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If there’s one thing Goose notices the most about his best friend, it’s his hands.
The rest of Maverick is great too, obviously. It’s often that Goose catches himself staring, and sometimes Mav catches him, with a shy smile and a teasing remark that makes both of their cheeks flush a light pink.
So Goose might be a little bit attracted to Maverick. So what? It’s not like Maverick is distracting, or deterring Goose from doing his job while they’re up in the air.
Until he is.
It’s a hot, sunny day in San Diego, and Goose and Mav are scheduled to fly a rather important hop today in hopes of scoring themselves the Top Gun trophy. Goose is already somewhat restless due to the heat, but he can only sigh and pull on his helmet before climbing into the back seat of their F-14. Maverick joins him in the front seat, cheerful as always and exclaiming something about how they’ll wipe everyone out today and get themselves a few more points.
When they get up in the air, however, the hop is the last thing on Goose’s mind.
His eyes are transfixed on Maverick doing all of his pilot shit. Mav’s hands expertly tilt the stick this way and that as they chase Jester down in a head-to-head dogfight. One of Mav’s hands moves to the throttle and pushes slightly forwards, and Goose watches in fascination. Despite having a job to do, Goose’s mind is wandering before he can stop it, and soon enough he’s thinking a little too hard about how nice Maverick’s hand would look wrapped around his—
“Goose? Earth to Goose!”
Goose snaps out of it and swallows dryly. “Yeah?”
“Good lord, I thought you were falling asleep back there.” The exasperation in Mav’s tone is obvious. “We’re kind of in the middle of a fight. Can you tell me what the hell is going on, ‘cause my RIO is kinda important for my job.” He chuckles over the radio, and Goose is finally able to focus on the radar and on looking out for anyone on their tail.
“Yeah, uh—Hollywood’s on our wing, so you’re good to go in. You got this, Mav, go get ‘em!”
Without missing a beat, Maverick plunges their aircraft downwards with a cheerful whoop and moves into attack position. Goose busies himself with getting a radar lock on Jester, yet images of Maverick piloting the plane still cloud his head. Soon enough Mav is cheering, and Goose isn’t even sure why. He’s just unbearably conscious of how something’s tightening in his flight suit and how his mouth is running dry yet again.
Great. As if the heat wasn’t bad enough.
Back on the ground, Goose hurries to disembark from the plane and hide in the cooler comfort of the locker room. Maverick stops him, though, slinging one arm around his neck and tugging him close. “You’re so quiet today. What’s going on with you?” Maverick asks, running his free hand through his sweaty hair. “We may have won, but I don’t like when my RIO is so distracted.”
“It’s just too hot,” complains Goose in response. “Can’t think.”
It is indeed obvious that Goose can’t think straight, with the way his gaze catches on Mav’s face, which is flushed pink from the heat and exertion. And when Maverick pulls his arm away from around Goose’s neck, Goose finds himself looking at Mav’s hands again, too. Fuck. There has got to be something wrong with him.
Maverick hums in agreement. “Yeah. Too bad there isn’t a better pool on base.”
“I know. I’d have loved to go swimming.” Or maybe he wouldn’t have, because he really wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off his best friend then.
By the time Maverick and Goose reach the locker room, everyone is already beginning to hurry out, presumably to visit the beach and relieve themselves from the overbearing heat. Goose doesn’t exactly want to undress right away with a raging boner going on, so he dilly-dallies for a bit, at least until he catches a glimpse of Maverick fiddling with his flight suit out of the corner of his eye.
Mav seems to be having a bit of trouble with one of the straps, but Goose is much more focused on his hands, deft and strong yet nimble at the same time. They’re attractive, in a way, just as everything else about Maverick is, but God, Mav’s hands keep both him and Goose alive when they’re up in the air. They’re practically Goose’s lifeline. Goose tries not to make his staring obvious, but he only glances up when Maverick seems to be struggling for a little too long.
“Jesus, Goose, maybe the heat really did get to you.” Maverick is right in front of him before he can even notice, perhaps a little too close for comfort. He cradles Goose’s face between both his hands, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. Goose flinches slightly at the touch and Mav smiles. “Is it my hands, Goose? Of all things? They’re getting you all hot and bothered?”
Goose takes in a shaky breath, but says nothing. He’s much too focused on the warmth of Maverick’s hands against his reddening cheeks.
Mav doesn’t say anything either. He simply raises an eyebrow, one hand slipping downwards to adjust the collar of Goose’s flight suit.
“It’s more about—” Goose is speaking before he can stop himself, his voice raspy— “it’s more about what you do with them.”
“I can do a lot of things with them,” Maverick teases, a smirk unfurling on his lips. He absentmindedly fiddles with the chain at the back of Goose’s neck.
Goose takes another deep breath. His mind is wandering now. He’s sure Maverick can do many incredible things with those hands of his.
“They can get us the Top Gun trophy, for one,” he continues, brushing his thumb over the corner of Goose’s lips, “if you’re not too distracted to help me. Maybe I’ll just have to—” Mav’s other hand begins smoothing its way down Goose’s chest— “entertain you a bit, so you’re not so distracted next time.”
A nod. Goose doesn’t want to speak in fear of his voice being embarrassingly squeaky, and he doesn’t want to ruin the lingering ghost of Mav’s touch on his lips, either. He’s just glad they’re alone in the locker room now.
Maverick looks much too pleased with himself. The hand cradling Goose’s face comes to rest comfortably on his shoulder, and the one on Goose’s chest continues teasing lower and lower. “Was that why you were so quiet today?” Mav asks softly, leaning in close. “Were you watching me pilot the plane?”
Goose nods again, shamefully. “You looked so good driving it like that,” he says, and it comes out quieter than he intended. “I—I wanted you to touch me like that.”
“Where, Goose?” Maverick has Goose right up against the lockers now. With a smile, he touches his pointer finger to Goose’s bottom lip. “Here?” His hand travels downwards, smoothing over Goose’s chest once more. “Here?” Then, with a shaky exhale, one of Mav’s hands teases even further downwards and settles right over the obvious arousal in Goose’s flight suit. “Or here?”
Goose nods frantically, and he’s hard as nails. He tries to press forwards into Maverick’s touch, but Mav takes his hand back and separates himself from Goose completely. It takes all of Goose’s self-control not to whine in frustration.
“Get changed,” says Maverick with a fondly exasperated roll of his eyes. “We can pick this up when we get back.”
As he hurries to get a change of clothes out of his locker, Goose notices that his heart is practically threatening to beat out of his chest. He shouldn’t be this fucking attracted to his best friend, but everything Maverick does is just so effortlessly hot. Goose kind of liked being toyed with, and now he knows his suspicions are true—Maverick can, indeed, do some absolutely wonderful things with his hands.
Goose is fucking restless the entire way back to their quarters, too. He rides on the back of Mav’s motorcycle, and while he tries to hide the fact that he’s rock hard, he knows Mav can likely feel it pressing into his ass. Either way, Goose is focusing more on how Maverick’s hands curl around the handlebars, occasionally moving to press on the brake. The wind whips at both of them, and finally Goose isn’t feeling overwhelmingly hot.
That doesn’t last too long for him, though.
Once the door of their quarters clicks shut behind them, Maverick has Goose pressed right up against the door, one of his hands palming at Goose’s cock through his clothes. Goose writhes in pleasure, panting incoherently for Mav to just get on with it. They’re both new to this kind of thing—Maverick has never touched Goose like this before—but it just feels right, especially with how skilfully Mav works at his best friend’s cock.
Maverick takes Goose’s arm and hurries him along to his bedroom. Goose’s face is hopelessly flushed, and by the sound of his laboured breathing it’s obvious that he’s desperate for Mav to get his hands on him.
“I didn’t know you went this wild for my hands,” Maverick teases. Goose comes to sit on the bed, his back resting against the pillows, and Mav straddles his lap, hands cradling his face once again. Mav hesitates at first, but after his gaze darts from Goose’s eyes to his lips and then back up, he leans forward and kisses Goose, rocking his hips into Goose’s arousal simultaneously.
Goose fiddles between them for the buttons on his jeans, eager to get them off. Amidst the kiss, which is admittedly a bit sloppy due to their eagerness to get things moving, Maverick helps Goose take off his pants and boxers, exposing his best friend’s cock to the cool air of the bedroom. Eventually Goose pulls away from the kiss for air and stares at Mav with that notorious flame of lust burning deep in his gaze. “Please,” Goose whispers, and despite his usual attitude, he looks almost pliant under Maverick’s touch.
Mav smiles and takes Goose’s cock into his hand, brushing along the soft skin of it with his thumb. “Is this what you were thinking about when you were watching me?” He watches Goose look down to where his hand is stroking at Goose’s cock, and smiles upon feeling it throb in his hand.
“Yeah, fuck, I thought—” he inhales sharply through his teeth when Mav’s thumb rubs over his slit— “I thought about your hands on me like this.” The words feel dirty for Goose to say to his best friend, exposing his deepest thoughts aloud like this, but with the way Mav grins and grinds his arousal into Goose’s thigh, Goose isn’t too worried about feeling judged.
“Yeah?” Mav presses two fingers of his free hand to Goose’s lips, and Goose immediately opens his mouth, allowing Maverick to press his fingers onto his tongue. “That’s pretty bad, Goose. Maybe you’ll be thinking even more about it now that I’ve done this to you.”
Goose makes a small sound, muffled by Maverick’s fingers.
“Will you still be able to do your job as my RIO?”
Goose nods frantically, his gaze darting once more to Maverick’s hand on his cock. It’s overwhelmingly attractive, and Goose feels lightning-hot pleasure surge up his spine at the mere thought of Mav touching him like this. It pains him to think it, but he likes when Maverick toys with him, teases him, touches him. This is his best friend he’s thinking about, but perhaps Maverick is just as much into it as he is.
Mav pauses to spit into his hand before he resumes jerking Goose off, meeting his best friend’s gaze with the same lustful intensity. He’s still rocking his hips into Goose’s lap, biting his lip in frustration because he can’t get himself some relief right now. The sight in front of him, however, with Goose’s flushed cheeks and desperate eyes, is relief enough.
“Gonna come,” Goose manages to mumble around the intrusion in his mouth before he does just that, panting around Maverick’s fingers. He spills over Maverick’s hand, and Mav keeps jerking him a little longer, causing him to twitch in overstimulation. He writhes, and eventually Mav stops, that same torturous smirk on his face.
Maverick pulls the spit-slick fingers from Goose’s mouth and fixes his eyes on his best friend, wiping his soiled hand on the sheets. “You look really good when you’re like that,” Mav says with a sigh, grinding his arousal into Goose’s thigh once more with a gentle rock of his hips. “Now, all my efforts would be wasted if you didn’t dick me down now, so . . .”
Goose wastes no time in shoving Maverick off his lap and flipping their positions. His cock is hardening as quickly as it did before, and even with shaky fingers he’s able to unbutton Mav’s pants and work them down his legs. It’s a little hard to focus when Mav reaches down and starts gently jerking him again, but Goose is swift in getting Mav’s boxers off and reaching for the lube that he knows Mav stashes in his nightstand.
“I was hoping we’d use that,” Maverick confesses, red-faced and breathless. He shakes his head when Goose moves to spread some lube on his fingers, reaching out with his free hand to grasp Goose’s wrist. “I’m fine, believe me. Just—fuckin’ fuck me. I’m already riled up enough after that goddamn show you put on.”
Goose laughs and spreads some lube along his cock instead. He kneels between Maverick’s spread knees and slowly inches his cock into his best friend, his heart pounding because fuck, he’s really screwing Maverick of all people. “You feel good,” Goose whispers, and good is a fucking understatement because Maverick feels incredible. He’s so perfectly hot and tight and he’s clenching around Goose’s cock in just the right way. It drives Goose up the fucking wall.
“I feel great, now get a move on.” Mav squirms impatiently, and while Goose’s cock is an intrusion he has to get used to, he’s so relaxed and so impossibly horny that it doesn’t take long at all. Goose’s cock fills him so well, just like how he imagined it to, and he can only gaze fondly up at him now, cheeks flushed and hair fashionably messy.
Even while slowly beginning to fuck Mav, Goose’s eyes are still transfixed on how Mav’s hands are gripping the pillow behind his head. They’re the same hands that pilot a whole damn plane, for fuck’s sake, and the same hands that had just made Goose come harder than he’s come in a while. As time goes on, it becomes more and more apparent to Goose that Maverick can do downright excellent things with his hands.
“Oh—” Mav pauses to gasp when Goose thrusts into him— “you want more of this?” He brings two fingers back to Goose’s lips and Goose takes them into his mouth again, making a noise akin to a pleased hum around them. Mav smiles and clutches the sheets, panting because Goose is fucking good at this.
Goose meets Maverick’s eyes as he fucks him and Mav reddens, continuing to grin up at Goose. His smugness doesn’t last long, however, because Goose hits something good inside him and he gasps, arching his back in pleasure. “Fuck yeah, right there,” Mav hisses, and hot pleasure unfurls within him when Goose picks up the pace.
Goose laughs softly around Mav’s fingers and effectively fucks his best friend into the mattress, watching in wonder how the pleasure sends Mav’s mouth falling open in a silent moan. He never dreamed he’d actually be doing this to Maverick someday—but it all feels so right with the way they pant together and move together as if they had synchronised it beforehand.
“Oh my god,” Maverick whispers, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. “I might—oh—gonna come soon, Goose.” He adds a third finger to Goose’s mouth, and that’s when Goose puts all his energy into fucking Mav, thrusting deep into him with the force of all his pent-up attraction towards his best friend.
It’s all incoherent babbling by the time Maverick finally does come, stars dancing beneath his eyelids and his mind clouding over. He’s focused solely on the hot blaze of pleasure Goose’s cock sends through his nerves, and he doesn’t even mind when overstimulation wracks his body instead. He registers Goose saying something about coming, but he’s too far gone to even notice, and he instead just relishes the glorious high he’s on.
By the time Maverick returns to Earth, Goose has already calmed down, although his breathing still runs heavy around Maverick’s fingers. Mav peels his eyes open and sighs contentedly before once more removing his fingers from Goose’s mouth. He still feels comfortably full, because Goose hasn’t had half a mind to pull out and frankly Mav doesn’t mind that too much.
Goose wipes sweat off his forehead and grins down at his best friend. “Your efforts weren’t all wasted now, huh?” he teases before slowly pulling out with a wince.
Mav rolls onto his side, not caring about the inevitable mess they’ll have to clean up later. “Fuck no. Holy shit.” He, too, wipes the sweat off his forehead and runs his fingers through his damp hair. “We might need a cold shower now, huh? You’re right, it is too damn hot.”
Goose collapses down onto the bed beside Maverick and peers at his best friend with a strangely gentle expression.
“Hey,” Maverick says, because he can never seem to shut up, “what is it you like so much about my hands anyway?”
“Hmmm.” Goose picks Mav’s right hand up and observes it carefully. “They’re hot, I guess. I like the rest of you, too. But there’s something about how this—” his thumb brushes across the palm of Mav’s hand— “is both of our lifeline when we’re up in the sky. I put my life into this.”
Mav can’t suppress a laugh at that. “You put your dick in it, too.”
A blush blooms across Goose’s cheeks. “Shut up,” he says with a teasing roll of his eyes. “I guess you were right, you know. You really can do a lot of things with your hands.”
“Uh-huh. And I’d be happy to show you more.”
Both Maverick and Goose laugh at that.