Chapter Text
By keeping his eyes closed Jake can keep up the facade that nobody is going to see him behave like this. Mouth agape and brow scrunched upwards as if in pain, he pants and groans in response to the way these hands knead his shoulders. Large hands, strong and rugged, tugging his skin and digging into every crevice of him and holding him in place firmly so he can’t move.
He gasps and bites his lip, the touches leave behind trails of fire that tingle and light him aflame on the inside, leaving him restless and feeling hot all over. Especially between his legs.
As if by an unspoken word he spreads them, giving in and submitting himself to be manhandled and taken apart inch by inch. The hands hold him, caress him as if worshipping him while also gripping him so firmly it squeezes the life out of him with a strength hard enough to make him feel like he’s got no choice but to obey and right now that makes him squirm and fight to get what he wants.
He wants them to move lower.
Down, down, down.
To cure the itch he’s been feeling for days now. To touch him there .
And when they do move, albeit slowly as if punishing him into submission, Jake throws his head to the side uttering a single quiet-sounding moan that he doesn’t want the world to hear.
Because admitting he wants all this beggingly goes against his very morals and principles.
His hands reach for something to hold onto, feeling fabric and linen as the palms drag downwards across his shoulders, past his collarbone before finally resting right on the mounts of his chest.
And he breathes out a hearty satisfied sigh in response, because this is exactly where he wants them.
Yes, right there.
When they trace the shape of his pecs, cupping them perfectly as if made for them, he utters out a loud-sounding, “Hah..” eyebrows pressing together as he feels his nipples stiffen under the touch, pressing into the palm of whoever is holding him.
He knows who it is, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
They mould around him, pressing the swollen flesh firmly back against his chest as if gently squeezing him and in response Jake squirms some more and begs.
He moves his body, up and down, rubbing against the palms that hold him. His nipples scratch across the surface and the friction of it sends tingles all through his chest, adding more fuel to the fire that burns below where his cock feels restrained and trapped between cloth and skin.
He’s close. So damn close.
With a groan he buckles his hips then, begging for the kind of attention he’s obviously not getting.
More…
Rutting to find a way to get himself off, he forgoes all pride and principles and instead continues to focus on what feels good. It annoys him a little how the hands seem to only hold him instead of doing anything else, but at least he can use them for his own good, dragging himself across them for friction so he can continue feeling good and better as he repeats the motion over and over again.
He pants at this point and his brow furrows.
Give me more… Let me come.
He doesn’t care that he’s practically drooling at this point, sweat dripping down his forehead as obscene noises leave his lips one after another. The inner fire continues to rage, coming from different places at once: his aching cock that scratches against the waistband of his briefs every time he moves his hips, and his nipples so hard and so very sensitive in those hands.
Those damn hands..
God, those hands are amazing.
If only he could have more, more, more.. So much more than just this, than just a taste..
Close. Just a little-
He bares his teeth as he feels the climax drawing nearer, the fire now hotter and building.
Give me more, you-
And with a punched cry, muffled by his pillow, Jake’s movements suddenly stiffen. His hips jerk forward as the warmth inside him erupts in an overload of senses, dancing across his spine all the way from his toes to his fingertips, leaving him breathless and unable to move.
It’s only when the feeling starts to finally fade that he comes back to himself, and in doing so he becomes aware of the fact that there were no hands at all touching him. It’s just him, lying flat on his stomach in his bed, and nobody else.
“You good, Hangman?”
It’s nothing but a wild fantasy that had somehow made its way into his dreams in the early morning while he was still dozing off. Bradshaw, it’s him who is to blame for the dampness he’s now feeling in his pants as well as the wet feeling that he"s sure isn’t sweat pooling between his pecs.
Bradshaw and his stupid alpha pride.
Obviously he should be blaming himself for toying with the other man’s shortcomings and acting all naive when it was abundantly clear that Bradley had an unhealthy obsession with Jake now that he was…
He groans and hides his red-turning face into his pillow.
He’s not thinking about that now. Not after he just…
Jake lets out a tired sigh and decides to assess the damage by rolling onto his side and finally his back. One hand pushes through his hair as he stares down at himself. Wiggling his hips makes him feel the mess he’s made in his pants all the more and he grimaches and throws his head back uttering a cry of misery.
What the hell was that? This kind of thing stopped happening the moment he had become an adult. What the fuck..
The fact that this had all occurred because of someone’s hurt pride makes it all the worse.
And then, he remembers, there is the other thing. He parts the fingers of the hand he has lying across his eyes just enough so he can stare down at his shirt. The size of his pecs isn’t much of a surprise anymore, though he still finds it unbelievable as he watches his chest expand and contract with every breath he takes, it’s however the wet patches that darken the colour of the fabric that leave him in shock.
It looks like he’s been working out and sweating through his clothes. Taking a deep breath and mustering enough courage, Jake reaches downwards and pulls the damp cloth away that clings to his skin.
It’s not sweat that has been pooling around and between his pecs, leaking through the fabric.
Both curious and horrified by the sight he moves to inspect himself further and finds that despite coming just moments earlier his nipples are still seem to be very hard and visible from under the fabric, and as he wipes his finger across one of them he finds they are also still very sensitive.
The cloth of his shirt seems wetter and more damp around the areas of his nipples, he must have been dragging himself up and down across the mattress earlier, mistaking the feeling of friction for hands somehow, and intrigued he puts his finger right over the hardened nub that hides under the heavy fabric and presses downwards.
The push doesn’t make him jump out of his skin, but it’s when he starts drawing tiny circles on it that it starts feeling like he’s touching a live-wire that makes his body sing and tingle again all throughout his chest area.
His breath catches in his throat and if he hadn’t just come then he’s damn sure his cock would’ve stirred in interest without a moment’s notice.
Somehow the cloth fabric starts growing more damp underneath his finger, growing wetter the more he continues. And ultimately deciding that it’s better to stop now before he ends up doing something stupid again, Jake pulls back his hand only to see small droplets of moisture stuck on the tip of his finger.
He smells the digit with his nose, unable to determine a scent other than his own sweat, and even dares give it lick, but the amount is so little that again he’s unable to tell if it tastes like anything.
It’s a problem actually.
And it’s all his fault..
“Hangman?” Someone asks as they try to get his attention.
Him and his stupid massage..
“Hey, you with me?”
And his stupid stupid colossal hands-
“Jake.”
Jake takes a deep breath and blinks to regain focus before noticing eyes on him.
Right, he’s working today. Working with him.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and immediately gives the person standing next to him the side-eye. Bradley retracts his hand immediately and steps back knowing he’s on thin ice and close to be snipped at, but Jake doesn’t say anything because there’s a flock of young chicks sitting in front of him waiting for him to continue his lecture on areal tactics and how to gain momentum in particular weather situations.
He hasn’t said a word to Bradley all morning except for the formal things that came with the job of teaching. Jake could tell the other was holding back his tongue, expressing nervousness and perhaps the need to apologise.
It’s pathetic to be honest and it makes Jake want to forget about what had happened to him earlier that morning all the more.
Instead though he smirks and looks back at his little flock of students and continues as if nothing happened.
If Rooster thinks he’s going to give him an ounce of attention then he’s sadly mistaken because Jake is very good at playing this game.
At least he is until he’s not because he asks himself while seething in a corner glaring daggers.
Has he always looked this strong and… good?
He stares at the way Bradley’s fingers peel away paper sheet after paper sheet, handing them out to the greenies and Jake swallows down what has gathered under his tongue.
At the end of the day he decides he’s going to need a drink.
Or two.
On Friday night it isn’t untypical for them to gather at Penny’s bar. It isn’t every week that they’re all together like this, because sometimes people have plans, but this evening Bradley finds himself in the company of everyone else he knows, and he’s just not sure if he wants them around him right now.
And why is this you ask?
“Spill it Rooster,” Well it’s because both Fanboy and Payback can’t keep their mouths shut. “What’d you do this time?”
“What makes you think I did anything?” he defends as Natasha hauls herself onto the empty highchair next to him with a smile on her face because she knows him through and through.
“Even if Bagman started it, it"s usually you who ends up taking the bait and making things worse.”
And she’s right, he had taken the bait. He had started something he couldn’t finish.
“So tell me,” Natasha asks then, “What’s going on with Bagman and why are you sulking like a golden retriever who is not allowed to go on his walk?”
The analogy makes him frown and down his drink more quickly.
“He’s not really getting married is he?”
Because he knows Natasha isn’t going to stop when she smells blood in the air.
“No, he’s not getting married.” He doesn’t know whether or not the idea of Jake getting married is better or worse than the actual problem. Hell, he’s not even sure why Jake isn’t talking to him right now.
“Bagman doesn’t date people, getting together with him is considered a privilege and it’s never more than once.”
Or maybe he does.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Phoe.” he replies and much to his annoyance he feels an arm hooking him around the neck, not tightly just playfully, pulling him up straight as behind him Logan expresses loud laughter.
“‘Course you don’t want to talk about it, you horny dog.” the boasting man expresses before releasing him with a smack between his shoulders, “I always thought you were an ass-man.”
Bradley utterly detests the word and glares when he hears Logan as well as his wingman laugh about it. Natasha exchanges looks between the three and notices the tension, “Leave the man alone, you dickhead.” she expresses as she swats the taller man to make him step back, “What are you talking about?”
“I forgot, Trace here isn’t allowed in the men’s room-”
“Like I want to look at your sorry asses.”
“Phoe..” Bradley tries but fails.
“So you don’t don’t know that Bagman’s all..” Logan puts his hands over his own chest, “Voluptuous now?”
Bradley runs his hands over his face and cuts himself off from their conversation.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He listens as Natasha gets off her highchair, “What kind of way is that to talk about someone!” and hears her smack him some more. “You call Bradshaw a horny dog? I should have you castrated for the good of mankind! You disre-”
“Evening fellas,” Coyote’s voice announces, interrupting them. “Sorry we’re late.”
“-spectfull..”
Whatever fired up rage Natasha has quickly evaporates the moment she sees Jake stepping out from his best friend’s shadow and instantly she understands what Logan was talking about, turning quiet as the idiots around her laugh at her reaction.
“What were you assholes talking about?” Jake asks then, watching as Logan coughs and nearly chokes on his drink before excusing himself. And because she doesn’t want to make this any more awkward than it already is (because the fuck is going on here?!). Natasha quickly switches gears and jests while secretly glancing at the miserable-looking Rooster beside her, “Just wondering how long it’ll take before that poor soul you’re getting together with will notice he’s marrying a tiger.”
And Bradley glares right back at her before being interrupted by Jake, “I’m not marrying anyone, alright. S’all just gossip.”
“You’d probably tear their heads off right after sex.” Natasha points out, smiling as she listens to Jake laugh. “Damn right I would,” Jake responds with a grin before turning his eyes on both Yale and Harvard, “Especially if they’re anything like these knuckle-heads over here. I’d be doing the world a favour.”
“Hey!”
“Alright, alright. We’re sorry, okay?”
Sometimes Bradley hates her but at other times Natasha proves herself very capable in dismantling tense situations. It’s a kind of women-tuition that none of them master as skilfully as she does: making people forget about what they just said and instead switching the subject to avoid further conflict.
Nevertheless, Jake still refuses to acknowledge him, though out of courtesy he does include him when he heads off to the bar to buy everyone another round.
So not all is lost it seems.
It’s the moment he’s out of earshot that Natasha practically corners him. “Rooster, the hell is going on?” she hisses through her teeth before shaking his arm, “You could’ve told me, you dickhead.”
“Told you what?” he whispers back as he watches Natasha snap her head towards the blond and back to him before saying, “Did you see what I see?!”
“You only noticed now?” And she punches his arm. “Hey, ouch!”
“Me and Bob have been stuck with the rookies all week.” Natasha then declares, “You’re the one who"s been flying with Bagman over there.”
Bradley sighs and straightens in his seat, “Well, like a wise woman once told me: you don’t talk behind your wingman’s back.”
“Oh I see,” And Natasha grins at him, “He’s your wingman now?”
As Bradley throws his head back and groans he hears a bottle being placed right in front of him on the table.
“Want one Trace?”
It’s Jake.
“Sure,” Natasha answers, sounding as polite as always. “Thanks.”
Bradley meanwhile says nothing but takes the refill and sips from the cold beverage while staring dead ahead. Jake doesn’t mention, but their eyes do meet briefly as he walks away while saying, “No prob.”
As Bradley watches him go, Natasha looks down at her own chest before hitting her companion against the shoulder as she hisses between her teeth, “They’re bigger than mine.. What the fuck.” Bradley meanwhile tries his best to ignore them all.