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Maverick was used to snide remarks and sly comments thrown his way. He had put up with it his whole life, even more so when he stepped foot in the Navy. Men loved to rib him on his height, on how he played loose with the rules, and how his father was a coward. Those comments didn't bother him anymore. He took them with stride, knowing he was more than just random words being hurled at him.
But this was new.
"He treats you like his little wife, like a bitch who needs to be put on a leash," the words were snarled at him, sharp and piercing. "Kazansky got you trained good? He calls and suddenly you're the perfect little wife?"
Maverick stands there, pinned as the man gets in his face. He doesn't know what to say or do, besides stand there and let the words fall over him. His mind is going blank, but he wants to scream – fight back. He's barely talked to Lieutenant Holder since he met the man, but now he is evidently angry and in his face.
"You sit there and do whatever the fuck you want, because he will come running to handle what you fuck up. And as soon as he gets here, you act innocent, like you can do no wrong," Holder pushes at his chest, sneer clear on his face. "You might have him wrapped around your finger, but really? You're his little bitch."
Holder is stumbling back before Maverick registers what had happened. His fist is held in front of him, clenched and knuckles aching. The guy in front of him spits a glob of blood and saliva out onto the floor, before he's lunging back at him. Maverick gets the upper hand as Holder moves out of fury and throws random punches. The hits land pathetically, but still sting nonetheless. He gets a good right hook in, hitting him in the face again, before someone is pulling him back into strong arms.
Maverick starts flailing at the firm hold around his body, being pulled into a broad chest. He kicks out at the man being pulled away as well, eyes blurred from sweat and possibly tears. He feels nothing but white-hot anger pulsing through him as someone is barking out orders, along with gentler words being spoken closer to his head. He can't hear through the rushing sound of water in his ears.
"Jesus Christ, Maverick," someone snaps, loud and demanding.
The deep rumbling tone is recognizable. Ice. His body instantly relaxes, falling deeper into the warm chest against his back. His head falls limply in front of him, his breathing is hard and he's pulling in deep gasps of air.
"That's it," Ice soothes. "Calm down, Mitchell."
"What the fuck happened here?" Someone else barks out. The sound makes him flinch slightly and Ice's arms tighten around him in a protective shield.
"The little shit deserves to be kicked to the curb," Maverick's head shoots up as he glares at the man who started this.
"You cornered me first, you piece of shit," he screams, fighting against Ice's hold again.
"Enough," Ice booms and Maverick goes boneless in his arms again. "Take Lieutenant Holder to medical and give him time to calm down before taking him to be debriefed on this whole mess."
"What about Maverick, Admiral?" Some other lieutenant asks.
"I'll take care of him."
The words register and Maverick shivers as he remembers Holder's earlier words. Ice is pulling away, causing Maverick to sit up on his own.
"Follow me, Mitchell," Ice moves to stand, waiting for Maverick to join him. They walk a familiar path to Ice's office, Mav's head down the whole time.
When he's finally ushered into the room, Ice is on him in a second, large hand tilting his head every which way, checking for bruises. When he finds none, he's quick to unzip Mav's flight suit and push it down to his waist, rucking up the white tank to examine him. Maverick lets out a hiss as Ice presses on a tender spot against his ribs. When he looks down, it appears to be the only noticeable bruise, an ugly dark purple, that Ice is lightly running his fingers over.
"What the fuck happened out there, Mav?"
"Holder's dumbass started it," he mumbles, looking away as Ice looks up at him from where he had been staring intently at the bruised skin.
"And what exactly did he start, Mav?" Ice tilts his voice into his Admiral voice, a voice no one could disobey if they wanted to.
"He was mad at me, because of what happened on the mission."
"I thought everyone had already been briefed on how it wasn't to no fault of yours or anyone else assigned to the mission," Ice raises an eyebrow.
"That's what I thought," Maverick scoffs. "He said it was my fault his F-14 almost went down, but I'm the one who saved his ass."
"Okay, so he blames you for his emotional stress, but that's not explaining why a physical fight broke out."
"He was mad when you showed up in the briefing room," Maverick bites his lip and wonders if he should tell the whole story. "He said there's a rumor going around that whenever you show up, I'm immediately off the hook whether I'm wrong or right."
"That's not entirely wrong," Ice half-smiles.
"Yes, but they don't know that," Maverick manages a small smile. "Even if they did, if I had put someone in a life-threatening position, I'd be grounded. But I didn't. I always put my squad before my own safety. And if I was in the wrong, there's no way I'd let you keep me around."
"Is that why you hit him?" Ice purses his lips.
"No," he shakes his head and looks off to the side. "He started talking shit about you and me. And he was so close. I felt like I was choking on words that wouldn't come out and then I just hit him."
"What'd he say?" Ice presses on, his hands moving to rest on Maverick's waist, thumbs rubbing calming circles on his heated skin.
"He called me your," Maverick flaps a hand around and blushes a bright red.
"My what?"
"Your wife," the words are whispered, his tone breathless. "And your bitch."
Maverick shudders and pretends to not hear the deep breath Ice takes and the way his hands go impossibly tight on his waist.
"Okay," Ice rasps and Maverick turns to meet his gaze. His ocean-blue eyes are dark and oh.
This was something that was going to be brought up again in conversation when they weren't at work.
"He did push me first, so technically he put his hands on me and I was just defending myself," Maverick keeps the conversation on topic, trying to not squirm under Ice's dark stare.
"Noted," Ice removes his grip and turns his head to clear his throat. "If that was it, you're dismissed, Mitchell."
Maverick rights his white tank top, before zipping up his flight suit, making his way out the door. He's stopped again by Ice's Admiral voice.
"Make sure you go to medical and make sure your ribs are okay."
"Yes, sir," Maverick smiles back at him, saluting.
On his way to med bay, he mulls over what Holder said. It was audacious and could get both him and Ice dishonorably discharged in a matter of minutes. Everyone knew Ice protected him tooth and nail because they were wingmen — best friends. But what they don't know is how Ice showers him in affection and presents him with causal gifts, sometimes costing high dollar. They didn't know how Ice would lay him down in bed and fuck him until he was mindless and shaking with pleasure. They didn't know how stupid in love they were with each other.
Until DADT would be repealed, if it ever did, they were just wingmen — just best friends. Maverick was okay with that and would be okay with whatever Ice wanted for the rest of their lives.
But the implication of being called Ice's wife had something flowing through his veins. He wasn't a girl. He didn't want to be a girl. But the thought of Ice kissing him sweetly and calling him his wife? Something dangerously close to want slammed into him at the thought. Something he never knew he wanted was now freshly presented in front of both of them.
The ball was now in Ice's court and from the way his eyes glazed over with lust earlier, Maverick didn't think he'd have to wait long before Ice took his shot.
A couple days pass and Maverick is still waiting for Ice to bring it up. He almost expected it that first night when Ice had laved his body with sweet kisses, softly nuzzling his bruised ribs. They had jerked each other off slowly as Ice warned him about being more careful. It was tender and loving, but the thought still laid dormant in his brain.
Tonight, they lay on the couch, cuddling while the TV plays some VHS tape Ice had slipped in. Maverick was content, laying between Ice's thighs, head propped up on his chest as Ice carded his fingers through his short hair. Maverick pushes his head into the hand, silently begging for more attention.
"Mav, baby," Ice starts, blunt fingernails scratching softly against his scalp. "I've been thinking."
"Mhm?" Mav feels like putty under the attentive touches, half-asleep.
"I've been thinking about how pretty of a wife you'd be for me."
Maverick goes completely still, his breathing stuttering to a stop. He can already feel his cock twitch with interest.
"You'd make such a pretty little wife, baby," Ice clenches a fist around the short strands, pulling until Maverick is staring into his eyes. "Greeting me at the door with a kiss when I come home. Making me my favorite food on bad days at the office. Spreading your legs for me whenever I ask."
If Maverick wasn't hard then, he was definitely hard now. He could feel his stomach swooping with the way Ice's voice had dropped so deep. He sucks in a deep breath, practically trembling with the amount of energy pulsing through his veins.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby?" Ice moves the hand cradling the back of his head to cup his cheek instead, thumb pressing down on his bottom lip. "Being my good little wife?"
"Tom," he chokes out, sucking the digit into his mouth.
"That's it, baby. Show me how a wife pleases their husband."
Maverick moans as the thumb presses down on his tongue. He can feel Ice's hardness pressing against his lower stomach from how he's laying. The outline is clear through the thin sweatpants Ice had put on earlier and Maverick wonders if this was the plan the whole time.
When Ice removes his thumb, a line of spit connects his bottom lip and the digit. Maverick watches as Ice's eyes go impossibly dark, as he rubs his thumb across his slick lip. Mav kisses the pad of his finger, before kitten licking the calloused skin.
"God, you trying to kill me, baby? I haven't even gotten inside you yet and I feel like I'm going to blow my load like a teenager."
"Then take me to bed and fuck me," Maverick whimpers, surging forward to slot their lips together in a messy kiss.
Maverick settles on his lap, rather than in between his thighs, and grinds down against the pressing length of Ice's hard cock as they messily lick into each other's mouths. Ice is standing in an instant, hiking Mav up with hands under his ass. He sets into a quick pace towards the bedroom, Maverick's head tucked into his throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses as they stumble through the hall.
Upon making it to the room, Ice lays him down on the bed, ruffling the neatly tucked covers. Maverick moves a hand behind Ice's neck to slot their lips together once again when Ice moves to back away. It's a frenzy of tongues pushing against one another and small huffs of air shared between them. The kiss is desperate and pleading. When Ice does manage to detach from the smaller man, Maverick lets out a long whine, trying to pull him back in.
"Got to get you out of these clothes, baby," Ice teases, smiling, as he pushes a large palm against Maverick's chest, pinning him down on the bed. "Want to see you spread out naked for me. Don't you want to make your husband happy?"
"God, yes," Maverick arches up, seeking friction on his straining cock.
Ice just chuckles as he manages to tug the white tee over Maverick's head. Stormy ocean-blue swipe over his chest and the quivering muscles of his abs as his stomach contracts in pleasure. Long fingers skate up his heated skin, across the faded bruise on his ribs, until blunt fingernails scrape over a hardened nipple. Maverick swears as he twists on the bed, always so sensitive when somebody touches him there.
"Such pretty tits, baby," Ice hums, cupping the muscled swell of Maverick's chest, swiping his thumb across the pebbled nub. "So perky and beautiful and so, so sensitive for me. You make the prettiest noises when I touch you here."
Maverick can only shiver and make small keening noises as Ice fondles his chest. The way the words fall from his mouth, sounding so dirty, so foreign, makes Maverick's brain go foggy. He suddenly feels so much smaller and dainty, like he needs to be taken care. He wants Ice to take care of him.
"Please, Ice," he struggles around words, pushing his pec into the relentless hand.
"What do you need, baby? My mouth on these pretty tits?"
Ice is leaning forward, dragging his teeth over the side lacking attention, licking the pink bud until Maverick is hissing. He sucks it into his mouth, pinching the other in between his thumb and forefinger. Maverick is making sharp gasps and withering moans, choking on variations of Ice and Tom. It's too much and not enough at once when Ice bites down softly. Ice's mouth feels unbearably hot on his skin and he can feel his cock twitch from where it's still restrained behind denim, pressing against the teeth of his zipper.
Ice lets the abused nipple slip out of his mouth as he sucks a bruise above the areola, then another one in the valley in the middle of his chest. Maverick loves the sting of pain when Ice sucks his skin between his teeth, biting down and breaking blood vessels — loves to stare at the bruises in the mirror as he presses down on them to remember the sting and pleasure that came with them. He loves the knowledge that Ice leaves them as a claim — loves watching Ice stare at him with dark eyes in the bathroom mirror as he presses on them, hissing in pain.
"You're my pretty little wife, Mav," he mumbles against his skin, teeth dragging. "These marks let everyone know that you're mine — my wife."
"Yes, Tom, yours," Maverick moans loudly as Ice bites his collarbone. "Always yours."
"Say it," Ice growls out. "Say you're my wife."
"I'm your— oh God, Tom," Maverick breaks off with a high-pitched noise when Ice grinds down, their crotches aligning. "I'm your wife, fuck."
Ice breaks away to claim his mouth again in a rougher kiss. Their teeth clack together as Ice licks into Maverick's open mouth. He's mapping out every crevice with sharp movements, sucking on Maverick's tongue with vigor. He pulls back, bringing a hand up to thumb open Maverick's mouth wider, before he spits on his tongue. Maverick's eyes glaze over and he's looking at Ice with a half-lidded gaze. Ice's eyes are fiery and hold a demand so evident as he flicks his gaze back down to Maverick's open mouth. He closes it quickly and swallows, basking in Ice's gaze that follow the movements of his throat.
"Such a good boy for me, baby. My sweet little wife," his hand strokes down Mav's face, throat, chest, and stomach before moving to the button of his jeans. "You'd do whatever I'd ask of you, wouldn't you, baby? Anything to please your adoring husband?"
"Ice," he keens, pushing his hips up to indicate for Ice move faster. "Anything, whatever you want."
"I know you would, baby," Ice gets his pants unbuttoned with one hand, slipping the zipper down slowly. "You're such a sweet little whore for me. So needy and ready for everything I give you."
Ice's hand slips in to the open jeans, pressing against where the head lies steadily leaking and soaking through the fabric of his briefs. Maverick can't help the jerk his hips give when Ice rubs his fingers lightly across him.
"Soaking wet for me," Ice grins down at him, smugly. "You're my perfect little wife. Getting so wet for me when I've barely even done anything."
"Do something," Maverick pleads. His body feels like it's about to snap, muscles tight and clenching. "Fuck me already, Ice."
"Be patient, love. Let me worship you. Show you how much I love you."
This time he's met with a much sweeter kiss, a soft press of lips against his own.
"Tom," Maverick whispers, pressing forward so their lips slot together easier.
Ice backs off with a quick peck to make work of stripping him completely out of the jeans, standing up to remove his own sweatpants. Maverick watches as Ice stands there in his own briefs, the line of his cock pressing against the dark fabric makes his mouth salivate.
"It never fails to amaze me at how dazed you get when you come face to face with my cock, baby," Ice smirks, running a large hand up his thigh. "You really are so needy for it, aren't you?"
His hand inches under one leg of his briefs, rubbing teasing patterns over the new patch of skin exposed.
"I'd let you suck me off tonight, but I think we would both prefer if I came inside you instead of down your throat, hm?"
"Please, Ice. Need you inside me."
"Yeah, baby? Need me here?" Ice accentuates the question with a light press to his hole over his underwear.
"Jesus, Ice," Mav jerks at the touch, every nerve in his body feeling like a live wire. "Touch me. Put your fingers inside of me. Do something," he whines, rocking his body back down to feel the pressure again.
Ice makes a hushing noise, moving to pull the briefs down his legs. Mav lets his legs spread wide once the garment is off, his cock laying hard and leaking against his stomach, pooling in the divots of his abs. He watches as Ice's eyes dart over the scene before him — he's sure he looks nothing short of obscene, with how Ice's eyes are locked on where he's spread open.
"Come on, Ice," Maverick urges. "Touch me."
"Gimme me one second, baby. Let me look at how gorgeous you are," Ice's hand is back on his thigh, this time lifting up to spread him further. "Let me look at how pretty and pink you are down here."
Maverick's head tilts back as he inhales sharply. He's positive if he keeps looking at Ice's heated stare, he's going to bust everywhere. He's barely been touched, yet he's so close already, his body begging for release. He's getting ready to tease him and call him a weirdo or a perv for just staring at him, until he feels a hot tongue swiping over his hole, causing a shout to leave his mouth.
"Tom," he garbles, struggling to find purchase as Ice holds his thighs, basically folding him upwards and licks into him.
It's nothing new, but it's still a shock every time Ice does it. He always catches him off guard when he laves his tongue around the furled muscle, eating him out as if he were something delectable.
His back arches as Ice sucks, tongue pressing forward to breach him. It's so fucking filthy and hot at the same time, the way he wiggles his tongue past the tightness, licking into him until Maverick's muscles loosen enough for him to hook a thumb in to spread him wider.
"Holy fucking shit, Tom," Mav gasps, white-knuckling the bedsheets. "Feels so good."
"You always taste so good, Mav," Ice mumbles as he flicks his tongue. "You were laid out like a feast and I couldn't resist myself. So gorgeous."
Ice pulls back to spit on the slick opening, causing Maverick to jerk in his hold and moan loudly.
"Gonna get you nice and wet for me, baby — get you gaping so beautifully until you're ready to take my cock," Ice promises, reaching into the bedside table to grab the lube out. "Gonna fuck this pretty cunt full of cum."
"Ice, oh my God," Maverick is fully whining now, thrashing in Ice's tight grip.
"You like the sound of that? Want me to fuck you full of cum until it's leaking out of this tight cunt?"
“Please, please, please,” Maverick shudders at the first press of a lube-coated finger against his opening. He hadn’t even heard Ice pop open the cap through the haze of pleasure.
Ice presses in slowly, Maverick’s hole sucking him in easily from the way Ice had thoroughly eaten him out.
“Even your hole is needy, taking me in with no resistance.”
Ice moves to insert a second finger, darting forward to nose at Maverick’s flushed cock. It’s the first contact without his underwear in the way and he clenches down on the fingers dragging across his walls. Ice licks up towards the swollen tip, encouraged by Mav’s keening moans. He sucks it in and Maverick doesn’t know if he should thrust forward into Ice’s hot mouth or back onto the fingers stretching him out. Ice hollows his cheeks, focusing on the head, before crooking his fingers upwards against the spot that has Maverick seeing stars.
“I’m gonna cum,” Maverick cries, hips lifting. “Holy fucking shit, Ice, I’m gonna cum.”
Ice rubs his fingers against the spot inside of him, releasing his cock with a pop.
“Let go for me. You can cum again, Maverick. I know you can. Always such a good little wife for me — you can give me another after this one, can’t you?”
Maverick is shaking his head, eyes wild as Ice licks a long stripe up his cock and takes him back in his mouth. He presses a third finger in at the same time, spreading his fingers as he thrusts them in and out agonizingly slow. When Ice tightens his other hand on his thigh and doubles down on sucking him off, Mav can’t hold off any longer, body going boneless as he melts into the sheets after shooting down Ice’s throat.
The first thing he recognizes are hot open-mouthed kisses pressing over his rib cage. The second thing is how loud he’s breathing.
“There you are, baby,” Ice whispers, nuzzling into his chest and mouthing at the flushed skin. “Lost you for a minute. How are you feeling?”
“Like you just sucked my brain through my dick,” he breathes out.
He feels Ice smile against him, laughing quietly. He brings his hands up from where they were laying limp at his side to run his hands up Ice’s muscled shoulders and card his fingers through spiked and sweaty blond locks.
“Do you think you can get it up again?” Ice asks, running a finger over his now-soft member. It gives a valiant twitch, but still lays there limply.
“I might be able to when you get inside me,” Mav quips back.
He feels his hole clench down loosely on nothing at the notion of being filled again. He can suddenly feel how empty he is and hopes Ice will finally get a move on and fuck him properly.
“You’ll be a little over sensitive,” Ice’s voice drops into a slight worried tone. “Are you sure? We aren’t in our early twenties anymore, Mav.”
“Ice, I swear to God if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll scream,” Maverick tugs at Ice’s hair to emphasize his point.
Ice is quick to react, shooting up to cage him in and pin his hands down on the bed. Maverick can only grin up at him as Ice looks down at him in hunger.
“Fuck your wife, Mr. Kazansky. I’m so empty,” Maverick flutters his eyelashes up at him, grin turning into a smirk. His legs come up to wrap around Ice’s waist, heels digging into his still-covered ass. “Fuck me with your fat cock and fill me up. Leave me aching and dripping so you can slide right back in when you wake up.”
Ice’s eyes go completely dark and he lets a sound close to a growl spill from his lips.
“Yeah? My pretty little wife wants to be used like a good little whore?”
“Please,” he whispers, head going a bit fuzzy again.
His wrists are released as Ice moves off the bed, shucking off his underwear. His thick and long cock slaps against his stomach, pre-cum catching in his treasure trail of hair. Ice’s cock was so beautiful and Maverick loved feeling it heavy in his hand, or stretching his mouth wide, or fucking into him deep. When they first started this, Mav had only been intimate with a few men, never surpassing hand stuff, but when he was faced with Ice’s, he was instantly enamored with wanting everything the taller man could give him.
Now, here they were years later in bed together while Ice called him his wife and was getting ready to fuck him silly.
Ice slips back onto the bed, slotting between his thighs, moving to slip three fingers in without much resistance to make sure he’s stretched enough to take him. When he removes them his wraps the slick covered digits around his hard length, giving himself a couple strokes. He leans forward, pressing the tip against Maverick’s winking hole.
“You ready, baby?” Ice looks into his eyes deeply, waiting.
“Yes, Ice,” he presses forward at the confirmation, stretching the ring of muscle open around his cock. “Yes!”
“Jesus, Mav,” Ice groans as he sheaths himself deeper inside the hot slick tight entrance. “You’re sucking me in — pulling me in like I belong here. Like you were made for me, baby. Feels so fucking good.”
When he’s fully in, he pauses to give Maverick time to adjust, both of their harsh breathing fills the bedroom. Maverick arches slightly, pushing his ass down in an attempt to get Ice to continue.
“Move, Ice, please,” he gasps when Ice rotates his hips in a slow grind.
“You’re such a breathtaking sight, baby,” Ice tilts back on his haunches, before pressing forward again. “Look so pretty wrapped around my cock. Gonna have to take a picture one day and keep it in my wallet.”
“Faster,” he pleads, whining at the slow pace Ice has set.
Ice only folds him in half, knees pressed close to his chest, and Maverick is thankful he still works out everyday, maintaining his flexibility even at 30. Ice bears all his weight on Maverick’s spread thighs, leaning over him to pin his wrists above his head, arranging them so they’re flush together in the mating press position. In this position, Ice holds all control — can easily keep his pace slow and deliberate. This time when he thrusts, Maverick can feel the slow drag against his clenching walls, cock-head nudging against his prostate on every downstroke.
Maverick’s cock has hardened back up in between the new position and the way Ice’s stomach presses down on him. He knows having came already, he’d be shooting his load real soon again, if Ice kept this going.
“Gonna keep you stuffed full of cock whenever I want,” Ice thrusts particularly harder, grinding into his tight heat. “You’re gonna be my good little wife and take it, aren’t you?”
Maverick moans out a yes as Ice speeds up, pressing impossibly deep.
“I can feel you in my stomach,” Maverick whimpers. “You’re so deep. Feels so good, Tom. You fuck me so good, sweetheart.”
Ice’s hands tighten on his wrists, moving his hips in wild thrusts. Maverick arches into him, mouth hanging open, at the sharp change of pace. He feels like his body is on fire as Ice’s course hair along his lower stomach rub against his sensitive member. The glide is slick with his pre-cum and it’s sticky and dirty and has him shivering down to his toes.
“You gonna cum again, baby?” Tom gasps out as he slows his rough strokes.
“So close,” Mav murmurs, eyes closed in pleasure.
“Cum for me. I wanna feel your cunt clamping down and milking me,” the demanding Admiral voice orders. “Open your eyes and look at me. Want to see your pretty face go slack as I fuck you through it.”
Maverick manages to open his eyes in a half-lidded gaze, struggling to keep them locked on Ice’s face as he grunts on top of him. His hips have sped up again, each stroke stuffing him so full, leaving him stretched and waiting. His spine tingles as Ice grinds down filthily, hitting his prostate head on and stimulating his cock as he cums in between their heaving stomachs. His hole clenches impossibly tight around Ice’s cock, causing the man above him to howl with white-hot pleasure coursing through his veins.
“That’s it, baby. Such a good little wife for me, letting me use your tight little body. You’re doing so good for me.”
Maverick feels like a rag doll as Ice continues to use him, his eyes rolling back and mouth open, making small noises at the overuse of his fluttering hole. He can tell Ice isn’t far behind as his thrusts grow sloppy, finally just chasing his orgasm.
The room echoes with chants of groans and grunts of each other’s names and compliments of so good, so tight, so pretty fall from Ice’s lips. He releases Mav’s wrists to instead grab his thighs, spreading him wider, before giving a couple of final thrusts, cumming while buried deep inside of Maverick’s ass.
He can feel where Ice pumps him full, his seed filling him up and dripping down his crack as Ice carefully pulls out. They both hiss when the cool air of the room hits them. Ice gently drops his thighs, sitting back on his haunches once again to catch his breath. Maverick lays back, limply, eyes closed. He’s so fucked out that all of his limbs feel heavy and he can start to feel the ache of his muscles.
Suddenly he’s whining, trying to move up the bed and away from the fingers pushing the leaking cum back inside of him. Ice plugs him with his fingers, gathering his seed and keeping it there.
“Sorry, baby,” he laughs, light and airy. “Couldn’t resist. Wish I could keep you full all the time, have you dripping down your pant leg in public. Have everyone see how good you are for me.”
“Tom,” Maverick tries to wiggle free, everything dialed up to 100. “Too much,” he cries.
Ice slips his fingers out, listening to Mav’s pleas. He leans forward to smother his face with soft kisses, making shushing noises as he goes.
“You did so good for me, baby,” a kiss to his jaw.
“You took everything I gave you,” a kiss to his nose.
“You’re so pretty like this,” a kiss to his forehead.
“Such a good wife for me,” a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth.
“The best wife, baby. My pretty little wife,” he kisses him gently on the mouth, as Maverick moans against his lips.
As Maverick comes to, Ice has thoroughly cleaned him free of any body fluids, and is leaned back against his chest as Ice leans against the headboard. He presses a cold glass to Mav’s lips, urging him to drink the cool liquid. Mav takes small sips, hydrating his spent body. He still feels kind of floaty, but Ice is a sturdy feeling as he pets his sweaty hair out of his eyes.
Maverick detects a minty smell and finds Ice had brushed his teeth. He lets the smell ground him further as Ice whispers how good he was for him.
“That was…” he trails off, looking for the right word.
“Intense?” Ice offers, tucking his head in Maverick’s neck to leave a lingering kiss there.
“Very,” Mav agrees. He’s tired and ready to fall into a deep sleep. “T’was good though. I was waiting for you to make your move after seeing your pupils dilate the other day.”
“Mmh,” Ice hums, moving to wrap his arms around his waist. “I was worried on how you’d react, to be honest.”
“I don’t know how to describe it,” he squirms in Ice’s arms, trying to get comfortable. “I just know it kind of made me really turned on? Like, it’s not like I want to be a girl, but the way you described it made me feel hot and desired more than I’ve ever felt.”
Ice squeezes him, urging him to continue.
“It’s like I wanted to instantly drop to my knees and do whatever you wanted me to like a ‘50s housewife. I wanted to be the pretty wife who dotes on her loving husband, bending to his every will. Which is a little crazy, but God, it was so hot, Ice.”
“I kind of get how you feel?” Ice says, feeling his cheeks heat. “I hope you don’t think I see you as a girl,” he frowns.
“I don’t,” Mav confirms, squeezing the hands around his waist.
“I was just so turned on by the implication of us being married, knowing the only way we could, was if you were my wife. I let the thought slip in and couldn’t stop myself as I kept thinking about doing anything to make me happy like a wife would.”
“Yeah?” Maverick turns his head to kiss Ice’s cheek.
“Yeah. I guess we both zeroed in on old-fashioned married couples when thinking about this,” he chuckles, the sound vibrating against Maverick’s skin.
“I wouldn’t mind being your wife for real, Tom,” Maverick whispers quietly.
“Yeah?” His head lifts and Maverick turns so he can meet his ocean-blues.
“As long as I can still be in the air, I wouldn’t mind coming home to you every night and showing you how much I love you through my wifely duties,” he laughs, open and honest.
“You know, even if we can’t get married yet,” Ice begins, moving to grab something in the bedside drawer. “Or if we can’t ever get married. I still want you to be mine. My wife. My husband. Whatever it may be, I know that I want you for the long haul.”
Ice holds out a black velvet ring box. Maverick’s eyes go wide and glassy as he stares at it.
“I know this is a crappy proposal, but I want you to know that even if we physically can’t be married, I am hopelessly devoted to you for all of eternity,” Ice shoves the box into his hands. “If you’ll have me, that is.”
Maverick opens the small box and is greeted by a dainty silver band, shiny where it sits.
“Of course I’ll have you, Tom.” A few tears slip down his face, as he pulls him in for a kiss, pouring every ounce of love and devotion into the tender press of lips. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as a husband. But I get to be the lucky one because you asked me.”
Ice kisses the cheeky smile off his face, reveling in the blissfulness of the moment.
“So, it’s settled,” Ice grabs the ring and Maverick’s hand, slipping the band onto his ring finger. “You’re now Mr. Kazansky. You may kiss your loving husband.”
“Why do I get your last name? Why don’t you get mine?” Maverick narrows his eyes, ignoring the puckered lips awaiting him.
“Because you’re the wife, remember?” Ice chuckles as Maverick pushes on his chest.
“Okay, okay,” he grabs at Maverick’s hand that’s pushing at him, bringing it up to kiss the finger wearing his ring. “We can be Kazansky-Mitchell, you brat.”
“That’s more like it,” he huffs. “Remember the motto, Ice. Happy wife,” he gestures to himself. “Happy life.”
“Any life with you in it is a happy life, Pete Kazansky-Mitchell,” he teases, pulling Maverick in for another deep kiss.