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roosterforme · 6 months

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How You Play the Game Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley wins a box seat ticket for the first game of the World Series final, he doesn't think his day could get any better. But when he's given a seat in the press box by mistake, he meets a gorgeous sports writer from New York. And he has one of the best nights of his life.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and smut (18+)

Length: 6300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was half asleep, sipping on his coffee while he drove to North Island from his house in the soft pre dawn light. He really hated these early training days that started at six o'clock and didn't end until after dinnertime. He'd be in the air all day, and then he'd probably be too tired to stay awake to watch game one of the World Series.

Everyone on base was excited that the Padres were playing the Angels. A Southern California showdown for the ages. Tickets to game one in San Diego were selling for almost a thousand dollars per seat, but the sports radio host Bradley was listening to was giving them away.

Bradley yawned as the host asked, "Who was the first major league baseball player to pitch a ball over 100 miles per hour?"

"That's easy," Bradley mumbled. "Nolan Ryan." And then he realized that it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps nobody else who was listening knew that fact. "Huh," he grunted, reaching for his phone at a red light. He dialed the number and was shocked when he got through to the host.

"Good morning, caller! What's your name? Where are you from?"

"I'm Bradley. From Coronado."

"Do you have an answer for me, Bradley? Which major league player was the first to pitch over 100 miles per hour?"

"That would be Nolan Ryan."

"You sound confident in your baseball knowledge," the host replied. "Double or nothing? I'll upgrade your ticket to a seat in a box suite if you can tell me which team Ryan was pitching against."

Bradley smiled to himself as he pictured the boxes of his dad's old baseball cards that he still had in his garage. "He was pitching against the Chicago White Sox."

And just like that, Bradley was the proud owner of a suite ticket for game one of the World Series at Petco Park later that night.

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Your flight from New York to San Diego had been delayed so many times, you were a little surprised you managed to get to your hotel in your rental car and then make it to the game on time. At least you'd been able to start writing your article on the flight. Unless the game went into extra innings, you should be able to finish by your midnight deadline. Because if there was one thing the New York Times didn't mess around with, it was the hard cutoff for your submissions.

As you made your way to the media entrance at Petco Park, you pulled out your lanyard with your credentials and looped it around your neck. As soon as someone learned that you were a sports writer for the most prestigious newspaper in the country, they were either impressed or they did a double take. You were a freshly thirty year old female with a ten year career in sports journalism, and you didn't take shit from any guys about it.

In fact, you loved it when men tried to one up you. Because they never could. You knew more than they did about sports, you were an amazing writer, and you found pleasure in shutting them down. Preferably in front of their friends. And then they would inevitably try to ask you out. And you would shut that down, too. It was a game that you were very good at now.

As you were scanned into the ballpark by a security officer, you quickly made your way up to your assigned press box. You expected the heavy hitters to be there. And of course you'd be the youngest, and probably one of just a few women in attendance. As you climbed the narrow stairs and swiped your badge one last time, you opened the door and strolled past a table filled with food and drinks. And then you saw them: Carl from ESPN, Jack from The Chicago Tribune, Harold from the Los Angeles Times, and Quincy from the Philadelphia Inquirer. You would keep your guard up, because it was just a matter of time before one of them made some sort of comment about your ability to do your job.

The room was already filling up as you claimed a spot on one of the narrow counters where you could set up your computer and get to work. You removed your lanyard and tossed it next to your stuff, and then you waved to Raya from MSN Sports, the only other female in the room. When you turned to grab a drink and some food, you noticed the flash of a handsome face and a mustache. And then you stifled a scream as you saw and felt a plastic cup of cold beer meet your chest before soaking the front of you completely.

"Oh, fuck!" came the deep, raspy voice of the most handsome man you could remember seeing in recent history as he stared at your chest. You supposed it was a fair trade, because you couldn't look away from his face no matter what you did. He was hot; all tan skin, brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. And the blush that crept in and colored his cheeks made him look boyish as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

When he swallowed hard, and his eyes drifted down to your chest again, you looked down as well. Great. Your light blue lace bra was plainly visible through your white blouse, and the beer was even dripping onto your jeans and your new, white Chucks.

You just shook your head and shrugged. "It's okay. Shit happens. But why did you bring a beer in here?" you asked. But he still looked so embarrassed and flustered, you decided to mess with him. "Who do you write for? I'll send them my laundry bill."

"Write?" he asked, and yep, that was confirmation that he had the sexiest voice you had ever heard.

"Yeah," you said, feeling a little flustered yourself as you reached for some napkins to dab your shirt dry. "Tampa Bay Times? Boston Globe? Oh Lord, don't tell me you're from Barstool Sports. I don't recognize you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." That was a lie; you would definitely have remembered him.

"No," he said, watching your every move. "I don't write."

You laughed as his gaze flicked up from your chest to your eyes when you looked up at him. "That explains the alcohol, then. But why are you in the press box? Did you get lost up here?"

He smirked at that. "No. I won a radio contest and got a seat in a box suite. But somehow my ticket got mixed up, and they sent me a media pass instead."

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him up and down now. "I had to pay for a four year journalism degree for my media pass, and you're going to tell me I could have just listened to the radio?"

His laugh was infectious and his smile made you a little giddy as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bradley. I don't think I could manage to write an article about sports, even if I was getting paid to do it. You must be very talented." You preened a bit at his words as you shook his hand. "And I'm really sorry about the beer," he added, gesturing to your shirt. "I'd offer to get you a drink or dinner, but the food in here is free, and you're actually working. So, I'll just stand here like an idiot and keep shaking your hand and apologizing until you tell me your name and tell me to stop. I'm really sorry about your shirt." He was still shaking your hand, and now you couldn't stop smiling.

You told him your first name and then you said, "You can stop shaking my hand now, Bradley."

"Let me grab you some water?" he asked, and when you nodded, he turned toward the bar in the far corner. And you took in his tall frame, broad shoulders and massive biceps which were highlighted by his Padres shirt.

"Oh no," you whispered to yourself, still mindlessly dabbing your wet blouse with some napkins.

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Bradley turned toward you with two water bottles, and thankfully this time he managed to keep the drinks in his hands. You were so fucking cute, and your wet shirt was doing crazy things to him. He couldn't stop smiling, and when you looked up at him and cautiously accepted your drink, you were smiling too.

"Thanks for not drenching me again," you said, tapping your drink to his. And then Bradley heard an older guy call your name, and you turned in his direction.

"Nice shirt," he shouted so everyone was suddenly looking your way. "That how you plan on getting an exclusive with one of the players? Sex sells now? I thought this was about the game."

Bradley was appalled that another journalist was talking to you like that, but before he could say that your wet shirt was actually his fault, you were shouting back at the guy.

"Harold, you couldn't even drag your sorry, old ass down to the field fast enough to get an exclusive with the mascot. I don't know how you're not retired or dead yet. Didn't you cover the 1922 World Series?"

Bradley watched Harold purse his lips at you before he turned away and took a seat. And when Bradley glanced down at you as you sipped your water, you looked completely unfazed. And he was ridiculously turned on.

"Damn, nobody should be messing with you," he said, thoroughly impressed. "You're an Ace."

You just rolled your eyes, but you looked very pleased by his words. He already knew he wanted to talk to you all night, but now you were setting your drink down next to your computer and opening it as you sat. "This is a boys club. Just a dick measuring contest. I can't let up for a second or I'll get steamrolled."

Bradley let his eyes dip down to your damp shirt as he asked, "I don't want to commit another beer related crime. You seem to know how this press box stuff works. Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," you told him as you licked your lips. "As long as you don't spill anything else on me."

Bradley eased himself down on the stool next to yours, and his knee brushed your thigh. He watched you filling out a baseball stat sheet while you opened up a document on your computer.

"So what was the trivia question?" you asked as you sipped your water again.

"Trivia question?" he murmured, watching your lips wrap around the rim of the bottle before you took a drink.

"Yeah, isn't that how you won the pass? For the box seat? Even though you're slumming it with the journalists now?"

"I wouldn't call this slumming it," he said, eyeing your pretty face. "But yeah, they asked who was the first pitcher to throw a ball over 100 miles per hour."

"Oh. Nolan Ryan. Angels versus the White Sox. Nice," you said as you smiled at him. Fuck. You liked sports. You wrote about sports. You were gorgeous, and you knew more about sports than he did. Bradley let his mind drift to peeling off your damp, white shirt and licking the taste of beer off your chest while you moaned baseball stats and ran your fingers through his hair. He could definitely get into that. He briefly wondered if you were going to be at the next game here on Sunday.

And then you were keeping the game stats in your notebook at the same time you typed up notes, and Bradley realized he had missed the first few pitches. "Oof, that was a sloppy curveball," you muttered as you peered down at the field before checking the overhead screen. "He's supposed to be their Ace."

"Nah, you're the Ace," Bradley said, and you turned to grin at him as your fingers brushed against his. There was not a lot of room at this little countertop, and when you tried to nudge his arm out of the way, he wrapped it around the back of your stool.

"How am I supposed to keep my stats with you taking up so much space?" you asked, but your tone sounded playful, and you leaned a little closer to him. "You're massive."

Those words spoken in your voice had his cock stirring. "Yeah well, not a lot I can do about that, Ace."

That grin was back as you tapped the end of your pencil against your lips, and his gaze followed the motion. "So what do you do, Bradley? I'm going to guess you're not a waiter since you can't walk without spilling drinks. And you're definitely not a writer."

"I'm a pilot. A naval aviator," he told you softly, running his thumb along your back and watching you bite your lip.

"Fascinating," you told him before returning your attention back to the game and scribbling down the pitch count. And that's when Bradley's gaze landed on your badge which was sitting next to your computer.

He recognized your full name immediately. "Holy shit. You write for the New York Times."

"Yeah," you replied, turning to look at him before pulling your lip between your teeth again.

"Ace. I recognize your name. You're the best sports writer in the country."

Bradley was blushing, he knew he must be, but your bright smile was focused on him, and he couldn't keep his fingertips from drawing lazy shapes along your back where his hand rested.

"You know me?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at you. "You're famous. I read your articles all the time. I downloaded the New Your Times app solely for you."

When you laughed and gently bit the eraser end of your pencil, Bradley groaned. "You're funny," you told him.

"You're gorgeous." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself. He thought about apologizing, but then you leaned in a little closer and ran your pencil eraser up his thigh along his jeans.

"Stop distracting me," you whispered, kissing his cheek before returning your attention to your computer. Your lips had brushed the end of his mustache, and he could still feel the soft sensation there as you gazed at him from the corner of your eyes. This was going to be a long night for Bradley.

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Bradley had called you gorgeous. He was playful, and he kept a smile on your lips. When he made a comment about the Angels' catcher, you told him, "You're completely right. I'm adding that to my piece." And he blushed that deep shade of pink again.

"Damn, Ace. I'll be thinking about your voice when I read your article tomorrow morning."

"Mm," you hummed, marking down another strikeout. "It would be fun to read it to you. I think you'd blush. The whole time."

His lips were parted, and he looked a little surprised. "It would be the filthiest of dirty talk," he muttered, and when you giggled, he grinned.

You had to bite your lip against the desire to kiss his cheek again. "World Series articles and pitching stats? That's what's gonna do it for you, Bradley?"

"Shit, how dirty can you make those pitching stats?" he whispered, thumb still skimming along the back of your shirt.

"You'd be surprised," you told him, shooting him an innocent look as he nodded at you.

"I'm sure I would."

The more you scribbled down in your notebook as the game progressed, the closer Bradley got to you. His big palm was warm on your back and you found yourself leaning into him more and more. By the eighth inning, his leg was pressed up against yours and he just kept getting closer.

"Ace, you're killing me," he murmured, taking your pencil and erasing the sloppy note you had written about the Padres relief pitcher. "Let me help."

You laughed as he rewrote your note very neatly followed by what you assumed was his phone number. Oh, he was a bold one. Very handsome, very funny and very bold.

Without a word, he handed your pencil back to you. "What am I supposed to do with that?" you asked, tapping his phone number with the pencil.

His breath was warm on your cheek as he said, "Save it in your phone. Call it. Text it. Let it know when you're in San Diego. I don't know, Ace. I just like you."

Your lips parted right as the Padres catcher hit a home run, and as everyone else in the ballpark erupted in cheers or groans, Bradley pressed his lips softly to yours. And then you tossed your pencil aside and ran your hand up along his neck. His lips were soft, but damn, his mustache was rough and you liked it.

You pulled back a few inches. "And if I text you, you're going to write back?" you asked.

"Immediately," he promised.

"Well then maybe I'll save your number."

He groaned softly as you marked down the home run. "Are you covering game two on Sunday?" he asked as the ninth inning started.

"I'm covering every game," you told him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. The soft noise he made had you scraping your fingernails softly along his jeans as he watched your hand instead of the game. "I'll be back and forth between San Diego and Los Angeles for the next two weeks or so, if they go to seven games. Which, in my professional opinion, they will."

After your fingers grazed his zipper, you watched his head tip back, the veins in his neck working as he swallowed. You were pretty turned on now, too. And the way he was responding to you was making things worse by the minute.

"I'm gonna have to drop a grand on a ticket to see you back here on Sunday, aren't I?" he asked as you shrugged and ran your finger along his belt loop. Then you released him and turned back to type a few sentences for your article.

"Listen," you told him without looking at him. "There's no guarantee I'm even going to let you have my number, so I wouldn't worry about that just yet."

He was quiet for a beat as you typed away, and then he said, "How about you let me buy you a drink for real? Right after the game tonight?"

"I have a deadline to meet," you told him, and he looked disappointed as he nodded. "But my article is almost done. And my hotel is right across the street. We could go to the bar there?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, his fingers still at your back. "Anywhere you want."

As soon as the game ended with a Padres victory, you tossed your computer and notebook into your bag, and you were on your feet next to Bradley. "Let's get out of here."

You took his big hand in yours, glancing up at him occasionally as you tried to beat most of the crowd to the exit. And each time, he was looking back at you, smiling. You led him across the parking lot, and your hotel was in sight when you pushed him up against the brick wall outside of the ballpark. Bradley welcomed your body against his, and he looked at you like he couldn't believe this was happening just before you kissed him.

It was dark over here, even the streetlights were dim. His hands were on your back as your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were rubbing yourself gently against him.

"Ace," he grunted against your lips. "You gotta let me buy you that drink."

You could feel him growing harder for you as you kissed him and tasted his tongue. Suddenly the hotel bar was the farthest thing from your mind. It had been replaced by thoughts of your hotel room bed instead.

"Come on, Bradley," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and leading him further down the sidewalk. He went with you willingly, leaning down to kiss your cheek and your neck as you waited in a crowd of people for the light to change at the crosswalk.

"You smell good. Like the beer I spilled on you," he groaned, holding you close. The movement of his lips had his mustache prickling your neck. You wanted to feel it on all your sensitive skin. You wanted to see if you could make him blush in bed.

You and he stumbled across the street and into the hotel lobby where you eyed the bar as he wrapped his big hand around your waist. You looked up at him and asked, "Wanna skip the bar and go up to my room? Find out if I taste good like the beer, too?"

The sound of Bradley's groan as his hand slid down to your butt had you pressing yourself against his thigh. "Lead the way, Ace."

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The elevator ride to the top floor was filled with the sound of kissing as well as the little gasping noises you made. Your hands were at the fly of his jeans as he pushed you back against the wall and devoured your mouth. Bradley was so hard and ready for you, he was honestly surprised. He just met you. This was not a usual occurrence for him.

"Bradley," you moaned, unbuttoning his jeans as the elevator jolted to a stop. You abandoned his jeans for his hand and pulled him down the hallway, running toward your room and laughing. You stopped in front of one of the doors and started to dig in your bag.

He stood behind you and ran his lips along your neck as you gasped for him. You were so responsive, stroking something deep down inside of Bradley every time you reacted to him. He wrapped his hands around to the front of your jeans and started to play with your button as well. When his fingers met the soft skin of your belly, your head tipped back against him.

"I can't find my room key," you moaned as he ran his hands up inside your shirt. He watched as you gripped the bag with both hands and let your eyes drift closed.

"You're not really trying very hard, Baby," he said with a smirk. He couldn't believe you right now. So pretty and so lost to his touch. He was throbbing and aching for you, too.

"Because you're teasing me!" you complained with a laugh. But then you turned in his arms, and suddenly Bradley's hands were on your bare back. Your eyes were wide, bag clutched between your body and his. "This is... not something that I usually do. Especially not when I'm on the job." Your voice was soft, and as you nervously bit your lip, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"Same, Ace," he promised with a smirk. "In fact, I've never had a woman seduce me this quickly before. You're irresistible."

Your laughter was the best thing he had ever heard. "I thought I was the one being seduced here?"

"No," he said, reaching into your bag and plucking out the key. "You're in charge." He handed it to you, and you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him hard before you turned and unlocked the door with your other hand. You pulled Bradley with you as you stumbled backwards into the dark room.

As you searched blindly for the light switch, you pushed Bradley against the wall. You had your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and your tongue was in his mouth as you located the switch.

"That's better," you mumbled breathlessly as you turned on the light, and Bradley pulled away from you a few inches.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he tightened his right arm around your waist. He wasn't being shy about how hard he was for you, and you weren't being shy either. You whimpered as you rubbed yourself gently against him, and he ran his thumb along your cheek and down to your lips. "I haven't been this turned on in so long."

Then Bradley watched you reach down and pull off your white shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you in that sinful looking blue bra before him. You were stroking him through his jeans with your right hand when you whispered, "I thought you were going to taste me, Bradley." Your eyes were wide and innocent looking as you challenged him.

He nodded slowly. "I wanna taste you everywhere." Then he scooped you up as you laughed, and he carried you to the king sized bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You gonna let me do that?"

"Yes," you whispered right next to his ear, and Bradley eased you down onto the bed with his body weight on top of you. As you started tugging on his Padres shirt, he managed to remove his shoes before reaching down both of your calves and yanking yours off. He tossed them blindly behind himself, wincing as he hit the wall with both of them.

But you just laughed and pulled his tee shirt up, leaving him in his white tank. You were holding his shirt in your hand as he pressed his lips to yours. "You taste so good here," he whispered, running his tongue along your bottom lip as you wrapped your leg around his hip. Then he kissed your chest before licking a stripe across the top of your lace bra as you bucked your core against him. "Fuck," he groaned. He licked and sucked on the top of your right tit. "Your skin tastes like that spilled beer. I love it on you."

"Well then, you better clean me up with your tongue, since it's your fault in the first place." You tipped your head back, and arched your back off the bed, and Bradley followed your lead, letting his big hands find the clasp of your bra. You moaned softly as he unhooked it and moved his fingers around to ease the fabric away from your body.

"God damn," he groaned before taking your nipple between his lips. Your fingers were tight in his hair as he sucked on you, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your other breast.

"Bradley!" you cried out when he rubbed his mustache across your nipple. He was dying to fuck you, but you were letting him tease the hell out of you, and he was loving this.

"You like that?" he asked, enjoying all the cues you were giving him. He couldn't stop grinning as you whimpered a soft little yes before pulling his undershirt off.

When you ran your fingers through his chest hair and down his abs, Bradley swallowed hard. Because you didn't stop there. You reached right for his unbuttoned jeans and eased his zipper down. He held himself over you, looking down into your needy eyes as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his underwear before delving inside. You licked your pouty lips before you wrapped your hand around his cock, and then you closed the distance up to his lips with the softest, sweetest kiss. You stroked him slowly while barely brushing your lips against his, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

"Ace," he grunted, and you squeezed your hand around his cock and giggled while he moaned for you. Then you gasped and let go of him. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately pulling himself away from you while he panted.

Your eyes looked concerned, so he put a little more distance between your bodies. "I don't have any condoms," you whispered as you eased your hand away from him.

Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead. "I think I have one in my wallet. It's new."

"Oh," you gasped. "Should have known," you told him. "You're pretty gorgeous, too."

Bradley wanted to ease your mind, let you know that he didn't hook up with a lot of women anymore. He wanted to tell you that the condom was there for just a special occasion like this one. He wanted to explain to you that the last few he'd had in his wallet had been sacrificed to Jake when he'd been in a pinch at the bar.

But you were easing him onto his back, and he supposed it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It wasn't like you were going to want more from him than just tonight. Besides, he hadn't had anything that wasn't casual in a very long time.

You were on top of him now, straddling his waist in your unbuttoned jeans, and you were reaching for both of his hands. And when you had your fingers laced with his and pinned his hands over his head, Bradley closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your lips were soft on his face and your thumbs were stroking along his palms in a way that was not only turning him on more, but also providing him with some comfort.

When you whispered his name, he opened his eyes and he felt surprised by the realization that he only met you tonight.

"Maybe you should get that condom ready?" you asked softly, rolling your hips against Bradley's torso.

"Yeah," he grunted. And then you were easing down his body, taking his jeans and underwear with you. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow as his cock sprang free. You made eye contact with him, lips parted on a soft whimper.

"Bradley," you sighed, tugging his jeans, underwear and socks completely off.

Before you tossed everything aside, he mumbled, "Grab my wallet, Baby." Your eyes met his with so much need before you focused on taking the leather out of the pocket of his jeans, it had him reaching for you.

You shoved it into his hand before you scrambled back up his body and brushed your fingers through his hair, kissing his lips like he was every goddamn thing you wanted.

Bradley removed the condom and tossed his wallet onto the floor. Then he had you underneath him again. You still smelled like the spilled beer as he kissed his way along your chest, and you were trying to wriggle out of your jeans. "I can take care of that," he whispered, pressing the condom into your hand. Then he had every scrap of fabric removed from your body, and he didn't know if he could handle how perfect you really were. "Ace," he groaned when you eased your feet up his biceps and let your ankles rest on his shoulders.

Bradley's lips found the inside of your right thigh as if he was drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes were half lidded, and you had one hand in his hair and one on your tits. How was he going to recover from this?

"Let me taste you," he begged, and when you nodded, his lips were on your pussy immediately. He groaned, already addicted to the way you tasted here too. He kissed along your slit and buried his nose against your clit.

"Oh!" you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and spreading your legs wider for him. Bradley's cock was throbbing against the bedding as he slid his tongue up through your soaking wet pussy until his lips were wrapped around your clit.

"Yesss," you hissed, gently riding his face as you whispered his name. And with each stroke of his tongue, you got a little louder, your fingers pulled his hair a little more. Oh, he was so fucking turned on for you, he wasn't sure he'd last more than a minute once he had that condom on.

"Bradley!" you gasped, pressing your heel into his back while he sucked on your clit. "Put the condom on."

It took him a little bit to get his lips away from your pussy, because he really wanted to get you off with his mouth. But then he rationalized that you wanted him to get you off with his dick instead, and that sounded perfect, too.

"Okay," he panted, brushing his wet mustache against your belly as you opened the condom for him. He rolled it on and kissed your lips as he pressed himself to your core. Now you were holding him in place by his hair as you returned his kisses, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip into you. You felt warm and tight and perfect, and as you took every inch of him, he stroked his thumb along your cheek.

"Oh god," you whimpered, frantically kissing him and licking his mustache. Your voice was coming in little gasps, and he loved the sound of it.

Bradley withdrew and thrust back inside you, and you rolled your hips with his. "You gotta tell me what you like, Ace. I want to make you feel good."

He watched your eyes go a little wider before you reached for his hand. When you took his index and middle fingers between your lips and started sucking on him while he fucked you, he groaned. "Baby. God that feels fucking great. But don't make me cum yet."

With a soft whimper, you swirled your tongue along his fingers before popping them out of your mouth and guiding his hand down between your bodies to your clit. Bradley had to suck in a deep breath and think about one of his superior officers leading a boring lecture to keep himself in check. He never felt close to the edge this fast, but as he ran his wet fingers along your clit and fucked you into the bed, he knew he could cum if he let himself.

"Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his face against your neck. "Harder."

He bit his lip and fucked you harder while you whined his name, and he kept his fingers on your clit, trying to work you up. He needed to get you off. He absolutely needed to do this. Because he was hoping you'd call him or text him. He wanted you to save his number and use it. He was already dying for more.

"Ace," he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck as your fingers drifted down his shoulders to his back.

You moaned, "I like it when you call me that," so Bradley pressed the nickname against your lips with his until you were gasping and clenching around him. When you came for him, you took his fingers from your clit and laced your hand with his as his movements grew more erratic.

He was saying something as he came inside you, but he wasn't exactly sure what. And you were looking up at him with a soft, fucked out smile and pushing his hair away from his forehead with your warm hand. And then you let him collapse on top of you while he was still buried inside you, and you ran your fingers back through his hair.

Bradley settled his cheek against your chest and let himself enjoy the feel of your breathing evening out after your orgasm. You were still making soft sounds as you rubbed your calf along his leg. He could have stayed just like this all night. You felt that good.

Just as he looked up at you, about to ask if there was any way you'd want to see him again this weekend, you laughed softly.

"Wow. That was fun."

Fun. He wanted to be more than a fun time. "And good, I hope?" he asked softly.

"More than good," you whispered, laughing again. "Amazing."

Bradley smiled at you, and he knew he was blushing. "Yeah. Amazing is the right word for it."

And you were smiling so much, Bradley laughed as you tried to hide behind your hand. He leaned in and kissed your wrist. "Ace, I-"

Bradley jerked away from you as an alarm went off somewhere in the room. When you sat up, he gently eased himself out of you with a grunt.

"That's my thirty minute warning," you told him, scrambling out of bed. "I need to finish my article and submit it."

"Oh," he said, watching you bend to locate your phone. "Right."

You looked at him and licked your lips nervously as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. And then you bent to start retrieving your clothing, and Bradley's heart sank as he stood as well. Wordlessly, he went into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash his hands, and when he came back out, you were dressed in your underwear and the white shirt he had messed up.

"I guess," he whispered, pulling on his own underwear, "I should go then."

You pressed your lips together and nodded slightly. "I guess so."

"Okay," he said, quickly getting himself dressed in everything except his Padres tee. He just held that while he looked at you. "You have my number."

"I do," you whispered.

"You can use it," he told you with a smile, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. And then your lips were on his. And then your fingers were in his hair again.

You moaned and then pulled away from him, and Bradley forced himself to walk backwards to the door, not wanting to take his eyes off you.

"Bye, Bradley."

He didn't want to say goodbye to you, so he said, "See ya, Ace," and then he was out in the hallway with the door closing behind him.

-----------------------------------

Oh, Bradley! I love Ace, and I hope you do, too! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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geezerwench · 2 years

Text

"Biologists report the animal is showing more aggressive behavior, separating children from their parents in the water, and isolating swimming pets from their owners," said the latest release issued on Thursday

#north padre island #texas #aggressive dolphin #dolphin

0 notes

gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years

Text

'cause you care, and i swear that i'm here, but i'm there it's gettin' harder to hunt me down (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

Summary: In hindsight, your crush on Bradley started innocently enough - he came into the bar one evening and you thought he was cute. Well, more than cute, but it all had to start somewhere...

OR Y/N and Bradley over the course of many, many weekends at the Hard Deck

Author’s Note: so this was actually so much fun to write, especially having never dabbled in x reader fics before. the fic itself starts off in ‘present day’ and is interspersed with flashbacks, relatively compliant with the movie timeline. let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist for part 2!

------

today

Your typical shifts at the Hard Deck were filled with rowdy naval officers and assorted North Island adjacent personnel, alike. You often ended up a sweaty and exhausted mess after hours on your feet taking orders for beers, shots, and mixed drinks, to say nothing of all the shit you had to put up with from some of the more persistent patrons. Luckily, Penny taught you how to use The Bell to your advantage pretty early on in your tenure. But tonight was unlike any other shift you’d had at the Hard Deck before because tonight was a Wednesday and the place was practically a ghost town.

It was almost perfect - there was no other way to describe it. Someone could flag you down without raising their voice, there were fewer people to jostle you around, so you spilled less beer and had less to clean, and you could even hear the low din of the Padres game on the TV above the bar. You had just finished getting a group of women their drinks and were about to start unloading the glassware from the dishwasher below the bar when the bell jingled above the door - something else you normally wouldn’t hear on a hectic Friday or Saturday night shift.

And when you saw who had stepped through the doorway, you bit back a smile while the butterflies in your stomach went into overdrive. It was the first time you’d seen Bradley since Saturday night after you’d embarrassed yourself in front of him and you wished you’d had more time to mentally prepare yourself to see him again.

“Bradley, hey!” you called out, trying to be casual.

His head snapped over to look at you and the smile slipped off your face at the almost frantic look in his eye. Bradley had initially looked so casual and carefree when he entered the Hard Deck, but the second he saw you, he froze up.

“H-hey, Y/N. W-what are you doing here?”

You shrank back into yourself. “Uhh I work here?”

“You don’t work on Wednesdays.”

“Jimmy wasn’t feeling well, so Penny asked me to come in for a bit,” you explained.

You only worked part time at the Hard Deck. You were currently a rising 3L at Stanford, but were working that summer in the San Diego County District Attorney’s Office, so you recently picked up some weekend shifts at the Hard Deck. Your mom knew the owner, Penny Benjamin, from her days in the Kappa house at USC and she had been more than happy to take you on part time. A Wednesday night shift after a full day of work wasn’t exactly ideal, but Penny had sounded desperate on the phone, so without even changing out of your work clothes, you drove over.

“Oh,” Bradley said.

You couldn’t help but feel as though you’d done something wrong. Like he didn’t want you there. You quickly glanced down at your business casual attire and hoped you weren’t blushing too noticeably.

“Umm, can I get you something? The usual?” You moved to get him a clean glass and started towards the tap selection further down the bar.

Bradley shook his head, stopping you in your tracks, and then glanced around the bar. He took a seat and then glanced at his phone. “No, uhh - that’s okay. I uhh - I’m actually waiting for someone.”

Just as you were about to ask who he was waiting for, realization dawned upon you. His cagey behavior, his still casual but fancier than normal pale blue oxford, his frantic glances around the bar.

He wasn’t just waiting for someone, he was waiting for a date.

It was so obvious. And he had picked the night you normally wouldn’t be working to bring his date for a reason.

He knew.

He knew you had the most pathetic crush on him and wanted to spare you the embarrassment of having to wait on him and his date. If it wasn’t so pathetic, you might be touched by his consideration of your feelings.

“Oh, uhh,” you found your voice and hated how shaky it came out, “I’ll just come back when she gets here then?”

Before Bradley could get out a word in reply, you had already started off down towards the other end of the bar. Maddie Johansen’s glass was looking a bit low and in need of a refill. If you were lucky, she’d trap you in a conversation about her grandchildren for the next few minutes. And maybe you could forget how much you wanted to disappear into the floor.

----------

three and a half weeks ago

In hindsight, your crush on Bradley started innocently enough - he came into the bar one evening and you thought he was cute. Well, more than cute, but it all has to start somewhere. You were slightly embarrassed to admit that when you had applied for the job at the Hard Deck, you hadn’t realized it was a Navy bar - you had thought the decor was just ironic.

That was until your first shift when you had been inundated with men and women in uniform and you had made the connection: hard deck. You had read about the term in one of your maritime law classes and cursed yourself for not realizing sooner.

After a couple weekend shifts, you learned your regulars, how to handle cocky aviators, and all about using The Bell to your own advantage. Work was fun, different, and slowly you no longer dreaded clocking in for a Friday night shift after a long week of work in the DA’s office. But that may have had something to do with a man that came in one Friday evening.

It was still relatively early, the sun just barely set and you kept glancing at Penny who was flirting with an older pilot with his phone face down on the bar top. You smiled softly, seeing your boss look so happy and free, when suddenly he walked in through the door.

You had never seen him at the Hard Deck before, but he walked in almost like he was returning home. He wasn’t dressed in the typical khaki uniform the other naval aviators favored that evening - he was wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and a pair of Ray Bans inside for Christ’s sake - so you briefly thought he was just another civilian, until he made his way back towards the pool tables and started chatting with the other new aviators at the bar that night.

You tore your eyes off him once Penny rang The Bell and you were inundated with new orders, everyone trying to get onto the new tab paid by the handsome man Penny was talking to earlier. Just when you had gotten your bearings again, someone cut the jukebox and the trickle of keys on the upright piano in the corner elicited cheers and groans from patrons alike. And then he started singing and you knew you were a goner.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain

Too much love drives a man insane…

He had a voice like honey and enough charisma to charm any girl within a hundred mile radius. After he finished serenading the entire bar, his friends brought him over to get a couple more drinks. He was accompanied by a blond guy, who looked way too full of himself, and a petite brown haired woman, who insisted on paying. Hoping to prolong the interaction as long as possible and at least maybe find out the guy’s name, you served his friends first - a Budweiser and a rum and coke, respectively - before taking his order.

“Hmmm,” he drummed his fingers on the bar top, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you can make me and subsequently put on Phoenix’s tab?”

You chuckled slightly when the woman, Phoenix apparently, swatted his chest for the comment.

“Now what can we get ol’ Rooster?” the cocky blond asked. Rooster. Interesting callsign, but you wanted to know his name - his real name. “What’re you thinking Phoenix? A nice tall glass of Sex on the Beach?”

“Maybe a Twisted Stripper?”

“A Blow Job?”

“A Slippery Nipple -”

“- Dirty Shirley -”

“- Alright, alright,” Rooster said finally, looking just as embarrassed as you were. “If this was all a ploy to never take Phoenix up on an offer for a free drink again, you’ve succeeded. Sorry, for all that, by the way,” he directed the last part towards you.

You were blushing so hard, you were sure it could be seen from the back of the bar. “Umm, I uhh - I can make you a margarita?”

Phoenix and the cocky blond laughed, but Rooster looked slightly embarrassed and unsure of himself for what seemed like the first time all evening. “A margarita would be lovely, thank you.”

You quickly brought Phoenix her bill and then started to get to work on Rooster’s drink. You had to learn his real name, you couldn’t keep calling him Rooster. Cocky blond left with Phoenix, so it was just the two of you now.

“You want salt?”

He mulled this over. “Salt - extra limes, too, if you have them.” You glanced down at the overflowing bucket of lime wedges in front of you. “Right - extra limes, thanks.”

Margarita’s were relatively easy to make, so you could sneak glances at the aviator in front of you as you worked. You cleared your throat before speaking. “You know, I do know what a Dirty Shirley is…”

“That right?”

You placed the margarita down on the counter in front of you with a thud. “Figured you didn’t want to walk around with a spiked Shirley Temple, though.”

He chuckled and you found yourself smiling. “Fair point, plus they’re only good with homemade grenadine and I don’t really see Penny having that behind the bar.”

“I don’t think so,” you looked around under the bar, but knew you’d only find an old and slightly sticky bottle of Rose’s, “sorry.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it, I’m teasing.”

Oh, you were very much sweating it. God, he was so handsome and you were so - awkward. Painfully awkward. You glanced down and tucked your hair behind your ears. There was a line amassing behind him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, Rooster took a sip of his drink and you swallowed thickly when he licked some of the salt off the rim.

“This is good, by the way.” He rapped his knuckles on the bar top. “Right, thanks for the drink. I’ll leave you to it, see you around?”

“See you around,” you parroted back, but he had already headed back towards his friends.

The ever growing line where Rooster stood quickly brought you back to reality and you took the next couple orders practically on autopilot - a couple beers, some shots of tequila, more beer, and then some g&t’s for a group of girls. The rush abated and felt grounded and more like yourself again - level headed, smart, and clever.

You were normally more than capable of holding your own during your classes at Stanford - to say nothing of your skills on the mock trial team. Hell, you even made someone cry during your Criminal Procedure and Adjudication course last semester.

So, what was it about him - about Rooster - that rattled you so? That turned you into a stuttering, blushing, self conscious mess?

Something about him prickled under your skin and made you want to know more about him. And why, despite appearing unbelievably confident and charismatic, you still felt like there was something more to him than being that guy. That cocky pilot that -

“- Rooster, huh?” Penny said from behind you. You spun around to see her looking like the cat who got the cream. “You could do worse -”

“- I don’t - I mean I don’t really know him or anything, I just got him a drink and-”

Penny shook her head. “- I’m just teasing. He’s a nice kid, definitely one of the good ones - and you’ll quickly figure out who the bad ones are.” You chuckled. “But there’s a lot more to him than you think - just remember that.”

You nodded, hoping you would have the opportunity to find out for yourself.

----------

two and a half weeks ago

The following weekend, through some detective work of your own, you learned his name was Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and that he was called back to Top Gun for the same mission that Penny’s boyfriend - you did not tell her you referred to Captain Mitchell as her boyfriend - was assigned to teach.

Apparently, flying was in Bradley’s blood - his father had flown with Captain Mitchell - but he wasn’t as cocky in his abilities as the other naval aviators. He was kind, laughed easily, and was protective of his friends and fellow aviators. Plus, Penny, Jimmy, and Maddie, the other bartender, said he always tipped slightly more than twenty percent.

That Saturday night, you two were exchanging greetings and small talk while you got him two beers. He thanked you and then set off back towards his friends near the pool table, before suddenly spinning around on his heels and walking back towards you.

“What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh, uhh Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated back like he was committing it to memory.

“And you’re Bradley?” you couldn’t help but ask. He nodded and you realized you probably weren’t supposed to have known that. “I uhh - I’ve run your credit card for your tab, so I’ve seen - and heard - your name a lot tonight,” you rambled.

He leaned forward on the bar. “A lot? You’re making me sound like a degenerate, Y/N. This is only my second time up here…”

You blushed. “Oh - no. Sorry, I just meant - well, your friends have been saying your name a lot for your tab -”

“- Woah, woah, woah - my friends?” You nodded warily and he leaned in even closer, but turned his body out towards the rest of the bar. “Now Miss Y/N, who are these so-called friends of mine on my tab…”

Peering over the other bar patrons to look at the group in the back, you pointed them out. “Uhh the blond guy - Jake? And then Javy - I think that’s his name? And there was one more, but I don’t - it began with an R, I think -”

Bradley threw his head back and groaned. “- Fuuuuck me.” You would, gladly. “Shit, alright. So, what’s the damage so far?”

“Uhh,” you went over to the computer and pulled up his name and the amount was sizable. You grimaced.

“That’s not a very reassuring look, Y/N…”

You went back over to him with the bill in hand. He let out a low whistle.

“I’m so sorry, they made it seem like you were okay with it and I totally wouldn’t have kept adding to it if I’d known - wait, if they already have their own tabs, I can change it over?”

Bradley glanced down at the bill and then back up at you and then down at the bill and then up at you one more time before he sighed. “Put it all on Hangman’s tab, except these two beers.”

“Of course, I’m really sorry, again. I’ll have this fixed in a sec,” you said, walking back over to the register. It wasn’t too hard to change everything over to Jake’s tab - it only had one beer on it at present. “Here you go.”

Bradley took the check-pad and you needlessly organized some glasses while you waited. He took an oddly long amount of time to sign and give a tip before he handed it back to you with much aplomb.

“So, do you only work here on the weekends? I uhh - we haven't seen you during the week.”

“Yeah, I’m working in the DA’s office here this summer. I’m going to be a 3L at Stanford in the fall.”

He toasted you with his beer. “Impressive.”

“Says the naval aviator.”

“See now I’m even more impressed, you got the term right.”

You blushed. “Learned the hard way…” You had tragically been on the receiving end of one of Jake’s rants - err attempts at flirting about the proper nomenclature last Saturday night.

Someone sat down at the bar a couple seats to Bradley’s left and you excused yourself to take her order, figuring Bradley would go back to his friends - and subsequently yell at them. But he surprised you and was still standing in the same spot when you turned back around. You wiped your sticky hands on your boyfriend jeans and headed back over to him.

“Did you need anything else -”

“- So, what type of law are you planning on going into?” Oh. He still wanted to talk to you.

“Oh, umm I’d actually love to stay in the DA’s office down here - be an ADA.”

He actually looked impressed, even slightly proud. “How very Law & Order of you.”

You smiled wryly, knowing that was exactly the reason why you wanted to be a lawyer in the first place. Too many episodes of Law & Order: SVU in your youth had fully influenced you.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted to do and I really like all my coworkers, we’re our own little unit now - plus, my parents live in Encinitas, so they’d still be nearby, which is really nice, actually, even just now for the summer.”

“That’s what? Fifteen minutes up I-5?”

“Fifteen minutes? Jesus, you pilots drive fast.” He smiled and ducked his head. “No, it’s more like half an hour - close enough for a weekly brunch and plenty of phone calls in between.”

Your parents had supported you throughout undergrad at USC and even offered to pay for what your scholarships didn’t cover at Stanford. It was nice - really nice, if you were being honest - and you only hoped you would get to return the favor to them some day. But your dad said that during the summers, wherever you ended up being a summer associate, you had to get a side job to offset the cost of living for those three and a half months. And that’s how you wound up at the Hard Deck.

Plus, you loved seeing your parents, that wasn’t the problem. It was just lately your mother, especially, had been ragging on you for working too hard and not taking enough time for yourself - or rather for not finding a gentleman of your own like your older sister had. You’re twenty six, Y/N. You’ll never be around as many eligible bachelors again as you will be in law school...

“- Sounds nice, having them so close.” Bradley sounded almost wistful and you remembered hearing Penny and Captain Mitchell talking about his parents once. You felt bad and were about to divert the conversation to more neutral territory when he spoke again. “Any siblings or, you know, like a boyfr -”

“- Yo, Rooster!” a voice called from the back corner, “you coming over with my drink anytime soon? My mouth’s drier than the Sahara.”

Without missing a beat, Bradley called over his shoulder: “Nah, that’s every girl after Hangman’s hooked up with them.”

The group in the corner laughed at Jake’s expense and you even found yourself chuckling. “You should get back, don’t want to keep you from your friends.”

Bradley sighed dramatically. “Suppose I should - but hey, you should come over and meet everyone sometime.”

You looked down at your outfit - baggy jeans and a navy t-shirt - and scrunched your nose. “Maybe next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Bradley.”

“See you around.” And then he knocked on the bar top once and was gone. His friends gathered around him when he got back to the pool table and they continued ribbing Jake.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he chatted with the same woman from last week, Phoenix you recalled, and a guy in glasses beside her. Phoenix nudged Bradley in the stomach and hung her head in exasperation at something he said. You wanted to keep watching them to see what more was said, but your attention was diverted towards some new patrons on the other side of the bar.

Later, when you were cashing out your tips on the register, you noticed he still tipped you based on the original amount on his bill and that he wrote you a note:

now you can text me if hangman tries to put something on my tab again xxx-xxx-xxxx

bradley

--------

a/n: again, let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist for part 2! i’ll have it up within the next day, just have to finish up a part. this will also be posted on ao3 as a long one shot if you eventually prefer to read it there!

[Part 2]

taglist: @rosiahills22 @millama19 @itzzgillianj @roosterschanelslut @arianna-bradshaw @n3ssm0nique

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun imagine #i didn't proofread this so uhhh yeah #writing #bradley fic

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hypnotisedfireflies · 5 months

Note

Our boy Tommy is so much on my mind lately, I don't know if it's because Gabe is so active on social media but man, I just want more of him.

You don't by any chance have any thoughts of what transpired with Tommy between when he left the fireflies and when Joel and Ellie run into him in Jackson, do you? Like the time period had to be somewhat significant if he had time to find Jackson, meet Maria, fall in love with her, and get married. In the video game, he also took a trip down to Texas to get some of Sarah's pictures from Joel's house.

Hi hi! I would love to eventually write what I think happened to Tommy in those years. In Driftersverse, he left Joel and Tess in late 2009, so I have about fourteen years of time to play with. I've dot-pointed some of my thoughts below - thank you for asking, I have no idea if I will ever write these so it's nice to share.

Some spoilers for Tommy activities in TLOU 2, nothing major:

Tommy went south from Indianapolis with Marlene, Lachie, Iotama and the other Fireflies.

Canon has Tommy meeting Eugene Lindon and I've not managed to work him into Drifters yet, but he's there.

Regardless, he had nightmares about that for years and still has them in Jackson.

Tommy, Lachie and Iotama joined a Firefly cell in Denver.

Following canon, he bombed checkpoints while fighting FEDRA, killing innocents, and tortured a general. The irony of this was not lost on Tommy, but he told himself that it was different because it was for a bigger cause than himself.

At some point, Iotama, Lachie and Tommy went through Texas to reach the Firefly research facility on Padre Island. During the journey, Tommy and Lachie went through Austin. Tommy's house was gone - firebombed - but Joel's was still standing. I reference this somewhere, I think it's in Lachie's chapter of The Ensemble.

Joel does not know that Lachie was ever in his house.

Joel was humanised to Lachie a bit more after that point. Had that not happened, he may not have been as amenable to helping Tess find him again in 2003.

Tommy left the Fireflies the next day. Seeing the old house, the photos, trying to deal with what he'd done in Denver and the violence he'd committed since leaving Joel caught up with him. This was when the Firefly fairy tale fell apart for Tommy and he stopped believing in it all. He left without a word to anyone.

I haven't really turned my mind to how he came upon Jackson and Maria yet.

He probably joined some other people going north because otherwise, I can't really reckon with him willingly going that way again.

He kind of went where the breeze blew him for awhile. He tried to do good deeds to atone, but just kept getting screwed over and having to kill to survive. 🥺

But I feel like most of those 14 years he was with the Fireflies. He had sacrificed so much to join them - separating from Joel - and he was determined to make it work. He stayed with them for years, lying to himself about the righteousness of the cause, trying to make it worthy. It wasn't something he gave up on after just a few.

He also refused so many promotions within the Fireflies. Both Iotama and Lachie outranked him after only a few years.

Thank you for asking! It's nice to get my thoughts out of my head. <3

#driftersverse #asks #tlou #tlou fanfic #tommy miller

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billthedrake · 2 years

Text

BIG DADDY (PART SIX)

(This is a story is a little departure from my normal, with bisexual content.)

I treaded water in the pool and watched my sister in law ease into the water.

The fucked up thing about Texas weather is that vacations were never at times I thought of as normal vacation. Up north, I'd spent my summers at the Shore. But the Bryants tended to work during the summer and shut down the office in April for a big family vacation. Mr. and Mrs. Bryant rented a big sprawling house in South Padre Island. I'd say Cheryl and I were invited, but it was actually assumed we'd be going.

The only downside was that Cheryl and the Bryant women were in fucking planning mode for a month leading up to it. It was like that with them. Needing everything to be perfect. Courtney's baby shower, Cheryl's and my wedding. And now two weeks vacation: activities, meals, what to wear, a photographer for the annual family photo. Jesus. I mean, I guess I was glad they were taking care of some things, but I missed my family's low key approach to vacation. Load up the car, grill out burgers every night, be lazy.

That's why I was enjoying this quiet time. It was late afternoon. Mrs. Bryant was watching after Little Mike, giving the parents another needed break. Cheryl and her dad had stayed at the beach longer, Cheryl pretending to be engrossed in a book, but I knew they were now off fucking somewhere. Dan volunteered to make dinner - steaks and salad.

That left me to flirt with his wife.

"You're looking great, Courtney," I said as I eyed up her form. Probably not an appropriate thing to say but it was a sincere compliment. And everyone in Texas seemed to say inappropriately sexual things under the guise that it was "harmless flirting." That practice was rubbing off on me.

After all, Dan's wife was smoking hot. She'd been a cheerleader at the college where Dan played football. Yeah, total cliche. Courtney was sweet, shorter than Cheryl and even more feminine. Total southern sorority girl with auburn brown hair and soulful brown eyes and a homecoming queen smile plastered on all that time. No matter where she was she seemed to stand in a way that pushed her tits out.

Courtney Bryant had a hell of a pair of tits on her. Motherhood had made those hooters swell up, and the one piece she had on looked like it would bust any second.

"Thanks, Nick," she smiled. "I'm still trying to lose the baby weight, but that's sweet of you to say."

I treaded closer to her. "I'm not bullshiting, Court... I'm surprised you're not in a two-piece." She blushed, but I was on the verge of going to far. "I bet Dan really appreciates what you got going on." Bringing it back to her husband.

"Maybe," she said, flirting back with her eyes.

It wasn't the Jersey Shore, but the Gulf was growing on me. The pool, the tricked-out rental house, another step in being part of the Bryant family.

I was about up the wall in horniness, too. Not having work to distract me, and being around three people I'd had sex with and another I wanted to fuck was driving me insane.

I'd sucked Big Daddy's cock that first night, right in the front seat of his SUV when we went on an errand to pick up more ice. And Cheryl and I had found some private time. I'd even tasted Mark on her one afternoon while I licked her cunt.

But it wasn't enough. That's why I was flirting with Courtney more than was right. Harmless, my ass.

She wasn't biting, not yet, but I could tell she was interested. Probably the same way she was interested in Mark. I wondered if all cheerleaders were sluts, then a wicked part of me guessed Mark Bryant would only approve of a certain type of woman for Dan. Courtney was that kind of woman.

A slut.

I was warming her up. My dick wasn't hard but it was chubbed under the water as she began letting her guard down and as her eye contact grew heavier.

"Nick!" It was Dan, who'd stepped out to the pool area. "Think you could give me a hand, buddy? I think the propane needs changing on the grill."

I gave a wink to Courtney. "Sorry to leave you on your lonesome, miss," I joked. "Your husband needs me.

Courtney just flashed me her sorority smile and cooed, "You know where to find me." A joke, but not.

I swam to the ladder and climbed out, dripping on the concrete and thankful for April Gulf shores sun.

As I went around the deck, I saw Dan crouched down, fiddling with the feed hose. He was shirtless and wearing medium-length trunks. His body was meaty and the tan showed off his latest gym gains well. He looked up at me, laughing with an apologetic tone. "I've never actually changed one of these before," he admitted.

I laughed and patted his bare back as I squatted next to him. I loved feeling the warmth of him next next to me and that chlorine, suntan lotion smell. "Leave it to the grill master," I boasted. I undid the hose. "Hold the tank," I instructed and in short order we pulled that one off and put the replacement in its place.

I'd screwed on the hose, the last part, when I saw Dan's eyes looking at me. That look again.

"I need it, Nick," he said softly. "You told me to tell you." God he acted like a kid sometimes.

I rubbed his strong lats in a soothing back and forth motion. "I got ya, man. Go up to my room, and I'll meet you there in a couple."

He nodded, excited and embarrassed. "Thanks, man. I tried to hold off, but... I just need it."

"Go on," I encouraged in a whisper.

I was rock hard in my trunks now as I took one more look of that Texas beef walking inside. I peeped around and saw Courtney lying on a float in the pool, almost napping, those tits poking up obscenely. If I didn't get to those breasts, I thought, no way Big Daddy wouldn't get his hands on those. Fuck.

I then went to the other side to make sure Mark's SUV wasn't there. Coast clear.

Then I went indoors, into the air conditioning. I could hear Mrs. Bryant playing with Little Mike in the next room. I tiptoed in, but even if she heard me everything seemed normal. I was just coming in for a bit. Maybe to take a nap.

I opened the room door enough to slip in and shut it behind me. Already Mark was on the bed, naked and rock hard. His tanned muscle looked magnificent displayed for me, his beefy arm up behind his head, the dirty blond arm pit hair a contrast to the white spot where his pit hadn't seen much sun.

I unlaced my trunks, feeling hard as a rock. "You did right, bro," I assured him. "Coming to me like that."

This was the first time we'd actually done anything since that fateful Thursday after the gym. Dan seemed relieved by my words. "I wasn't sure Nick.... I just get so horny." Already he was spreading his legs in invitation.

I walked around the bed and found the lube. I didn't normally have to use it but Cheryl had been letting me do her ass more lately. I unplopped the cap and squirted a good deal on my hardon.

Dan watched, pure excitement on his face. "You got an amazing body, Nick," he said softly as I got onto the bed with him. "An amazing dick, too."

I smiled, but that was my only acknowledgment of his compliment. I lifted his legs, parting them as I raised them.

"Not gonna be much foreplay today, kid." Dan was three years older than me, so I didn't know why I called him kid. Just felt right.

He nodded. "It's OK..." then, "I'm your cunt."

"Fuck, Dan," I grunted, in a tone that told him those words turned me on. With a bit of "where's your fucking self respect" thrown in there. I pushed my dick against his hot pucker. He'd greased up with something already. Crisco. Vaseline. Something. It was gonna be a slick fuck. I pressed in.

Maybe Dan was just worked up. Jonesing for a fix like a true junkie. But his hole opened up a hell of a lot easier this time. It took me ten seconds to work him open and bottom out.

I leaned down and kissed him. A sexual kiss, but loving too. I liked the dumb lug, a lot. "Your Nick's got you, bro," I announced. Then I started fucking the shit out of him.

He let out an involuntary cry, so I clamped a hand on his slut mouth. But his eyes went wide and told me the whole story. Dan Byrant, Golden Boy, big rack of Texas football beef, fucking loved this.

I wasn't even trying to go all alpha on his ass. I just knew we didn't have a lot of time to play with, and I knew I needed to get my nut without too much buildup.

But seeing and feeling his sexual thrill, I really went for it. Tearing into his hole. Rapid jackrabbit thrusts that hammered his prostate.

Dan Bryant fucking came, hands free, spurting his hot, built up seed between our built, warm bodies.

I was five seconds behind him. The idea I'd made him cum tripped my wires. That and his clenching guts practically milking my boner. I was beyond comparing load sizes, but Dan was getting one of my better ones.

I smiled, feeling the post-sex endorphins kick in, and removed my hand from his mouth.

"Whoa," Dan hissed, keeping quiet.

"Yeah, that was hot," I admitted. I caressed the guy's cheek, like a lover, then slowly pulled out of him.

I smiled as I watched that cum ooze right out Dan's fucked-open hole, as the poor guy tried to clench it shut.

He laughed, now, I guess feeling he had no other response than to laugh at how slutty he looked.

"You need me to clean you off, Nick?" he asked.

I thought for a minute he was offering to get me a rag or something. But it sunk in. "Yeah," I replied and was gratified to see my bro-in-law get on his knees and start licking my spent cock clean. While I massaged his hair lovingly.

I finally had to pull him off. "Enough buddy. We gotta get back down."

"Yeah," he acknowledged. He went to find his trunks and pull them on. "Um... thanks, Nick. You're the best, bro."

I stepped up to him and grabbed some of that meaty delt muscle, squeezing it affectionately. "You're keeping it in the family, bro. Right?"

He nodded, like an admonished child. "Oh yeah, promise, Nick. I swear."

"Good man," I said with a final pat on his shoulder. "Now go get a start on dinner," I said with a wink. "I'm fucking starving."

***

Dan was in a fantastic mood the rest of that trip. Maybe I was, too. We kept up our morning runs and bodyweight workouts to stay in shape. We tossed football and played volleyball on the beach. I taught him how to man a fucking grill and how not to overcook a hamburger.

And yeah, we had another session, making out deep before I had him get down and service my cock. I'd been working a lot at R.C. Pool Supply... Mark wasn't lying about getting his money's worth from me. This vacation gave me a chance to unload, in every way.

"Damn, that's incredible, brother," I said, running my fingers through the back of Dan's head as he nursed the dribbles of my cock. We were in the front seat of Dan's SUV, parked in a deserted lot. It was so much like my first night sucking Big Daddy. My dick wasn't going down now. Fuck, I needed to get laid more.

The Golden Boy finally pulled off. Even at 30, he was youthful and real good looking. The exercise regiment had taken off some of that excess padding, and no two ways about it, Dan Bryant was fuckable as hell.

And proud. "You liked that, Nick?" he asked eagerly.

I gave a soft growl. "You know damn well I did. Came like a motherfucker..."

"I'm glad," he said. I could tell he had a hardon in his shorts. Maybe he'd get off later. "So, Nick," he asked. "Can I ask you for some advice?"

I pulled up my shorts and nodded. "Yeah, buddy, what is it?"

He seemed embarrassed to say what was on his mind. "Maybe you know this, I don't know... but Daddy kind of handles all my finances. You know, mine and Courtney's."

"I didn't know that, bud," I said. It wasn't a surprise though.

Dan blushed. I could tell this was hard for him. "Well, I wanna take more responsibility for things, but I'm wondering if, like, you could help me out, Nick.... I know you're real good at business and numbers and stuff."

"I'd be glad to, Dan," I assured him.

He seemed relieved. "God, I feel so dumb."

Dan was dumb. But he was there for me, and I was gonna be there for him. I patted his leg, feeling that impressive strength in his quads. "Seriously, brother, I'm happy to help. We'll get you on a good plan."

That smile just about melted any bit of hardness in me. "I love you brother... you're the best," he said softly.

"Love you, too, man," I replied. And like that we were kissing, softly, romantically. We had our alone time and an empty parking lot and I guess we were gonna make the best of it.

Dan's paw gripped my crotch again, feeling the hardness that was roaring back. "I love your dick, brother," he grinned, looking into my eyes as he felt me up.

"You got a good touch, Dan," I smirked.

He nodded, running his fingers up and down my ridge. Then pulling down the shorts again. "If you want... we can get in the backseat, Nick and I'll... I'll be your cunt."

"Fuck yeah," I hissed.

My brother-in-law had taken the edge off with the blowjob, so I was feeling less urgent and more playful as got into the back, pulling down the seat for more room. Maybe we were taking a little chance doing it, but the place seemed pretty deserted at that hour, and it felt naughty having car sex like a couple of horny teenagers.

We stripped down and exposed our well built bodies - mine trim, Dan's beefy.

That big beefy body was getting into a face down position and hiking his ass back at me.

"Damn, kid," I growled, leaning in to munch on his hole. I didn't go crazy with the foreplay, but I wasn't in a rush for this round, so enjoyed tonguing that tight pucker of his.

Finally, I was getting pretty turned on. "So... Dan, buddy... I didn't bring any lube... did you?"

The guy looked back and shook his head. "Nah, Nick. But you can fuck me without it. I... um, kind of want to try it that way."

I was pretty recharged for round two but those words made my boner throb. I leaned over on top of that meaty ex-jock body and nestled my rigid prick between his buns. There was some slickness left from my spit, but mostly that had dried. I reached down and lined up my dick to his hole and I pushed past the ring.

"AW FUCK!" Dan grunted. Not outright pain, but some discomfort for sure. I paused instantly and patted his cheek.

"You OK, kid?" I asked, concerned but rock hard three inches inside him.

He nodded. "Oh yeah, Nick. I'm rock hard right now."

I pressed on. That hole was crazy tight. Almost too tight. Almost. As I pressed on, I savored just how different this was from pussy and I knew I'd want to do this again.

I started fucking. Not exactly rough, but hard. And the sound of Dan's excitement was palpable and just egged me on. He haadn't gotten off yet, and as I pounded him, he raised his hips up and reached down to tug at his cock. Even the dry friction on his cut piece was going to get him off.

"Fuck me, Nick!" he urged. "Fuck my hole, man..." Dan growled and like that, the big guy was cumming on my cock and spraying his sperm on the back of the car.

I was pretty worked up now, and the feel of his clenching guts milked me off for a second time. I orgasmed inside him and then collapsed momentarily on his warm back.

Maybe I expected shy Dan to return after we mated like that, but as we uncoupled and got our shorts back on, he looked over at me with a grin. "I'm glad you're my brother, Nick," he said with shocking sincerity.

"You, too, man," I grinned back and patted his bare shoulder. Then as I pulled on my T-shirt, I added, "We should get back."

"Yeah," he grinned. "Thanks for that fuck man. I guess I've been horny all week."

"I got ya, kid," I winked and we got out and got back into the front seat.

***

Dan wasn't the only one horny all week.

I wouldn't say that rough fuck with Dan drained me, cause I had a wicked case of morning wood the next morning. But the satisfaction lasted a good solid day, which was a good thing. Cheryl woke up with a case of morning sickness, so there would be no sex in the cards that day. I looked after her and let her rest.

Big Daddy was in his full grandpa mode, looking after Little Mark at the beach, while Dan and Courtney talked with Helen about the town news and preschool plans for Little Mark.

I swam and read and dozed on the beach. Then figured I'd go back and check on Cheryl.

"Anyone need anything?" I asked.

Big mistake. Turns out everyone had some food and drink request from the beach house.

"I'll help you, Nick," Courtney giggled as he she got up, those perky post-pregnancy tits bouncing. She'd gone with the two-piece that day and fuck.... I was tempted to slather them with sunscreen myself.

"Thanks, Court," I grinned. Low-key flirty but nothing too much. Not with my brother-in-law right there.

We made small talk as we walked back to the house. On the way, we passed Cheryl, who was looking pretty amazing in her bikini. She was five months in and sporting the start of a baby bump.

"Hey guys," she greeted. "Didn't want the day to go by."

I stepped up and gave her a husbandly kiss. "Hey babe... was just coming to check on you. Feeling better?"

"Oh yeah, thanks hon. Heading in already?" she asked.

"Just getting some food and drink for the gang," Courtney replied. "You need anything?"

Cheryl smiled. "No, I'm fine. See you out there," she said.

As my pregnant wife walked down to the beach and Courtney and I walked up, I couldn't keep my eyes off my smoking hot sister in law. God, I was a grade-A schmuck, but I'd been one since moving to Texas. Why stop now?

"You went with the two=piece today, Court," I smirked, feeling chubbed in my swim trunks.

She grinned. "You told me I should," she said.

"Absolutely," I shot back. "A bod like that, you definitely shouldn't be shy."

"You're sweet, Nick," Courtney replied in a coquettish giggle.

"Hardly," I said. "More like a wolf in the hen house." Making a joke about my lust. Putting it out there with a hint of deniability.

We stepped inside and felt the air conditioning. I paused and had to look at Courtney's big-titted body head on. It was clear what I was thinking. And where my eyes were. I knew Little Mike was eating baby food, so Courtney was probably no longer breast feeding, but damn those jugs were full and made an insane cleavage in the bikini.

"We're being SO bad," she giggled with a tease in her voice.

Not I was being bad. We were being bad. That was the signal I needed. I stepped up and placed my hands on her trim waist and pulled her to me for a deep kiss.

I was rock hard as we made out. The kiss wasn't a soft kiss but I tried not to be hard charging like I was with her husband. Courtney may be a slut, but she was a woman, a delicate machine you couldn't manhandle.

"Up to my room?" I grinned as my fingers caressed her soft skin.

She nodded with a giggle.

I stripped off and felt strangely proud of my rigid boner. I actually grunted as Courntey pulled off her top and let those massive breasts out.

"Fuck, Court, those are amazing."

"Yeah?" she feigned surprised. She knew her rack was top 2 percentile hot. A stacked woman like that doesn't get through life without that knowledge.

"Yeah," I grunted. "Let me feel em, babe." My kisses might have held back, but I manhandled those tits. Cupped them, squeezed them, and leaned down to lick them. "I could play with these all day, Court, but maybe we don't have a lot of time," I hissed urgently.

"I'm being such a BAD girl," she cooed as he sat on the bed and pulled off the bottoms of her swim suit. There was a perfect pussy. Just the right proportion of labia to creamy insides, and a perfectly maintained landing strip of dark brown hair. I got down between her legs and went down on the cunt.

"Oh shit Nick!" she gasped with a suppressed ticklish laugh as I ate her out. "Lick my pussy," she encouraged.

I did and pretty soon felt those fingernails claw at my skull as I brought her off to a first orgasm. I kept licking to prime the pump then kissed up her body. Our mouths met in an electrical connection. I'd been wanting to fuck Courtney Bryant for so long and now it was happening. My iron-hard spike pressed into the folds of her cunt.

Our mating was quick. Not rushed, but we were sneaking around our spouses' backs and didn't have a lot of time. I hammered Courntey's hot body, putting as much athleticism in to my fuck thrusts as possible. I didn't know for sure how Dan fucked her, but I wanted to make her know she'd gotten Brennan fucked.

The slut came again as I pounded her pussy, and as he gripped my back muscle I gave it up. Heavy cum spurts in her cunt. It was like I hadn't gotten off in weeks.

We giggled together as we came back down to earth. Maybe a little embarrassed at how out of control we'd gotten.

"Damn, Court, that was incredible," I said, taking another cop of her magnificent tit.

"Nick Brennan..." he cooed as she leaned up with a smile on her face and reached for her discarded swimsuit. "Here I thought you were the sweet, mild mannered man."

I grinned as I stood up, my dick still half hard. "Even us sweet guys have our weaknesses," I flirted.

I looked over at the clock. "Shit... I better get the food to take out."

Courtney laughed. I worried she'd be offended by the wham-bam approach, but she wasn't dumb. We were taking a risk.

All I'll say is that sorority smile and poise was amazing to see as we walked back to the beach with refreshments for everyone. Just like nothing had happened.

"Nick," Dan greeted as we walked up. "Just the man I've been waiting for... feel like some volleyball? A couple of dudes down the way have a game going."

"You bet, Danny Boy," I said as I set down the bag. "Those guys better get ready to have your their asses kicked."

#drakestories

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