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It’s nearly 3 a.m. when Jake leans over the side of his bed, trying to find the perfect angle for the perfect picture to send to his shittiest ex. He’s definitely not drunk and he’s definitely not going against everything Javy’s ever told him not to do. He’ll seek forgiveness later. He huffs as the photo doesn’t come out the way he wants. It’s not easy to get this photo - he knows from experience - but he’s determined.
Laying back on the bed, Jake holds the phone up and away from his face. The lighting in his room isn’t the best so he has flash on as he knows it’ll make all of his chest hair show and the lines of his muscles will show in the photo. Ruffling up his chest hair again, Jake bends his arm at the elbow and tries to angle the photo so only part of his face is showing. He doesn’t need the redness of his eyes giving him away.
Smiling to himself, Jake pushes his arms up against his chest, pushing his pecs together. It creates just the right amount of movement, the right amount of bulge, and he silently cheers as he moves the phone until just the smirk on his face is showing. He wishes he had a hickey on his neck, something to show that he’s moved on and happy. He settles for tilting his chin back a bit and making sure all of his best sides are captured in the photo.
Laying on his back is starting to make Jake sleepy so he snaps the photos before he falls asleep entirely and pulls the phone down to his face, looking through them. He picks the one where his chest hair looks the darkest and one of his dimples is etched into his cheek. It hits all of his ex’s buttons, every single thing that he found most attractive about Jake - swell of his pecs included.
Jake’s giggling as he turns over and opens up his contacts. His vision is a bit blurry but he scrolls down the list until he finds the ‘R’ section. He’s changed his ex's name in his phone many times, from “piece of shit mother fucker” to “low life scumbag” to “the man javy hates the most.” It’s currently “rotten bastard” because Jake had seen a photo of his ex and his new boyfriend (the man he definitely hadn’t been seeing no babe I promise while they were still together) and gotten a little salty. It’s why he’s as drunk as he is. Javy had encouraged it.
Javy definitely doesn’t encourage this, but Javy’s at his own home, probably asleep in bed. Jake shouldn’t be left to his own devices after drinking tequila.
He taps on the screen and then clicks on the little photo button. His vision blurs some more, the photos all becoming one in front of his eyes. He forces his eyes open a bit and finds the one he likes the most, tapping on it. It pops up into the chat box and Jake’s very drunk brain blanks on what to say. If he were a little more sober, he knows he’d come up with something witty and devastating. After a moment of thinking, of really thinking, he comes up with the perfect line.
‘had so much fun tonight - lets do it again!’
Hiccuping slightly, Jake presses the send button before tossing the phone somewhere on the other side of the bed and rolling over towards the bathroom. He has to pee something fierce, and some water on his face sounds good.
He falls asleep on the bathroom floor, a towel bunched up under his head.
---
Bradley wakes up at 6 a.m. with a pounding headache and the need to piss. He stumbles out of bed, feeling his way into the bathroom, and doesn’t even turn on the lights as he lifts the toilet seat. He groans as he spots a bit of the sun shining through his bedroom window and after washing his hands and splashing water on his face, he pulls the blinds shut as best he can.
He is still not sure what possessed Javy and Jake to go that hard with the shots the night before, but he’s never one to turn down free booze. He vows, though, to never let them goad him into that many shots ever again. He feels like he’s walking on a ship, his balance all out of sorts.
Padding into the kitchen, he grabs his water bottle and fills it with ice and water, praying for a bit of relief. He finds his ibuprofen and a granola bar and heads back into his bedroom. It’s darkest in there and Bradley sighs in relief at that.
After a few sips of water and a singular bite of the granola bar, Bradley takes some ibuprofen. He lays back on his pillows and sighs at the relief he gets from their softness. He’s about to roll over and go back to sleep when he realizes he didn’t actually manage to plug his phone in the night before. It’s laying face down on his bed, next to where he’d fallen asleep.
“Spectacular,” Bradley mumbles to himself, grabbing the phone and reaching over the side of the bed for his cord. His hand swipes at the floor a few times before he finds it and his phone screen lights up as it shows him he was at 2% battery. He pauses when the charging screen fades away and he can see his notification. There’s a couple messages there, as he expected there to be as everyone let him know they got home safe, but it’s the one from only three hours ago from Jake that catches his eye.
After turning down the brightness, Bradley unlocks his phone and opens his messages. He has to squint because even at its lowest brightness, it still feels like the phone screen is ripping his head to shreds. He blinks a few times as he clicks on his (very sparse) text thread with Jake. They don’t text much - Bradley barely texts anyone really, so it’s not that big of a deal, but he texts Jake even less.
But right there, in front of his eyes, is very clearly a thirst trap. Bradley sits up, nearly unplugging his phone as he does, and stares at his screen, trying to make sure he isn’t dreaming. He taps the photo and it opens up, his breath caught in his chest. There’s no way this was meant for him. No fucking way. Jake’s pushing his pecs together and his mouth is tilted up in a smirk and his chest hair looks so dark and soft and Bradley throws his phone down on the bed as he feels his body start to react to the photo.
“What the fuck!” Bradley gasps, staring at his phone. Hands shaking, he picks the phone back up and stares at the photo. He swipes down on the screen to see the text thread and his brain screeches to a halt at the message there.
‘had so much fun tonight - lets do it again!’
Bradley’s eyebrows come together and he tries to think of their night at the bar. He’d been with Javy and Jake all evening - Natasha had left them around midnight, letting Bob drive her home as she’d had a couple of tequila shots with them. Bob had offered to come back and make sure they all got home safe but they’d waved him off, promising to get Lyfts when they were done. Bradley had left before Javy and Jake. He doesn’t think that Jake would pick someone up with Javy sitting right next to him… but Bradley also…
He shakes his head, locking his phone and laying back on the pillows. There’s a million thoughts running through his very tired head and he can’t handle all of them at once. Grabbing his water bottle, Bradley sits up slightly and takes another couple sips. The shock of the cold water helps clear his head but he can’t get the image of Jake’s chest out of his mind.
He’s never considered himself to be a tits man. He’s never really considered himself an ass man either, has never really had any deep thoughts on which he preferred more. He thinks that because he’s attracted to men and women that the real answer is he likes both, but again… he doesn’t think too hard about it.
Which is why he’s confused about the physical reaction he’s having from thinking about the suppleness of Jake’s chest, the tan skin covered in soft brown hair. He’s not hungover enough to kid himself into thinking that Jake’s not ridiculously attractive, exactly the kind of person Bradley’s always found himself drawn to. Ice had once joked with him that he got his father’s love for blondes.
Shaking his head, Bradley lays back down on the bed and turns off his phone. He knows that, in the morning, he’ll have to deal with whatever this is.
And he’s not calling it morning until he wakes up again.
---
Bradley forgets about the photo for all of half an hour when he wakes up next. He’s standing in the shower, letting the warm water soothe his body, when it comes flying back to him. He nearly falls over as he grips the shower curtain and reaches for his phone. Shielding the water with his body, Bradley wipes his hands off on a towel and unlocks his phone. He almost hopes it’s not there and that it was some weird dream he’d had. But then he opens his messages and the app is still open to his text thread with Jake.
And there’s the photo, staring right back up at him.
Swearing under his breath, Bradley puts his phone back on the back of the toilet and finishes up his shower. Jake hasn’t sent anything more and Bradley’s pretty sure he’s still asleep, if the amount of tequila he drank the night before hit him as hard as it hit Bradley.
Once he’s out of the shower and dried off, he pulls on some underwear and a soft t-shirt and pads into his kitchen in search of protein. He keeps his phone in his hand, trying and failing to come up with any solution to this issue. Jake’s going to wake up soon and inevitably figure out that he sent this to Bradley and not the guy he took home. The thought makes Bradley feel gross and a little smug at the same time, and he doesn’t want to examine why before he eats.
As he pulls a carton of eggs out of the fridge, he decides to call Natasha.
“You alive, Bradshaw?” she answers, humor in her voice. Bradley grunts as he cracks the eggs into the pan.
“Barely,” he replies, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the counter. “I, uh, I woke up to an interesting text.”
“What’s her name?”
“Why do you always assume it’s a woman?”
“Hmm, that’s fair,” Natasha says. “What’s his name?”
“His name is Hangman and I think he sent me a thirst trap at 3 a.m.”
Natasha chokes on something. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me!”
“No, I think I’m still asleep. I’m hanging up now.”
“No, Natasha, wait,” Bradley laughs, stirring the eggs in the pan. “I’m being serious. I think he accidentally sent me a very uh… suggestive image of himself.”
“You think? Is there a picture or not?”
“Oh, there’s a photo.” Bradley takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “I thought I’d dreamed it when I woke up at 6 to piss.”
“How much more did you guys drink?”
Bradley groans, touching his forehead. “Oh, you know. A lot. I think we finished a bottle.” Bradley pauses, thinking for a moment. “Hey, do you know why Jake and Javy were going so hard?”
“No, but when I find out, I’m going to murder them.”
“I’ll help,” Bradley replies, smiling when Natasha laughs. “But, like, back to the photo.”
“If it was an accident,” Natasha starts, sounding a little disbelieving, “then I’m sure he’ll text you later and apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“In his own way,” Natasha clarifies. She chuckles before continuing. “But if it wasn’t an accident… you should definitely send one back.”
“What?” Bradley gasps, nearly burning himself on the pan as he jumps. Natasha laughs at him.
“Come on, Bradshaw. Don’t be stupid. You know as well as I do that you two are going to fuck eventually.”
“I do not know as well as you do, what the fuck?”
“Ugh, men are so dumb sometimes.” Natasha clears her throat. “You two are about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”
“I really don’t have time for old man metaphors, Nat.”
“Fuck you,” she laughs, “they’re common phrases. And we’re getting off topic.”
“You’re trying to tell me you think I should send something flirty back?”
“Yes.” Natasha is firm, a quick answer. “I think you should. And if it was an accident, you just laugh it off saying you thought he was joking around so you were too.”
Bradley hums as he scoops his eggs onto his plate. “This sounds very silly.”
Natasha hangs up. Bradley doesn’t blame her.
---
Bradley takes exactly one picture, exactly how Natasha tells him to take it. He’s never really done this - he thinks he’s just too old to really get what a “thirst trap” even is, though he’s aware of the concept. He holds the phone away from his body at an angle, getting mostly his torso in the photo. He feels himself blush as he pushes down his sweats slightly, keeping his hand on the waistband. It’s the weirdest photo he’s ever taken of himself and he plans on hiding it from his camera roll as soon as he sends it off.
Despite how much Natasha asks, he doesn’t send the photo to her before he opens up his thread with Jake. It’s nearly 1 p.m. now and Bradley’s sure he’s going to wake up soon, so Bradley needs to get this text sent. He ignores everything Natasha told him to write (because he didn’t tell her that Jake had also sent a text with the photo) and comes up with his own response.
bradley: my place or yours?
He figures it’s tongue in cheek enough that he can laugh it off regardless of what Jake replies with and hits send before he can overthink it anymore than he already has. He throws his phone down on his bed and leaves it there as he gathers up laundry and starts a load.
---
Jake wakes up with the worst hangover ever and a terrible crick in his neck. He’s unsurprised to wake up on the floor of his bathroom - he’s woken up here many times before. He gets up slowly, his stomach turning unpleasantly, and leans over the sink. Turning it on, he takes several handfuls of water and drinks them. It helps the nausea swirling in his gut and the headache pounding his head.
He finds some water and painkillers and the only food he can ever eat post drinking (beef sticks which he keeps specifically for this occasion) and then jumps in the shower, still chewing on his food. He hot water soothes his neck and he rolls it side to side, thinking of every single reason he should never drink tequila again. Sleeping on his bathroom floor is at the top of the list.
When he’s done, he finds his comfiest clothes and puts them on, refusing to leave his bedroom again. He knows he needs to find his phone and call Javy, let him know that Jake is in fact alive. It’s not on his nightstand, or wrapped up in his sheets. Jake has to get down on the floor to find the damn thing, having slid under his bed a bit.
It’s dead, because of course it is, so Jake plugs it in and closes the blinds, holding his water bottle to his chest as he sits down on his bed. As he waits for his phone to turn on, he tries to piece together the night before. He remembers finding the photo of his shittiest ex, the one he’d dumped not too long before he’d been called back to Top Gun. He remembers Javy taking his phone away and declaring it was tequila time.
Jake’s entire body shudders at the thought of tequila.
He can’t remember much past his fourth or fifth shot, everything becoming a blur. He knows that Bradley stayed with them late, not passing up free shots. Natasha had left early, Bob driving her home like the gentleman he always is. He doesn’t think Bob drove him home, though he can’t be sure. The last thing he remembers is leaning into Javy’s side as he handed off another shot to Bradley, all of them giggling like little kids.
His phone turns on, the screen far too bright. Jake lets it load all the way up before swiping down on the screen and turning the brightness all the way down, even going so far as to turn on night mode. It helps enough that Jake’s able to type in his passcode and let his phone catch up. It starts buzzing after a few seconds, the screen glitching as his notifications stream in. He closes his eyes and waits for the buzzing to stop.
There is, predictably, a bunch of texts from Javy - ranging in time from 3 a.m. to less than ten minutes ago. Jake opens the thread and doesn’t read any of them, knowing exactly what they say after being friends with Javy for so long.
jake: i’m alive mother hen, thank you for worrying. i took a shower and i’m going back to sleep.
javy: oh thank god, i was about to come over. make sure you eat your gross beef sticks before going back to bed.
jake: yes honey, i’m eating one currently.
Jake taps the camera and takes a photo of the beef stick hanging out of his mouth like a cigar. He sends it off to Javy, giggling to himself. After a moment, he opens his camera roll to look at the photo again, having not looked at himself too well in the mirror after his shower. He pauses when he sees another set of photos there.
“Oh no,” Jake whispers, pulling the photos up. He knows exactly what they are and his stomach sinks as he thinks about who he possibly sent them to. Cursing under his breath, he opens his messages again.
Except “rotten bastard” isn’t on the recent text list. Under his pinned texts with Javy, his family group chat, and the dagger group chat, there’s texts from Natasha, Bob, and Bradley.
“Oh fuck me,” Jake groans, when he reads the text that Bradley’s sent him. “I did not…”
He opens the thread and drops the phone like it’s burned him, his chest warming as he tries to process the photo that’s waiting for him there. Because it cannot be real. He’s about to bash himself in the head with one of his pillows. His hands are shaking as he picks up the phone and stares at the screen.
Because there, bathed in soft light, is Bradley Bradshaw’s chest, arms, hips, and a little peak of the dark, curly hair of his groin. Jake hesitates for all of a second before he zooms in on the photo, not even sure where to start. There’s the vein in Bradley’s arm, the one that’s flexed and holding the waistband of his gray sweatpants. There’s the way his abs flex, or the planes of his chest. Or the fucking hair peaking out of his sweatpants. Jake’s eyes trace the line of his hips bones. He takes a deep breath before placing the phone face down on the bed.
“Holy shit.” Jake stares down at his phone. “Holy fucking shit.”
He calls Javy.
“I thought you were going to bed,” Javy answers. Jake laughs, a little hysterically, and Javy pauses. “What did you do?”
“Okay so.” Jake laughs again, shaking his head. He pulls the phone away from his ear and swipes the call screen away, opening his messages again. He has to make sure he’s not seeing things. “I might’ve sent a thirst trap last night.”
“You fucking texted Trevor!?”
“No! Not Trevor!” Jake sighs, rubbing his temples. He hears Javy huff on the other end.
“Jake.”
“I think I was going to, that’s the thing.”
“JAKE.” Javy sounds beyond himself and Jake doesn’t blame him. “Jake Daniel Seresin, why the fuck were you going to send him a thirst trap?”
“Because you gave me tequila!” Jake argues, frowning as Javy groans. “You know this happens when I drink tequila!”
“Oh my God.” Javy sighs heavily. “But you didn’t send it to him.”
“No… uh, I sent it to someone else.”
“Someone else.”
“Who’s name in my phone starts with an ‘r’.”
Javy’s silent for a moment and then he laughs, loud enough to make Jake nearly hang up the phone on him. Javy’s gasping for breath, sounding a little hysterical when he finally is able to talk.
“Did you send… a thirst trap… to Rooster?” he gasps, taking heaving breaths with each new part of the sentence. “Jake… no you didn’t.”
“Um.”
Javy starts laughing again and this time Jake does hang up. He crosses his arms and stares down at the phone, willing the photo on the screen to go away. He’s processing the text reply when Javy calls him back.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop laughing, this is very serious.”
“It is! Because he sent one back.”
Javy’s silent again and this time he doesn’t start laughing. He clears his throat. “He did what?”
“Bradley Bradshaw sent me a very… very obvious thirst trap photo back. And replied to the text I sent.”
“You sent a text?”
“I think… I think in my head, I wanted to make Trevor jealous.”
Javy sighs heavily. “What did the text say?”
“It said, ‘had so much fun tonight, lets do it again’.”
Javy snorts. “And what did Bradley come up with in response?”
Jake stares at the screen, willing the words to change. Willing the picture and words to disappear. His body is still flushed with heat and he can feel himself getting a little hard in his boxers. It’s embarrassing, really, how much this stupid photo is clogging up his brain.
“Jake.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Jake replies, clearing his throat. “He replied with ‘my place or yours’.”
“Holy shit,” Javy mumbles. Jake wishes he could see Javy, see the expression on his face. He just knows that Javy’s staring at his phone with a mixture of horror and humor. “Jake, dude-”
“I know-”
“Get in there.”
Jake reels back, rubbing his temples as his head starts to pound. “What?”
“Oh come on dude, don’t play coy with me.” Javy tuts, scolding Jake quietly. Jake hates when he does that. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t drop to your knees if he asked.”
“Okay, first off,” Jake says, glaring at his phone when Javy laughs. “First off, you know I have bad knees.” Javy continues to laugh so Jake pushes on. “Secondly… shut up.”
Javy laughs harder at him and Jake hangs up again. This time, Javy doesn’t call him back. He texts instead.
javy: dude… take the shot ;)
---
Jake spends all of ten minutes crafting a response to Bradley. He has to open up a note on his phone to type the shit out because each time he opens the text thread, he gets distracted by the lines of Bradley’s chest and the hair at his waistband. It’s unfair, how hot of a photo it is. He’s pretty sure Bradley barely understands what a thirst trap is.
jake: i don’t know… your perch big enough for two?
He only has to wait a few minutes for a response. He spends the entire time chewing on his thumb.
bradley: if it isn’t, you can always sit on my lap
Jake throws his phone down on the bed, shoving a hand against his dick. He had not been expecting Bradley, the king of terrible texting, to come back with anything remotely close to a sext. Jake feels like his skin is on fire. He grabs his phone again when he feels it buzz.
bradley: give me a front row view of your tits
Jake whines and lays back on the bed. His ex has been so into his chest and it had never really clicked for Jake, the attraction. But the thought of Bradley’s face against his skin, licking and nibbling at his chest. Jake wills his dick to cooperate with him.
jake: didn’t know you were such a big fan of tits
bradley: i’m a fan of yours
“Oh fuck,” Jake mumbles, pushing down his boxers. He hisses as the air hits his dick, slowly getting hard at Bradley’s texts. Biting his lip, Jake decides to go for it.
jake: i bet you’d leave marks all over them, huh?
jake: make them yours
Bradley’s typing almost instantaneously and Jake holds his breath.
bradley: oh sweetheart, if you ask, i’ll leave marks everywhere
Jake flushes deep at that, his hand moving over his dick in a controlled pace. He knows he could get himself off in an instant here, just from the ideas Bradley’s put in his head. He types out his response with one hand.
jake: consider this me asking.
Jake grips the base of his dick as the little dots appear and then disappear. It happens twice more before Jake gives in to his hungover self and taps the call button.
“Jake,” Bradley gasps when he answers and Jake knows, immediately, that Bradley has a hand on himself. Jake moans at that, at the idea of Bradley laid out like he is, stroking himself to the thought of making Jake’s chest up with hickeys.
“Baby,” Jake whines, his head tilting back as he spreads precome on his dick and spits in his hand for extra glide. He hears Bradley moan softly and then the sound of spitting. “Fuck, Bradley, I’m-”
“Yeah? Wanna sit in my lap and let me play with your tits?” Jake whines at the gruffness of Bradley’s voice, the way it dips down a whole octave as he speaks. “Fuck, your entire chest is so fucking hot.”
“Yeah?” Jake gasps, stroking himself faster. Bradley grunts.
“Yeah, baby. Fucking hairy and tan and perfect and - fuck,” Bradley gasps, moaning lowly. Jake tries to picture it in his head - Bradley laying on his bed, hand on his dick, eyes closed as he thinks about Jake.
“Bradley,” Jake whines, his brain thinking of the photo on his phone, the lines of Bradley’s chest and the swell of his muscles. “I’m gonna-”
“Yeah, Jake, come for me. Come on, baby, let me hear you come.”
Jake cries out as he comes, spilling all over his hand and hips. He hears Bradley moan on the other end of the phone, an obscene sound coming from him as he also comes. Jake breathes heavily, collecting some of the come onto his fingers. He puts them into his mouth and makes sure to make as much noise as possible as he licks them clean.
“Jake…” Bradley whispers, his voice cracking. “Are you - fuck, did you-”
“Could’ve been yours,” Jake replies, smirking as Bradley groans.
“Holy shit.”
Jake hums, the orgasm and hangover mixing to make his head feel fuzzy and heavy. He focuses on Bradley’s breathing, the noise on the other end of the line, and not on the little Javy in his mind that tries to keep him from doing stupid shit. He locks that little voice away for a moment, focusing on Bradley.
“Jake… I…” Bradley trails off and Jake hears that little bit of hesitation there, the insecurity. He swallows his own pride and clears his throat.
“You wanna come over? I haven’t eaten breakfast yet and I’d kill for a cheeseburger right now.”
He hears Bradley let out a breath. “No onions, right?”
Jake grins, heart swelling. “No onions.”
---
Bradley’s wearing those fucking gray sweatpants and a big sweatshirt when he walks through Jake’s door. He’s holding two McDonald’s bags and two sodas and Jake lets him place all of that down on the coffee table before pushing Bradley onto the couch and straddling his lap.
“You’d kill for a cheeseburger, huh?” Bradley teases, running his hands up Jake’s thighs to his waist, slipping his hands under the large t-shirt Jake’s wearing.
“I’ll eat it later,” Jake replies, pulling his shirt up and over his head. He smiles, eyes fluttering, as Bradley immediately gets his mouth on Jake’s skin. “Fuck yes.”
“I don’t know why,” Bradley licks along his sternum, “you sent that photo,” he nibbles on Jake’s collarbone, “nor do I really care,” sears a kiss against Jake’s pulse, “but fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jake shudders at his words, feeling his dick twitching. It’s been less than half an hour since he last came and he knows that if Bradley keeps talking to him like this, he’ll come again.
“Honestly,” Jake gasps as Bradley attaches his mouth to Jake’s left pec, his tongue lavishing the skin as his teeth nibble gently. “I like this outcome better than whatever the alternative was.”
Bradley hums but doesn’t let go of Jake’s skin. His hands run along Jake’s back, squeezing and caressing as he goes. Jake feels worshiped, feels adored in the most basic sense. His eyes flutter and he tangles his fingers in Bradley’s hair, holding him against his chest. His other hand rests against Bradley’s neck, thumb moving over the skin there gently.
Bradley lets go of his skin gently, his tongue moving over the area as Jake shudders through the sensations. He knows, if he looks down, he’ll see the beginning of a deep hickey on his chest.
“God, you’re so hot,” Bradley mumbles against his skin, hand sliding down to cup Jake’s ass and guide him in grinding down against Bradley. Jake can feel Bradley’s dick, hot and hard against his own, and he tilts his head down to look into Bradley’s eyes.
“Speak for yourself,” Jake whispers, leaning in to capture Bradley’s lips. They melt into each other, Bradley’s arms wrapping tight around Jake’s torso. He pulls him even closer, molding their bodies together, and Jake grinds his hips down into Bradley’s. They moan together, the vibrations amplified with their chests so close. Bradley laces his fingers into Jake’s hair and pulls him back a bit, creating a smidgen of space between them.
“Jake, I…” Bradley trails off as Jake bends down to kiss along his neck, sucking a hickey into his shoulder. “Fuck, Jake I…”
Jake sits up again and cups Bradley’s face in his. He taps his thumbs against Bradley’s cheeks. “I cannot have this conversation when my dick is this hard.” He pushes his hips down into Bradley’s to prove his point and Bradley lets his head fall back against the couch, moaning softly.
“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” Bradley says, sliding one of his hands up Jake’s spine to grip the back of his neck and the other wrapping around Jake’s waist. “After, while we eat our cheeseburgers.”
Jake nods and then Bradley’s sucking on his chest again, nibbling at his skin and licking along his muscles. Jake reaches between them to pull down Bradley’s sweats, moaning even louder when he realizes Bradley’s not wearing underwear. He can feel Bradley smirking against his skin, so he pulls Bradley’s dick free and spits into his hand.
“Fuck,” Bradley gasps as Jake grips his dick, stroking it gently. Bradley’s entire body shudders and he takes one of Jake’s nipples into his mouth, his tongue rolling it harshly. Jake’s hips move on their own, his dick pushing against the back of his own hand. He lets go of Bradley’s dick to pull his own out of his boxers and then he wraps his hand around both of them.
“Bradley,” Jake gasps, collecting the precome from their tips and spreading it down their lengths. Bradley just hums, mouth still sucking on Jake’s chest. “Fuck, please.”
He doesn’t really know what he’s begging for but Bradley seems to have an idea for him. He grips Jake’s ass, hand spanning the entirety of one cheek, and squeezes. Jake shudders as Bradley’s fingers dig in, close enough to his rim to make it move a bit with the squeeze. His hand moves and then Bradley’s pressing his fingers, through the fabric of Jake’s boxers, against Jake’s hole.
“Oh, fuck, Bradley,” Jake gasps, hips becoming erratic. “Please, baby.”
Bradley mumbles something that sounds a lot like “ anything for you sweetheart” and then he’s licking his own finger and shoving his hand down the back of Jake’s boxers, getting one slightly wet finger against Jake’s rim.
“Fuck!” Jake cries, body shaking as he comes again, all over his hand and Bradley’s chest. Bradley continues to suck on his chest, moving to a new spot and sucking hard enough to bruise again. Jake keeps moving his hips, keeps stroking Bradley’s dick, and soon he feels Bradley’s hips stutter and he’s coming as well.
They’re both panting and covered in sweat and come but neither of them move - Bradley’s face stays hidden in Jake’s chest and Jake rests his nose against the top of Bradley’s head. Jake couldn’t move if he wanted to anyway as Bradley’s arms are still tight around him, holding them together on the couch. But as the come starts to cool on his skin, Jake nudges Bradley gently.
“We have to clean up,” he whispers. Bradley bites his chest gently and Jake chuckles. “You can’t hide in there forever.”
“But it’s so lovely right here,” Bradley teases, tilting his head back to look up at Jake. They smile when their eyes meet and then Bradley’s pulling Jake down into a soft kiss. “Need me to carry you?”
“No, but I want you to.”
Bradley grins and pulls up his sweats, fixing Jake’s boxers as well. They look at each other for a moment, twin smiles on their faces, before Bradley scoots forward and stands up with ease. Jake locks his legs around Bradley’s waist and his arms around his shoulders and tucks his head down as Bradley walks them down the short hall to the bathroom.
Bradley sets Jake on the vanity with ease, though he doesn’t move far. He grabs a hand towel and wets it with water, handing it to Jake, who wipes himself off as Bradley pulls his sweater up and over his head. Jake grimaces at the specs of come on it but Bradley doesn’t seem too upset. He tosses it to the ground and that’s when Jake reaches out and touches Bradley’s chest with his fingertips.
“Jake,” Bradley whispers, his mouth against Jake’s forehead. It’s silent in the bathroom as Jake traces down Bradley’s chest to his waist, gripping his hip gently. Bradley makes a quiet, choked off noise. “Jake, I…”
Jake tilts his head up and catches Bradley in a kiss, cupping his jaw and keeping him close. Bradley holds his waist, his thumbs moving over Jake’s skin gently. He moves one hand up to press into the marks on Jake’s chest and Jake shudders, breaking the kiss to gasp softly.
“Yeah,” Jake whispers, applauding himself at his own incoherency. But Bradley seems to get it, because he strokes Jake’s chest and kisses the side of his mouth. They’re quiet for a moment and then Bradley takes a breath.
“So, who was the photo for?”
Jake laughs, looking up at Bradley. There’s mirth in his eyes, a little sparkle that Jake doesn’t see nearly enough. He shifts forward on the vanity, hooking his legs around Bradley’s thighs.
“A shitty ex of mine,” Jake explains, letting Bradley caress his chest some more. He rolls his eyes when Bradley cups his pecs, squeezing them. “He might have, maybe, cheated on me and I saw a photo of him with his new boyfriend yesterday.”
Bradley nods, his hands gripping Jake a little tighter. Jake nearly melts at that. “That explains the tequila.”
“That was Javy’s idea,” Jake says with a laugh, shaking his head. “He hates my ex, would kill him if I let him.”
Bradley chuckles, a little darkly. “Say the word, baby, I think a couple of us would volunteer.”
Jake shakes his head but he smiles nonetheless. “Anyway, I think I… I don’t know, wanted to show him what he was missing out on. He always had a thing for my chest.”
“Hate to agree with a cheater but…” Bradley trails off, caressing Jake’s chest hair gently. Jake’s eyes flutter and he shakes his head, smiling fondly.
“Well, anyway. He’s in my phone as ‘rotten bastard’ which is right next to ‘Rooster’, so my hand must’ve slipped and you got the photo instead.” Jake bats his eyelashes, leaning into Bradley slightly. “Which was the better option, apparently.”
Bradley laughs, nodding slowly. “You wanted to show him what he’s missing?” Jake nods and Bradley’s smile turns into a smirk. “I have an idea.”
---
Javy’s sitting on a beach chair when Jake and Bradley walk out of The Hard Deck and into the sand. Natasha looks up from her book and snorts, spotting their clasped hands before Javy does. He looks at her when he notices and they bump fists.
“Afternoon, fellas,” Natasha calls as Bradley sits down on a chair, pulling Jake into his lap. “What’s going on here?”
“Exactly what you think,” Jake replies before turning to Javy. “So, I have to tell you something.”
Javy sits up in his chair, eyes moving between Bradley and Jake. “What? What did you let him do?”
Bradley holds up his hands and Jake shakes his head. “It was actually his idea.”
“Babe,” Bradley gasps, wrapping his arms around Jake tight and squeezing him slightly. Jake laughs and Natasha and Javy share a look.
“Okay,” Javy says slowly, watching them. “What did Bradley make you do?”
“Didn’t make me do anything, first off,” Jake says, rolling his eyes haughtily. “Second off, he had a more brilliant idea of a photo to send to the rotten bastard.”
“Oh my God,” Javy groans as Natasha asks, “the rotten bastard?”
“The jackass who cheated on me,” Jake supplies, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He opens it and taps the screen a few times before turning the phone to show Javy. “We sent him this.”
Javy groans and takes the phone, caught between laughing and telling Jake off. In the end, he just looks up at Jake and sighs, handing him his phone back. Natasha holds her hand out and Jake hands it over, a smug look on his face as Bradley tucks his face into Jake’s neck and kisses his skin.
In the photo, Bradley is standing behind Jake at the vanity, his head tucked into Jake’s neck as it is as they sit on the beach chair in the sun. His arms are around Jake’s torso and his hands are gripping his chest, a little possessively if Jake’s honest. The phone is covering most of Jake’s face but it’s clear he’s grinning by the dimples in his cheeks. Bradley’s sweats are dangerously low on his hips and Jake’s boxers are nearly falling down.
Natasha sighs heavily and hands back the phone. “That’s one hell of a revenge photo.”
“Thank you,” Bradley says smugly. Jake pats the side of his head as Javy rolls his eyes.
“What did you text Trevor?”
Jake looks at Bradley and they share a smirk. Javy frowns.
“You know,” Jake says, patting Javy’s knee. “That’s personal.”
Javy chokes on air, waving his hand between them and sputtering slightly. Natasha laughs, going back to her book, and Bradley pats Jake’s thigh gently. He’d been the one to figure out the phrasing and type it out, hitting send for Jake as Jake watched him, leaning into Bradley’s chest. The perfect final ‘fuck you’ before Jake deleted and blocked the number.
‘here’s something to think about, next time you’re touching him.’
