#jaker seresin top gun
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Touch and Go
Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader
Summary: You and Jake had been sleeping together for months, and as sure as you were of your feelings for him, you were unsure of his for you. He, however, certainly knew how he felt about you, and after you decide to go on a long trip without telling him, he lets you know just exactly what’s on his mind.
Notes/warnings: 18+ (No Minors!) public smut, fingering, angsty-ish stuff, fluffiness, love confessing and all that, self-doubt, insecurities, cursing-type language, best-bud Rooster (not really a warning but I love him). This was not supposed to be this long at all, but ya know, things happen and unexpected stuff (smut) weasels its way into your careful plans without permission, which I personally think is rude, but here we are.
Words: 4101
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The moment you realized you had fallen in love with Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you were disappointed in yourself for an entire three months. The relentless teasing and flirting had worn you down, and while he didn’t seem to know he succeeded in making you feel something for him, it made that fact no less true.
But you didn’t know if he felt something for you. Sure, he showed his hatred when other men approached you with some suggestive smirks on their lips, but you always figured that was more of a possessive tick so that he could keep his fuck-buddy his fuck-buddy, and no one else’s. You knew how unfair it was of him to expect you to stay by his side while he went around flirting with anything that had an ass and decent tits, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. If he wanted you, he had you, at any time, any place, and you felt like an idiot for it.
When you first met, his flirting irritated you to no end. Being friends Rooster and Phoenix quickly brought you into the little group of pilots, and it took all of thirty seconds for Jake to descend upon you with his winks, and grins, and appreciative stares that traveled up and down the form of your body.
Back then, his attitude and cockiness repulsed you. For weeks you did your best to stay away from him, but he always managed to find you, pulling out his charms in full force until the day came when you started to find them less annoying and more exciting. And after you started sleeping together, being around him was something you couldn’t stop yourself from craving. It wasn’t just his cock that made you surrender every time he asked if he could come over to your house, it was the way he was with you after. Once you were both sated, laying next to each other with heavy breaths in sync, he would roll over on the mattress, wrap his arm around your waist, and tug you closer until your back was to his chest. Then he’d kiss your exposed shoulder and nuzzle his nose against the line of your neck before passing out.
Those nights, often as they were, began to make you think he had some variation of feelings for you, but the mornings would come and he’d be gone. You’d banish all hopeful thoughts of mutual affection until the next day when the two of you found one another again and repeated the same little game.
“Ok, Y/N,” Rooster stressed your name as he tried to block every path you could take to get to the dresser in your bedroom. Every step you took he’d sidestep and create a muscled wall before you; over and over again until you threw your duffel bag on the ground with a loud groan. “Y/N, you really can’t leave right now.”
You plopped back on your bed, rubbing your hands up and down your face as the pilot stared at you. “Why the hell not?”
“Because he will lose his shit, and you know it,” Rooster said. “Why, Y/N! Why on God’s green earth would you want me to suffer like that?”
“You,” you snapped. “How would you be suffering?”
Rooster rose his muscled arms in disbelief before letting them fall back into place, slapping against the outside of his jean-clad thighs with a clap. “You’re kidding me, right? He’s annoying as shit when he gets like this. He’s going to be a total ass. He’ll be so agitated in the sky that he’ll be shooting all of us down left and right. We’ll be doing push-ups until the end of next week!”
Raising an eyebrow, your head tilted in consideration. “Maybe you guys should stop playing that game then.”
“You’re really missing the point here, Y/N.”
But you weren’t. You knew what Rooster was getting at, what everyone had been getting at for months. They all had some theory that whenever you went out of town, even if just for a night or two, Hangman became even more of an arrogant, selfish prick than he already was. You, however, knew that Jake, regardless of how easily he could snap his fingers and find a woman in his bed, just didn’t want the annoyance of having his go-to sex partner out of arms reach.
“Look, it’s not even just about today,” Rooster continued. “We have a mission in sixteen days—not exactly a simple one—and if you’re not here when—”
You held up your hand to stop him. “Don’t finish that sentence, Rooster. My presence does not affect his ability to do his job.”
“You’ve never been gone when we’ve had to go on a mission,” he said, and he looked at you like those words should have been enough to make you understand the severity of the situation, but you just shrugged.
“Rooster, one does not have to do with the other. For whatever reason, you’re seeing something that is not there. I—” you put a hand on your chest “—am not an emotional pillar for Jake Seresin.”
“I don’t know about that,” he mumbled. Leaning back against your dresser with arms crossed, Rooster’s lips pursed in dissatisfaction. “How long are you going to be gone again?”
“I don’t know,” you sighed. “A month.”
He straightened his form and dropped his arms. “A month?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re killing me,” Rooster whimpered, but when you didn’t respond, he said, “You’re going to say goodbye, right?”
You stood and snatched your duffel off the ground then gently shoved your friend to the side so you could grab some underwear to toss in the bag. “I said goodbye to everyone last night at the bar.”
“Not to him.”
You shrugged again, “Well, he wasn’t there. He was probably busy with some other woman I’m sure he picked up.”
“Other woman?” Rooster’s eyebrows pinched. “Y/N, Hangman doesn’t hav—”
“Rooster, I don’t want to talk about this right now,” you said with a soft smile before you inched up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “I have to catch a plane, and in order to catch that plane, I need to pack, and in order to pack—”
His lips thinned but then his head dropped and he said, “You need me to leave.”
“I do.” You nodded. “And I mean it in the most loving way possible.”
“If you loved me, cared about my well-being and that of the rest of the team, you wouldn’t go.”
You didn’t like the concern on his face. It created a swirling feeling in your gut. “I need a break,” you said, “from here. Just a little one, and then I’ll be back.”
The whole team had watched Hangman relentlessly attack a punching bag for the better half of the afternoon. The grunts he made in time with the smacks of fist against bag filled the room with an angry echo that cleared out every other pilot in the gym, with the exception of Phoenix and Rooster, who both observed the cocky blond with an eye of curiosity.
“What’s with him,” Phoenix asked as they watched Hangman attempt to release his aggression.
“Other than the usual?” Rooster snickered, but then his features straightened, and he said, “Y/N left this morning and didn’t tell him.”
“What?” The brunette faced him fast with a smack to his bicep that Rooster immediately rubbed at. “Why?”
Rooster knew exactly why; well, once he put the pieces together, he did. What he and the team eventually learned to see in Hangman, you had not. They knew that the moment he met you his womanizing days were over, but somehow, that was a change in him you couldn’t see for yourself. The irritating blond pilot was in love with you, and everyone within a ten-mile radius could vouch for that, but after Rooster’s chat with you that morning, he knew you had no idea. He knew there was something holding you back from seeing the truth.
Rooster sighed. “Because those two have very different perspectives of their relationship.”
Rooster expected a lot after their day of training ended. He expected the group to head to the Hard Deck for some drinks, which they did. He expected Payback and Phoenix to pick up where they left off in their little pool competition, which resumed the moment the table was in sight. He expected Hangman to be moping, features twisted in agitation as he drowned himself in one too many beers, which he was certainly on his way to accomplishing. What he didn’t expect was to see your face, but there you were, shuffling through the front door.
When you walked in the bar, he immediately took in the state of your posture, your shoulders rolled over a little more than usual. The hollows under your eyes where darker and your hair slightly mussed. You looked miserable, exhausted, and Rooster didn’t let another beat pass before he was setting his beer down and quickly making his way over to you.
You released a heavy breath at the sight of a friendly face and he wrapped you up in his arms.
“What’s up, kid,” he asked, his eyebrows drawn in concern when he pulled back to closer examine the dulled look in your Y/E/C eyes. “What are you doing here?”
With a hand on your lower back, he led you over to the bar, and when Penny looked at him, silently asking if you needed a drink, he nodded then sat in the stool next to yours.
“I thought you left like, ten hours ago.”
Your neck craned forward and you rubbed at your forehead, thanking Penny when she set a fresh beer in front of you. Taking a generous sip, you said, “Flight got canceled. I spent all day at the airport before I decided to give up.”
“I’m sorry.” Rooster ran a comforting hand up and down your back. “When you finish that,” he nudged his head towards your drink, “do you want to go somewhere else? I’ll take you wherever you want.”
Impressively, you downed the rest of the beer, slammed it down on the counter, and hopped up out of your seat. “I’m ready now.”
Rooster chuckled. “Alright, let me just go let the group know I’m leaving.”
Nodding, you stayed put as Rooster wove through body after body until he reached his team.
“Guys, I’m heading out.”
“Already,” Phoenix asked.
“Yea,” Rooster stretched the word, and he quickly scanned the area for the blond pilot, but without him in view, he looked back to the group. “Y/N’s here.”
Bob beamed at your name. “She didn’t go?”
The confirmation was on his lips, but Rooster couldn’t get the word out before Hangman appeared and said, “Who?”
The pilots all looked at one another with questioning glances, one not knowing more than another who should speak first. But then Phoenix rolled her eyes. ‘’We have to tell him,” she said.
Of all, Rooster wasn’t surprised Phoenix would feel such a way. She was the first to notice when Hangman’s suggestive stares gave way to ones of desperate longing. She was the one to nudge his shoulder with hers and tell him that he was bound to look like a creep if he kept watching you the way he was whenever you were in the same room. She was also the one to tell him to get his shit together if he had genuine feelings for you, which clearly, to everyone but you, he figured out how to do.
He was always by your side the moment you entered into his sights. Unless he was playing pool, his arm was glued to your waist. Every time he would sit down, his first move was to pull you onto his lap. And Phoenix felt a certain level of pride in knowing that she got the cockiest pilot at Top Gun to show his true feelings.
So, it was no shock that when no one made a move to contradict her, she turned her head to meet Hangman’s stare, and stated rather directly, “Y/N’s here.”
“What!” The surprise had him standing a little straighter. Rooster knew his own expression, once Hangman glanced at him, would all but prove the truth: that you were here, you were forty feet away, hidden by masses of bodies in the bar, and you had no intention of seeing him. “Where is she, Rooster?”
He groaned at Rooster’s hesitation, and without waiting for a response, started to move in the only direction you could have been, eyes shifting around the other bar patrons as he tried to spot you amongst the crowd.
Rooster put a hand on Hangman’s chest to stop him, receiving an intense scowl in return that easily could have burned through to the back of his skull. A piece of him felt the guilt of it, of keeping a man away from the woman he loved, especially knowing the circumstances of the misunderstandings between you. But to Rooster, you came first. If you weren’t going to mention seeing Hangman, then he wasn’t going to force the subject. “She’s tired right now.”
“Too damn bad,” he growled and shoved Rooster’s hand off him.
The group watched Hangman weave his way through the room until the top of his blond hair blended in with every other head in the bar.
Phoenix shot Rooster a glance when the latter hadn’t followed after their teammate. “I’m surprised you’re not going to intervene.”
He shook his head, and a moment later as he watched Hangman lead you out the door onto the beach, he said, “It’s probably time they sort this one out for themselves.”
The second the humid, salty air hit your face, Jake released your hand. You stopped in your tracks in the sand, but he kept walking, and he made it all of ten feet before he whipped around to face you, anger taking root in his stare.
“You just—” he began, but then he paused, ran a hand down his face, and turned towards the water again.
You took a tentative step forward. “Jake—”
“Don’t,” he snapped at the sea, but then he was once again twisting in his spot and meeting your eyes. “I mean, what the actual fuck, Y/N.” His tone was just short of soft, your name falling from his lips like a hopeless plea for understanding. “How could you just—for a damn month?”
You felt yourself flushing from chest to cheeks and your eyes couldn’t help but lower to the sand beneath your feet.
“No, none of that,” he said, then his hands were on either side of your face, tilting your head up. “Look at me. Y/N, look at me.”
Slowly, you dragged your eyes up to meet his. Were he not holding you, you would’ve shied under the intensity of his gaze. Something swirled within the green of his irises, an uncertainty that was asking for relief.
“Do you have any feelings for me at all,” he asked.
“W-What?” Your voice cracked around the word. The last question you ever imagined coming out of his mouth he asked with such a surety that it nearly shoved you back a step, and his eyes averted at the reaction you failed to conceal.
“Just—” he released you and scratched at the back of his neck, “If you don’t, I want you to tell me now, because—fuck, we’ve been sleeping together for something like two-thirds of a year, so I thought…”
He began to turn away, taking a handful of steps before he paused and left you with only the profile of his face, it more defined by the background of the near pitch-black beach behind him. His hands rested on his hips and he opened his mouth to speak, but instead a laugh came out in the form of a deep huff.
“You thought what, Jake,” you pressed, a piece of you strengthening in his silence. You needed to know. You needed it like you needed your next breath. “Jake,” you called a little louder.
“Forget it—I don’t know.”
“Then why did you bring me out here?”
He shook his head to himself and lightly groaned before staring at you. That look was back in his eyes, that uncertainty; a sudden lack of confidence so unexpected in a man like him. He’d never shown a vulnerability outside of the four walls of your bedroom, and even then, you weren’t sure you could call it that. Two months into sleeping together, he switched, became soft, gentle in a way that stunned you, but that air of cockiness never fully left him. Now it seemed…different, altered by his own will, as if he knew that you needed to see it in him. Then he said,
“I love you, Y/N.”
Your lips parted just barely.
“I’m in love with you.” He walked towards you in sure, stable strides. Not the way you would have had you just confessed the same. You wouldn’t make the short distance with your knees that wobbled so traitorously you could barely stand as it was.
His hand rose to cup your cheek, hovering by your face for a moment before it dropped back to his side.
“I can never tell what’s going on in that damn head of yours,” he said, “So I never said anything. But I thought you at least felt enough for me to let me know if you were planning to disappear for a month.”
“I—” you swallowed. “I don’t understand.” And you truly didn’t, no matter how much you wanted to. Your brain overworked to collect a million memories you were sure were buried in the crevices of your mind, ones of him that would now prove himself wrong; ones of him flirting with other women since you started sleeping together, or ones where he acted like he didn’t want to be with you, but you couldn’t find them; nothing was there but the nagging piece that convinced you he didn’t care for you no matter how lost in that dream you ever let yourself get. “You—You’re always gone when I wake up. You never stay.”
“You never ask me to” he said, weakness in his tone. “I sneak out every morning before you wake up. I worry you think I will have crossed a line because you never tell me you want me to stay with you.”
You waited for him to take it back, tell you it was a cruel joke, but it didn’t come. He just stood there, patiently.
“Oh,” came out in a breathy whisper, “God.”
And before you had another second to think, you put your hands at the back of his neck, pulled him down and kissed him. If it surprised him, you couldn’t tell. His arms were instantly around your waist, tugging your body flush against his as his lips moved with yours.
You couldn’t feel anything but him, and you wanted him…now, your better judgement neglecting the fact that a bar full of people, if they had the half-thought to look out the windows or door, would have a front row seat to everything. But you didn’t care. You wanted him on top of you, your bodies in the sand, cooled only by the night breezes carried by the sea. You wanted his skin touching yours, his lips marking you with possessive kisses, his fingers inside of you, stretching and preparing you for the moment he replaced them with his cock. You wanted him to fuck you until you were crying from the mix of pleasure and the fresh understanding that you had his love. And by the way his hands started to sneak their way under your tee, he wasn’t doing much better at holding back from wanting the same.
You stepped backwards, mouths still connected as you slowly led him out of the direct light from the bar and closer to the shadows that lined the edge of the building. One of his hands slipped into the front of your leggings, through the slickness of your folds before he shoved two fingers inside of you.
Your kiss broke as a gasp fell from your lips and you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck to keep from collapsing. You breathed unsteadily into the crook of his neck, and it was only when he felt your fingers start to weave through the ends of his hair that he began to pump his own in and out, in and out, curling to hit that spot inside you that made your legs quiver.
“There we go, sweetheart,” he whispered, then turned his head to nuzzle his nose against your cheek.
It never took much to get you to cum for him. Knowing he was the one making you feel so good made everything that much more intense. He knew your body, knew your moans and sighs and cries. He could play with you and make you sing for him. And right now, you were putty in his arms, but you wanted more than his fingers.
“Jake,” you whimpered, and by the way he hummed in response you knew he had a smirk on his handsome face. “Please.”
He paused his movements and leaned is head back to look at you, making sure he was correct in what he thought he heard in your plea. You looked at him, eyebrows the tiniest bit pinched, as you chewed on your bottom lip.
“Ok, sweetheart,” he said, and nodded before he let go of you to take a few steps back into the bar’s light to check for any activity. He waited a good minute, watching the windows carefully as bodies shifted around bodies and laughs mingled with laughs, then, looking back at you, he repeated, “Ok.”
He walked to you, his fingers undoing his belt and yanking down his zipper, then he whispered, “come here,” right before he lifted you off the ground so you could wrap your legs around his waist.
Your back hit the outer wall of the building and you reached down the middle of your bodies to find the small hole you’d worn into your leggings at the inner thigh. Never had you been so happy to wear cheap clothing in public.
Jake held you stable as you split the inner seam of your leggings with one sharp jerk, then he reached in his pants and pulled out his cock. He pumped himself once, twice, then nudged the edge of your underwear to the side with his tip before shoving himself fully inside you.
His hand over your mouth muffled the moan he knew was coming, but it was quickly replaced by his lips. He groaned into the kiss at the feel of your walls squeezing him, dragging his cock out and then back in at a torturous pace until you adjusted enough for him to move faster. His thrusts reached so deep your vision practically blurred with each one, and you felt those tears stinging in the corners of your eyes.
You mumbled his name a couple of times, cried it a few more when his hips would snap into yours. He would go back and forth from watching the expression he gave to your face and leaning his head forward to nibble and suck at your neck and shoulder. But you wanted him to open his eyes and keep them on you, so said his name again, this time with a gentle kiss to his lips. His thrusts slowed.
“Look at me,” you sighed sweetly, and he did. You wished you could drink in that look in his eyes. The way he stared at you—the green brighter, like being inside of you gave him a surge of life—could make you drunk. You loved it. You loved him. “I love you,” you said.
He let out a sharp breath, as if he had been holding it in out of uncertainty. His head fell forward and warm kisses lined your collarbone.
“When you get into my bed tonight, Jake Seresin,” you continued while those kisses slowly made their way up the column of your neck, “do not get out of it until I tell you otherwise.”
With a smile, his eyes met yours. He kissed your lips and pressed a long one to your forehead. Then, just loud enough for you to hear, he whispered against your skin, “Yes, Ma’am,” before his hips began to move again.
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