says tentatively, avoiding Bradley’s worried gaze for fear of the anger he might find there.

Bradley raises an eyebrow but thankfully stays composed, no traces of anger apparent in the tanned lines of his face.

“He lost your parents, his best friends, when you were so young. You and Ice and Penny, you’re all he has left. He’s holding on so tight he doesn’t realize he’s doing more harm than good.”

Bradley exhales, dragging a fork through the mess of eggs on his plate and avoiding Jake’s eyes. “You’re right.”

“Maybe you should tell him,” Jake suggests. “Now that you’ve both had time to cool off. You should remind him that wanting to do this without Blue Dream doesn’t mean you want to do your entire life without him.”

Bradley cringes. “I don’t know if he even wants to talk to me. When I told him I wanted to leave Blue Dream, fuck, Jake the look on his face. He asked if I had started drinking again and I blew up at him. For not getting it.”

Jake takes a long sip of coffee, intimately aware of how accurate Bradley’s aim can be.

It’s almost as good as his own.

“I’m not known for stellar coping mechanisms,” Bradley sighs, face pinched. “I think part of that is why I was so mad.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s right to be worried that I’ll wreck more peoples’ lives, just for them having been linked to me, like I did with yours. And Kevin’s.”

“It didn’t—” Jake starts but Bradley shakes his head.

“You always say it didn’t. That you knew what you were getting into and maybe that’s true, but I know, what it’s been like for you. The vicious comments, people showing up at the bar. You didn’t ask for this. To make a stand with someone so public, in Texas of all places.”

“It was worth it.” Jake looks out of the window, of this house he used to call home, popping a grape into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t know him, but I bet Kevin would say the same thing.”

Bradley grimaces. “That’s something else I owe you an explanation for.”

Jake shrugs to play off how much he agrees. He wants to—no, he needs to know. Despite the fact that every mention of Kevin reminds Jake of lying on the kitchen floor of his South Lamar apartment, Bradley and Kevin’s faces staring at him from the article he couldn’t exit out of.

“When you left—” Bradley stops, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck, Jake, I thought I’d never see the light of day again. I know that sounds...fucking dramatic. We both knew you were going to leave well before you did but when it was really over, I couldn’t take it, the weight on my chest. Felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Jake winces, a little guilty for the empty, numb, relief he remembers from those first few weeks after leaving Bradley in LA. He knows now he wasn’t okay, not by a longshot, but the sharp, aching pains didn’t set in until later.

“And you seemed fine,” Bradley continues. “Everyone said you were. I’d never fault you for being happy. I was just so jealous. That you knew how to do that without me.”

“I wasn’t.”

Bradley nods tightly. “I know this is a poor excuse, for putting you through what I did. You didn’t deserve to have to watch that.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Jake admits. “Felt like we were nothing if you could move on without a second thought.”

“The opposite, actually.”

Jake cringes. “It’s all about perspective, I guess. It didn’t help that you stopped drinking once you were married to someone else. I’d never be anything but proud of you for doing that but it doesn’t mean I wasn’t jealous too.”

“I always wanted to do it,” Bradley admits.

“What?”

“Get sober, for you.”

“It’s probably better that you didn’t. Can’t do something like that for someone else,” Jake acknowledges. “But, uh—why didn’t you? Try?”

“Too scared I’d lose the creativity. That I wouldn’t know how to make music anymore.”

“What changed?” Jake asks, heart pounding as he imagines answers that will rip him to shreds.

“Didn’t seem to matter much after you were gone. I realized if I didn’t stop I’d drink that spark dry anyways.”

“So you quit? Just like that?”

“No,” Bradley laughs, dry and arid. “Took a few tries. Meeting Kevin helped; he was quitting at the time too. I think maybe we mistook being there for each other for being in love.”

Jake stays as still as he can, struggling not to lean away from the heat of Bradley on the stool next to him, knowing he can’t blame Bradley for needing support.

“But still. I never should’ve done it.”

“Done what?”

“Marry him when all I ever wanted was you.”

Again and again, Jake finds himself struck by Bradley’s newfound candor. “You meant that? What you said the other day?”

“That you’re the love of my life?”

Jake looks up and out of the window again, feeling Bradley’s gaze on the side of his face. “Yes.”

“Of course, I meant it. Thought you were letting me down easy, by not mentioning it.”

Jake feels his brain restart, glitching at Bradley’s honesty, the way it sounds like he truly means every syllable.

“It’s okay, Jake,” Bradley assures him, fingers twitching on the counter in front of them like they want to hold him, pull him in, and never let go. “I know I’ve fucked this up beyond recognition. I’m happy you’re willing to have me in your life at all.”

“No, you haven’t. I mean—I don’t,” Jake stutters. He takes a deep breath. “This is stupid, right? Pretending like we’re going to be able to only be friends after everything we’ve been through?”

Bradley’s eyes flicker back and forth like they can’t decide what part of Jake to look at. “What are you saying?”

“Don’t expect me to marry you any time soon, but…”

“We could give this another shot?” Bradley asks hopefully, leaning in against Jake’s side and closing the scant inches between them.

Jake can’t help the small, promising smile that builds before he licks the syrup out of Bradley’s mouth in answer.

+

Jake will never, ever get over seeing Bradley perform.

He used to think it would wear off, the intrigue of watching Bradley sink fully into his performance if he saw it enough times.

He’s starting to realize with Bradley, there will never be enough time.

“Everyone wants to write something that means something,” Bradley says slowly, into the mic, eyes searching the crowd before settling on Jake. “This means something to me. I hope that’s enough.”

Jake is glad no one can see the way his breath hitches at that.

He stays breathless, all throughout the show, until he’s tucked away backstage, ready to vibrate out of his skin by the time Bradley beelines for him.

When he does, Bradley crowds Jake against the wall, lips pressing against his insistently so that Jake can practically taste the adrenaline he knows is coursing Bradley’s veins.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jake mutters against Bradley’s lips.

They haven’t had sex since they started things up again and Jake is very, very much looking forward to rectifying that.

“I have another show in LA this weekend,” Bradley groans, but letting his hands roam to places not quite appropriate for this semi-public setting, nonetheless. He sounds mournful, as he grips the denim covering Jake’s ass. “Have to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“What, not gonna ask me to come with you?” Jake asks, teasing to cover up that old, well-worn insecurity suddenly ratcheting in his chest.

“Thought you had a deadline,” Bradley says, wandering hands coming to a halt.

“I can write from anywhere.”

Bradley’s brow furrows. “Do you want to come? I always want you there but…”

“What?”

Bradley scrunches his nose, obviously uncomfortable. “I asked for a lot from you the first time around. Wanted you with me all the time, thought I’d suffocate without you. And I knew I was asking for you to give up too much. But I couldn’t make myself stop.”

“Oh,” Jake says dumbly.

“I’m not going to do that to you, not this time.”

“I—okay.”

Bradley pulls back so he can look at Jake fully, eyes searching his expression for something. “What’s wrong?”

Jake makes a face. “You’re doing all this work, trying to make us better and I feel like—I don’t know. I should be doing more? You didn’t break us up on your own.”

Bradley shrugs like he doesn’t quite believe what Jake’s saying. Figures, martyr he is, that he’d only blame himself.

“I was never very open with you. I told myself I would be, so we could have a real shot,” Jake admits.

“That means a lot, Jake,” Bradley murmurs, thumb rubbing across Jake’s cheekbone, soft and affectionate.

“I’m scared. About the deadline,” Jake whispers. “Maybe that other article was the only story I had worth telling.”

“That’s why you want to come to LA with me?”

Jake shrugs, noncommittal.

“We could compromise,” Bradley chuckles. “I want you to come, but not so you can avoid it. I can help you, make sure you don’t procrastinate? I’ll read over it if you want.”

“I’m sure you have enough on your schedule.”

“Hey, no,” Bradley says, catching Jake’s eyes, hand moving down to hold Jake’s jaw in place. “Don’t do that. I want to. I have the show, sure, but there’ll be downtime. I’ll make time.”

“I don’t want to make your day even longer.”

“Long days mean more time with you,” Bradley grins.

Jake rolls his eyes, pushing at Bradley’s shoulder. “Sap.”

“You submitted it, right?” Bradley asks when they get back after the show.

“Yeah,” Jake exhales. He’s nervous, but now he’s even more glad he came with Bradley because if he were at home, he’d be agonizing over his word choices. More than he already is, at least.

“Blue Dream is hosting a party,” Bradley says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s upstairs at the rooftop bar.”

“I assume that’s why Steph picked this hotel.”

“Wasn’t sure if we’d be up for it, but she wanted it to be easy if we did decide to go.”

Jake knows he should be supportive. That he should be encouraging Bradley to remain friendly with everyone from his old label.

But he’s been buzzing since he sent in his article. No going back.

It doesn’t help that Jake forgot what it was like, or he blocked it out of his memories, to be on a constant hair trigger, to always want Bradley’s hands on him. Hard not to, after watching Bradley sing what feels like song after song to him, eyes never leaving the spot where he knew Jake would be watching from the crowd.

It’s all he’s thought about since they ducked into that sultry SUV leaving the venue together. Bradley’s heat has been nothing but a tease against his side for the last hour, Jake aching to swing onto his lap and grind down, moving vehicle be damned.

“Do we have to go?”

“No, but Mav is gonna be there, I was hoping to talk with him. Extend an olive branch like you suggested.”

Well, fuck. Even if he wanted to, Jake wouldn’t keep Bradley from that.

“Are you sure?” Bradley says when Jake starts pulling his shoes back on. “I could go over and talk to Mav, then come right back.”

“Being here without you doesn’t do my dick much good,” Jake grumbles under his breath, straightening up to see dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

Jake behaves, for the most part, leaning into Bradley’s side as they ride the elevator. Just before they reach the top floor, Jake pulls him in for a filthy kiss, sliding his hands underneath Bradley’s jacket and grabbing at all that tantalizing muscle.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Bradley pants when they pull apart, lips puffy and pink and spit-slick.

Jake shrugs. “You look hot.”

Bradley eyes him suspiciously, looking him up and down while Jake tries not to preen and fix his collar under the attention. “Stole my line.”

+

Jake gives Mav and Bradley plenty of space to talk.

Graciously, he thinks, staring at the lights of LA for a full ten minutes after Mav and Bradley hug, shaking hands and leaving things looking promising. The ten longest minutes of Jake’s life, before he gives in, sidling up to Bradley and under his arm.

“I wanna go back to the room. Now.”

“We just got here,” Bradley says, brows furrowing in confusion.

Jake pouts, he’s about to open his mouth to protest when Bradley laughs.

“Sure, baby,” he acquiesces. “Whatever you want.”

Jake manages to keep his hands to himself as they sneak out of the party, riding the elevator back down to their room. Bradley’s arm stays around his waist throughout all of it and Jake can feel it burning through the thin material of his shirt.

The second they stumble back through the door to their hotel room, Jake is on him, clumsy fingers unbuttoning Bradley’s clothes. When Bradley tries to help, big hands pulling Jake close so he can shuck Jake’s too, he shakes his head.

“I’ve got plans,” Jake smirks, pushing Bradley down onto the plush king bed in the center of their room.

Bradley goes easily, leaning back on his elbows and staring up at Jake with amusement glittering in his eyes. Shirtless, with dark jeans slung low on his hips.

He’s beautiful.

Bradley’s voice comes out throaty, a little strained around the edges. “Do you now?”

“Been thinking about this all night.”

Bradley’s gaze darkens as Jake stands out of reach, fiddling with the hem of his maroon shirt that he knows accentuates his lingering tan and brings out his eyes.

Burning eyes follow as Jake pulls his shirt off, revealing the skin of his abs inch by inch, and Bradley’s hands fist in the comforter beneath him.

“Jake,” Bradley grumbles when Jake takes his time unzipping his light tan slacks, peeling them from his legs, and throwing the fabric to the side. “Why are you being such a tease?”

Jake can’t help but grin as Bradley’s trademark impatience begins to shine through. “Aren’t you the one that’s always telling me the value of taking things slow?”

Bradley doesn’t answer, too busy staring at where Jake palms himself over his black briefs.

“Besides,” Jake continues, stripping the final sliver of material from his body and kneeling on the bed, bracketing Bradley’s legs. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”

Amused that he doesn’t even have to remind Bradley to keep his hands to himself, Jake watches the tension build beneath Bradley’s skin, visibly struggling not to move from where Jake has put him.

He can feel Bradley pouting at him as Jake mouths at the scar on Bradley’s shoulder and ignores his pleas of Jake, stop teasing me baby, with a happy little hum as he lavishes Bradley’s flushed chest with attention.

Bradley grunts in frustration, head dropping back onto the pillows when Jake reaches into the bedside table for lube. The vein in his neck stands out, stark and popping against his flushed skin.

“Baby,” Bradley whines, suddenly high and sharp. It’s the best thing Jake’s ever heard. “Let me watch at least. Please?”

Jake swings himself around, shamelessly leaning forward, back arched, and bracing himself on Bradley’s legs so he can hear Bradley’s guttural groan when Jake circles his own hole with slick fingers.

Dragging it out a little, Jake teases his rim with one and barely dips in, because he can’t resist tormenting Bradley even if it means he feels more and more like a rubber band about to snap.

Jake pants, sliding it all the way in finally. Impatience has Jake rocking his hips against his hand for more, his mouth watering at the idea of having one of Bradley’s thick fingers instead. “Can’t wait to have you inside me. You always feel better than when I do it myself.”

“You could right now,” Bradley chokes out and Jake briefly wonders if feathers will fly when Bradley ends up ripping through the bedspread beneath them.

Ignoring him in favor of letting another finger in and scissoring them, Jake stretches himself out and listens to the hitches in Bradley’s breathing while Bradley struggles to stay composed.

Jake decides to call it good enough sooner rather than later, he could maybe use a little more prep, but he thinks he’ll burn from the inside out if he waits for another second. Moving around to work on getting Bradley naked, he only smirks a little at the pitiful whimper that escapes Bradley’s lips when he’s robbed of the sight of Jake writhing on his lap.

Getting the last of Bradley’s clothes off and slicking his cock with lube, Jake moves to put himself over Bradley again, still facing away. He catches Bradley making an aborted move to touch him out of the corner of his eyes.

Jake shoots a pointed look at Bradley over his shoulder, where his hands are clenching in the air around Jake’s hips, not sure they’re allowed to touch. “Did you want something?” He asks, all saccharine condescension.

“Turn around for me?”

Bradley’s request is so gentle that Jake can’t find it in him to chastise, teasing or otherwise, instead shuffling around again to face Bradley.

The smile Jake immediately gets in return, surrounded by Bradley’s curls mussed and squished on the pillows, makes it all worth it.

“Wanna see you,” Bradley murmurs in explanation, watching reverently and worrying his lip between his teeth as Jake reaches behind himself so he can line Bradley up and take his time easing down onto Bradley’s thick cock.

Jake allows himself halfway down before rocking up again, savoring the way Bradley stretches him wide, how the pain quickly gives way to throbbing pleasure. It pushes all the air from his lungs, thoughts disappearing from his head one by one as his focus narrows down to Bradley beneath him.

“Let me touch you, sweetheart, please,” Bradley begs, squirming against the pillows.

Jake has always thought Bradley vaguely resembled a caged lion like this, all that strength restrained for the benefit of someone else, waiting to be released.

Jake doesn’t respond, throwing his head back in pleasure as he seats himself fully. He’s too distracted by the buzzing in his ears to bother keeping up with his bossy façade when Bradley unclenches from the white fluffy duvet, death grip moving to Jake’s hips.

Tender thumbs rubbing across the furrow of Jake’s abs are a stark contrast to the dark pools that make up Bradley’s eyes, the bruises Bradley’s hands are surely leaving to mark Jake as his.

To prove that he was here, that they were here, together. Like they should be.

Jake’s hands come forward to hold himself up and his nails scratch Bradley’s chest where they’re planting themselves for leverage. He lifts up on his knees, letting the head of Bradley’s cock hold him open before dropping his weight back down, obscene noises spilling from his throat as Bradley fills him.

He wonders why it’s never been this way with anyone else.

He doesn’t even know if it was like this with Bradley, before. Always overwhelming, sure, every inch of his skin ablaze. But there’s this unfathomable feeling of something extra now, satisfaction in intensity without insecurity.

It was good, amazing before, but it wasn’t this.

Jake used to think comfort would pour ice water all over the passion burning through their veins. Now, he thinks he’ll never be happier than right here, with Bradley’s arms around him.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Bradley groans, shifting his weight and planting his feet, meeting the roll of Jake’s hips. The change in angle nails Jake’s prostate on every thrust and Jake feels his eyes rolling back into his head, flames igniting in his belly. “Could watch you ride me forever, taking what you need.”

It takes Jake by surprise, rushing in, building exponentially, and he comes like a freight train with forever ringing in his ears.

“Fuck,” Jake pants, falling forward with a thud because he doesn’t know if his knees will hold him up another second.

Sighing contentedly on Bradley’s chest, Jake nuzzles up into Bradley’s neck and gets comfortable. Jake’s aware, somewhat distantly, that Bradley’s still hard inside of him, and Jake’s hips are rolling in small, aborted movements of their own accord, feeling little jolts of pleasure zip up his spine with every move.

Jake thinks he could fall asleep like this, spent and full and stretched around Bradley’s thick cock, eyes fluttering closed.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Bradley murmurs, running his hands down Jake’s sides before flipping them easily, Jake on his back before he can register what’s happening.

Jake whines as Bradley beings to move in him, steady and unrelenting, stars bursting beneath his eyelids as the overstimulation sets in.

“Too much,” Jake chokes out, turning his head to bite the plush pillow beneath it.

“Need your safe word?” Bradley asks, slowing down.

Jake whimpers, every nerve ending lighting up with each thrust nailing his prostate. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Hurts,” Jake whines.

“I know baby, I know.”

Something is building in his chest and Jake thinks about choking it down, wondering if it’s too soon, if this is a line that shouldn’t be crossed right as they’re getting their feet underneath them again.

Then Bradley drags his teeth along Jake’s jaw, stopping to suck a bruise behind his ear. “But you’re so pretty when you hurt just for me.”

Fuck.

“Daddy, daddy please, I can’t—” Jake babbles from somewhere above his body, not sure if he’s even on this planet anymore.

Bradley hides his face in Jake’s neck, with a hard thrust so forceful that Jake moves up against the pillows. “You know I love when you call me that.”

Jake doesn’t respond, can’t respond as his head lolls to the side, mouth open, eyes glazed over.

“Say it one more time and I’ll make you come again.”

“Don’t know if I can,” Jake slurs, even though he can feel his cock making a valiant effort to prove him wrong.

Bradley’s tone brokers no argument. “You can. Be good and beg me for it.”

Jake shakes his head back and forth, listless and chaotic.

“Baby,” Bradley admonishes. “Don’t you want to be good for me? After I let you take everything you wanted?”

Jake feels deliciously used, a hole for Bradley’s pleasure and nothing else. Feels like he can finally let go, sink beneath the water because he knows Bradley will pull him out.

As much as Bradley gets off on Jake bossing him around, telling Bradley exactly how to fuck him into the mattress; Jake knows Bradley also can’t help but love him fucked out, whining and begging and screaming daddy.

That at the core of it, Bradley likes taking care of him. And Jake has never minded playing it up, it’s not like it wasn’t hot to him before.

He’s just not sure he ever really got it.

Not till now.

Jake was never sure if he could loosen his grip on the reigns long enough to trust Bradley to catch him.

“Daddy, please, make me come, I want it, wanna come on your cock, please I need—"

Bradley grins and reaches between them, twisting a hand over Jake’s cock in time with his thrusts.

“Most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Bradley whispers, brushing a thumb across Jake’s jaw with his other hand. It’s reverent and sweet, a complete juxtaposition from the rough drive of his hips, nearly unrelenting pressure on Jake’s prostate serving to send Jake out of his mind. “Can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“Daddy.” Jake shudders in Bradley’s hold as he comes again, this one so much closer to pain than the first, and that much more intense for it.

“Fuck, baby,” Bradley moans as Jake’s hole flutters around him. He loses his rhythm, shaking above Jake as he comes, kissing Jake’s lips, his jaw, his neck, and every inch of skin he can reach with his arms still bracketing Jake’s body.

Bradley’s lips linger on Jake’s temple, as long as he can before they both get uncomfortable, sticky and tacky with lube and come.

+

Later, they’ll drag themselves out of bed and rejoin the dwindling party, stand on the rooftop, and stare down at the city shoulder-to-shoulder with Mav. Jake will think of Bradley’s old wedding ring hidden in the back of his closet. Left tucked into the pocket of Jake’s favorite jacket.

Finding it the day after moving out of their house; Jake couldn’t envision a day when he’d be able to get rid of it. Felt like it would mean throwing away the last memory of what they once had.

But it doesn’t seem so crazy now, letting go.