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notroosterbradshaw · 10 months

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slow dancing in a burning room - four

word count: 4.4k

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, language, angst, fluff.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

three.

You reckoned you’d read the same passage of writing a dozen times since you’d received word Bradley had arrived back in San Diego. He had his phone back on him and while he’d told you a dozen times over that all the checks were routine and above board, the sinking feeling that he’d ditched his plane was all that was running through your head and the single question:

Why?

You’d almost lost him, you didn’t know how and you didn’t know why, but you almost lost him. You couldn’t connect the dots, he was notorious for his safe predictability, but something just didn’t add up. Mission a success, target achieved (whatever it was, you didn’t give half a shit about the semantics and told Natasha as such when you spoke to her) but nothing was cut and dry and you couldn’t stop thinking about how it might have gone wrong.

Adding insult to injury, you weren’t allowed to see him until he’d had complete further testing tomorrow (at the earliest) and was declared fit enough to be discharged. Your phone rang a while later and you were so relieved to see Natasha’s local number, she was back stateside also. “Nat, hey,” you answered softly.

“Hi,” she said, sounding as tired as your felt. The last thing she needed to be doing was calling you at such a late hour. “I probably woke you, huh?”

You scoffed a laugh. “Found out the love of my life was in a mid-air incident a few days back, and I still can’t see him even though he’s only a few miles away. Trust me when I say that I am not sleeping.”

“Yeah,” Natasha couldn’t say she was surprised. “I’ll bet.”

“Do you have any updates?”

“No, they just want to keep an eye on the concussion after this evening’s scan. He’s okay, talking, but sore. He’s got a few bumps and bruises, some bleeding they need to keep an eye on.”

You knew all of this. Bradley had been trying to keep you as up-to-date as he’d allow but you knew he was going out of his way to keep things light. He mentioned about 8pm he’d been given some pretty hefty meds to knock him out and help with some swelling. “Think I can come in tomorrow?”

“Of course. But I think he’s hoping to be out by tomorrow. He’s pushing pretty hard for a release,” Natasha told you and he’d told you the same.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“Of course,” she said like it was no big thing.

“And how are you?” you asked softly.

“I’m okay,” she admitted. “Tired. Glad to be home.”

“I’ll bet. Can I do anything for you?”

“Naw,” she admitted. “I’ll see you tomorrow though, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Nat.”

“Of course,” she said before mumbling a quiet goodnight and hanging up.

The clock told you it was nearly 2:30am and while you yawned on instinct, you knew you wouldn’t be sleeping until you were allowed to see your man who was all alone in that cold, sterile hospital bed across town.

Hearing the phone ding, you sighed, picking it up again but a gentle smile formed seeing Bradley’s name and a simple, “Love you, sweet girl x”

The next morning, you were waiting at the nurse’s station as soon as visiting hours opened. Addressed formally by the nurse who chuckled at your eagerness, you stated Bradley’s room number and she knew who you were immediately. “512,” she repeated as you gently patted the desk and thanked them kindly, wandering doing the hallway towards Bradley’s room.

You hated hospitals. The nose-stinging smell, the sounds of machines beeping and shivering from the cold.

His door was open a crack and you could hear Sportscenter. God, there was going to be a lot of this over the next few weeks, you realised. You gently knocked on the door and carefully poked your head in. Bradley sat up, a grin pulling to his face excitedly and immediately cursed, flinching back against the pillows, grabbing his ribs. “Oh Bradley,” you came in and stood beside him. “Guess I don’t need to ask how the ribs are, huh?” you brushed back his wild curls back and tenderly kissed his forehead.

“Please kiss me properly,” he begged as you lovingly cupped his chin, unfamiliar with its stubble and did as requested, sweet and placid, he was in a hospital bed after all. “Hi, baby. I missed you so much,” he whispered, his voice raspier in its underuse as you pressed single kisses into his lips again.

“I missed you too. I’m so glad to see you,” you admitted. Albeit… here. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he admitted. “Pretty banged up. Ribs are fucking killing me.”

“Can see that,” you continued to smooth back his hair, thumb brushing carefully against his forehead.

“No breaks, no fractures,” he reported. “Concussion is what they’re most concerned about. Head is pretty sore,” he supposed, shifting carefully on the hospital bed. “Come up here with me.”

“I’ll stay here,” you reassured him, grabbing the seat near the door and dragging it over.

“Love, please?” he asked, his tone meek. Sad, maybe a little scared and you stopped because there was a tone in his sweet rasp you’d never heard from him before and nodded, going back to the bed and scampering up at daintily as you could, not wanting to cause any disturbance to his aches.

You inspected Bradley closely and he winced under your gaze. If not for a few scratches and what you imagined was a lot of concealed contusions, he seemed perfectly fine. “Thank God. Handsome as always,” you joked, knowing he needed the respite, holding his face and kissing him again. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again,” you admitted quietly.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m here. I’m safe with you,” he murmured. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way…”

“What happened, Bradley? You’re so safe out there,” your inquisitiveness getting the best of you as he gazed back, sheepishly and was interrupted by a knock.

“Doc,” Bradley said, relieved by the intrusion. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” his doctor wandered in and addressed you personally, obviously knowing exactly who you were whether Bradley had worded him up previously or not, you weren’t sure. “How’s your grandpa?” he asked you, picking up Bradley’s chart and contemplating his report.

“Uhh, he’s good,” you said, annoyed momentarily at how notorious the Metcalfe name was around this town. It wasn’t the time to be asking about Grandpa. You gave Bradley some space and stood up. He reached for your hand which you took in yours. He gave you a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Good to hear,” he peered up over the paperwork, eyes friendly as he approached Bradley and pulled out his torch, Bradley submissively looked up to have his eyes reviewed. “Pupils, corneas receptive. The good news is the concussion isn’t as bad as first indicated, Lieutenant. CT and MRI scans are positive. But obviously, post-ejection,” he continued as Bradley could feel your eyes shift to him, hot under your stare that cast daggers at him as you started adding up all he’d been through. He flushed and avoided your scrutiny, pretending to listen intently to the doctor. “We are going to be concerned about your spine. Your x-rays show no fractures, which is a great result.”

“Any chance I can bug out today?” Bradley’s asked, his light joke ill-timed as you loosened your grip on his calloused palm and he looked back at you warily, as you crossed your arms tightly across your chest.

The doctor snickered. “We assume so. A few more tests and you should be able to sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“Feel like I might be in the doghouse,” Bradley muttered, forcing a smile, placing his hands in his lap, and wringing his fingers together like a scolded child.

“I’m sure you’re just happy to have him home?” the doctor looked at you, trying to diffuse the situation that was brewing.

“Of course,” you forced. “Just glad he’s home… after punching out.”

“That was the first time you’d heard that, I presume?”

“Something like that.”

“Baby, I’ll explain all I can when we’re home, okay?” Bradley reached for your hand again and stepping forward, you begrudgingly took it.

“Okay.”

“Would you be upset if we just relax in the bedroom?” Bradley asked. After trudging up the stairs to the apartment, he was out of breath and headed straight for the living room.

“Of course not. I realise we’re not going to be popping bottles tonight,” you sighed as he laughed quietly. “Let me get you some water and I’ll meet you in bed, okay?”

He shook his head. “No, you come with me,” he gave a coy grin, leading you to the bedroom and pressing you back against the door. He grasped your jaw, took your face in and smiled weakly before kissing you deeply. “I missed the way you taste,” he admitted, almost drunk on you. “I didn’t think I was going to be able to do this again.”

You felt your mind blank because at no time was this ever a risk for you and you didn’t know how close he was to not coming home but the more he alluded to it, it almost seemed certain that not returning was a sad affirmative. You were terrified to ask for the full story and while you knew he wasn’t at liberty to say anything, you remained passive but blood was filling your mouth as your bit your tongue. You gently pulled back to look at him and he softened a little.

“What, love?” he whispered, searching your face. When he didn’t get a response, he changed his tack and lowered his lips to your jaw, his palms gripping your hips and closing in the gap to keep you trapped. He sighed against your skin. “You smell so good, feel so soft, my sweet girl,” he pressed his muscular thigh between yours and released your hips to grasp your wrists and drag them above your head.

He was hard and craving, desperate for you and you found it hard to resist him. “Bradley, I don’t want to hurt you,” you muttered faintly, and his tongue paused tracing at your clavicle. “Come on, stop,” your palms eased against his waist, giving you some breathing room.

“You could never hurt me,” he swore. “I know you couldn’t.”

“You’re aching, sweetheart,” you urged him softly.

“When I tell you that there is nothing that could stop this, I’m being completely honest. I need to feel at home. Let me bury myself in you, please?” he huffed against your skin, his stubble unfamiliar and rubbing against you. “Kiss me, love. Fall into this with me,” he begged, feeling the hesitation dripping from you.

“You doctor’s said bedrest, Bradley,” you said warily.

“Then take me to bed,” he turned it against you and in a simple feat of strength, he lifted you into his arms. You didn’t miss the slight grimace and it only made you feel worse.

“Bradley…”

“I got this,” he reassured you and opened the bedroom door. He needed to prove to you that it was a couple of scratches and a few bruises. No big deal. The room was exactly how he remembered it, and he was enveloped by the scent of your perfume, rooting him firmly home. He noted you’d left some clean sweats at the end of his side on your bed and his side drawn. Painkillers, a wheat bag. A glass of water waiting and a book he didn’t recognise but could faintly make out The Mamba Mentality. “You put all this together?” he asked fondly. He would never admit it, but it was such a homely welcome. His bones ached, and his head was splitting but his heart lurched, it all looked so inviting. He would be so incredibly touched you’d even consider him this way.

“Well, yeah…” you said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You ejected from a plane and I’m sure there is plenty more you have to tell me about that...” you hinted, subtle as a motherfucking sledgehammer. “I figured you might need a little TLC,” you said modestly.

He chewed his lip to bite back his smile. “All right, you got me. Take me to bed, sweet girl,” he gently released you and you smiled, taking him by the hand towards the bed.

“Do you want to shower first?”

“Actually, yeah. I’d love a shower,” he agreed. Warm his bones, relieve his joints.

“Or think I could lure you into a nice warm bath?”

He squinted. “Would I be bathing alone? Or with the woman I love, slippery, wet and naked with me?”

You pondered it and couldn’t resist your grin. Even in a world of pain, he was trying to get close to you. “I guess I could join you. Go take a seat and let me run the bath, okay?”

“Okay, sweet girl. Come here first…” he begged to kiss you and you willingly obliged. One of those curl your toes, and turn you into a bag of bones. The ones he was really fucking good at. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bradley,” you said, a little dreamily, trying to get out of the fog of his embrace. “I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

“Oh, my baby,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I scared you. I was scared too. But I’m home, and I am safe with you,” he slowly guided you back and you both eased on the bed. It didn’t go amiss the hiss he elicited when he moved to his back and tried to pull you above him.

“Bradley, you’re hurting,” you sighed as he put his index finger to his lips and blow out a gentle shh. You paused and sat beside him. “I know you’re happy to be home. Relieved, all the good things. But you need to rest, okay?” you moved to stand and went towards the bedroom. “Let me run that bath…” you told him as he begrudgingly nodded.

He was kidding himself if he thought you weren’t noticing the agony he was going through and you ran the bath, turning the water on full to drown out how he called for you to return to him in the bedroom.

Sure, he looked the same, he smelled the same, just as handsome. His beautiful face was marred with a few cuts and scratches, a small gash taped up on the side of his neck. But the doctor had made no secret bout the rib contusions. He was lucky to not have broken any bones with the blunt force traumas his body was subjected to. He would have headaches for a while and there would be physical therapy to ensure his body was in the right working order when he was able to get back in the air.

You couldn’t even fathom having him fly again, you didn’t know how you could trust yourself to get through this again. You almost lost him, and you knew you’d only just found him. You didn’t realise it, but tears were streaming down your face as Bradley made his way to the bathroom and found you.

“Love, are you okay?” he asked confused, coddling you into his arms. He held your face in his palms and kissed your forehead. “Sweet girl, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I almost lost you, Bradley,” you spat out before you could think of replying with some decorum.

“Oh, baby,” he said, frown lines melding into his skin. “I’m right here.”

“I was so scared. I have never been that scared,” you confided. “And I didn’t even have time to contemplate losing you. Because all I heard was that you were injured. But then Nat said you were alive, and in pretty good shape… all things considered.”

“Adrenaline,” Bradley admitted. “I was just glad to get back to the boat…”

“What can you tell me,” you held his face too, your fingers digging into the sharp edges of his stubble. He gazed at you, the apology in his eyes. “My brain needs to know. I can’t process this.”

“I’m sorry I did that to you,” was all he replied.

“I’ve never been through anything like that, Bradley. And I’ve seen some shit happen in the Navy.”

“I know, love. I know,” he cooed sweetly, his lips tenderly caressing yours. “I love you, I’m sorry,” he murmured against your mouth as you watched him pull away, the water in the rub overflowing to the floor.

“Fuck,” you muttered, easing past him and turning off the tap. Bradley retrieved the towels and tossed them over the water that was now covering the tiles. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed roughly, hitching a breath. “It’s some warm water. It’s okay. Don’t you dare apologise, love.”

You put your hand into the tub, a little more water overflowing as you rocked the flow and pulled the plug, letting the hot water scald you as it escaped. You put the plug back in when it appeared just the right amount of water for him to sit in comfortably. Warm his bones, soothe his aches, anchor him home. “Let me help you,” you said quietly.

“Thank you,” he said. He’d managed to dress himself at the hospital, but he may as well get the inevitable over. He took your hands as they began to pull his tee from his sweatpants. “Love, I just want to warn you…”

“About what?” you asked.

“I’m a bit banged up. Doc reckons I’m not at my worst yet.”

“Oh,” you said, carefully easing the white cotton up over his taut belly, his robust ropes of muscle firing as you touched him, the red and blue and yellow and purple running up his chest, and his right side. Fuck, if it was expected to get worse - “Oh, Bradley,” you said softly. You’d never seen bruising like it.

“Won’t be winning any beauty pageants for the next little while,” he joked.

“Please, you’d still win, pretty boy,” you quipped back at him without hesitation as he grinned dumbly. “Can you lift your arms?”

“Yeah,” he did as he was asked and tentatively raised them. He knew you didn’t miss the shudder in his breath, and you raised the tee before you discarded it.

“Oh, Bradley,” you said again.

“Hope I’m still enough for you,” he prayed you weren’t repulsed because from what he could spot in the mirror across from him? He was.

“I could never,” your cool hands splayed across his side ribs, and it relieved him. You bobbed a little to kiss his belly. His breathing hitched as he realised you were kissing bruises.

“That makes me feel so much better, love,” he inhaled, his voice still laced with desire.

He watched your hands lace into his sweatpants, easing them off his hips skilfully. You ignored that he was half-hard but he couldn’t help it, not with the care and consideration you were showing his ravaged body. You discarded his boxer briefs and he willingly stepped out of them, desperate to feel your skin against his. He held your hips, pressing his lip to yours. “Please join me?”

You nodded, raising you ratty, overworn sweater over your head. You reckoned you’d worn it since you’d got the news about him, you couldn’t fathom the idea to shower in case the phone rang, let alone sleep.

He hummed, his warm, large palms grasping all the skin they could before he skimmed the seams of your bralette and helped you remove it. He ducked slightly to decorate your decolletage in soft kisses and affectionate nips, his strong nose following the curve of your shoulder. He tossed the bralette away and his index fingers slinked to your tights and undies, no need to games. He watched you remove them and move from his grasp towards the bath, getting in first.

He could see you didn’t trust to relax against him, but he was okay with being the little spoon. He bit his lip, watched you lower yourself into the steaming water and you gave him a light grin, reaching your hand for his.

He could have broken every rib, nay every bone in his body, but it wouldn’t stop him from joining you. He was as careful as he could be, chewing back his agony as he crouched between your legs and laid back to rest himself against you. The way your curves welcomed him, how your thighs curled around him, your breasts pressing into his back. Soft, pliable, delicate. “This tub is tiny,” he realised decisively as you laughed and although you couldn’t see it, Bradley’s eyes fluttered closed. Bliss, church bells at your giggles.

You couldn’t afford an argument. “Agreed. Do you want me out?”

“No, no. Stay close to me,” he found your wrists and laced his fingers with yours, resting against his toned stomach. “I’m not letting you go.”

You rested your lips against the nape of his neck and felt his shudder as you placed single kisses in random spots. “I didn’t have time to think I’d never see you again,” you said softly. “I’m just so glad you’re home, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I scared you…” he said lowly. He played with your fingers, thinking how nice a single band around your ring finger would look. You’d never much discussed marriage, but you both knew your relationship was heading in that direction. He hoped sooner rather than later but you both had so much life to live together, as individuals but also partners. He had too much time to think in that fucking hospital bed about his wants and needs even if he already felt like he had it all because he had you.

But there was so much more to discover with you. Living together would be one thing, but vacations, big life events, babies. He never really thought about children before you. He never really thought about having children at all. But now there didn’t seem a way for a future without you and him creating a family. He couldn’t imagine tripping over kids, maybe just one or two and maybe some space in the backyard to toss around the baseball, or watching you show your sweet baby how to swim. The thought actually made his heart burst with pride.

“Bradley…” you repeated. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard you.

“Sorry, love. What?”

“Where were you?”

He chuckled quietly. “In a galaxy far, far away.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“You know this about me though.”

“How hard you hit your head on that canopy?” you teased.

“Concussion was cleared,” he reminded you a little sternly. If it wasn’t cleared, he’d still be laying in the fucking hospital bed trying to find excuses to claw out of it.

“I said I heard your stomach growling. Were you getting hungry?” you repeated slowly, annunciating your words.

“I am a little, smart ass,” he admitted, snapping in a clipped tone as you giggled behind him. “But I don’t want to get out yet. Naked giggler behind me making me feel incredible.”

You laughed harder as he grinned wide, just like you hoped he was. “The water will be cold soon,” you reminded him.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“You’re not medically approved for anything physical,” you sang behind him.

“You seem excited by that,” he murmured.

“Not in the least,” you admitted. “I just don’t want you in any discomfort.”

“Let me be the judge, huh?” he said softly and laughed loudly as you withdrew your linked fingers and gave a thumb’s up. He cursed. “Fuck, laughing hurts…” he moaned. “Shit.”

You sighed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, love. It won’t be like this long.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of you any pain, Bradley.”

“You could never,” he reassured you. His skin exploded into goose pimples as you kissed his shoulders and traps. “God, you’re making me so hard, love,” he muttered. “These mixed messages are killing me.”

“Down, boy,” your tongue tracing the well-worked muscles. “Let me love on you a bit. I’m not trying to work you up, I’m just happy you’re home. Do you want me to stop?”

“Nooo…” he tried to contain his excitement, his cock resting back on his tummy, long, thick and wanting. Clearly, nothing physiologically wrong there, he realised, incredibly relieved. “I’m trying my damnedest not to get worked up with when the sexiest woman alive – ”

“Debatable.”

“Sexiest woman alive is workin’ me over so fuckin’ good,” his voice was sinfully low. “When she is takin’ the time to show you that you’re all that matters? There’s nothing sexier, sweet girl. You’re driving me wild,” his head lolled further back and you gently bit into the flesh of his neck. “Fuck me,” he drawled. Needing respite, he carefully reached for his cock. “I’m sorry, love. I can’t help it, you’re too good to me. I need this,” he lightly made work of the situation in hand, his cock pulsating with need as you massaged his pecs, considerate of pressure and any pain you might have caused him. You couldn’t resist watching over his shoulder as he continued pumping himself in his hands and you’d deny it to the grave, but you were awestruck at the fluid movement of his body, the way his body clenched under tension. You loved watching him touch himself and ware what made him feel good.

“You’re so sexy,” you thighs widening and pressing your core against his back. “I could never forget this…”

He whined, reaching back to kiss you roughly, pumping his hand faster and with more pressure and he shuddered in your hold. You knew he was so close to coming and within seconds, his pearly cum spurt, cascading across his chest, abs and palm with an aggrieved groan against your mouth. “Holy fuck,” he panted, dousing his hands in the water before he reached around to palm your face and kiss you deeply. He rested his forehead against yours and you knew he must have been in pure agony. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you too, Bradley,” you kissed the apples of his cheeks, his eyebrows, his chin, the bridge of his nose, and his lips again.

A few moments later, you both started to realise the water was starting to cool and you volunteered to get out of the tub first and help him from the bath without incident. He let out a litany of curses as he moved to push himself to his feet and grinned when standing. “That hurt. I’m probably not having another bath in the next while.”

“Fair,” you agreed with him, wrapping your towel around your chest and offering your hands to him. “Please be careful, Bradley.”

“My legs are strong,” he told you. “But the fuckin’ ribs, Jesus Christ.”

“How about you pound those painkillers after this, and I’ll order some food in?” you suggested as he skilfully stepped over the rim and onto the bathmat with you. You tucked the fluffy towel around his waist, water dribbling down his chest as he gave you that sweet quirk of the lips and he kissed you again, safe and secure in your arms.

masterlist.

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