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“Or that Maverick was flying when his old man-”
It takes everything in his body not to fucking deck Jake’s cocky smile right off his face. The people holding him back don’t even exist, his focus is hyper locked on the corner of his so called “teammates” jaw, picturing the solid crack that would resonate once his fist made contact with it. His body would go limp, they’d cart him off to the medic, and Rooster himself would likely be forced into a lung burning, mother cursing, killer of an exercise for his insubordination. It would be worth it.
Bob squeezes his shoulder so hard it makes him back off for a moment, and he’s tugged further back from his opponent than necessary by everyone else around them. Jake brushes off the nonexistent dust that’s accumulated on his person, straightening his jacket, playing off his shock like he didn’t jump right out of his seat once Rooster had lunged.
“Good instincts.” Is how Jake would probably phrase it.
“Fucking scaredy-cat.” Is what Rooster thought.
“He’s not cut out for this mission.” Jake says, a cool tone rolling off his tongue like venom. Rooster violently wonders that, if he were to pull the man's teeth, would the blood that dripped be accompanied by such devastating toxin?
“That's enough.” Is demanded, close, angry. Rooster barely hears it. He doesn’t care who’s saying it.
“You know it,” Jake continues, staring into Rooster's soul in a way that makes him feel like a misbehaved puppy. “You know I’m right.”
He says it like he was the one training everyone in this room, not Maverick.
He keeps shifting towards Rooster like he’s testing his chances with a rabid dog, evaluating the cost of making the wrong move. Rooster imagines snapping forward, biting into his throat like a wolf and leaving him bleeding on the ground for his troubles.
He fought off the urge to slam his face forward and worry about the headache later when Jake felt safe enough to get barely an inch away from his face. He could feel Jake’s breath, watches his lips as he throws out a shit-eating smile, and stares as he walks away with the energy of someone who’s won some sort of trophy.
Rooster won’t let him win. He waits for everyone’s hands to fall from his shoulders, for feet to move away from his perimeter, before he’s beelining it out of the conference room. His boots slam on the linoleum as he hunts for his prey, following the path to their barracks and rushing the man once he caught sight of him, throwing him into the closest room with a door.
Jake reacts by slamming his elbow into Rooster’s back, yelling out a swear as they tumble to the ground, legs tangling and arms flailing as each man attempted to attack the other. Rooster got his hand around Jake’s shoulder, swinging his other fist as hard as he could into the blonde’s chest, working his way in between his target's legs. Any leverage to destroy “Hangman’s” ego and face was the goal. He wanted everyone to know Jake hadn’t gotten away with his arrogance.
He bared down on Jake’s chest, hoping that the force of his hits were leaving skin itching bruises, the kind that would hurt when he did push-ups, and the ones that would burn when he had to put on his pilot gear. His fist connected with Jake’s cheek, and he felt his knuckle split. He kept going.
At some point Jake’s brain finally caught up with his body, allowing him the clarity to wrap his legs around Rooster’s torso tightly and flip them. Rooster’s head connects with the floor as he’s thrown, and he’s acutely aware of the tense muscle in Jake’s thighs and the fist that wraps around his shirt collar. He’s lifted up, and slammed down again, seeing some stars as he attempts to kick his leg up, intending to knock Jake off of him. Instead, his knee makes contact with Jake’s crotch, and Jake lets his shirt go. He’s relieved, only for a moment, before Jake's closed fist comes flying at his face, and he has half a mind to throw his arm up to soften the blow.
He struggles to buck Jake off, giving up on his legs when Jake clamps down on them. He uses his entire upper body to shove up under Jake's arms, catching a quick left hook to his ear before he’s able to manipulate Jake off him enough to throw him into the closed door. He forces himself to shake off the brain fog and get up, grabbing at Jake and lifting him up to stand. He has a split cheek, and his hair is beyond repair, and it’s not enough. He wants Jake to feel this for days.
He takes his time breaking Jake down as he honed in on his face, splitting the man’s lip and nose bridge, and landing a solid blow to the shorter man’s eye that Rooster knows will show by the end of all of this. Jake's fist connects with Rooster’s stomach, and in return Rooster’s fist connects with Jake's temple. He almost feels sorry for the brat when Jake lets out a strangled gasp, rolling his head as blood starts to clot up near his hairline.
Rooster’s hands find themselves around Jake’s shoulders, throwing the man from the door to the wall behind them, watching as Jake catches himself with a stagger when he makes contact with it.
He feels like the venomous snake he envisioned Jake as earlier, worse yet, the wolf he pictured himself as, and he wonders briefly if the cruelty is what drives his opponent. It certainly drives him, here and now, as he walks towards the other, grabbing Jake by the hair at the back of his head.
“Do you really think I’m not cut out for the mission?” He asks rhetorically, yanking Jake forward and pushing the other man down, fighting against Jake’s whipping arms. He gets behind Jake, pushing the blonde’s body towards the ground, framing himself around the man's back.
Jake starts to lose his fight when Rooster lets his hair go, opting to grip at the base of his neck instead. He can feel Jake’s pulse under his thumb, and he flexes his fingers against it, digging his nails deep into the cushy flesh. He guides Jake's face to the floor, kicking at the backs of his knees to complete the fall.
He’s reveling in the moment, slowly crouching down to Jake’s level, slotting himself between Jake’s legs. He can feel every heavy thump of Jake’s heartbeat, and he takes pride in the feeling of Jake’s pulse jumping when he presses his hips forward.
“We’re not in any place to be doing this Brad-“ Jake starts, but his mouth is shut the moment Rooster's hand leaves the back of his neck, instead entertaining the front. He rubs his thumb against Jake’s adam’s apple, and Jake swallows against it.
“Don’t fuckin call me that. You don’t get to call me that right now,” Rooster responds gravely, pushing his hips up into the curve of Jake’s rear, dropping the man’s neck. He watches as Jake heaves a sigh, arms coming to rest underneath his head as his body catches up to the events of the fight, barely relaxing. “You don’t deserve to call me that after bringing up all that shit back there.”
With a deep breath, Jake nods his head low, no doubt trying to save himself from a nausea wave as he does, the cut in his temple likely being the culprit. Rooster pushes a gentle hand to Jake’s back, allowing the man to settle into his lap, his legs pushed outward around Rooster’s thighs in an obscene way. It couldn’t be particularly comfortable, but from Roosters knowledge, Jake could handle it.
He pressed down into Jake’s hips, his hands coming to grip at the man’s sides. Jake groans, rubbing his face.
“You’re really choosing this as your foreplay point?” Jake asks, turning slightly to stare down his captor. He turns away slyly when Rooster leans in further.
“Someone needs to put you in your place,” He bites out, chin coming to rest between Jake’s shoulders. His hands move from Jake’s sides down to the man’s stomach, nails digging into his flank. “You still don’t know how to keep your mouth shut when it counts. Don’t know when to fucking stop.”
“Forgive me for being fuckin curious, you never tell me anything about your-“ He’s stopped again by Rooster's hands traveling again, one hand coming to grip at his neck from below, the other pushing him further back by his hips. He felt completely caged in by Rooster, wondering if this was how the entire exchange was going to continue. He felt a choked off moan escape his lips.
“You’re only proving my point, Jake. I could fuck you up right now,” He says, his hips beginning to roll forward, dark huffs escaping his lips. Jake’s voice struggles against the hand on his throat, and the noises he makes are anything but oppositional. “I could kill you. I want to kill you.”
Jake gasps, and Rooster’s hand lets up, giving him some room to breathe. He doesn’t want Jake to speak though. He didn’t care to debate why he was doing what he was doing, or pour his heart out right now. He wanted to itch that raging spot in his psyche that wouldn’t let him rest when the other man intentionally got under his skin.
He pulled his hands away from Jake's body, moving to unzip his jumpsuit, rolling it off his arms and bunching it down below his waist along with his underwear. Moreso, Jake allows his arms to be manhandled, the sleeves coming unrolled as Rooster striped him, the garment now acting as a faux cushion for his legs as they and his briefs are shoved harshly underneath him. Jake attempts another look back, but his face is shoved forward, and his mouth made silent by one hand, quieting a moan as his jumpsuit's zipper brushed his inner thigh. He feels Rooster’s free hand scrape down his back, settling on spreading his asscheek and kneading at the muscle there.
Spit lands cold and quickly across Jake’s hole and he forces himself not to jerk away, letting his head hang down onto his hands again, like he was praying to one of the many Gods the platoon would speak about during their free time. Rooster didn’t really believe in God, nor did he believe Jake deserved his patience now. The first finger came in dry, barely catching the spit that was provided before being shoved in.
The burn was brutal, causing Jake to bite down on Rooster’s palm, a shocked sound being punched from his lungs as Rooster began working at his prostate. His legs ached with the angle he had been braced in, twitching involuntarily as his pants dug into his muscles, causing more pain than pleasure in the moment. He panted as the intruding finger made itself comfortable caressing at his walls, jolting waves of pleasure up and down his spine, building the arousal at the base of his cock. The second finger wasn’t as brutal, joining in on the assault and making Jake’s bicep muscles spasm.
Each bend of Rooster’s knuckles drags on Jake’s rim as he pulls out, the blonde writhing and barking muted curses out of shock as Rooster took his time spitting on his free palm and pumping himself to full hardness. He takes pleasure in listening to Jake breathe brokenly, speech nowhere to be heard beyond a muffled tone. It almost feels better than the first time he flew a damn pilot jet.
Jake knows he's in for a fucking ride the moment Rooster’s length touches his hole, and he taps Rooster’s hand over his mouth twice, asking for a moment of relief. Rooster barely gives it to him, shifting his hand down Jake's jaw, moving till the bend of his elbow comes to rest under Jake’s chin, lifting him up and barely letting him breathe. Rooster pushes up with his hips, and the groan that echoes from Jake’s lips is almost carnal.
Jake leans his weight back into Rooster, letting out quick pants as he descends on Rooster’s dick, hands scrambling for purchase against Rooster’s bicep.
“Fuuuuck! Fuck,” Jake drawls out, abdomen muscles rippling as Rooster guides his hips down, promptly bottoming out inside the blonde. He feels utterly torn between being vaguely insulted and aroused beyond belief from all this. The hand locked around him caresses his shoulder, almost soothingly, preparing him for the moment it dug further down into his shoulder blade as Rooster began moving. “God, Roost!”
Rooster always fucked like he meant it, and with Jake, he fucked like his life depended on it. He drove hard into the man, watching himself disappear into the loudmouth as his nails left crescent shaped indents in Jake’s hip. He could feel the burn in his bicep as he held Jake up, and he relished in it.
Jake bucked forward, choking himself, riding out the thigh tingling pleasure he was being dealt. He could barely breathe, could barely speak on top of it, but he could feel every snap and drag of Rooster’s cock, could feel his big hands grabbing at his side and holding him firm at his shoulder. He felt like a live wire, built to receive Rooster’s harsh words and desperate actions in code, built to relay his own bratty opinions to the only man that could decipher them, the only one who could make him fall apart and build him up brand new again.
Rooster tugs Jake back against his chest fully, growling in the blonde’s ear as he rolled his hips, digging himself into the delicious heat his crew-mate provided. Jake's hands released their grip on Rooster’s bicep, instead snaking their way behind Rooster’s head, tugging at the base of his scalp and bringing a sharp pain into the mix that makes his head spin. He bites down on Jake's shoulder, flexing his arm to pull his prey as closely to him as he can.
Jake's voice is absolutely trashed, coming out in wheezy groans and broken praises, and Rooster feels drunk on his power. He can barely hear Jake crying his name, but nonetheless, it’s enough to send him over the edge, bending over awkwardly and plowing into Jake as he rides out his high. He can feel his limbs going numb, pleasure vibrating in every muscle and tendon in his body, but he refuses to give up now.
He drags himself out of his pleasure, smiling when he can hear Jake again, panting heavily beneath him and trying to hold up his own weight and Rooster’s. In a gentle move, he pulls out of Jake and hears the watery moan that follows from Jake's lips, and he finds it hard to not smile down at his companion.
He helps rotate Jake over in his lap, peeling off the rest of the man’s jumpsuit along with his boots, and lifts him up by his hips, swallowing as much of Jake’s length into his mouth that he could fit. The foot that flies into his back is unexpected, but the hands finding their way into his hair, the positively wrecked and pretty voice calling his name, and the familiar weight of Jake’s cock on his tongue makes up for it.
He slacks his jaw and throats at Jake’s length, tongue caressing the seam between Jake’s balls and cock, causing Jake to whine and tug harder at Rooster’s hair, hoarsely calling out that he was close.
Rooster spared him a glance then, meeting his eyes through heavy lashes and tugging Jake’s hips up further, forcing the tip of his dick to the back of Rooster’s throat. Jake’s head drops back in a lovely display, his throat bobbing against the bruises from Rooster’s abuse, and he comes, body trembling and stomach contracting as Rooster’s throat worked to take what he was given.
As he pulls off, a small bit of cum dribbles down his chin as he swallows, and he stops it, collecting it on his thumb and sucking it off. He shifts Jake’s hips up and makes quick work of cleaning up the cum that leaked out from mans hole, chuckling at the gasps and whines that left the blonde’s mouth as he worked his tongue inside him, lapping at the sensitive walls. He pulls away from Jake and lightly lays the spent man back onto his lap.
Jake shivers involuntarily, panting as he comes down from his own high, likely experiencing a harsher energy crash than his counterpart. Rooster moves to grab at Jake’s underwear, bunched inside of his now dirty jumpsuit, using it to clean Jake’s hole and member from the rest of the cum and spit that threatened to leak and dry up before a good shower. Jake jumps at the first brush, which causes Rooster to slow on the next pass and take his time.
“Sorry I didn’t bring you any water.” Rooster says quietly, kissing the spot above Jake’s ribs, barely containing the smile he feels when he see the red bruises blossoming on Jake’s skin. He tosses the soiled garment back onto the floor. His hands move with a disciplined duty, coming up to massage at Jake’s legs in an intimate way, rolling the muscle between his palm and fingers. Jake hums in response, eyes following Rooster’s movements.
“I’m sorry,” He croaks, looking to Rooster for the true sign of forgiveness. “I overstepped and got-”
“In over your head?” Rooster finishes for him, meeting his eyes. He scans over Jake’s face, mapping the bruised and beaten areas he’ll need to apologize for and bandage properly later. “Yeah, you did. But you were a very good sport about it.”
Jake slowly relaxes into his touch, both guilt and appreciation coiling in his stomach. He watches Rooster’s face as he switches from the right leg to the left, starting the process over. He smiles and sighs, relief flooding his bones like a second orgasm, and he shivers again because of it.
Rooster's eyes fall on Jake’s dirty laundry, and Jake nods, reaching for it. It’s handed to him, and he’s helped up to his feet slowly, being held up gently as he redresses. Rooster’s eyes rake down his body as he does.
Once he’s modest again, dirt and grime evident on his person, he tries to help Rooster get redressed as well, but his efforts are fruitless. Rooster instead kisses his shoulder and moves to do it himself. He finally lets himself rest as Rooster takes time to fix both of their hair and lay their collars flat. He feels Rooster massage at his neck, thumb moving to roll against his jugular vein and behind his ear. A small chuckle leaves his lips, eyes opening to stare Rooster down.
“So I’m forgiven?” He asks. The hand on his neck shifts, settling into a hold.
“We’ll see about that after you get a shower.” Rooster responds. There’s a look in his eyes that makes Jake's stomach jump, a plume of volatile wasps beating at the lining. They’re angry, furious even, and they force a wicked smile onto the man’s face. He steps closer without asking, pushing himself further into Rooster’s bubble, the other man watching him closely.
“You gonna keep making me work for it?” Jake asks, cocking up his blood soaked eyebrow and brushing Rooster’s nose with his own. A power play, and a proposition.
There’s no verbal response to the question, just a shift in Rooster’s eyes, and the fragments of his demeanor cracking that makes the goosebumps rise on Jake’s arms.
The hand holding his neck makes him shift, turning him towards the door that has a distinctly broken crack in it now, where his head had landed from the onslaught of abuse he’d been dealt. He fought off the urge to reach down and rearrange himself, instead clearing his throat and moving to open the door. Then, the hand on his neck was gone, Rooster following behind him instead of leading him forward.
He wasn’t wasting a single, unnecessary second getting those hands back on him.