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Act 1 - No points for second place
Pete felt eyes on the back of his head from the moment he sat down for their introduction to the Topgun program, but it wasn't until the pen clicking across the aisle in the row behind him had reached a fever pitch that he turned to check out what was what.
A tall blond Kazansky, was what. Nice eyes, big mouth, even bigger ego. Maybe bigger than Pete’s. Pete made sure to catch the look Kazansky was throwing him just long enough, then turned away, eyes front.
For guys like them, there was a code. The code was the look. The next chance he got, Pete looked back and grinned over his shoulder, a little cute but a lot cocky, and gave the look right back. He got a smile in return that was just a little mean but a lot promising.
He felt those nice eyes on him until the introduction meeting broke up - a zing up his spine, heat on the back of his neck. He hoped he was reading it right. And then,
“The plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies’ room.”
There was getting the look and then there was getting a personally delivered invitation.
***
He didn’t have to loiter too long - he’d just settled into the last cubicle when the bathroom door creaked open, and he made sure to lean back against the wall, legs loose, thumbs in his belt loops, relaxed and easy. Well, maybe not too easy. He stood a little taller and crossed his arms instead.
Kazansky coughed lightly and Pete pulled the door of the cubicle open a small crack with his fingertip because you couldn’t ever really tell, not even with the look, sometimes. But Kazansky was pushing right in and flipping the lock behind him, and then they were chest to chest, breathing hot on each other’s faces. Fuck yeah, they were doing this.
Pete’s body lit up with anticipation from his balls to his throat. Kazansky was an asshole and Pete hated him a little bit but it didn’t matter because Kazansky was objectively hot and just exactly Pete’s tall, blond type, he was here, and he had his belt halfway undone already so clearly all the stars had aligned. Pete hurried the hell up and got with the program, thumbing the tongue of his belt free and slipping his zipper down. He pushed his fly open and watched Kazansky do the same before he got impatient and nearly crushed Kazansky’s fingers against his zipper in his hurry to get a good grip around his long, pink cock.
“Easy,” Kazansky hissed, and then his hand was reaching into Pete’s pants to bring him out and fist Pete’s cock too, making him gasp and making his eyes slide shut to feel it better. Kazansky crowded him right into the corner of the stall and stood over him, tall and wide, and fuck, Pete liked that a lot but he would die before confessing it so he let Kazansky’s stuck-up ass know about it by grazing his neck with his teeth.
It took him a moment to really register that there was something a little different about the cock in his hand. He looked down to make sure he wasn’t imagining things and also because he just liked to look. Pete was a very visual person.
“You’re not cut,” he said finally, wonderingly, slowing down the jacking of his hand to really look at the little sock of skin. It made Kazansky’s cock look half-asleep, somehow, like it was just peeking out of its blankets. Pete pulled it down and up again. He licked his lips and wiped the pad of his thumb over Kazansky’s half-exposed cockhead, which was awkward as hell but he couldn’t stop petting it. It looked...cute. He needed more intel. He needed to get up close.
His face was on fire and his hands were sweaty but he gently rolled Kazansky’s foreskin up and down again watching how it closed up over the head of his cock. Like tucking it away in a sleeping bag and pulling the drawstrings closed. Safe and warm and snug in there. Fuck. He played with it some more, watching how the foreskin seemed to glide like silk over the rock hard dick in his hand. Fuck. He could play with that all day.
“You look like you’ve never seen an uncut one before,” Kazansky joked, and Pete didn’t even think, he gave him a savage yank to make him gasp and buck against the door.
“I haven’t, except in a porno,” he admitted, because most of the porn he’d watched happened to be European and all their porn seemed to feature uncircumcised men, but here at home mostly they were all cut. He was sort of rubbing the skin a little, wondering how to get it out of the way so he could--
“Like this,” Kazansky murmured, and showed him, fisting his own cock in a loose grip, just enough to make his foreskin slip over the fat head of his dick on the upstroke, jacking himself a few times, toying with it. He squeezed the head a little and a bead of fluid popped out, and Pete’s throat clicked on a swallow. Kazansky used his foreskin to spread the fluid around on the downstroke and fuck that was hot. Pete had never felt any inferiority about his lack of foreskin but fuck that was hot. He looked up into Kazansky’s heavy-lidded eyes and his open mouth and wanted to wreck him.
“Let me,” he muttered, but he didn’t know if he could make Kazansky’s cock weep like that so he spat into his palm and got to it, knocking Kazansky’s hand out of the way and working up a good rhythm, getting the hang of jacking his foreskin along his shaft and letting it do the work.
“Fuck,” he gasped, eyes glued to Kazansky’s cock - shiny with spit - slipping through his fist. “Come on, that’s it.”
Wasn’t long before Kazansky’s shoulders stiffened and his hips popped, fucking up into Pete’s fist, and then he was coming into the well of Pete’s other hand. Pete pumped him until he was twitching and bucking, trying to get away from that overstimulated edge. They were both gasping and grinning, and then Pete realized he was still hard. He’d been so engrossed he hadn’t noticed that Kazansky was just holding Pete’s dick loose in his hand and enjoying the attention. Pete’s dick gave a little jump to protest this neglect. Kazansky looked down and his grin got wider.
“I ought to leave you here like this to fend for yourself,” he said, almost nose-to-nose, staring Pete down. “But that’s more your style, isn’t it, Maverick.” He made a show of licking his palm and Pete nearly sobbed when Kazansky tugged him nice and close and held his cock in a good, solid grip. He let himself be pushed back against the cubicle wall so Kazansky could strip his cock hard and fast, making it weep, making it wet and sloppy and feel so fucking good. Kazansky leaned in close and for a moment Pete thought he was about to be kissed but instead, Kazansky tucked his face right into his neck and took Pete’s earlobe between his teeth and then Pete was coming so hard his knees buckled.
He hardly registered Kazansky wiping his own hand and dumping the sticky wad of paper into the toilet. He unlocked the cubicle and let himself out without another word or so much as a backward glance.
Pete looked down at the spunk in his hand, then knocked his head back against the wall.
It was going to be a very long training program.
Act 2: That Loving Feeling
Someone in the club had started singing along with the Righteous Brothers and somehow the whole patronage seemed to have joined in, which was great because it really helped drown out the sounds Pete was making as he choked on Kazansky’s cock in the classy bathroom.
“Oh, that’s nice,” Kazansky muttered, and Pete was fucking livid. Nice. He’d show him nice.
He was just starting to work up a real sweat when Kazansky’s hand landed in his hair. It was like getting a jolt of juice to his balls; he moaned around Kazansky’s dick like he was gonna die and pushed up into his hand because he didn’t know what the hell that was about but he did know he wanted more of it, and Kazansky obliged, scritching his fingers through Pete’s hair, petting and tugging and just playing with it until Pete was so hard, his underwear was cutting off circulation.
He wrangled himself out of his pants one-handed and jerked off right there on the floor with Kazansky’s cock tucked deep and pulsing into his throat, and just to make him pay for having such a nice cock and for making Pete want to get to know it so bad, he braced his forearm across Kazansky’s hips, pushed him up against the wall and licked Kazansky’s twitching, purple cockhead until Kazansky was hissing and ah-ah-ahing, and fuck this guy, he was done, but Pete didn’t want to stop yet, so he nipped and sucked at Kazansky’s foreskin until his nice big cock was half-soft and snugly tucked away again.
Kazansky’s hand was still in his hair. Pete rested his head on Kazansky’s stomach and tried to get his breathing under control so his voice wouldn’t wobble when he said something pithy and-
“Thanks, that was great,” Kazansky murmured and tucked himself away.
“No problem,” Pete said like a chump, and let Kazansky pull him to his feet.
Act 3: Inverted Dive
On an intellectual and professional level, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, a Fighter Weapons School (aka Topgun) candidate, and a lieutenant in the United States Navy, understood the reasons he got his ass reamed over the stupid little stunt he and Goose had pulled.
What the powers that be just didn’t understand, however, was that sometimes, something that looked completely stupid could feel so fucking good.
“Oh god, oh yeah,” Kazansky panted, laid out underneath Pete, long legs spread wide so Pete could fondle his balls better. After their little altercation on the stairwell, when it had been clear Kazansky had been waiting for him - since, as it turned out, he had his shared quarters to himself that day - they’d crammed themselves into Kazansky’s bunk, top to tail, and Pete was enjoying the idea of his balls teabagging Kazansky’s face but it was completely unfair that Kazansky had stopped sucking him back at some point so he could moan and toss his head around. However, apparently Pete couldn’t even be upset about it when it just allowed him to concentrate on sucking Kazansky’s brains out through his nice big cock and rendering him incoherent. Who knew, maybe that’d give Pete the edge he needed in the program.
He cupped Kazansky’s balls in his hand and pulled a little to see how he liked it and was rewarded with a hissed curse that would make a sailor blush. A few nicely timed jerks - he was really getting a handle on this foreskin business - and sucks later, he got a mouthful of come that he made sure to dribble all over Kazansky’s dick and balls purely for the aesthetic. Kazansky got his own back a minute later though, when he got his big mouth on Pete’s dick again, and eased a spit-slicked finger into Pete’s asshole.
This had the dual galvanizing effect of lighting Pete’s whole nervous system up like a Christmas tree, followed by serving him with images of what it might be like if Kazansky stuffed other things up there - which, despite wanting to get up close and personal with dicks for many years, Pete had never really wanted for himself before. It made him come like a freight train to think about it, Kazansky playing with his hole like this, watching his finger slide inside, maybe feeding his cock into Pete’s hole instead until fuck, fuck, he was shaking and splashing all over Kazansky’s abs.
“Okay, I’m starting to see your point,” Kazansky said after Pete turned around and righted himself so they could lie side to side on the single bunk, sweaty and covered in each other’s come. Kazansky’s lips were all pink and puffy.
“I’m telling you, it happened,” Pete croaked, his throat feeling a little raw.
“I’m still gonna need to see that Polaroid,” Kazansky said, and laughed when Pete flipped him off, both hands.
Act 4: Good Serve
Kazansky left the court only a minute before him, but by the time Pete shook Goose off, ensured they were playing another game and wouldn’t be rushing off the court and got into the showers, Kazansky had managed to work up some serious steam. Maybe all that bare-chested foreplay out in the sand had gotten to him too. It was a civilian facility and the showers were more private than military ones, a partition between each one. Pete shucked his clothes and gave a little cough, just in case, and got a nice thrill in his gut when Kazansky pulled the door to his cubicle open just a touch.
He was in and chest up against the wall before he knew what hit him.
“Playing with fire’s really your thing, huh,” Kazansky whispered into his ear. There were soapy hands all over him and the water was just this side of too hot. Perfect. Pete tilted his head to let Kazansky skim his teeth over his neck better.
“Fire’s really a little much for you,” Pete said, letting Kazansky kick his legs open so he could get right up against him and god, yes, this was great. Pete grabbed a handful of Kazansky’s ass and pulled him in to grind up to him. “Maybe a hot water bottle,” but then Kazansky rolled his soaped up cock right up against Pete’s ass while reaching around to grab his dick and Pete sobbed a little.
“What I don’t understand is you seem to be a team player any other time except when it counts,” Kazansky’s cock was working up a lather nestled between his asscheeks and it was so good, so good. If only he’d stop talking.
“I’m a team player,” Pete insisted, trying to break through the fog of pleasure but it was too good; Kazansky’s big, sweaty body up against his back, that nice uncut cock sliding up against him and Kazansky holding him close, jerking him off. Pete braced his hands on the wall and rolled his hips back in time, gratified when Kazansky moaned into his shoulder and gripped him tighter.
“A team player would make sure his wingman was taken care of, as well as himself,” Kazansky said, and pulled back a little, only to come right back in, sliding his cock between Pete’s thighs, the slick head bumping into Pete’s balls with every thrust. Oh god, it was so good. It was amazing. “He’d make sure everyone was fine.” He punctuated it by timing his thrusts to the movement of his hand, long and wet and just a little too slow to make Pete come, prolonging it so perfectly.
“Fuck, Tom, don’t stop,” and it was out of his mouth without him meaning to but Kazansky bit down on his neck with a groan and wound his arm around him tighter, fucked up harder into that hot, frothy gap between his thighs so good that Pete couldn’t be sorry about it, and then suddenly he was there, he was coming, splattering the shower wall in time with Kazansky’s cock rubbing up against his taint, and shit, Kazansky was coming too, they were coming together, hips stuttering, then stilling, Kazansky’s come coating Pete’s balls and his breath hot on Pete’s neck.
“And I’m absolutely a team player,” he said when he could speak again, and Kazansky braced his head on him and huffed a laugh into his shoulder.
Act 5: Textbook maneuver
“I just. Mmmmm yeah. I meant that you have to trust your instincts, you have to feel when it’s good,” Pete said, voice muffled by his arm and the pillow he was clutching to his chest.
“Is that right,” Kazansky muttered, clearly distracted. Pete could totally understand the sentiment since he was trying to remember how to form words with Kazansky spreading his ass and fingering his hole.
“Just having the prac and intel is not enough to make the right calls, you have to-- oh god.” He could literally feel Kazansky grinning that mean fucking grin. Pete was still feeling a little razzed over the Instructor’s comments, but Kazansky, who hadn’t said much at the time, was very efficiently taking his mind off it.
“Trust your instincts?”
There was the sound of plastic crinkling, tearing, and Pete looked over his shoulder to see Kazansky unrolling a rubber onto his cock and jacking over it with a fistful of lube.
‘Exactly,” Pete said, and then, “why are you-”
“Believe me, you don’t wanna get called into the cockpit with jizz leaking out of your-”
“Okay, okay,” Pete said, his whole face on fire. He was kind of shocked about how much the idea appealed to him. Maybe another time when they were off duty. He was also kind of shocked about planning for the next time but shouldn't have been because thinking back, he and Kazansky had been getting each other off for weeks, almost every chance they got when the opportunity presented itself in their tightly scheduled and monitored on-base world. What the hell was happening here.
“And do you?” Kazansky said, rubbing a little more lube against Pete’s hole. He felt himself twitch and open softly against Kazansky’s fingers and wished he could watch this as well as experience it. His asshole felt tingly and warm and his whole body was loose to match, feeling a little floaty. Feeling like flying.
“Do I what,” Pete breathed.
“Trust your instincts?”
“Always,” Pete said, moaning when Kazansky covered him with his body, his slick cockhead bumping against Pete’s taint, massaging his hole a little. “Hurry up,” he huffed, his heart kicking up, anticipating.
“Chill out,” Kazansky murmured behind his ear, making Pete shiver. Fuck it was good to be covered like that, held like that.
“You chill out,” he managed, just to be a shit.
“I’m the Iceman. I’m always chilled out,” Kazansky said and guided his cock right up against Pete’s hole. “Bear down,” he whispered. “Trust me, bear down.”
Pete did, and felt his hole kiss Kazansky’s cockhead, and then, trembling and fluttering, suck it right into his body. He moaned, startled at the sensation, the burn of it, and feeling a little like when you fell asleep on your hand - like it wasn’t your hand and wouldn’t respond to your command. His body felt like that right now, stretched around Kazansky’s big cock - tingling and numb and twitching around it all by itself, a little out of his control. It felt amazing.
“That’s right,” Kazansky whispered, “just like that,” and then, “tell me when I can move. You doing OK?”
“You can move, just- just go slow,” Pete whispered back, so deep in sensation he couldn’t even think straight to tell Kazansky about how high he was floating and how good he was feeling. Good didn’t sound enough, but he had no other words.
“She was wrong, you know,” Kazansky said, beginning to pull out a little, only to push back in so good and slow and long, and ohhhh fuck, oh god, that was a whole other level of wow, that was the burning stretch turning into some kind of wonderful electric buzz, his body firing on a whole new set of cylinders. The way Kazansky’s cock was sliding inside him, filling him up so completely, was making his brain melt, and it took him a while to respond with a vague questioning sound.
“That move. She was wrong. Sure it was fucked up and reckless, but it worked,” Kazansky said, and kissed Pete’s shoulder and nuzzled into his neck while he fucked Pete so good, and maybe it was the nod or maybe the kiss, both so unexpected, but he felt like everything would work out, somehow. Maybe they’d keep doing this after one of them walked away with Topgun honors. Maybe something could come of it.
He was still feeling like that days later when everything went to hell.
Act 6: Foreign Territory
It was so easy to hate himself over what had happened to Goose, and so much harder to accept that he was actually gone. It was nobody’s fault. It was everybody’s fault.
Kazansky caught up with him at the lockers and it seemed like he was fighting with himself over what to say. He kept it deliberately neat and Pete was grateful for that. He didn’t turn around to thank Kazansky, he couldn’t even look at him.
Being cleared by the hearing was a mix of relief and guilt. His career wasn’t over but Goose was still gone and no amount of hearings would bring him back.
Kazansky’s doubts about having Pete on his wing was fair. It’s what Pete would have said, if the roles had been reversed. He almost proved Kazansky right, too, except that Goose wouldn’t have let him get away with that shit, so he didn’t let himself get away with it either.
They’d finished on a high and felt as though maybe he should have resented Kazansky, for winning, for keeping his signature chill, but he just couldn’t bring himself to mind when Kazansky clearly deserved the accolades and everything that came with them. He truly was Top Gun.
He’d expected to run into him one more time at least, to shake his hand, to part on good terms, but in the end, it wasn’t Kazansky who found him and came to stand beside him at the starboard rail; it was Tom, and they looked out to sea together in silence for a while.
“What will you do now?” Tom asked him, and Pete’s mind had been churning on it for days, that same question.
“I thought about becoming an instructor,” he said, and Tom nodded as though he’d expected it. “But I don’t know if I’m ready. I just got here. I fought to be here.” And Tom looked at him then, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Flying Ace Maverick, riding a desk? Pushing pens around? Yeah, I don’t see it,” Tom said, and they both laughed. It wasn’t as if they didn’t get plenty of pen-pushing and desk riding time regardless. Pete sobered a little, the thoughts that had been keeping him up at night suddenly needing to be verbalized.
“Viper told me what happened to my dad, and it was like, I don’t know. It was good to finally know what happened but it was so long ago. It didn’t change anything.” He looked out over the ocean and gripped the railing, feeling like he would like to fly, right now, just step off the railing and fly like Peter Pan, arms out, gliding over the waves.
“I don’t want Goose’s kid to grow up like that. Waiting for his dad to come home, not really understanding.” He took a deep breath and looked at Tom, standing there beside him, his handsome face, that big, arrogant mouth. He’d never said any of this out loud to anyone, but he was saying it now, to Tom, and it didn’t feel strange at all. He wanted to tell Tom. “Goose deserves better than that. I want his son to grow up knowing all about him, and not be afraid to ask about him because it’s some government secret that’s more important than a son knowing his dad was a hero.”
Pete opened his fist, and Tom looked down to see Goose’s dog tags there, glinting in the sun.
“What will you do with them?” Tom asked and looked up at him with those nice eyes, steady and solid like always.
“Give them to his boy. Tell him all about his dad,” Pete said, slipping the chain over his own neck and gripping the railing again, his hand a little closer to Tom’s. His heart kicked up when Tom’s pinky finger caressed his.
“Maybe I could come with you. Tell him some stories of my own,” Tom said quietly, and Pete’s eyes felt hot.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Pete said, and thought, fuck it. “Later, I’m gonna kiss you. I’m gonna kiss the hell out of you.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Tom replied, and they were both grinning, looking out to the sea and the sky, tethered by the touch of their fingers.
And when it was later and they’d stolen away to Pete’s bunk and were moving along with the rhythm of the enormous ship which they knew as well as breathing, Pete kissed the hell out of him and Tom kissed him right back, and they held each other, starting something new.
***