Chapter Text
Maverick's back hit the lockers so hard he had flashbacks to high school. But then there was Iceman—Kazansky?—Tom?—keeping him there, pinning Maverick with his ribcage in a way that made it exquisitely obvious how much bigger he was.
They were both, to dangerously understate it, keyed up, and probably technically in shock. Iceman's chest was fever-hot against his, and Maverick at least still hadn't even stopped actively sweating. And boy, was this making him sweat. Maverick looked up into Ice's face, equally worried about the two most likely possibilities—getting beaten up or getting laid. A good hard stare into Iceman's sweat-shiny face made Maverick even more worried and even more horny.
Then he looked down at Ice's mouth.
That was all the invitation he was looking for, apparently, because Ice went in for the kill, but not nearly as literally as Maverick had feared. He offered his open mouth to Mav's and met him there tongue first, hot and ugly.
Hot and ugly and perfect.
Mav had been a brat to this man since the first time they met, so they were months into foreplay without even kissing, which turned Maverick inside out with want. He pushed back into the kiss until he was on his toes, panting so hard it was almost hard to keep kissing.
Iceman pushed him back against the lockers, almost knocking the wind out of him, and stepped forward so that his hard dick lined up with Mav's hip.
Maverick froze. He was packing, but he hadn't packed a hard-on. And the longer Iceman disturbed the situation, the weirder he was going to think Mav's dick was. (In all fairness, it was weird, but Maverick was very dedicated to keeping that a secret.)
Freezing was a bigger mistake. Maverick could and had passed off this exact hesitation as something else with a stranger in a bathroom; hell, sometimes he didn't have to pass it off as anything. But Iceman had been trying to get under his skin for months, and when he finally managed it, he saw it.
"Shit," said Ice.
"Shit?" Maverick repeated stupidly, his brain running on a short blood ration.
Iceman took a step back and ran a distressed hand through his hair. "Are you—you seemed into it, I'm—"
"Into it," Mav interrupted emphatically. "Very."
Iceman looked twice as confused.
"I just, uh, don't—can I blow you?"
Iceman raised his eyebrows and then grinned, and he looked more like the Iceman who had stared Maverick down the first day in class. "Yeah, you can blow me."
Mav let out a relieved breath and hoped it sounded horny as he lunged for Ice again. He had to kiss his stupid, pouty-lipped mouth first regardless, which Ice didn't seem to have a problem with. They had their fists locked in each other's collars and Maverick yanked Ice's out of shape trying to kiss him harder before he reared back so hard he hit the lockers again. He looked wildly around, even though he hadn't heard anything.
Iceman gave a quick, wry smile of sympathy. "It's okay. Slider's got it for a minute."
"A minute?"
"At least fifteen."
"Roger that," Maverick said, and immediately dropped to his knees. He skipped the teasing, pretending it was because of the time constraints and that he would have had the restraint to do any teasing anyway. He palmed Ice's bulge, found the head of his dick through his pants and squeezed.
Jesus, he was big. Maverick shot a hungry look up at him and Iceman smirked unbearably.
Well, if he couldn't get railed, he could at least ruin his own voice. He had just had multiple near-death experiences; nobody but Slider needed to know he was choking on Ice's dick about it.
He got Iceman's pants open and his cock out, and Maverick truly couldn't decide whether he was outraged or overjoyed, because his cock was so nice: thick and hard and drooling almost immediately into his hand.
"For me?" Mav asked, grinning. "Or the MiGs?"
Iceman chewed on his fucking distracting lip, never breaking that serene, predatory eye contact. "Flying gets me all riled up." He flashed a brief, shocking smile down at Maverick and slid one massive hand around the back of his neck. Maverick felt himself go hot at the touch, at the promising hint of pressure there. "Unfortunately, so do you."
Maverick beamed proudly at him and then brought his cock to his lips. He didn't break eye contact either as he opened his mouth and rubbed Ice's cock all over his tongue, coating it with precome. It was heavy on his tongue and cracked his jaw uncomfortably wide, and Iceman stank of sweat too sour for volleyball, and Maverick was so hard he might pass out. He fit his mouth over it and went almost all the way down his cock. His throat clicked, and Ice's hand on the back of his neck got heavier, pushing him slowly down the rest of the way. Drool was dripping down Maverick's chin.
Iceman chuckled, but his voice was hoarse, and his cock pulsed onto Maverick's tongue. "I should have known you'd be self-destructive in bed."
Maverick pulled off with a messy wet sound. "I certainly plan to destroy myself with this," he agreed, wishing he could stay, that they could do this for real.
"Fifteen minutes," Iceman reminded him, like he didn't trust himself to cut and run.
"That's plenty of time to get you off," he promised smugly.
Iceman raised his eyebrows slightly. "And how do you know that?"
"I'm the best," Mav said simply. He wrapped one hand around the base of Ice's cock and sucked him down until his mouth met his knuckles.
"You are still arrogant," Iceman growled, but he twisted his fingers in Mav's hair. "I wish you'd stop earning it."
Maverick slid his free hand down the back of Ice's underwear to squeeze his ass. He was hot and damp with sweat all over, but it felt especially filthy to slide his fingers down the dip of Iceman's back, smearing half-formed droplets of sweat down his spine until they slipped down his crack.
"Shit, Maverick." The back of Mav's collar crumpled in Iceman's hand as Maverick really started sucking and stroking.
Ice's cock was a handful and more than a mouthful. It was everything Maverick wanted in this adrenaline-soaked moment. All his senses were still overloaded and his blood still boiling, and it just felt right for Ice's cock to be so heavy and hard on his tongue.
It felt right for Ice to cup the back of his head and drive his cock home until his knuckles rapped on the metal locker door, over and over again.
"Can I ask you a question, Maverick?" Iceman asked, shocking Maverick's eyes open. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his permanent pout especially captivating, and Mav had trouble focusing on anything else. "Do you swallow?"
Salt erupted in his mouth, bubbled up the back of his tongue, and he moaned at the newest searing excess of sensation added to a pile of others. He let his eyes shut again as he swallowed, over and over again.
"Jesus, Mitchell," Iceman said, letting go of him and rocking backward half a step. Maverick folded over, coughing and groaning, and Ice hauled him up with insulting ease.
Maverick was pinned violently to the locker for a third time, and he was so hard and being kissed so well that it took him a solid five seconds to shrink out of the kiss and away after Iceman pushed his thigh between Mav's legs. Five seconds that Maverick just writhed and let Ice rub his fake, floppy dick against his real one, before slithering out of Iceman's arms to stand there in the middle of the otherwise empty locker room, shaking.
"Maverick," Iceman said, very sensibly not following, just turning to face him. "Is this about—" He gestured clumsily at Maverick's crotch, and then on second thought, put his own cock away, glancing at the door.
Maverick's blood ran cold. His brain stopped working. "What?"
"Cougar told me," Iceman said.
Maverick's blood froze solid. "When?"
"Right before you came here, when he told me you were coming to Top Gun instead of him. When he told me you saved his life." Iceman had the gall to crack one of those dazzling smiles, but it actually seemed to reach his eyes. "He kind of bullied me, to be honest."
"What?" Maverick asked stupidly.
The smile faded. "Maverick, I won't tell anyone. I haven't." He paused, and when Maverick didn't seem at all reassured by this, tried again. "I don't care. You're a pain in the ass, but that has nothing to do with you being—" He gestured again, unbearably. "It's okay. You're—you're safe."
That was a weird word for Iceman to use on him, but it got the message through Maverick's head. He relaxed a little, then a lot, his shoulders sagging.
"He told me he wouldn't consider me a friend if I had any problems with it—with you. He said they'd listen to me, if anything happened, if anyone found out. Asked me to back you up." Ice paused, giving him a look made of hard eyes and soft lips. "And I was going to. I still would. He told me you were an asshole with a heart of gold. Whatever that means."
Maverick laughed, surprising both of them. "Cougar's a good man." He hadn't even known Cougar knew. Merlin must have told him, which would have irritated Mav if he didn't know how much Merlin trusted Cougar.
Cougar had been worried about him.
Maverick was going to squeeze the life out of Merlin next time he saw his hopefully permanent new RIO.
And then the stupidest but also most relevant question filtered through. "And you still want to fuck me?" Maverick instantly wanted to walk into traffic. This could be career-ending if not life-threatening, especially given how antagonistic Mav had been to Iceman. But everything else made sense to him. Not this.
Iceman crossed his arms with a sigh. "Maverick, there are so many good reasons not to fuck you. What's the big deal, anyway?"
Maverick felt a horribly embarrassing laugh crawling up his throat. "You don't care?" he repeated. The number of times he had made it to this conversation was not large, but none of them had concluded with, "I don't care." Not all of those conversations had gone badly, but even coming out to Goose had been weird. ("Aw, but we were going to get married," hadn't seemed weird at all between 5-year-olds, but it was still a negative response, so Maverick kept it to himself for a long time.)
Ice shrugged with a smirk. "I like to top anyway." He seemed to realize he'd made a (completely correct) assumption as soon as he said it, and closed his eyes, wincing. "Unless you—sorry."
Maverick laughed despite himself. "Fantastic."
Ice relaxed a little, but Maverick was still standing in the middle of the locker room with his arms crossed defensively. "Are you okay?"
Maverick shook his head slowly, his eyes unfocused. He had been trying to sneak past memories of Goose for the last week, and they were everywhere. But Maverick had no memories of unclothed sex that didn't involve Goose. Faced with someone other than his lifelong best friend, Maverick was jittery and almost completely taken over by the Goose-shaped parts of him that were missing, wounds so fresh they had barely begun to heal.
"If it's too soon—"
"It'll always be too soon," Maverick said quietly.
Iceman finally closed the distance between them and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. They just stared at each other for a long few seconds, and then Ice kissed him, slightly more subdued than last time but just as wet and deep.
"Come over?" Ice purred into the kiss.
Maverick shivered, completely unprepared for how hard and fast that voice turned him on. He nodded, groaning instead of trying to speak.
Slider stomped pointedly into the bathroom, making enough noise that the two of them just barely sprung apart in time. He smirked mercilessly, wise to their act, but said, "Incoming."
"Thanks," Ice said, and started peeling off his flight suit. Maverick watched, allowing himself to be transfixed by the reveal of so much golden skin shining with sweat for a long, greedy moment, all silent except for Slider's, "Gross."
"Go fuck yourself," Maverick said with a smug grin.
Slider flipped him off. "See, Ice? Bad taste."
Iceman sighed deeply. "Tell me about it." But he flashed a boiling look at Maverick on his way into the shower.
Maverick wanted to follow him. He wanted to twitch aside the curtain and press Iceman's back to the cold tile, chest to chest, chin to chin. He wanted to kiss water from his lips and bite marks into his shoulders.
Jesus Christ, he was hard.
It was an effort not to jerk off in the shower, but he found his own hands unmotivating compared to the idea of Ice's. Or maybe even his mouth. Jesus, if Maverick got to fuck his mouth….
He was rubbing his cock before he could think twice about it. He could picture it, could see Ice's mouth eclipsed by his pelvis, and it felt so good that he braced his palm against the tile as his hips rolled into his hand. He came so hard he had to take a knee in the goddamn shower.
He finished up fast after that. It was a very familiar cadence: from leisurely to enthusiastic to scrambling. When he got out, everyone in the locker room had to high-five him or hug him or slap his shoulder, which was a lot of physical contact and none of it was the kind he wanted. Ice got a similar reception when he emerged glowing and dripping a few minutes later. Maverick looked away after allowing himself to stare for exactly three seconds. (God knew he had stared longer than that plenty of times.)
Then Merlin walked in, still sweating in his flight suit. Maverick launched right for him and hit him with a full body embrace tight enough to make him grunt. After a shocked second, Merlin squeezed him back. "You okay, Maverick? Not going to bug out, are you? Only so many times a man can take that kind of rejection."
Maverick laughed hoarsely as he let go of his RIO, shaking his head. "No, I just… Thank you, Merlin."
Merlin sobered up a little bit and nodded. "Good flying."
"Do I get to keep you?"
Merlin laughed, clearly delighted by the question. "Damn, Mav, wine and dine me first."
"When and where?"
Maverick really did hope the answer was yes. There was something symmetrical about it; they had both lost their partners because of Maverick. That plucked at something painful in Maverick's chest, but it was a little easier not to latch onto right now.
He escaped back to the quarters he no longer shared with Goose and realized when he shut his own door behind him that he was terrified. Goose and Carole were the only ones. Everyone else had been used or using him, fucking his face or riding his fingers or grinding on his leg. He didn't know how to properly fuck normal people. He didn't know how to have sex that wasn't goofy and overfamiliar and rowdy.
But maybe that wasn't a bad thing. What had all those volleyball games been if not goofy and rowdy?
Somebody knocked on his door, and Maverick, who was still standing leaned against it, jumped.
It was Ice. Maverick let him in without a word, and he said, "Nobody saw."
And then he took Maverick's face and kissed him, deep but shockingly gentle. His mouth was just as nice to kiss as it looked, and Maverick took the time to appreciate it this time.
Maverick backed blindly into the bed, and Iceman flattened him satisfyingly into the mattress. He was half hard, and Maverick wished Iceman could feel how hard he was. A winded, pitiful noise came out of Maverick's throat when Ice pushed his hands up his shirt, raising goosebumps that were half aroused, half terrified, and all nerves.
Ice had seen his chest and like everybody else, hadn't asked, and the scars were old enough that you could barely feel them if you weren't looking for them, but Maverick was still unspeakably relieved when he neither commented nor hesitated when his fingers passed over them.
But then his fingers brushed across what Maverick guessed were both nipples, but all it did was send an achy tickle through to his ribcage.
"I, uh, can't feel those," Maverick panted, blushing hot.
Ice hummed curiously against his mouth. "Why not?"
Maverick snorted. "Because I had my tits cut off, Kazansky."
Iceman looked comically surprised by this. "Oh."
"Alright," Maverick sighed, giving Iceman's chest a little shove. "I will be taking awkward questions now, because if you even think the word 'pussy,' we're not gonna have a good time."
Ice looked distracted and distracting. They stared at each other for a long second and then Maverick craned up to kiss him again, hungry and selfish and taking whatever Ice would give him, which was more than Maverick deserved. He was rough, heavy, and Mav had never enjoyed being the smaller one as much as he was enjoying it right now.
"So do you have a dick?" Ice asked, breaking them apart.
"Not like yours," Mav said gingerly, "but yeah."
"Let's see it, then."
"Jesus, Kazansky, hold on," Maverick pleaded. He wasn't going to win an argument outnumbered by Iceman and his own dick.
Ice grinned, which really didn't help. "No lady junk words, what else? What's the hard deck?"
"Fuck you," Maverick laughed. "The hard deck is right here." He rolled his hips up into Ice's.
Iceman laughed as he dipped down to kiss Mav again, and this time there was no stopping him. He was weighing every inch of Mav into the mattress, grinding their hips together and doing his damnedest to suck all the air out of Mav's lungs.
Maverick finally came to some of his senses and wrapped his arms and legs around Iceman, knotting his fingers in his stupid hair and knocking chins and teeth with him in his effort to kiss him more. He yanked at the back of Iceman's shirt and was shocked and delighted when Iceman sat back, crossed his arms, and stripped it off like a fucking porn star.
"You're so hot, I hate you sometimes," Maverick muttered, half to himself.
Iceman's eyes raked almost literally down Maverick's body to the exposed slice of belly. "You're one to talk, asshole," he chuckled. He pushed Mav's shirt up and when he hooked his fingers in his belt loop, Maverick froze, despite his best efforts to keep breathing normally.
"I can stop," Ice said uncertainly.
Maverick covered his eyes and just focused on breathing for a minute. "I don't fucking want you to stop."
"Will you be able to tell me if you do?"
Mav nodded, and his arms flopped back down to his sides. "Yeah."
"Then I'm not gonna stop unless you do," Iceman growled, and he yanked Maverick's pants down and off. Maverick scrambled to get his shirt off, if only to provide some kind of distraction, but Iceman wasn't distracted from Mav's spread legs. Iceman ran one hand down Maverick's inner thigh to his inside spread knee, and squeezed himself through his pants with his other hand.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Maverick?" he asked, and Mav couldn't believe how composed he sounded.
An emphatic, "Yeah," was all he could manage. And then, unable to handle the ridiculous ordeal of his packer going flying, he pulled his soft dick out of his underwear and tossed it on the bed.
Iceman gave it one curious glance, but seemed much more interested in Mav's actual dick, rubbing the backs of his knuckles up between his legs until he found the bulge of his cock.
His eyes flicked up to Maverick's, catching him staring, and he grinned, wide and smug and almost predatory. "Is that your little cock, all hard for me?"
If Iceman had been touching him any more than he already was, Maverick would have come right then and there. There was an untidy explosion in his brain of things he desperately didn't ever want to process, but it involved humiliation and praise and Ice's huge dick that he knew was hard for him.
A wounded, "Shit, god, Ice," was the very edited-down version that left his mouth.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said smugly, and yanked his briefs off too.
Maverick closed his eyes, his face stinging as he caught sight of the crotch of his underwear completely dark with precome. When he opened them again, Iceman was licking it off his knuckles, and Maverick thought he might pass out.
"You're cute when you're flustered," Iceman said with a grin, then looked back down at his cock as he ran one thumb up over it. "Can I suck you off?" Mav's traitorous dick pulsed visibly, his hole clenching on nothing. Iceman's eyebrows shot up, and suddenly Maverick wanted to show off.
He reached down and Iceman moved his hand as Maverick rubbed his dick a few leisurely times and then pulled back his foreskin to show Ice his pink little cock, which bucked as Maverick clenched. He dragged his fingers through his own precome and pushed the head of his cock through his thumb and forefinger. His head fell back with a groan, and he started to fuck his hips up into his hand.
"Fuck, that's hot," Iceman growled, digging his fingers into Maverick's thighs. He backed up and stretched out between his legs, his boots dangling off the bed. He lubed up his fingers with Mav's precome and asked, his heavy-lidded eyes dark with need, "Which hole do you want me to fuck?"
Jesus Christ. Holy shit. This was happening. Iceman was going to put his mouth on him and then his dick in him. Maverick groaned inarticulately, and Iceman smirked. "Both?"
Maverick gave a strained laugh. "Ice, you're killing me."
Iceman froze, frowning. "Mitchell, you're not a virgin, are you?" he asked. It was clearly occurring to him for the very first time.
Maverick chuckled. "No. I just…"
Ice didn't make him say it, just nodded. "It's complicated."
Maverick relaxed visibly. "Yeah," he agreed sourly.
"So both," Iceman concluded.
"Maybe," said Maverick. "The wet one first."
"Jesus," Ice muttered. He looked down at Maverick's cock, and he fucking strategized. He spread him wide and stroked back his foreskin, and then sucked Maverick down.
"Fuck—" Maverick clapped his hand over his mouth one word too late.
Iceman chuckled around his cock, and even just the motion of him smiling had Maverick humping his face with a groan. Iceman let him until Maverick's rhythm started to falter, which didn't take long, and then pulled back. "Do you need me to gag you?" he asked, clearly joking until Maverick's dick flexed in his face. "Oh," he said, grin evaporating. "Do you want me to stuff your come-soaked underwear in your mouth to keep you quiet?" He glanced sideways at Maverick's discarded packer. "Or maybe I'll choke you on your own dick."
Maverick bit viciously into his wrist and came. Ice wasn't even touching him, not really; he had just pulled his foreskin back so that his cock stood up, and it pulsed each time his holes convulsed on nothing. When Iceman saw that, though, he started sucking on Maverick again, and with a poorly muffled shout Maverick's orgasm started over from the overwhelming beginning, punching a sob out of him.
He realized he had crossed his ankles behind Iceman's shoulders only when his legs loosened of their own accord, the same way they had wrapped themselves around his neck.
"I really do need to gag you, huh, cowboy?"
Maverick could barely breathe fast enough. "Yeah," he finally gave up. He looked down and saw a visible bite mark already developing on his wrist. "Shit."
"If you tell anyone I said this, I'll never suck your dick again," Iceman started, wiping his mouth as he sat up, and Maverick chuckled, "but you're a lot of fun."
"You haven't even fucked me yet," he protested (or pleaded).
"Oh, I'll get around to it," he promised with a grin that could only be described as threatening. He unbuckled his belt and shoved everything halfway down his thighs, and his cock swung free, thick and heavy with interest but not quite standing to attention. Maverick's mouth watered, but Iceman rubbed the head of his cock up between Maverick's legs, back and forth through the mess of come and spit, over and over again until his cock was so hard it jolted Maverick's entire body every time their cocks bumped past each other.
Ice caught on and took his cock by the base and smacked it against Mav's, and Maverick let out a fraction of the groan that wanted to come out.
"Are you going to fuck me or not?" Maverick bit out, desperate for literally anything inside him, but preferably the heavy stretch of Ice's cock.
"You're such a brat, Maverick," Iceman said, and the fucking perfect slide of his cock nestled between his thighs was the only thing that kept Maverick from taking a crashing, burning detour to visit the origin of that déjà vu.
Iceman leaned back, and Maverick whined with shameless disappointment as his cock slipped out of his crack. Ice's fingers replaced his cock between his legs, rubbing over his hole before pushing one finger frictionlessly in.
"You don't need to—just go slow."
"Maverick…" Ice's sulkily disapproving expression was intimately familiar: he disagreed and knew it made no difference what he thought. But he listened, and his finger slipped out. Maverick wanted to scream; it was barely enough to feel when he was this turned on. Iceman lined up the blunt head of his dick, and as they both watched, it stretched him wide and then wider and wider until finally Maverick's body opened for him, and his cock sank halfway in all at once.
"Fuck," Maverick said loudly just as Iceman hissed, "Jesus, Maverick."
Maverick wished he was on his hands and knees so he could hide his wince and the moan that came with it. Ice was big. Bigger than—than Maverick was used to. And he hadn't been used to anything the last few weeks. He should have let him finger him open first.
Iceman smirked, more than a little vindictive, and leaned down and kissed him, and it was hard and a lot but also surprisingly deliberate. There was some kind of rhythm about it that had Maverick, whose unchecked instincts made 80% of his decisions, stumbling over skipped half-beats, and it left him panting and dizzy. (That might also have had something to do with the fact that he tasted like Maverick's dick.)
Iceman pulled back his hips, and it made Maverick gasp even before he eased back in, a little deeper than before. "Finally bit off more than you can chew?"
"Fuck you," Maverick hissed, too busy trying to get enough air in his lungs to come up with anything clever.
Iceman smiled broadly, with just that mixture of smugness and amusement that always made Maverick three times angrier than anything he said, and started to fuck him, his hips rolling deep and hard. "I think maybe you did," he murmured, almost sweet, and gave Maverick's jaw a sharp bite. Then he sat up and pushed Maverick's knees up against his chest from where they'd been tucked against Iceman's sides.
This was such a bad idea, Maverick thought with a distinct lack of remorse. He covered his mouth, but when Ice's cock drove into him from that angle, he wailed.
"Which gag, Maverick?" Iceman asked him, doing him the great kindness of waiting for an answer.
"Dick won't work as well," Maverick finally panted out. He didn't know that for sure, but he knew he was going to be embarrassing if Iceman put that in his mouth.
"The dirty laundry, then?"
He made Maverick nod before he leaned over to grab it and stuff it into his mouth. Before he did though, he asked, "How are you going to tell me to stop?"
"I don't plan to," Maverick retorted.
"Mitchell."
Maverick flipped him off.
Iceman smiled. "Perfect." He pressed the clammy wet crotch of his briefs against his tongue and folded the rest past his lips after it. That alone was so gross and hot that Maverick groaned around it, but the sound was much quieter.
"You still need to shut the fuck up," Ice warned as he started fucking him again. Maverick narrowed his eyes. He already deeply regretted reserving his favorite form of nonverbal communication for the specific purpose of ending the best time of his life.
Which was now back in session, and he was instantly grateful he had something other than his wrist in his mouth, because the way Iceman was fucking him, being quiet was not an option. All the force of his thrusts went straight to his diaphragm, and he could not stop moaning.
Maverick had never been fucked this hard in his life. He'd never asked for it, but even if he had, Goose was athletic, but Ice had to have fifteen or twenty pounds of muscle on him.
And he was using it all to drill his cock through Maverick's entire fucking body.
Maverick was slapped back to reality when Ice covered his mouth. "Jesus Christ, Maverick." His cock sank impossibly deeper and he bent over Maverick. He moved his hand but didn't kiss him, just hovered close enough for it to be obvious that he was staring at Mav's mouth. "I wish I'd known how fast you roll over for a good solid fucking. Could have saved us a lot of trouble." And then he grinned, and Maverick almost flipped him off before remembering. He was reduced to glaring impotently as Ice sat back, spreading Maverick's legs wide and watching his cock slide in and out of him. Maverick was hard as a rock, and Iceman's cock took up all the room inside his body and then some, leaving Maverick's cock bulging and pulsing, begging for attention. Ice stroked his thumb down it and then up under the head. Maverick tried not to whine, trying to preserve what was left of his dignity, but when Iceman pinched his cock between his fingers and started to stroke him off, all dignity left the building. He didn't even have to fuck him that hard before he was coming, squeezing painfully tight around Ice's cock as his dick jerked in his fingers.
"Fuck, Maverick," Iceman growled, and for maybe the first time Maverick heard no irritation in his voice, only arousal and need. Ice fucked into him a few last brutal times and pulled out, which made Mav moan pitifully again even before he slapped his cock against Maverick's twice and came all over his stomach.
Maverick watched in slow motion as he pumped the last of it into the puddle seeping into his navel, fireworks still going off in his brain from his own orgasm. Ice gave him a long, self-satisfied once-over, up from his still twitching cock to the puddle of come and the streaks that had made it farther up his chest up to his face. He pulled Maverick's underwear out of his mouth (Mav had forgotten he could do that himself) and smirked at the trailing strings of drool that clung to Maverick's chin as Ice mopped up his come with only slightly cleaner underwear.
"Don't tell me this was the trick to shutting you up, too," he chuckled at Mav's completely fucked-out expression.
"Get fucked, Kazansky," Maverick mumbled, but Iceman just smiled, and Mav was hardly a reliable narrator at this point, but he was pretty sure there was some fondness in it that hadn't been there before.
"You could do it yourself," he said slyly, stretching out beside Maverick, big and warm and close but not touching.
Maverick snorted weakly before realizing Iceman was serious.
Oh.
There had been the time Carol tried to peg Goose and ended up fucking Maverick instead because she'd be "more appreciated elsewhere." Maverick wondered where that strap-on was.
"I don't have… a dick," Maverick said stupidly, having a series of mini heart attacks as he pictured Iceman spread out under him.
Iceman didn't look bothered by this, just thoughtful. "I think I know where we can fix that."