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English
Series:
Part 5 of Top Gun fics part three
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Published:
2023-06-11
Words:
2,440
Chapters:
1/1
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34
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292
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Wear your name on my skin, my heart on my sleeve

Summary:

Bradley gets Mav's name tattooed on his body.
Years later Mav returns the gesture.

Notes:

Another day, another Roosmav discord inspired fic 💖

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“You know what font you want for this, kid, or what?”

Bradley blinks slowly at the tattooist who’s looking at him, with an arched brow, and nods; not wanting the man to kick him out for being tipsy, erring into drunk. He sniffs and grabs a folded up postcard from out his jeans pocket. It’s folded so the drawing of a pinup girl straddling an anchor is on the outside, and Mav’s chicken scrawl writing is hidden from view.

He unfolds it; shuddering out a breath, because unlike the letters he’d received over the years (tucked up away in a box under his bed, but not responded to), that had contained Mav’s apologies, pleading words, and tear stains, he knows the whimsy of the postcard is false—sent to him last minute because Mav hadn’t wanted to go on whatever mission he was going on and not let Bradley know he was thinking about him.

And he’d obviously known Bradley wouldn’t answer the phone.

He’d received it, next day post, frowning about why a postcard had to be sent so urgently, and then he’d seen the short message, and he’d known. He’d known Mav had thought he might not make it back.

Whatever happens, I’ll love you always.

Mav x

He’d had his fingers wrapped round the neck of a bottle before he’d even realised it. He wasn’t completely drunk now, but he definitely wasn’t sober. But he also didn’t know how Mav was—whether he was alive or dead—and so he couldn’t bring himself to face the harsh light of reality without a little alcohol in his veins.

He straightens it out and hands it to the tattooist. “Here. Just his name please.”

The tattooist snaps on a pair of latex gloves and wipes down Bradley’s inner thigh. “He someone special, this Mav?”

“Something like that.”

It takes maybe fifteen minutes to do, maybe a little longer. Bradley’s not sure; lost in enjoying the vibrations of the gun as it inks lines onto his skin. The other man wraps it up after and gives him instructions on how to keep it clean; he hisses out a wince when he pulls his pants back up, but he likes the way his skin warms—that he knows it’s there.

That he knows even if the worst happens, Mav will be with him always.

Even if he’s angry and not talking to the older man, he still can’t forget about him. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget him.

And the tattoo he now has on his inner thigh isn’t going to make that any easier to do.

+

“He’s okay, kid.” Ice says down the line; Bradley’s fingers clutching his phone until his knuckles turn white. “He’d love to speak to you.”

“No!” Bradley yells, scared. The movement jolts his leg and the three letters he now has carved on his inner thigh burn as his jeans brush over his skin. “No. We’re not talking remember? I just—I just wanted to check I could throw the postcard away.”

Ice sighs like he doesn’t believe him. “Sure, kid. He only had a couple of scrapes in the end. Lucky sonofabitch as always.”

“Don’t tell him I called. Please.”

Another sigh. “I won’t. But I am glad you did call. That you still care, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Bradley hangs up before Ice can expose anymore of his hidden truths. He breathes out a sigh of relief knowing Mav’s okay and that no one else is around here so see him wipe away tears at the fact he’s not going to have to mourn him. Not yet.

The postcard gets pinned to the fridge with a Las Vegas magnet a buddy got him; the pinup girl facing outwards, the message on the other side something only he knows is there.

+

“Shit.” Bradley groans as his dick spurts cum all over his belly and smears stickiness over his thigh where he drops it in shock; his orgasm slamming into him with more force than he’d expected.

He grimaces as it starts to cool; reaching for the tissues on the side to wipe it away. He cleans his belly, and then pauses, looking at the drops of semen that cover his tattoo. The ink has settled now after a couple of months, and sometimes he forgets he even has it. But then sometimes he’ll look down at it—see Mav’s name standing out so starkly against his inner thigh; skin pale and freckled that’s never going to tan unless he starts parading round in the sun in budgie smugglers, and he’s overcome with how right it is to see it there.

Not that he’s forgiven the older man, or is talking to him again, just…

It feels right to have Mav’s name where no one else can see, unless they’re getting up close and personal with his dick, because that part of him was Mav’s first before anyone else’s—Mav’s name spilling from his lips the first time he’d jerked off, and hundreds, maybe thousands, of times since.

His name feeling like it was choking him only a few minutes before where he’d tried to swallow it down as he came.

And at least there, on his thigh, he can pretend it’s just physical.

Can pretend it’s not Mav’s name carved into his heart as well, even if he doesn’t have a tattoo to prove it.

+

“Mav, wait, wait—please.”

The older man peers up at him from in between his legs; fingers paused where they were about to open his jeans. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter per se…just, um…I have a tattoo?”

Mav quirks an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure I have it. I’m just not sure you’ll like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He doesn’t know how to say, it’s a tattoo of your name that I got when I received the postcard you sent before going on a mission there was a higher than normal chance you’d die on, and I’ve rubbed my cum over it numerous times, and I’ve had it for about ten years, and even though I was pretending to hate you when I go it, I never could make that work, and—and—and—

So he shrugs, and says none of that. “Dunno. You just might not, s’all.”

Mav hums, but continues pulling down Bradley’s jeans and underwear. He lifts his hips to help, and it’s only once Bradley’s naked that Mav’s green eyes snag on the three letters. He sucks in a sharp breath and pilot-rough fingers trace over it, making Bradley shiver. “You—I—when did you get it?”

“The postcard.”

Mav snaps his gaze to Bradley’s and swallows thickly. “I didn’t think you cared.”

Bradley huffs out a wet laugh. “I’ve always cared. About you, and what you think of me. That was the problem—I didn’t think I was good enough for you, and I thought you felt the same—that I wasn’t enough in general.”

“Oh, Sweetheart.”

He leans up and kisses Bradley slowly; thumbing his cheek with one hand, the other splaying over Bradley’s thigh possessively. “Do you like it?” He asks, once they stop kissing.

“I do. Let me show you how much.”

He then shimmies downwards; swallowing down Bradley’s cock and bobbing his head up and down, as he licks at the thick shaft and suckles on the sensitive tip. He fondles Bradley’s balls; rolling them in his palm; Bradley spearing his fingers in Mav’s soft hair.

Mav’s mouth is so hot and wet, and fuck, he’s a pro at sucking him just right; he can feel his balls drawing up quicker by the second. “Gonna cum.” He pants out.

Mav pulls off until just the tip is nestled on his tongue, and then Bradley’s coming; spilling down his throat. Mav swallows it all, apart from the last pull; keeping it on his tongue as he lets Bradley’s cock fall from his lips, then he bends and kisses Bradley’s tattoo of his own damn name—rasping his cum-covered tongue over the letters and then biting down on the flesh hard enough to bruise, and leave an imprint of his teeth around the word.

It’s so fucking hot to watch, Bradley feels his dick twitch in interest already.

“You like it then.” He says shakily.

Mav just snorts out a laugh, and kisses Bradley’s thigh. “Yeah, baby. I like it.”

+

“What do you think?” Bradley looks at the tattoo of a jaguar Jake’s just got done on his inner bicep, and nods.

“S’nice. Good detail and shading.”

“Thanks, Roo. You got any?” He’s not surprised Jake’s asking; even if they were naked in the locker room showers, unless someone was staring intently at his groin, his tattoo was pretty small and not very visible unless Bradley had his leg open to the side slightly.

“Yeah. One. Quite hard to see though, unless I really like you.” He winks.

“Damn. What’s it of?”

“Secret.”

Jake rolls his eyes, but lets him off. “Mav have any?”

“One.” Mav had gotten it a couple of months ago, and Bradley still thought it was the hottest thing ever.

“A place I can see?”

“If you know where to look.”

The blond turns to look at Mav who’s working out, oblivious to their discussion as he runs on the treadmill with his headphones in listening to a work out playlist Bradley had made him. They watch as he starts cooling down; transitioning from running to jogging to walking, and pulls up his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. As he does so the back of it rucks up, exposing the skin above the waistband of his shorts.

“He has a tramp stamp?” Jake’s eyes widen with glee as he sees a few lines of ink above the strip of fabric; moving before Bradley can tell him to stop and creeping closer to have a look at what it says. Not all of it is visible unless they were to pull Mav’s shorts down (which Bradley is very fond of doing when they’re at home), but there’s enough there—the top of a capital ‘B’, and the line and curve of ‘d’, next to the straight line of an ‘l’ for Jake to turn to him scandalised.

“You’re kidding?!” He whisper-shouts; looking back at Mav’s lower back again, mouth wide with shock. Mav’s t-shirts fallen back into place now, and Jake runs back over so he’s not caught gawping, but the older man is still oblivious—always is when he’s working out. “He has your name?”

“Yep.” Bradley can’t help but be a little smug. To know Mav loved him that much, just—it was just the best feeling.

“Is your tattoo his name?”

He flushes. “Yeah. Though mine’s older than his.”

Jake whistles lowly and bumps his shoulder against Bradley’s. “That’s pretty hot.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m also insanely jealous. Why can’t the hottest pilot in the navy have my name tattooed on his skin, huh?”

Bradley shrugs. “I guess I’m just more loveable.”

He doesn’t bother trying to explain to Mav why Jake is trying to get him in a headlock when the older man finally unplugs his music and looks over at them. It’s for the best that way.

+

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Bradley breathes out; pushing his fingers past Mav’s tender, swollen rim and scooping out his cum; rubbing it over his back—getting some on his tattoo, because he can.

Mav huffs out a laugh; looking back at him, flushed and freshly-fucked. “You just think that because I have your name above my ass.”

Bradley’s paws squeeze and knead Mav’s beautiful ass, as if on cue. “No. You’ve always been fucking hot. Having my name on your skin, just makes you even hotter.”

“Uh huh.” Mav hums; resting his head on his folded arms, as Bradley runs his hands and fingers over Mav’s ass and cum-sticky hole; getting more cum to rub into his skin—loving the way Mav smells of him afterwards, and how Mav just lets him do this. “I’m surprised you haven’t written ‘Property of’ next to your name yet.”

Bradley pauses in his movements; eyes going to the sharpie pen that’s on the bedside table. “Now that’s an idea.”

“Don’t do it, Bradley.”

He’s up and sitting back on Mav’s legs before the older man can push himself up to bat the pen from his hand. Bradley pins Mav in place with a paw in between the shoulder blades, and quickly writes those two words on Mav’s skin next to the tattoo (thankful he’d left this bit of skin free from his cum paint job).

“You’re terrible.” Mav sighs with fond exasperation once he’s done.

“You clearly love me though. You have my name tattooed and everything.” He puts the pen down and grabs his phone. “Gotta take a photo of this.”

“Try not to make it too indecent.” Mav murmurs, like he hadn’t already let Bradley take multiple nudes of him with the polaroid camera they have—though those photos are hidden in their bedroom, and not easily found if someone were to borrow his phone.

“Okay.” He frames it so you can only just see the swell of Mav’s ass; and a few droplets of cum that hadn’t been fully rubbed into his skin. The black of the sharpie and tattoo look good against his tanned skin, just above the dimples at the base of his spine. Bradley takes a photo, and then sends it to Jake.

Jealous?

“What are you doing?” Mav slurs; the weight of Bradley on top of him, even if just his bottom half, making him sleepy as he always loved to sleep with Bradley pressing him down into the mattress—reassures him that he’s there.

“Nothing.” He says with a grin; chucking his phone on the floor, Jake’s reply and Bradley’s further response visible until the screen fades to black.

Fuck you, Rooster.

Nah, I’m gonna fuck Mav, instead.

“Somehow I don’t believe you.” Bradley huffs out a laugh at Mav’s sleepy murmur, and blankets his smaller body; pressing a kiss to his nape and splaying his hand so it curls around his tit. He lays so he’s half on Mav, and half on the mattress—bending his leg so it’s thrown over his back—Mav’s name near enough kissing his own.

“Love you, Mav.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart.”

He sighs in contentment as he closes his eyes; Mav’s name on his skin having stopped feeling like a drunken mistake a long time ago.

Notes:

Drop me a comment if you enjoyed it 🥰

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