Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Opting out of a spring break trip to Miami and heading home was Bradley’s attempt at avoiding all debauchery. He’d failed spectacularly. He was falling headfirst into delicious sin, because Jake was unavoidable, in his lap, making sweet soft sounds as Bradley licked hungrily into his mouth. Somehow shooting the shit at dinner and fighting over March Madness – normal, an age old tradition – had turned into this. Bradley could already feel the greed for a new side of Jake build in his gut.   

“Inside?” Jake offered, a little short of breath as he pulled back. The car was filled with the sweet scent of his arousal, his scent two-fold — vanilla and apples, like pie from a goddamn children’s book. 

Bradley’s cock ached. He’d been half-hard the moment Jake placed a hand on his thigh over the console, stroking in light rhythm back and forth. They’d been kissing hot and eager since he pulled into the driveway.

But he’d watched Jake run headlong into situations more than half his life — jumping from the second story balcony into the pool, going for the Academy out of spite because his dad said Omegas would have it extra hard, picking fights with asshole Alphas who underestimated him on the football field.

So Bradley took the faltering, hesitant tone seriously. “You wanna?”

Jake shifted in his grasp, and it took everything in him not to rock up against the space between Jake’s thighs. He was a weak, weak man: Bradley pressed his nose to the scent patch at the side of Jake’s neck and inhaled, hiding the whimper it brought right to the edge of his teeth. 

“I want it, yeah.” Jake leaned back in to press already swollen lips back onto Bradley’s. The collar of his sweater slipped low, revealing a tantalizing strip of rosy skin Bradley wanted to take into his mouth. “C’mon, Bradshaw. Teach me how to take a knot.”

He couldn’t help the choked moan that rose deep from his throat. Jake laughed against his mouth.

They’d been making out for long enough the windows were fogged, and Bradley didn’t want Jake’s first time to happen in the backseat of the Bronco. Jake seemed keen to move, too, with the way he was grinding down against Bradley’s cock. The fabric of their jeans was too rough, too maddening. He needed to get Jake flat on his back as soon as possible. 

He managed to unlock the car. “Yeah — yeah, let’s go.”

They stumbled quickly through the garden with their shoulders bumping against one another. Jake’s hands were everywhere, light and teasing, and Bradley was going insane. His hindbrain was flashing red and urgent, at the Omega dancing just out of reach. Jake pressed himself tight to Bradley’s side; he valiantly ignored it in favor of fumbling with the lock to the house. 

“Keys are so hard,” Jake drawled, watching failed attempts.

“Fuck off, Seresin,” Bradley hauled him into another kiss against the front door. “Your fault. Too pretty to pay attention to anything else.”

Jake’s entire face lit up. Bradley hadn’t dared compliment him before this, before Jake had slid his gaze sideways to Bradley the whole drive back and leaned over the stick to press a featherlight kiss to the side of his mouth. He took the keys from Bradley’s hand and unlocked the door successfully, even as Bradley ground his erection against his ass. 

Jake showed the first sign of nerves once they took off their shoes. He knew where Bradley’s room was; they’d spent countless hours working on applications and playing video games and poring over flight manuals there. But he hovered in the hallway as Bradley finished emptying his pockets onto the dining table. 

They’d lucked out with Nick and Carole gone over the weekend for their twenty-fifth anniversary. Bradley had a hell of a lot of freedom, but bringing a slicked-out mess of their friends’ son home would’ve landed him in hot water, especially with the way both Slider and Ice kept a close watch on Jake’s Academy activities. Every Alpha who’d sniffed around had to be vetted, because Slider was paranoid someone would touch his darling son for the wrong reasons.

The right reasons were — hard to remember, Bradley thought feebly, as he resisted the urge to palm himself at the sight of Jake, eager and ten meters away from his room. 

Bradley brushed his fingers along Jake’s waist to guide him down the hallway. With the last of his working brain cells, Bradley peeked into his sister’s room, double-checking Rebecca wasn’t home. She’d yelled something about a sleepover when he’d left for his run, how she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. Her room was mercifully empty.

Jake glanced over his shoulder and nudged his knee against the back of Bradley’s thigh. “We’re fine.”

“Look,” Bradley huffed, “Worth a double-check.”

His own room hadn’t changed since they left for the Academy, a testament to Goose’s ability to keep his wife’s need to redecorate in check. The curtains were still the cozy royal blue and the old posters were up – 49ers, Blue Angels, Fleetwood Mac – rolling up slightly at the corners. 

Bradley flicked the desk lamp on. Then he inhaled and turned to face Jake, who was hiding behind the frame of the door, though he was pretending he wasn’t. 

“C’mere?”

Jake swallowed. “Yeah, okay.”

He came readily into Bradley’s waiting arms, but the stiff line of his shoulder wouldn’t do. Bradley ran a hand down his back, trying to ease the tension. His own nerves were a mess and his scent reflected it. This should’ve been easy, nothing new, except it was. Not some random at a party, or a month-long fling for the hell of it. 

This was Jake. A best friend and constant, precious rival wrapped into one. Bradley pushed Monday dinner between their families out of his head. 

“Hey,” Jake said. He nudged his nose against Bradley’s own and laughed, light, a little in disbelief. 

“Hey,” Bradley returned, unable to hide his wide smile. 

Jake did what he did best, running straight into the fray: he kissed Bradley again, insistent. Bradley let himself sink into the sweet scent and the way Jake’s muscles shifted underneath his hands as he brought Jake in closer by the waist. Guided Jake again, willingly, down to his bed – which was still unmade from the morning, but Bradley really couldn’t give a fuck, not with how Jake pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.

Kissing was practiced now, by how much they’d been doing it over the past hour. Jake moved Bradley’s hands from his waist to the button of his jeans, and the command was clear: get him undressed and get on with it. Bradley could follow instructions in his favor. 

The sweater was easy, pulled off and discarded with little fanfare. He unzipped Jake’s fly slowly, just to tease, running his index finger along the sensitive skin of Jake’s waist. 

Jake pinched his ribs, hard. 

“I know what you’re doing.” He narrowed his eyes.

Bradley laughed, caught and fine with it. “Okay, okay.”

He pushed Jake back onto the bed and tried to hide how impacted he was by how sweet Jake looked, lightly rumpled and swallowed up by his duvet. His hair was already a tangled mess from their heavy petting in the car. Bradley was incapable of stopping, running his fingers through soft strands. 

Peeling the tight jeans off of Jake’s thighs made him want to mark them up, to suck and work his teeth into the tender skin. But Jake was prone to bruising and Bradley knew he’d be doing drills the next day – didn’t want to make things difficult for him and his old teammates. Then Jake was there, shivering slightly at the ceiling fan and the open window. 

“We can stop here,” Bradley offered, though every particle in his body screamed against it. But it would be wrong not to: Bradley had already slept with a fair number of people, and Jake had morphed from his usual snickering, teasing self into something less sure. 

Which was the reality – Jake had never done this before, Bradley remembered, though the way Jake squeezed his thighs together gave away how he wanted to.

“No,” Jake shook his head and pulled Bradley’s hands back to his hips. “No I – I want to.”

What did he do to deserve this gift? Jake moaned weakly as Bradley spread his thighs open, and rubbed a knuckle over the center of his boxers, where he could feel heat and wetness already staining the fabric.

“You can tell me to stop, whenever.”

Jake pulled at Bradley’s shirt. “Just go easy.” 

He tugged it off and threw it somewhere behind them. They’d both lost their tans over the winter, but Jake was paler, laid out in sharp contrast to Bradley’s navy bedspread.

“And you can’t y’know – bite.”

“Of course,” Bradley nodded, mouth dry — because he was eyeing the scent patch, barely visible on the expanse of that pretty neck and wondered if Jake would ever let him. But the risk to Jake’s career was too great: a shiny, burdened goal Bradley never wished to tarnish.

He watched Jake drag his hand down the length of his bare chest, trailing a teasing touch over the front of his boxers. It was a practiced gesture made for show, as Jake rocked his hips up into his own palm. Bradley thanked every Naval deity for the empty house.

He unzipped his jeans and tugged them off, stumbling as they caught at his shins in his haste.

Jake laughed, propping up on his elbows. “Fucking klutz.”

“Shut up,” Bradley shot back, leaning over Jake’s prone body. He’d worked hard this semester, more lean muscle; Bradley groped at the globes of his ass, content with the soft sounds it drew out of the Omega below him. 

Their next kiss was calmer — slow, intent on calming Jake’s nerves. Jake still tasted like the mango margaritas Bradley ordered for them earlier. He trembled when Bradley inched his fingers to the waist of his boxers.

“I’ll make it feel good.” The words were from a bad porno, but Bradley meant it. He wanted to make Jake’s first time fucking flawless. He wanted it to be so good – to make sure Jake came so hard on his cock – he would never seek another bed.

Jake nodded, unable to talk for the time being, but he helped Bradley tug off his boxers and pressed back up into another kiss.

He’d seen Jake in swim shorts and half dressed in his football uniform, skinny dipped together nearly every year at the lake by summer camp, and shared Academy showers. But this was different. This was for Bradley to catalogue the dusty flush that spread all the way down from Jake’s cheeks to his chest, the sharp cut of his abs, the neatly trimmed hair between his thighs, and — 

“Shit,” Bradley swore at the sight. “You’re fucking dripping.”

It was rude, it was immature, but he couldn’t stop staring. Jake was soaked and swollen, clit puffy at the top of his folds, already messing the sheets. He was perfect and pink and Bradley had never wanted to taste anything as badly as Jake. 

Jake protested, and tried to force his legs together. “I – sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bradley stroked a soothing hand down the muscle of Jake’s thigh. “Fuck, sorry you’re just – God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The praise made Jake relax. He’d always been eager for a compliment; Bradley spent almost every fucking dinner since they got to the Academy stewing at interested suitors with smooth words.

But they didn’t get to have Jake laughing up at him from the football field, Bradley reminded himself. Shit-talking about how he really felt about the instructors. Whooping in the stands at a home run. Or this, ever: Jake parting his legs again, looking almost shy through his lashes up at Bradley. Whatever happened — if Jake wanted to just get his first time over with and saw Bradley as an easy partner — nobody else would get to have him quite like this.

Everyone wanted a hit of Jake’s attention. Bradley couldn’t blame them.

“Gonna start with my fingers, okay?” 

Jake laughed. “I’ve done this part once or twice, Bradshaw. But yeah – yeah.”

He bit back the instinct to snarl and the sudden burst of jealousy; of someone else working Jake up, getting him wet. There was a task at hand, and truth be told it would be better for Jake not to be foreign to someone stretching him open. 

“Someone on the team?” Bradley asked, though he didn’t want to know.

Jake shrugged against the mattress. “Does it matter?”

He tugged Bradley’s wrist to place as a command, so the subject dropped. Bradley sunk his middle finger in first, and they inhaled in unison – it didn’t matter, really, if Jake had done this before. They were here now with Bradley kneeling between his thighs and slowly losing his mind at how hot and wet Jake was around him. 

His cock twitched as he imagined how it’d feel to sink into Jake. The front of his own boxers had a wet spot from how he’d been leaking ever since Jake clambered into his lap, hot and firm. 

He rubbed Jake’s shin. “Relax.”

“I am,” Jake huffed. Bradley knew he was lying by just how tight Jake was around just one finger, but he let it go. Dragged his finger in and out steadily until Jake sunk a bit further into the mattress, breathing unsteadily.

“Here, actually,” Bradley shifted to his stomach and pressed a kiss to Jake’s stomach. “You ever done this?”

Jake hummed. “Once or twice.”

“Jesus,” Bradley hissed, unable to tamp back the urge to know this time. “When’d you fucking find the time? How didn’t I know about this?”

Jake didn’t keep many secrets, and his time was stacked with classes and football practice. The spare rest was filled with anything aviation-related he could get his hands on. Bradley didn’t know how he managed to get eight hours of sleep every night. 

Jake snickered, shifting under Bradley’s tight grip on his hips. “Quit the interrogation.”

His amusement was quickly cut short, shuddering when Bradley leaned in and licked a hot stripe up his pussy in retaliation. 

“Oh — is that why you keep the ugly mustache?”

Bradley pulled back. “Don’t insult the mouth that’s eating you out.”

Jake dropped back against the sheets, laughing, but his sounds quickly morphed into soft pants and little huffs, as Bradley got back to work: exploring, teasing, and tasting every inch to see what Jake responded to. 

Jake was extra sensitive around his entrance, every push of Bradley’s tongue earning a choked sound and a twitch of his legs under Bradley’s grasp. He could feel the heat of Jake’s arousal, and the glide of his slick was making him dizzy. He added another finger, pleased to find Jake was relaxed enough to take two, and used the stretch to lick into Jake. It earned him another muffled cry; Jake chased the movement when Bradley withdrew to kiss around his hole, purposefully avoiding the areas he’d learned were most needy.

“Gimme more,” he tapped Bradley’s hand against his stomach. “Stop teasing.”

“Dunno, you seem to like it.” He dragged a light touch over Jake’s entrance, feeling it flutter. “You’re slicking up from being played with.”

Jake groaned and turned his face into the pillow, a pink blush high along the ridge of his cheek and spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. Bradley pressed two fingers back in, curling them lightly, over and over, hungry for more of Jake’s gasps, for the wetness coating his fingers and dripping down to his wrist. He dipped his head back down and sucked Jake’s clit between his lips, making sure to trace slow, steady circles over it with his tongue. 

Jake wiggled at the sensation, mouth dropped open and stared at Bradley between his legs. 

“You’re good at this,” he gasped, thighs parting wider. 

Bradley curved his fingers around Jake’s pert ass and squeezed to earn another moan. He could barely breathe, pressing his nose hard against Jake’s pussy and licking into the wet sweet heat of where he was dripping, but it didn’t matter, because Jake was moaning, cut-off little sounds as he reacted brilliantly to Bradley’s every touch. When he sucked his clit again, Jake’s hands flew to his hair. The tug was urgent enough for Bradley to follow, concerned. Worry was quickly swept away by Jake’s needy expression. 

“Get — fuck, I’m getting close, get in me.” 

“Nah,” Bradley grinned, moving his thumb to rub close, tight circles against the swollen nub of Jake’s clit, “Wanna make you come first.” 

He sealed his mouth over Jake’s pussy and pushed his tongue forward in steady rhythm as Jake squirmed and bucked under his hands. The soft panting escalated to full blown moans, ringing high and reedy up to the ceiling. He was so wet Bradley’s chin was dripping. He couldn’t stop himself from inhaling the musk, and the sweet scent of Jake’s slick, intoxicating and perfect, made his cock ache where Bradley was ignoring it.

Jake came with a sudden gasp, thighs shuddering under Bradley’s palms and it was over for Bradley: he was ruined for everyone else. No one could possibly taste as good, nothing could be as rewarding as the urgent, needy grind of Jake’s pussy against his mouth seeking more and more, riding out his orgasm. 

He groaned, pressing further in, drunk on it. 

Jake jerked in his grip. “Jesus, gimme a second.”

Bradley’s brain sent the signal to keep going, to drink up more of that sweet slick, but Jake was gripping his hair and forcing him back. When he looked up, he knew he’d need to catalogue the view for the rest of his life: bitten-raw lips, the green of Jake’s eyes barely visible. 

“Good?”

“Understatement,” Jake laughed, dragging a hand over his face. “Yeah, yeah, really fucking good – come here.”

Bradley imagined keeping him like this for longer, open and wet, staring in both awe and raw need. But he missed the taste of Jake’s mouth so Bradley crawled up and rocked his hips against Jake’s stomach, sliding their mouths together until Jake’s lips parted under his tongue. Hot want pulsed low in his stomach at the thought of Jake tasting himself. 

“Hurry up,” Jake said against his lips. Paired with the leg hooked over Bradley’s waist, it was clear Jake’s patience had worn thin. 

“I’ll go grab – ”

“Why?” Jake challenged, latching onto Bradley with all four limbs. “Not like anything can happen.”

Bradley snorted. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m clean,” Jake smirked, “So are you, because you’ve got no filter and wouldn’t stop telling me your results two weeks ago.” 

He was right: the Academy kept them all on tightly controlled regimented check-ups with a healthy dose of suppressants in their bloodstreams. The mix of all three designations on one campus required it. Bradley didn’t want to admit his hesitation wasn’t around anything rational, nothing which would have a doctor lecturing in his ear. No, it was solely because he was afraid being Jake’s first would be hard enough to get over, let alone without something clinical between them. 

“You sure?”

“Please,” Jake snorted, dragging his hand down Bradley’s chest. “I felt your cock jump at the thought.”

Bradley smacked Jake’s side in retaliation, cheeks heating. He hid the embarrassment by licking into Jake’s eager mouth, heart beating fit to burst as Jake moaned in surprise as he bit Jake’s bottom lip and tugged.

He would embarrass himself if Jake kept looking like that, eyes glued to where Bradley was grinding his cock against him. He pulled on the most benign, boring lists of facts — engine maintenance, physics equations — to avoid blowing his load at the hazy, slack jawed moan Jake let out as Bradley stopped stalling. 

He worked the head of his cock into Jake’s cunt and bit the inside of his cheek at the glorious tight pressure. 

Below him, Jake winced.

“Okay?”

Jake nodded. Bradley went as slow as he could manage, hyperconscious of every shift of discomfort over Jake’s face. His nerves were back, shoulders stiff and drawn high to his ears. He grimaced as Bradley slid further in. 

“We can stop,” Bradley offered, trying to count to ten and ignore how fucking heavenly the heat around his cock was. He could feel every twitch of Jake’s walls around him and it took sheer willpower to not just drive his hips home. 

Jake shook his head. Bradley wasn’t convinced with the nerves painted all over Jake’s face and the slight uptick of discomfort in his scent, stinging in Bradley’s nostrils.  

“If it’s too much, and – ”

“B,” Jake smacked his bicep, panting at the stretch as Bradley sunk in deeper, “Stop overthinking and just fuck me.”

Bradley would never admit to it unless under penalty of death, but what Jake told him to do, he usually did. He fucked in slow and steady until his hips were flush with Jake’s. Couldn’t help but dip his head to kiss Jake again, the movement driving him just that bit deeper. 

Jake shuddered. 

“You feel so good,” Bradley panted, brain shorting out as nails scrambled against the back of his neck at the slow roll of his hips; Jake’s scent was mellowing as Bradley stroked the tantalizing endless stretch of soft skin and pressed kisses to the side of his mouth. “God, Jake, letting me be your first.”

“Wanted — oh.” Jake tossed his head back at Bradley’s next thrust; whatever he’d wanted to say was lost to a low breathless moan. It felt like praise, a job he was doing correctly, zeroing in on that sweet spot and making Jake feel good enough to relax. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Bradley repeated, though he wasn’t sure he could stop if Jake needed him to. All he could think about was the hot, tight, wet clutch of Jake’s pussy, fluttering around him, the sound of their bodies joining over and over mingled with Jake’s whimpers. He could die here, between Jake’s legs, and be grateful for it, 

“More,” Jake urged, tightening his thighs where they were wrapped around Bradley’s waist. “I want more, you can – ah – go harder.” 

Bradley did as he asked, driving his hips deeper. The soft squelch of the slide of his cock made Jake shy from his gaze, embarrassed, but Bradley caught his mouth and forced Jake to continue looking down at where they were joined.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he groaned into Jake’s mouth, emphasized with another quick thrust. “Love how it sounds, hearing how wet you are for me.”

Jake stared up at him, eyes heavy lidded and mouth dropped open, pink and kissed lovingly raw from earlier. He lifted his hips to meet Bradley’s thrusts; they both groaned in unison. 

“Taking me so well, babydoll,” Bradley groaned, unable to think clearly. He felt Jake clench down tight around him. 

He ran a hand down Jake’s ribs, a gesture of no teasing. “Yeah?

Jake shuddered. “Shut up.”

“Don’t be shy,” Bradley pressed an open mouth kiss to Jake’s cheek. “You like when I call you stuff like that, doll?”

The flutter of Jake’s walls around his cock was enough of an answer — he grinned. He’d fantasized about fucking Jake, fist tight around his own cock, shameful and quick in the privacy of his room. Nothing compared to the actual feeling, the reality of how hot Jake felt around him. 

“It’s okay,” Bradley slowed his thrusts to savor the way Jake gasped at each push back in, pressing the flat of his hand low on Jake’s abs. “You tasted so sweet for me earlier.” 

He could feel his cock moving underneath his palm, earning more mewls of pleasure. He wouldn’t be able to drag it out for much long, the building need to knot curling hot and heavy in his stomach – Jake reached for him, fingers curled into his hair, failing to muffle his moans. 

But Bradley wanted to memorize each moment, unsure of when or if he’d get a next time. Shifting Jake’s thighs further apart allowed him to grind in deep, rubbing Jake’s swollen clit with a thumb until Jake batted his hand away, protesting at the sensitivity.  

“Feels good,” Jake moaned, twisting under Bradley’s grasp, trying to meet his thrusts sloppily. “God, there. Knew you’d be – ”

His knot was forming at Jake’s sounds, at how intense everything felt with nothing fucking between them, how Jake’s slick drenched his cock, shining on the shaft of his dick in the dim light of Bradley’s bedroom. Everything in the room smelt like their arousal, thick and cloying. Bradley wanted to drown in it. He wanted to keep Jake in his bed for as long as he was allowed. 

“I didn’t want — oh — fuck , do that again,” Jake gasped, laughing breathlessly as Bradley groaned and his hips picked up speed, urged on by the knowledge of this Omega, almost his. “Wanted you to be the first one to fuck me.”

He was half-mindless with the urge to claim, but Bradley knew not to play with fire. He made do with an open-mouthed kiss against the corner of Jake’s jaw, just right above where he wanted to sink his teeth in. 

“Only one allowed in my pussy,” Jake moaned, snaking a hand down to play with his clit. “Fuck, I’m so wet, I’ve never been this wet, God, Bradley.”

Jake’s words made him dizzy, made a dozen old fantasies burst like new in his brain. He wanted to eat Jake out for hours, until he was sobbing from overstimulation and squirting all over his face. Wanted to thrust his cock deep down Jake’s throat as Jake fingered himself, lashes wet from the effort. Wanted to mount him on his hands and knees in front of all those fucking people on campus so they’d learn only Bradley was the one who could have Jake. 

He flipped Jake upright, rocking him into the cradle of his lap again. Immediately, Jake ground down, eager to try a new position. He raised his hips; Bradley guided his knees wider for more leverage. 

“Ah, this feels good,” Jake whined, high and needy. 

“Yeah?” Bradley watched Jake bounce, the slick head of his cock dragging on the entrance of Jake’s pussy when he rose. Unable to help himself, he reached and squeezed Jake’s right pec, dragging a whimper from Jake. He rolled a hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger and earned another sound.

“Bradshaw, stop ,” Jake gasped, though he shoved himself further into Bradley’s touch. “Fuck.”

“So sensitive, everywhere.” Bradley kneaded every bit of bare, smooth skin he could get his hands on. He flicked Jake’s right nipple and earned a smack to his own heaving chest. 

“Unfair,” Jake rocked his hips back and forth, “Fuck, I think I’m close again.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice: Bradley wrapped his hands around Jake’s waist and drove up into that sweet cunt in quicker rhythm, bouncing Jake to the force of his thrusts. He was a vision, blonde hair a mess, mouth cherry red, patches of pink littered across the expanse of his chest from Bradley’s mustache and hands. His eyes were screwed shut, chanting a string of yes, yes, yes in increasingly rising volume. 

“You’re the only –” Jake gasped, whole body taut as Bradley's hips got sloppy and rough. “Bradley.”

“Only what?” Bradley asked, needing to know, desperate to hear whatever Jake would give him the honor of. 

The moment Bradley rubbed his clit, Jake shook apart at his second orgasm, gushing around Bradley’s cock and moaning so loud Bradley kissed him on impulse, afraid the neighbors would talk. 

“Only one who,” Jake gasped against his cheek, still shuddering through the high, “Can c-come in my cunt.” 

Bradley whited out. He forced his knot past the last resistance of Jake’s walls, and then they locked, and he bit into his own lip to muffle the guttural groan. It was bliss, Jake clenching down in surprise, crying out in unison. Jake’s fingers scrambled along his chest, overwhelmed in sensation, and Bradley vaguely felt the tear of nails breaking skin. Any pain was dulled out by how good it all fucking felt: coming deep into Jake’s shaking body, his pussy sucking him in all needy and greedy to be filled. 

“God, that’s good,” Jake whined, pulsing weakly around his knot. Bradley could only imagine the stretch, a first and undoubtedly intense, but then Jake clenched, hard, and he couldn’t help but pump his own hips up further, groaning.

“Easy,” Bradley gasped, “Otherwise we’re gonna stay locked for longer.”

It took longer to catch his breath than he was proud to admit, adrenaline and endorphins wiping his brain completely clean. Jake was no better, sweaty and panting while Bradley absent-mindedly stroked his hair. By the time his knot went down and they were curled together in the mess of bed sheets, Jake’s eyelids were drooping from sated exhaustion. 

A telltale cheshire grin spread, smooth, across Jake’s face. Something clicked.

“You planned this.”

Jake snickered.

“How’d you even know my place would be empty?” 

“Your parents always do something for their anniversary,” Jake drawled, stretching like a lazy cat. “And your sister’s, like, never home. Figured we’d have a few hours.”

“You fucker.” Bradley shoved his shoulder, “I was — your dad is gonna kill me.”

Jake scrunched his nose in disgust. “I’m not fucking telling him.”

He flipped up so he was perched again on his elbows, unabashed at his nakedness. Bradley’s mouth watered at the cut of his hips, but then Jake pulled him out of his lust. 

“I’m sick of all the hanger-ons at the Academy,” Jake sighed. “But you know how it goes. They figure out who my godfather is and suddenly, I’ve got a target on my back” 

He was preaching to the choir: Bradley was more than accustomed to their fellow classmates falling over themselves on the rare occasion Iceman visited Jake. He’d heard more than enough complaints of Jake and Ice, interrupted every fifteen minutes with an Alpha offering their hand.

“So I’m a means to an end?”

“No,” Jake frowned. “More like I got tired of waiting for you to make a damn move. And I figured it’d be easier if people weren’t also trying to get me to give it up.”

He’d known this was a very real possibility in the car – being caught out in his lust, and Jake banking on a two-birds-one-stone situation. Still, to hear it out loud in such clear terms made his heart drop to his stomach.

“Makes sense,” he managed to say without betraying anything in his tone. “But me, huh?”

“You’re my best friend.” Jake squinted at Bradley, brutally honest. 

“Right,” Bradley nodded, hiding the intense flinch which threatened to break over his face. He’d never been able to decipher Jake’s feelings when he got like this – adamant in their unshakeable bond yet keeping Bradley at arm’s length. “Yeah, of course.”

“So I want you in my bed,” Jake continued. He smoothed out a section of the wrinkled sheets. “Want what I want, from an Alpha I trust.” 

Bradley swallowed. It was as much of a declaration as both of them could give. “Think it’ll be risky when we’re back on campus.”

“So is everything I do,” Jake shrugged. 

He still smelled like sex. Still smelled like Bradley. They should go shower before crashing, but Bradley didn’t want to be more than a few inches away, even while annoyance took its sweet time fading.

“You, uh,” Jake picked at a hangnail on his right hand. “Are you okay with that?”

Okay was a mixed bag. He didn’t need to think hard to know he would hate watching the ever present circle around Jake draw in close. Everyone seemed hell bent on claiming Jake for themselves without a single regard to what being a mated Omega did to someone’s chances of flying. The Navy had warmed to the rare Omega in the cockpit, but any with a mating claim were phased to desk-duty; the risk matrix leaned out of their favor. 

Goose hadn’t been able to explain why, when Jake pressed – just that a claiming made the Navy sure an Omega would defer to the wishes of their mate, not the words of command. How the moment a bond was put on an Omega’s neck, their scent changed to something less satisfactory for the forces. 

But Bradley was a hypocrite. He’d been fighting the urge to touch Jake with more than a friendly arm thrown around his shoulder since their last year of high school. The patch over Jake’s scent glands called to him stronger than ever now that he knew how Jake felt under him. 

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Bradley admitted. It was true – had been even before Jake picked a fight with both sets of their parents. Neither Carole nor Slider wanted Bradley and Jake on the constant early loop of tour after tour. The latter was particularly hesitant with Jake’s designation a forefront concern; neither he nor Ice had the  ability to understand or shield when it came to being an Omega aiming to fly jets. 

Stubborn, Jake told Bradley they’d be getting through the Academy and beyond, regardless of how. So they’d fought and fought, until their nominations were begrudgingly submitted. And Bradley had been gone ever since. 

He didn’t hide it well. Not in private. Would ask how far whenever Jake told him to take a leap of faith. Mav always said he was all Goose and Carole, loyal to a fault even when it was stupid to be. In hindsight, it was no surprise they’d wound up tangled in each other.

Jake leaned in to kiss him, soft and slow. “I figured.” 

Having Bradley’s scent on Jake would do nothing to deter the persistent people on campus. Everyone already knew they were friends, even if they devolved into loud bickering more often than not. No, the people who liked Jake for a chance at a leg up would take it as mere competition. 

Bradley knew, because he would do the same. 

“I can’t stand your team,” Bradley confessed. “They’re either always touching you to – God knows what, or they don’t take your career seriously.”

Jake chewed his bottom lip. “Kinda is what it is.”

“Sure,” Bradley sighed. Jake’s flippant response indicated he would get nowhere down this road. “They’ll eat their words once you make Captain.”

“Hopefully, before Mav ever will.” Jake grinned. “Dad said he’d give me the Mustang if I beat him out.”

To the bane of everyone’s existence, Mav was dragging his feet from promotion to promotion. Bradley figured Jake didn’t have to worry: the car was Jake’s in all but name. Slider never handed the keys to anyone else. 

“They’re gonna be all over you, tomorrow,” Bradley commented. He wasn’t sure if Jake knew this part. “Your scent will get sweeter for a few days. Something about – ”

“A biological cue, yeah.” Jake rolled his eyes, shoving Bradley back against the pillows. “Hypocrite preaching to the choir here. You and everyone else can slobber in private.”

He spread his thighs again. Bradley couldn’t help stare at where his come was messy and dripped slowly out of Jake. When Bradley managed to tear his eyes away, his best friend was smirking. 

“What?” Jake mocked, “Better than the rest? No need to stake your territory?”

Fucking around with Jake would shave ten years off his life, and Bradley couldn’t imagine regretting a single moment. Jake’s laugh bent into a moan as Bradley slid back into him, hard again. 

“Think you can come again for me, babydoll?” Bradley rolled his hips languidly – two could play the same game; he could make Jake regret just as quickly as he took glee in teasing. “All messy and wet already.”

Jake shuddered, abs drawing in tight as Bradley picked up the speed of his thrusts. He drew a thigh around Bradley’s hip, as his hands flew to Bradley’s shoulders. “ Fuck .”

Call him an Alpha with an ego, but Bradley took great pride in how the people he’d slept with had no complaints. Jake moaned again, eyes screwed shut, sensitive and tender. Bradley circled his clit gently and it was never expected for Jake to last – mouth dropped open in a silent gasp as his eyes screwed shut.

“Enough,” Jake shoved his shoulders, entire body shaking. He took Bradley in hand after he pulled out, and worked him over with his fist, smiling as Bradley groaned and came all over his stomach. 

If Jake spread out on his sheets and panting in desire was bad, waking up to him curled under Bradley’s chin was worse. He could get drunk just on the smell of Jake this close, lush and sweet. Jake didn’t stir for another fifteen minutes, which allowed Bradley to scent to his heart’s content: he dragged his nose along the strong line of Jake’s shoulder and played with the close-cropped blonde hair. 

They used to crash on the couch in the guest room, playing video games until Carole caught on and ushered them to bed. Being the annoying pest he was, Jake would bargain for the bed over the air mattress by offering whatever snacks Bradley wanted the next time they needed to grab gas. It worked, half the time. 

Jake shifted, cuddling closer under the covers.

“Better than the air mattress,” he mumbled into Bradley’s shoulder. “And better than the shitty dorm mattresses, too.”

“I’d hope so,” Bradley yawned, “Mom spent three hours at the store before she made a decision. She’d be insulted if they weren’t better than the Navy.”

He needed coffee, and to stretch out the pleasant soreness in his back from a good round of sex and holding onto Jake’s body for the entire night. Bradley didn’t want to think about when the bubble burst: when Jake would inevitably leave to resurface in his busy social life. He always made time for Bradley but by sheer nature of the constraint of twenty-four hour days, Bradley got less of Jake on vacation than when they were shuffled from class to drills to Bancroft. 

The day was blissfully empty for Bradley, and he wished it weren’t. Time without the bustle of all his friends around felt like a jolt of cold water. He already dreaded when his parents would return tomorrow – Dad would clock something off, nudging and joking until he earned Bradley’s secrets. 

“Y’all are out of creamer,” Jake tossed the empty carton away, grinning lasciviously as he sipped from his now caramel-colored coffee. Bradley rolled his eyes and added it to the grocery list. He supposed he could go today.

Jake liked his toast close to black, and his eggs extra runny. Bradley slid the barely cooked abomination onto a plate. “Hot sauce for your snot eggs?”

“Got it,” Jake shut the refrigerator door with his hip and winced. 

“All good?”

“Your hips are fucking bony,” Jake said with no further explanation. Bradley bit back a grin. Even with his complaints, Jake didn’t have a problem straddling the dining chair, doling hot sauce all over his food. 

Normally, he would elbow Jake until he scooted over to the corner of the table so Bradley could drop right next to him. He’d kick at Jake’s ankles when Jake dropped the crust of his burnt toast onto Bradley’s plate. Now every touch felt loaded, a potential invitation. Moving forward, there was a new protocol. 

Bradley chewed his own toast and wished they’d stayed in bed longer.

“Are you doing anything after dinner on Monday?” Jake said, mouth full.

“Becca wanted to catch the new Nolan movie, if you wanna join.”

Jake shook his head. “Dad’s flying out to Atlanta right after, so I figured I should stick around.” 

Subtlety was not Jake's strong suit. But Bradley liked red flashing signs pointing towards a goal. 

“Jeez, Seresin, angling for a repeat performance already?”

Jake only winked. His sweater once again gaped around his collarbone, stretched out from the haphazard way he pulled everything on and off with one hand. Bradley fiddled with his fork. Just watching Jake with the new knowledge of how he felt and sounded during sex had him horny.

The sound of a car pulling up to the house doused his instinct to pull Jake in and kiss the hot sauce out of his mouth. Rebecca stomped through the door not a minute later, dropping her backpack on the rug and doing a double-take at the tableau in the kitchen. 

“What’re you doing back already?” Bradley squinted at his sister. Leave it to her to interrupt right as he decided on sidling up beside Jake. 

She flipped him the middle finger. “I still live here, dipshit. And Lydia had SAT prep, which we forgot about, so everyone left early. She just dropped me off.”

“Could’ve texted,” Bradley grumbled. “Can’t just come and go whenever you want.”

Rebecca shot him a well-crafted, well-used look: one which told Bradley he was clearly an idiot who never said a single reasonable thing in his life. She’d perfected it at the age of seven.

“Hi, Jake,” Rebecca said, slightly put off. She hated anyone seeing her without make-up, to which Bradley always rolled his eyes. “Didn’t know you were back for spring break, too. What’re you doing here so early?”

“We may have drank too much,” Jake lied smoothly, dropping his dishes in the sink. “B let me crash.”

“Okay,” she said, squinting in suspicion. It wasn’t the first time a rough night out caused one of them to stay over, so Jake’s lie was good – Becca was just hesitant of everything these days.

“I gotta go, anyways,” Jake pulled a banana off of the ripened bundle, “Meeting guys at the field later.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Bradley replied. 

He couldn’t say anything else, what with Rebecca still in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea and eavesdropping. His sister had loose lips, and it went down a quick path – once Rebecca knew something, so too did their parents, and then the broader crew of lurking adults. Once Mav heard about a flunked chemistry exam before Bradley even had time to check the score. 

Jake slipped out the door with a jaunty wave, punching Rebecca lightly in the back as she tried to trip him. Bradley bit his tongue. Every one of his senses was focused on Jake’s retreating figure, the scent of him fading as he moved farther and farther away. 

His hackles raised.

Bradley sneezed at the sudden strong smell covering the last of Jake’s. “What the fuck is that?”

“A ginger shot thing,” Rebecca swigged a small plastic bottle back in one go. “Jasmine said it’s good so I asked for some to try.” 

“Gross.”

“Says you,” Rebecca ducked under his attempt to wrangle her into a headlock. “You stink.”

She wrinkled her nose, but strode off to her own room without another concern, slamming the door.

“Aw, B, look,” Carole called from the hallway – she’d brought it on herself to clear out the boxes from the attic, much to everyone’s fear. Most projects resulted in knick-knacks scattered around the house. At one point, Goose ran over a Christmas ornament with the lawn mower. 

Bradley followed the sound of her voice to see a photo album on her knee, flipped open to the middle. 

“Oh God,” he groaned. “Is that from third grade?”

“You two were so cute! Look at your bangs,” she handed a picture to him. 

They were cute. Bradley forgot just how loose the jersey used to be on Jake before he hit his growth spurt, the gaps in his teeth aplenty as he grinned, his arms slung around Bradley. The dark green of their baseball caps were nearly black in the faded photos, but their rosy cheeks still stood clear. 

“I’ll pull these out tonight, when your dad and Sli come for dinner,” Carole declared, scent pleasant and happy at her discovery. “I miss when you guys were that little.” 

“Keep it out,” Bradley said – Jake’s half-moon smiley eyes stared back up at him, static, caught in time. “Jake’ll be here any minute.”

“He’s already here,” Jake declared over his shoulder. A warm arm tugged Bradley in with no fanfare, tight around his neck. “Hiya, Aunt Carole.”

“How’d you sleep?” His mom lit up – Bradley always complained Jake was her favorite, to which she had no qualms owning. “Bradley mentioned you two ran into delays, I know it’s rough on the way back.”

A car accident had Bradley and Jake rushing across the country, but the injuries weren’t bad and both of their dads were in good spirits. Jake smelled better now, safely tucked back against Bradley’s side – the familiar clean shampoo and his scent mellowed out now with Slider home. None of the frazzled exhaustion remained from their extended layover which had Bradley’s instincts itching, wanting to run a soothing hand through Jake’s hair. 

“S’fine,” Jake replied, waving away her concern. He reached for the edge of the picture in Bradley’s palm. “Is that from summer league?” 

“Yeah, when you were a shrimp.”

Jake hip-checked him. “Shut up.”

Bradley caught the misty-eyed look in his mom’s eye and ushered Jake away from further reminiscing.

“We’re going to the gym,” Bradley called over his shoulder. “Won’t be back for dinner, remember? Don’t wait for us to eat!”

The moment they got into the car, Jake nabbed one of Bradley’s sweatshirts from the backseat and tugged it on, playing with the frayed strings. “It’s colder than I thought it would be.”

Bradley ignored how good the blue looked on Jake. “You’re getting too used to Annapolis.” 

“Just going to the gym ,” Jake mimicked Bradley’s lie, leaning back. He spread his legs obnoxiously wide and put a fresh piece of gum in his mouth, chomping. “So what abandoned parking lot are you dragging me to?”

“Shut up,” Bradley returned. He caved into Jake’s allure and hauled him in for a kiss.

A large portion of Bradley’s brain remained preoccupied by any and everything Jake, even with all the time they spent together. When Jake was around, Bradley couldn’t focus on anything else. When Jake wasn’t, Bradley thought about the next time he would be. 

Right now, it was impossible to breathe, watching the fine line of Jake’s throat as he tilted his head to hook a chain around his neck. The bare spot called to Bradley’s instinct. Earlier, as Bradley hovered by the field waiting for Jake to finish practice, one of the other wide receivers threw his arm around Jake, hauling him in and ruffling his hair. 

That called to Bradley’s jealousy. 

Jake met his eyes in the mirror. “You got a shirt I could borrow?”

“Yeah,” Bradley said, face hot at being caught. “Lemme look.”

If he tugged a soft green shirt with an open collar off the hanger because it put the divot of Jake’s collarbone on display, well. That was for Bradley to take to the grave. 

“You know who else is gonna be there?”

“Some teammates, Natasha, Logan, and the group, I think.”

Bradley picked a piece of lint off his own shirt. The shot they’d taken was still cloying on his tongue, burn sitting funny in his stomach. A drop of water was still rolling down Jake’s cheek from his shower. The sleeves of the shirt hugged the thick curve of Jake’s bicep, bunching at the seams. Bradley looked away. 

First class summer approached like an anxious spotlight – everyone itched for one last celebration, something to conspire in before they were stationed on different fleets. They were already late to the bar downtown, but Bradley had needed to figure out whatever the fuck his hair was doing. 

Jake didn’t seem in any rush, anyways, even with the constant buzz of his phone. He pulled on Bradley’s shirt and appraised himself in the mirror. Watching Jake walk around in Bradley’s clothes made him unreasonably happy – it was silly, but it made Jake his, somehow. 

“I look fucking good in this,” Jake plucked at the collar. “ I think it’s mine now.”

“You said borrow. ”

“I lied.” Jake waved the concern away, swaggering over so Bradley could only focus on his dimple when he smirked. “Think people will catch on? When I show up in your shirt, with my hair messed up?”

Deft fingers undid Bradley’s buckle, sure and practiced. All his blood rushed south. “We’re late.”

“Please,” Jake scoffed, tugging Bradley’s belt off the loops and tossing it onto the bed. “Tasha’s gonna lead everyone on a whole route, we’ll be fine.” 

Bradley knew Nat wouldn’t call anything done until half their class was puking into the bushes. He couldn’t find another protest as Jake unzipped his jeans and got down on his knees with no delay. His best friend was a menace and a tease, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses against Bradley’s half-hard cock, moaning exaggeratedly the way he knew drove Bradley crazy.  

“No audience besides me, Jesus,” Bradley said, embarrassed at how easily his voice broke when Jake pulled his dick fully out and kissed the weeping slit. 

The first time Jake tried to blow Bradley, he’d lacked finesse, though Bradley didn’t complain – it was more than enough to have Jake on his knees, eager. But Jake was never one to settle for good enough; he spent the next month and half pressing for every single thing Bradley liked, harping on about needing practice to be perfect. 

Which meant nowadays he could make Bradley come in less than a minute.

He trembled with the effort of holding back. It was laughable, how quickly Jake could get Bradley’s entire body to feel like it was on fire, muscles tensed and ready to pounce. And because Bradley must’ve done something truly good in his past life, Jake Seresin now sucked cock like a fucking champ and held the title for the dirtiest mouth this side of the Mississippi.

“I want you to finger me,” Jake cut his declaration off by licking a long stripe down Bradley’s shaft. “When we’re out at the bar.”

“Jake, holy – ”

He could imagine the delicious ache in his wrist already, working Jake over against the grimy door of a bathroom or out in the alleyway. Jake’s slick would drip down his palm, and he’d make Jake lick his fingers clean. If Bradley thought himself depraved with a risky streak, Jake was worse. The worst they’d done was in a tiny plane bathroom on a red-eye back to Annapolis, Bradley biting into his own forearm to hide the loud groans as Jake fisted his cock in hurried, frenzied strokes. 

His head hit the door with a thunk, the pain dulled out by Jake’s throat working around him. Jake smelled mouth-watering and something fractured deep in him, obsessed with Jake slicking up just from sucking Bradley’s soul through his cock. 

Jake pulled off with an obscene pop, loud enough for it to echo in the quiet of his room. “Move.”

“Fuck, baby.”

“C’mon, fuck my throat,” Jake whined, squeezing Bradley’s ass. “Wanna feel it.” 

It was a command. Jake’s lips were already swollen, and Bradley muffled a moan against his own fist, eyes threatening to roll back in his head. He gave a tentative thrust, urged on by a pleased hum, and then he couldn’t help it – took the offering of Jake’s glorious mouth and drove his hips forward.  

It didn’t take long: his self-control was a joke around Jake, all impulses rushing front and center. He thrust deep, reveling in the spasms of Jake’s throat around his cock as he struggled briefly, and gave a warning tug to Jake’s hair. Jake didn’t falter, just gripped Bradley’s hips and hauled him impossibly closer, moaning. The vibrations did Bradley in – he came with a shout, spilling down Jake’s throat.

Jake stood almost immediately, grinning and wiping his mouth as his phone lit up with Javy’s contact photo – a multi-chinned monstrosity Jake held dear. “Okay, yeah, we gotta go, Javy’s been blowing up my phone for the past three minutes.” 

Bradley blinked, panting, still trying to recalibrate after the rush of his orgasm. 

“I’ll drive, given your last brain cell just came outta your dick,” Jake beamed. 

“Your fault,” Bradley protested feebly.

The last time he and Jake had attempted to make pasta from scratch, they were in middle school and thought Carole Bradshaw’s recipes were suggestions. The kitchen had wound up coated in flour and Becca had cried, sure they’d poisoned her.

Thankfully, they could now cook store-bought pasta into crushed tomatoes adequately. Jake was uncharacteristically touchy tonight, tipsy with the wine glass dangled between long fingers, and Bradley caved to his base instinct. He licked the wine stain on Jake’s chapped lips. Their final year grated on both their nerves – more liberty, but the weight of the road to get their wings spread daunting ahead. 

“Don’t make me spill this,” Jake murmured. 

“Yeah, I got you.” 

Bradley pulled the wine from Jake’s hand, moving to the left until the glass made solid contact with the counter. Jake pressed his hips tight to Bradley’s own, warm and firm, and Bradley swayed closer, bumping his nose into the soft point above Jake’s ear. 

The unlocking of the door was a quiet shotgun in their flirty bubble. Jake jumped back at the sight of his godfather. Nothing was saved by springing apart, because Bradley already saw the expression on Ice’s face. The same through multiple childhood transgressions – a specialty, caught off-guard and already unhappy with the sight before him. 

“Bradley,” Ice said, clipped. “A surprise.”

The “unwelcome" was left unsaid. Ice folded his arms tight across his chest, looking just as peeved as when Bradley and Jake scraped the side of his new car trying to take the Mustang for a joyride. 

“Sir.” Bradley figured laying it on thick would help, no matter if Iceman ratted them out immediately to Slider and Goose. He was promptly ignored. 

“Sorry for interrupting.” Ice addressed Jake, gesturing to the box at his hip. “Your dad wanted some of my old records. I left a message.”

They’d ignored everything, including the blinking answering machine, focused only on popping open the wine. Jake had the good sense to turn off the stove, avoiding sauce from boiling over and making more of a mess. He was halfway across the kitchen now, far from arm’s reach. 

“It's okay, I was heading out.” Bradley lied, trying to assess if the surrender was satisfactory. He left the last of his wine on the counter. 

Jake nodded. “Yeah, he was.” 

Usually, Bradley would bitch about the clear dismissal but the way Ice was flipping through the records with fake focus spelled bad, bad things. He didn’t want to be around for whatever heated discussion Jake would have to sit through. It would no doubt have a lot of gnashing teeth, Jake fired up, his godfather speaking on behalf of the years of experience under his belt from climbing the ranks. 

Bradley shuffled past Iceman and shot Jake a retreating look. Jake didn’t see, still staring at Iceman’s imposing figure. He’d always held his godfather’s career as a golden standard. Bradley slipped out the front door and drove home.

The rest of Thanksgiving break was horrible. Jake dodged all of Bradley’s attempts to talk, every call going right to his voicemail even as Bradley offered to shoot a game of pool, or a quick lunch or – anything, really, which would help bridge the sudden divide between them. 

On Sunday, Goose summoned everyone who could manage to the Bradshaw annual campfire. Bradley watched and waited all night as Jake glued himself to his dad’s side, listening intently to Iceman’s lectures. He wasn’t stupid enough to breach the rag-tag family image. 

He threw his over-toasted marshmallow away.

“You got a reason for looking like the Titans lost the playoffs?” Goose interrupted his brooding. He nodded at Carole to bring over another packet of graham crackers, but Bradley saw right through it – he was about to be confronted about his foul mood the past two days, avoiding meals with his family. 

Rebecca poked her own marshmallow into the flames. “Jake’s ignoring him.”

“He’s not,” Bradley lied, “And – that’s got nothing to do with this.”

She snorted. “Very convincing. You’re always so irritating when you two fight.”

“Do you want me to pick you up after your SATs or not?” Bradley threatened. 

His sister did what she did best – flipped him off in response.

“Knock it off,” their dad chided.

Rebecca waited for their dad to turn his head back to Bradley to throw another rude gesture his way. He kicked at her knee, to which she dodged and went to join Carole’s s'more assembly station.

“So,” his dad ripped the top of the label on his beer. “Jake.” 

“He’s over there,” Bradley nodded towards where Jake was getting schooled on how to play poker by Slider.

“Let’s cut the crap, B,” Goose laughed, “Ice called me about an hour after you got home, looking like a bat outta hell. How long has it been going on?”

Bradley dodged. “Did you tell Mom?”

“I will, once you and I talk,” Goose sighed. “I thought it was great, for what it’s worth. But the way you’ve been moping this weekend makes me reconsider.” 

“What, the mighty Iceman didn’t condemn me?”

“Well.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Bradley sank deeper into his seat. 

“I mean,” his dad gestured to where Jake was staring at the cards in his hand, intent on trying to beat Ice. “I can’t say I agree with the level of concern his godfather has over his designation, but the Navy isn’t kind to Omegas. You and I are lucky.”

His dad’s Beta scent washed over Bradley as Goose patted his shoulder. They were lucky, readily accepted into the ranks, and Bradley felt the coil in his chest loosen – he couldn’t know what Jake was thinking, a gift out of luck.   

“They’ve always been a bit overprotective. Pretty sure when Jake was born, Slider cleared out the whole library where he was stationed. ” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Bradley sighed. 

He was lying still – Jake was always a big deal. In fifth grade, Bradley would stay up late, hiding with a flashlight under the covers to catch up on the newest Spiderman comics so he and Jake could discuss the next day. They’d been irrevocably enmeshed into each other’s side for so long Bradley could barely remember a time when any frustration, any win, any life dream wasn’t shared immediately.

“I’ll figure it out,” he shrugged, trying to get the look off his dad’s face. It was one Bradley knew too well – concerned, a little too keen to read through a person’s defenses. He’d seen it in the distance in discussions with Mav and more with Rebecca, but it didn’t mean Bradley was immune. “Jake and I – it’ll be fine.”

“Alright, kid,” his dad leaned in, voice lowered in mock conspiracy. “So how long?”

“Mom’s right, you are a gossip,” Bradley laughed. “Not telling, because then she’ll yell at me.”

“Fine, keep your secrets.” Goose laughed. He clinked their beers together before going to join Carole.

When Bradley next looked, Jake was looking back. He flashed a tentative smile across the way and Bradley took the bait, patting the seat his dad vacated. With a sideways glance to Slider, Jake made his way over. 

“Hey,” Jake broke the silence first. He hovered by the fire, extending a hand over the warmth. 

“Are you gonna be weird, or are you gonna sit?”

Jake winced. “I’ll sit, if you stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re mad at me,” Jake huffed. He checked over his shoulder where his dad and godfather were now sitting with their heads bent together. 

“Just sit.”

Jake did, though he shied away again from Bradley watching him. He tore a marshmallow in half, popping the piece into his mouth. 

“You’ve been dodging me all weekend.” 

With Jake, it was always better to cut right to the chase. No bullshit, straight shots. He’d been too much of a coward over the past few days to act on what he knew and Bradley wasn’t about to let the chance go now. 

“I haven’t,” Jake rebuffed. “I was busy.”

“With what?” 

Autumn was bleeding into winter – Thanksgiving break meant everything in town fell asleep. People were home, sure, but Jake hadn’t gone out of his way to make plans with any of their high school classmates in ages. 

“Just getting ahead of some work,” Jake mumbled. His scent was bitter, caught out in a lie. Both of them could tell. 

“You wanna stop?” Bradley offered. His heart plummeted to his stomach at the thought, but he couldn’t handle the limbo of Jake dancing around the idea. Couldn’t fathom going from his arms wrapped around Jake’s waist in the kitchen to whatever this cold freeze between them was. 

Jake's head turned so quickly Bradley worried he’d sprain his neck. “Stop what?”

“I don’t need to spell it out for you.” 

Jake tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. You gotta stop jumping to conclusions, man.”

“I don’t know,” Bradley nudged his knee. “Ice walks in, you tell me to leave, you ignore all my texts.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” Jake rolled his eyes; a bad habit his dad tried and failed to get out of Jake’s repertoire of snark. “He just – I got lectured to hell and back, okay? Especially after Dad found out. And they have a point about my career and being careful about what I do.”

He took pity on Jake's clear discomfort, although Bradley would always be too forgiving in the context. “So they’re not going to kill me.”

Jake grimaced. “I didn’t say that.”

He groaned. “They didn’t – ” 

“They assumed as much.” The top of Jake’s ears were a faint pink. “I mean.”

Ice had seen Bradley’s arm wrapped around Jake, his mouth barely above Jake’s bare scent gland. The situation would be clear even to an idiot. 

“Do you?” Jake tossed the remainder of his graham cracker into the fire. 

“Do I what?”

Jake wouldn’t meet his eyes again. “Do you wanna stop this?” 

They hadn’t put a label, because there was nothing to label. They hung out, competed on every exam, and bitched about the instructors who were banal to the point of boredom. They had the benefit of years of living in rhythm, and falling into a regular bed together. 

It didn’t need to mean anything if Bradley tossed and turned when Jake wasn’t sleeping next to him: he cared too much about flying with Jake to risk the possibility of not being able to.

“No,” he said. “It’s nice, what we have.”

“Yeah,” Jake replied, then he flopped deeper into the chair. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to avoid you.”

Bradley felt eyes on them from across the backyard. Given his dad’s inability to keep his mouth shut, Bradley was sure his mom’s keen Alpha senses were honed in on them. Having their parents know would be a weird dance – he could predict the conversation waiting for him the moment the guests left: Carole, a hand on her hip, as she listened to Bradley fumble through an explanation of why he was happy in limbo. 

“You wanna go inside?

“Absolutely not,” Jake laughed. “You wanna make it worse?”

Bradley nudged the tip of his shoe into Jake’s ankle and made do with that point of contact for the rest of the night. Around midnight, Jake peeled away with his dad and sent a cheeky two finger salute towards Bradley.

True to his word, and because he was a good brother, damnit, Bradley waited in the parking lot the next day for Rebecca to leave where she was trudging through her SAT subject exams. She strolled out, yawning, and made a beeline towards Bradley the moment she saw the Taco Bell in his hand. 

“Thank God,” Rebecca took a loud sip of the slurpee he offered. “I’m starving.”

“Are they still giving out those crumbly ass granola bars?”

“Worse,” she replied. “Trail mix. Without M&Ms.”

“That’s a punishment.”

“Exactly.” 

“You wanna go see what movies they have on right now?” Rebecca slid into the front seat and ripped into the bag, unwrapping her chicken quesadilla and biting in with no concern for the car upholstery. 

Bradley flicked her shoulder. “Watch it. And yeah – is it cool if Jake meets us there?”

Her amused look sent the fear of God down his spine. “Oh goodie, did you two kiss and make up?”

“Shut up,” Bradley snapped. His phone buzzed in his front pocket. It was likely Jake, asking which theater they were heading to. “Do not bring up the weekend or else I’m never buying you food again.”

Bradley considered himself many things. A good baseball player. Tenacious and stubborn. Primarily, though, he was an idiot. Goose’s insistent nagging to use a calendar to track his bio-cycle had legs, because Bradley’s rut launched itself onto him with little fanfare in the middle of the season. One moment, he was cleaning up a bit of spilled coffee, the next he was seeing red at an Alpha in his company who’d merely asked for class notes. 

He managed to lock himself into his room without pissing off anyone, jaw locked and tense at the flurry of scents hitting him in the face as he closed the door. People milling about was inevitable. It wasn’t their fault Bradley was this close to tearing out someone’s throat from encroaching on his territory; his ruts always made him ultra-sensitive and possessive.

It was too late to book a block in the medical wing – he’d have no way to get all the way across campus in such a state.

Jake’s sweatshirt, left on the floor after their last quick and hasty fuck, was a beacon for his senses, a staunchly different scent than the rest of his belongings. The ache in his jaw was acute. He wanted to bite someone. He wanted to bite Jake . 

The sweatshirt was cold from lying on the floor, but Bradley buried his face into it all the same. It reeked of Jake: sweat and natural scent, the stale sweetness of their arousals mixing together. As the faded scent of apples fluttered into his nostrils, he couldn't resist stroking his aching cock, already hard and leaking at the tip, demanding attention. The first orgasm was quick, a precursor for the worst of it. His unsatisfied knot quickly urged for another. 

Bradley couldn’t tell how long it’d been since he locked himself away, at least not between forcing himself to sleep to soothe the itching panic in his spine and rutting into his fist to try and relieve the ache. His heightened senses were a detriment. The achingly familiar scent at his door disturbed the haze of lust, even before he heard four rapid knocks.

“Don’t come in,” Bradley panted into the pillow, afraid the thin line of self control he had left would bleed over the moment Jake was in front of him. Every part of his Alpha was screaming to tear down the door, to drag Jake into bed, to cover Jake in his scent so nobody else could get close. 

“Your coach is looking for you,” Jake called. Bradley saw his feet shifting in the thin crack at the bottom of the door. “Skipping practice? You good, Bradshaw?”

He couldn’t form words, not with an Omega, his Omega, within arms reach. Sweat broke out over every inch of his skin, and Bradley curled his fists around the bedpost to try to keep impulse at bay. Pulled on every textbook lesson they’d gone through just the semester before: take slow breaths, focus on one spot, avoid thinking about knotting as long as possible.

“Bradley.”

Jake wasn’t leaving. 

He wasn’t fucking leaving, which was bad, but also good, because Bradley didn’t want him to leave. 

“Bradley, what the fuck?”

“Go away,” Bradley croaked. His balls ached, swollen from unsatisfactory orgasms and nothing adequate to milk his knot. Jake was right there — right — no. He slapped his palm against his forehead to try to break the haze.

“Unlock the door, c’mon, I’m getting worried.”

The clear concern in Jake’s voice made Bradley weaker: don’t let him worry , a voice hissed in his mind, bad Alpha. All he could muster was a weak “Jake,” before his words broke into a groan, the allure too good to resist. He was protesting and pleading all at once, wanting Jake to be nestled in his arms as quickly as he could manage while the small part of his brain which still worked wanted nothing more than to keep Jake safe from the risk.

“I’m coming in,” Jake declared and Bradley suddenly recalled the two months they’d been obsessed with spy movies; James Bond on repeat and Jake, fiddling with a lock and Carole’s spare hairpins. 

The door clicked open. Bradley whined into his pillow.

“Oh,” Jake said, coming to a stop the moment he crossed into the room. 

Bradley didn’t know what he looked like, but sweat and come were messy on his stomach and wispy threads of ripped sheets were curled in his fist. Everything in the periphery was under a film of red. Jake’s sweatshirt was still next to him, clutched against his face.

“I could smell – I didn’t mean to – are you okay?”

“You gotta,” Bradley gasped; he couldn’t help the buck of his hips against his own hand. “Jake, you – fuck – you gotta go.”

Since they’d been kids, he and Jake matched each other in stubbornness. They both knew they were right more often than they considered the possibility of being wrong. His hindbrain preened at his Omega digging in his heels now, reaching for Bradley against his best interests. 

Jake’s touch was a welcome balm on Bradley’s overheated skin. “I can help.”

“Baby,” Bradley tore the sheets under his palm. He couldn’t help but lean into the tentative stroke along his cheek. “I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll help,” Jake said again. “A few days isn’t so bad.”

He broke. Jake came with no protest, just an umph of surprise as he landed against Bradley’s chest. He tore at the clothing keeping his Omega from skin-to-skin access, angry at how many layers Jake had on. Jake’s lips were chapped from the winter wind, rough against Bradley’s own, but Jake chuffed at the kiss. 

“Gimme a moment,” Jake protested. “You’re gonna rip my shirt, calm down.”

The Alpha in him hushed, mollified by Jake’s displeasure. He kept his hands tight on Jake’s waist until his Omega was happy with the neatly folded clothes, placed on the corner of the bed. 

Jake snickered. “You listen better like this.”

“Don’t push it,” Bradley groaned; Jake needed to know the risk. “When my rut peaks, I’m not going to be able to be reasoned with, Jake, so you gotta – ”

Jake shoved him back down, firm, against the mattress. “You think I can’t hold my own?”

“I - I know you can.” 

He salivated at the sight of Jake, scowling at Bradley’s hesitance. His nose was still cold and Bradley wanted to get his fingers in the lush mouth he knew all too well. His rut was building dangerously quick, the urge to bury himself into Jake more and more prominent in his mind. 

“I have snacks in my bag,” Jake rocked himself against Bradley’s aching cock. Bradley groaned. “Let me do this for you.”

“Jake – ”

Cool hands found his face again, cupping his jaw and rubbing the scruff over his cheeks. “Let me, Bradshaw.”

A tale as old as time: Bradley, hesitating and unwilling to dive in deep until Jake took the reins. He flung himself towards Jake, mapping over every inch of that siren-song body before spreading Jake’s legs wide. The first thrust into Jake’s wet pussy made Bradley groan, loud and ragged. He pressed his sweaty forehead against Jake’s back and rocked forward again, unable to hold back from sweet, sweet relief after God knows how many hours of using his own fist. 

Jake was no better under him, gasping as Bradley pressed forward. “Jesus, every time…” 

Jake’s legs shook with the effort to hold himself upright against the urgency of Bradley’s rutting. On any normal day, Bradley would give Jake time to breathe, to savor the stretch, but all he wanted was more of the pressure around his cock, around his knot. He couldn’t last long like this, not with Jake’s reedy moans echoing in the room and driving Bradley on, crazy for another orgasm and to finally pop his knot into the right person. 

Jake tipped his head back and Bradley claimed the soft base of his neck, licking and nipping the warm skin. He buried his nose into Jake’s scent gland and moaned, sniffing greedily, head spinning.

“Fuck, Bradley, I – I’m not gonna last.” 

Bradley preened at the thought of his Omega easily satisfied by his touch, no one else's. His fingers found Jake’s clit, eager to deliver, to make sure Jake was happy. His fingers slipped through slick; Jake moaned and twitched at the touch, unable to decide if he should push for more or move away. 

“Easy,” Bradley rasped. “Good, so good for me, my pretty Omega, all mine, mine.”

He was saying nonsense now – his rut gripped every last one of his brain cells and put them in a blender. All he could think about was Jake’s groans as Bradley ground his hips deep, deep, deep so they could start locking together.

Jake shuddered around him, so soft, wet, hot. He felt light headed as he dug his fingers into Jake’s waist, growling as Jake tipped his head back, coming with a broken gasp. It was just so heady, Jake’s scent everywhere. All he wanted was to bury his knot in the tight pussy he was thrusting roughly into, to make sure Jake was filled, to earn the saccharine euphoria of Jake’s orgasm. To keep Jake wrapped tight in the sheets and away from everyone else. 

Safe, his brain echoed, mine.

He felt the last remnants of self control slip to the back of his mind as everything centered on the delicious sounds of his writhing Omega under him, milking his knot, taking everything Bradley had to give.

When he came to, Jake was at the edge of the bed taking a pair of scissors to a roll of gauze.

In the winter daylight, the damage he’d done was clear. Jake’s body was a mess of deep bruises and scratches, an angry purple and red against the tan expanse of his body. A particularly deep cut along his lower hip was the one Jake addressed with the fresh bandage.

“Shit,” Bradley scrubbed his face. He winced at the sheets, ruined permanently. “Shit, Jake, I’m so sorry.” 

He had no idea how long his rut lasted. The early morning was quiet, a lack of shadows milling about in the yard. All Bradley could remember were flashes of Jake on his lap, crying from exhaustion, Bradley rutting greedily into the shallow between his thighs. A hastily shoved granola bar into his mouth, before Bradley was overcome with the urge to knot again. 

When Jake stood to grab a water bottle, Bradley noticed a handprint in the middle of Jake’s back. Vaguely, he remembered pushing Jake onto the mattress, pulling his hips up to mount. 

“If you need it, there’s a pack of antiseptic wipes below my jacket.” 

Jake opened the closet, plucking the small pack out from behind Bradley’s boots. He dabbed a wipe onto the cuts around his shoulders and Bradley fought the urge to go over and do the clean-up for him. He couldn’t read the silence.

“Do you need more bandages?”

“I’m starving,” Jake complained finally; his normal tone quelled the worst of Bradley’s fears. “You wouldn’t let me leave the bed.” 

“I get, uh, a bit paranoid during my ruts.” 

An ex-girlfriend used to complain about Bradley’s tendency to treat everything and everyone as a threat during his ruts, impossible to persuade. He cringed at the thought of Jake seeing him snarling, growling and throwing a fit as Jake tried to go grab a snack from across the room.

“Paranoid is an understatement,” Jake scoffed. He patted the bandage down against his thigh and crawled back into bed. “You’re gonna shower and grab us food, because I don’t think I can walk.”

He pressed an apology in the shape of a kiss against Jake’s palm. “Was it that bad?”

Jake softened; he ran his fingers into Bradley’s gross sweaty hair. “Tiring. I get why nurses recommend synced cycles.”

“I’m sorry,” Bradley repeated.

Jake chuckled. "Don’t be.” 

As his brain slowly started functioning again, Bradley noticed the solid leather collar around Jake’s neck. Collars were a tactical precautionary measure, but Bradley hadn’t even known Jake owned one, let alone had it at the ready. It was softer underneath his fingers than it looked, the material warmed by proximity to Jake’s skin. Bradley’s teeth marks left indents on the surface right where Jake’s scent gland was.

Jake undid the collar. It left a faint ring around his neck. “One of us had to have the brain cell.”

“Kinda rare for it to be in your head,” Bradley ragged back. “I’d like to see you try mid-heat.”

“Well.” Jake tucked himself under Bradley’s chin, “It’ll be better than the clinic.” 

Jake lay warm against his chest, soothing with the steady rise and fall of his breathing as both their stomachs grumbled. Bradley filed the ask away for Jake’s next heat.

“One game,” Bradley complained, “I just wanna play one game of pool without having to wait twenty minutes for his turn to be over.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a special commodity.” Natasha took a swig of her beer. “Male Omegas, belles of the ball.” 

He watched an Alpha toss her brassy hair back over her shoulders. Bradley gripped the edge of the table as Jake flashed her a warm smile. 

“Outdated sentiment.”

“When you’re rare, people want you,” Natasha rolled her eyes. This conversation had repeated ten times over by now, long half-asleep discussions over their studies whenever Bradley cracked and expressed how frustrating the constant interruptions were when they hung out with Jake. “Double-edged sword, really.”

The Alpha was now laughing at something Jake said, loud above the din of the bar. Natasha snorted; most Betas found the peacocking embarrassing to witness. 

“You’re just gonna let that happen?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t play,” Nat kicked his ankle. “Anyone with half a brain cell can tell you’re all over him. She can tell, too — kinda respect how she’s still going for it.” 

Bradley frowned. He wouldn’t call whatever the Alpha was doing anything but rude. There were rules of engagement: Alphas weren’t supposed to step on each other’s toes, weren’t supposed to scent another person if they caught a mix. 

She clearly wasn’t abiding by best protocol: maybe Jake’s cologne layered over Bradley’s scent, and she didn’t pick up on it. Bradley’s benefit of the doubt faded right after the thought – she dipped her head close to Jake, reaching her full height in a display of strength, and Bradley saw red.  

He was stalking over before he could comprehend – Nat called after him, but the buzzing was loud in his ears. Jake sidestepped the display but the Alpha followed, hand placed on his arm. It was a dance as old as time, one Bradley watched over and over and bit his tongue about. Something about the lights and Jake’s cheeks crumpled up in a smile made this time worse.

He curled a hand around Jake’s wrist, tugging. Though he jumped in surprise at Bradley’s sudden appearance, Jake didn’t resist. 

“We gotta go.” 

The other Alpha muscled her shoulder into his chest. “Excuse you.”

“Excuse you ,” Bradley sneered. “Clearly, you never learned basic manners.”

“B,” Jake groaned, “Leave it.”

“I don’t know what your problem is, man,” she flashed her teeth at him. “I don’t see a bite.”

Jake stiffened below Bradley’s arm. 

“No, we’re leaving,” Bradley elbowed his way past her, ignoring her indignant squawk and Jake’s hasty goodbye to Javy, who was watching the whole thing with a bewildered look.

Jake bitched the entire way back to Bancroft, protesting Bradley’s interruption of his round of darts. He’d been on track to win a pretty two hundred dollars, apparently, but Bradley ignored the protests. Jake would’ve stayed behind if he didn’t want to follow.

Jake kept pace with Bradley’s angry strides. “You wanna talk, or just give me the cold-shoulder?” 

“Being at the bar was pissing me off,” Bradley growled, shoving Jake into the room. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Jake shoved Bradley back, bold in the face of his anger. The door slammed behind them. “Fucking puffed up, stupid knot-head – ”

“She was all over you!”

“So?” Jake cocked his chin up, daring. “So what? You gotta problem with that, Bradshaw?”

He couldn’t hold it in anymore, not after months and months on end watching everyone dance around Jake, dipping their heads closer to scent before he pushed them away with a bright laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

Jake glared, but the faint tremble of his bottom lip betrayed him. “Look, it’s not fun, but we’re friends. That’s what anyone ever thinks, okay?”

Bradley wasn’t proud of it, his next move, but anger licked hot and furious in his chest at the word dropped, as if it wasn’t Bradley who peeled back the covers to his bed to let Jake scent him for comfort. As if it wasn’t Bradley who had Jake biting back whimpers with a hand clasped against his mouth in the backseat of the car while Bradley’s head was buried between his thighs, helping him through an early heat.

He scruffed Jake by the back of his neck, so Jake collapsed against his chest, wide-eyed. “Yeah? You cry on all your friend’s knots?”

Jake winced. “No.”

“Or do you beg for their cocks?” He wanted to bite Jake, to make him fall apart, and he ached furiously to claim – to prove they’d long, long hit the gas and floored it past being friends . The term was an insult and a joke. “Didn’t realize you did that with all your friends, but I guess everyone else knows better, calling you a tease.”

“That’s not fucking true.” 

“Thought you wanted an Alpha you trusted in your bed,” Bradley mocked, hand still gripping the soft skin at the back of Jake’s neck. He grazed a thumbnail over the covered scent patch and revelled in how Jake gasped. “Didn’t realize that extended to half of campus.”

“Shut up,” Jake snarled, eyes glittering. He parted his legs, an invitation betraying his words. “Fuck, you’re so fucking mean.”

“Yeah, so are you.” With his teeth, he tugged the patch off – Jake’s sweet scent filled the room, sharpened with anger and arousal. “You’re a fucking asshole. Friends.”  

“We are,” Jake whined in his grip, pressing close. Bradley felt the heat against his thigh, shoving it between Jake’s legs as he ground down. “You know – ah – why that’s all I can give.” 

“Don’t fuck anyone else.”

He’d never given Jake a clear command, but the rough timbre of the growl edged in. 

Jake faltered. “I – ”

“Don’t,” Bradley forced Jake’s hips still. “Don’t sleep with anyone else, Jake, please.”

“I’m not,” Jake retorted. He glared at Bradley’s shoulder and avoided his gaze. “I don’t want to.” 

“Don’t let them get that close.” He gripped Jake’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. It felt good, to fall into his worst desires, to see Jake stripped bare of his defenses, green eyes glassy. “Flirting and teasing and – it drives me up the fucking wall.”

He dragged his teeth down Jake’s neck, purposely over his scent gland. The risk made his cock pulse. Jake moaned at the sensation. 

“Fuck, B,” Jake panted. “Since when were you this fucking possessive?”

Because it’s you, Bradley wanted to say. Jake was right: he’d never felt this feral, never this angry at someone touching what was supposed to be his. His exes never stirred Bradley up this way – it was only Jake who made Bradley’s head fuzzy with the need to drive everyone else off, to stake a hard line in the ground. 

He gripped Jake by the back of his neck again and took great delight in the way Jake came readily, pitching forward to lick into Bradley’s mouth. 

“I won’t,” Jake pleaded with a roll of his hips, seeking friction from Bradley’s thigh, “Please, fuck me already.”

Gentle and slow went out the window. A button popped off the collar of Jake’s polo as Bradley pulled the shirt off. He didn’t manage to get his own jeans off, just fucked into Jake after a rudimentary two finger stretch and relished how Jake hissed through his teeth. If it hurt, Jake didn’t protest, just lifted his hips to meet his rough thrusts, nails digging into Bradley’s shoulder. His knot swelled fast, goaded by Jake’s voice right in his ear, filthy praise spilled out in breathless moans alongside urgent commands – more  need more, harder, please.

When they locked, Jake left marks everywhere: stinging and blooming all over Bradley’s chest, shoulders, one at over his Adam’s apple. It was going to be hard for anyone to look at Bradley tomorrow and not know what he’d been up to the night before. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Jake didn’t let go, even when Bradley’s knot went down. He pushed his forehead into the sweaty side of Bradley’s neck. 

“We are, right?” he asked. “Still friends. As well as everything else.”

“Yeah,” Bradley said, stomach twisting while admitting the sore spot. “But every time someone comes up to you, I just think — ”

“You should stop thinking.” Jake kissed him, a singing finality. It was nothing new. Jake couldn’t promise more. But Bradley clung onto the space between his words.