FIC: Taking Silver (Top Gun, Iceman/Maverick, NC-17)

[carlyinrome]

TITLE: Taking Silver
RATING: NC-17
FANDOM: Top Gun
PAIRING: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell/Tom “Iceman” Kazansky
SUMMARY: Maverick had never been big on studying, especially when it came to things in the bedroom, but he definitely wasn’t going to let Iceman think he was a fucking authority on something just because he’d realized he liked guys sooner.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Written for Pink_and_Velvet, for cheering up purposes.

Maverick had never been big on studying, especially when it came to things in the bedroom, but he definitely wasn’t going to let Iceman think he was a fucking authority on something just because he’d realized he liked guys sooner. Maverick, in civvies, the brim of a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, bought a magazine in a sex shop, and that turned out to be way more than he was ready for, but in the back of the magazine—where the pictures weren’t—there were ads, and Maverick sent away for a book.

An instructional text.

The book had illustrations instead of photographs, for which Maverick was thankful, and he read it when Ice wasn’t around. It seemed to be working; he could definitely tell that he was hitting Ice closer to where he lived, and last week, he’d actually said aloud, “Jesus Christ, Mitchell, where did that come from?”

The more confident Maverick got, the more Ice was willing to let him take the lead, which he liked a lot. It’s not that he didn’t like it when Ice took charge—he did—but since they’d started, things had been pretty one-sided, and it was time for Maverick to get his turn on top.

Literally.

The first time Ice had let Maverick top, Maverick had assumed it was just like sex with a girl. He had been wrong, Ice had gotten hurt, and Maverick had to practically beg to get another chance. The next couple of times had gone better, but now Maverick had the book, and he was going to love Ice so well that he’d beg for Maverick to top him again.

They’d started making out on the couch, and they were both pretty worked up by the time Maverick said, “I want you in my bed, Kazansky.”

Ice was easily led at this point. They half ran, half wrestled down the hallway, stopping to catch the other as they got a step ahead, kissing them hungrily, pulling off a piece of their clothing. They were naked by the time they reached the bed, and fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, both of them jockeying to get on top.

“Let me,” Maverick said. “Ice, come on. There’s something I wanna do with you.”

“Oh,” Ice said silkily, smiling in a way that showed his canine teeth, “I know what you want to do with me.”

Maverick cupped his face in his palm, rubbed his thumb over the ticklish spot at the corner of Ice’s mouth.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll make you feel good, Ice, I promise.”

Ice worried his bottom lip with his incisors, but eventually he nodded. “Okay. Get on with it.”

“Lay down on your back. Not against the pillows; lay flat.”

Ice’s brow rose for a moment, but he did as Maverick asked. “Giving orders, Mitchell?”

“You like it,” Maverick said. “And you’re so good at taking them, aren’t you, Ice?”

Ice didn’t say anything, but a little color came to his cheeks. Maverick grabbed the condoms and the lube from the bedside table, and then he knelt between Ice’s legs. He took hold of Ice’s calves—Ice’s brow went up again—and pulled them up so they were bent, Ice’s knees bracketing Maverick’s hips, his feet behind Maverick’s ass.

“Stay,” Maverick said, and Ice showed his teeth again, but it definitely wasn’t a smile this time. He was pretty hard, though, so he could throw whatever kind of tantrum he wanted; there was no hiding how he really felt.

Maverick lubed up his fingers, moving them against each other to warm up the gel a little, and then started getting Ice ready. Ice’s head lolled back, eyes squeezing closed, as Maverick moved his fingers inside him. Maverick worked slow but steady until Ice was writhing and sighing, and then he withdrew his fingers and slipped on a condom. He pushed into Ice, the tight, hot ring of muscle squeezing around him, and then he grabbed Ice by the hips and pulled him back in one smooth jerk, Maverick’s pelvis smacking against Ice’s ass as he went in hilt-deep. Ice cried out more in surprise than because of the sensation—“Oh!”—and Maverick grabbed onto Ice’s thighs, using them as leverage so that every thrust into Ice was powerful and right on target.

Ice was a fucking mess. He was laying flat on his back, just like Maverick had told him to, but his hands were balled white-knuckled grabbing the sheets, and he was moaning to beat the band, which went straight to Maverick’s dick, because normally Ice wasn’t particularly vocal during, and Maverick fucking loved to hear him. His eyes were shut, his top teeth biting into his bottom lip hard enough that Maverick could see a drop of blood, and he was painfully hard, but he wasn’t even thinking about touching himself; all he could think about was what Maverick felt like inside him.

Maverick was getting everything he wanted, but he was feeling ballsy enough to push his luck.

“You like this, Ice?” he asked. “You like taking this from me?”

Ice whined. He opened his eyes, looked up at Maverick a bit glassy-eyed. “Yes,” he breathed.

Maverick thrust into him faster, and Ice groaned and bit down on his fist.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, Maverick—”

“You take it so good, Ice. It’s like you were built to take my cock. Tell me you like it.”

Ice looked at him, gaze heated. Maverick grabbed his dick, and Ice yelped, and he closed his eyes and started nodding frantically.

“Yes,” he said, “yes, Maverick, I fucking love taking your cock, please, just—just please…”

Maverick gave two quick jerks and hammered Ice’s prostate, and Ice came with a yell and went boneless beneath him. Maverick pushed in deep one last time, looking at Ice, totally spent, and came himself, falling atop him.

They laid there for a long moment, gulping in greedy breaths, before Ice spoke.

“You fuck,” Ice growled. “You like getting me desperate and making me beg?”

“It’s good for you,” Maverick said. He tried to kiss him, but Ice turned his face away.

Maverick nuzzled his jaw. “Come on, Ice. I know you liked it.”

Ice glared at him. Maverick tried a different tactic. “You’ve made me beg for it, too, you know.”

Some of the tension left Ice’s face. “That’s true…”

“It’s just you and me here, Ice,” Maverick said softly. “It’s okay.”

Ice relaxed a bit. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“What?”

“That.”

Maverick shrugged. “Maybe I’m a natural to this gay stuff. Or I’m picking it up from you.”

“Mitchell. I just spilled my guts. If you don’t tell me the truth…”

Maverick’s shoulders sagged. “I bought a book.”

Ice laughed. “I knew you weren’t that creative.” His expression softened. “You read something? For me?”

“I do know how to read.”

“That wasn’t the part that surprised me.”

Maverick looked at him, brow arched. “What—that I did it for you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m fucking crazy about you, asshole,” Maverick said. “You’re pretty dense if you haven’t figured that out yet.”

Ice grinned, and kissed him. He whispered against his ear: “I just wanted you to say it, Mitchell. Now we’re even.”

Maverick resisted the urge to groan. Somehow, Ice was still ahead of him. Then he pulled back, looked Ice in the eye. He was flushed and mussed and so goddamn beautiful. He kissed Maverick again, and Maverick relaxed. Maybe second place wasn’t so bad, if it was second place to Ice.

He hoped to spend a lot of time there, actually.