topgunkinkmeme | Prompt Post #1

Prompt Post #1

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The hospital’s quiet at this time of night. A cold moon’s light finds minute cracks in the curtains, painting new patterns on the walls around the room. Lying on her back, Natasha stares at an angular shape above her head; a sharp-edged right angle, the line of a window. If she squints, it almost resembles a crooked finger, pointing. She tilts her head and tries to see it as something different.

The fact that she’s gotten to this stage suggests she should have been asleep hours ago. Lacking entertainment, visitors, or even heavy duty painkillers, boredom has set in and stalled her attempts to lose consciousness. It’s going to be a problem in the morning. She’s pointed that one out to her brain several times; as far as she can tell, it hasn’t helped.

As rooms go, it’s far from welcoming. Antiseptic and overzealous air conditioning, the smell of sickness and the chill of winter. It’s not a coffin rack at sea, but Natasha’s been a hell of a lot more comfortable in her time.

Soft footsteps pass by her door; a night nurse patrolling. They fly solo, these nurses. No wingman in sight. Natasha’s certain she’d be able to sneak past if she wanted. Find a fire escape or stairwell, make a break for the roof. Sit under the sky she fell from not twelve hours past, and think for too long about how close she cut it. A phoenix may rise from the fire; this Phoenix is slightly more flammable.

She rolls onto her stomach. “Knock it off,” she mumbles, muffled, into her thin hospital pillow.

The footsteps are back. This nurse is quieter, almost a ghost on the linoleum outside; a stealth nurse, Natasha thinks, until the door to her room cracks slowly open and she finds her instincts are one step ahead of her.

“Bob?” she mouths at the figure in the doorway.

“Hi,” he whispers. Glancing over his shoulder, he slips into the room, moving with all the exaggeration of a guy who’s watched one too many spy movies and who hasn’t spent the last couple of hours learning the night nurses’ flight paths. Like Natasha, he’s stuck in paper hospital gown and pants. The metal frames of his glasses catch the weak light and glint.

Sighing, Natasha rolls onto her back, shuffling over in the tight single bed. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m alive and my spine hasn’t fractured. You?”

“Well, I walked here. So I’d say I’m probably the same. At least, that’s what the doctors told me.” Bob hovers by her bedside, hesitant despite the space she’s made for him. He’s like that, though; courteous. Never taking more than Natasha is prepared to offer. She thinks she’d have found that cloying in another guy, but Bob pulls it off with a dignity she appreciates. She pats the space on her mattress, such as it is.

“You can stay, but it’s going to be tight.”

“That’s fine. Just like being in a cockpit.” He eases onto the bed, kicking off his hospital slippers and stretching his feet out on the covers. The room is immediately warmer for having him in it. Natasha sits up, nudging Bob forward so she can stuff half her hospital pillow behind his back and lean against his shoulder.
Unasked, he puts an arm around her. She carries it like she does her helmet; like a weight that rests easy, because it makes her feel whole.

“The Admiral stopped by earlier,” Bob says. “Did he come see you too?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he did. He was asking questions about Maverick, the way he handled the situation.”

“Okay,” Bob says. “That’s good. Or, not good, but good to know it wasn’t just me. I get the feeling he was looking for some kind of leverage on Maverick; it was like he was trying to get me to tell him my trainer was incompetent. I don’t think he appreciated what he heard.”

Natasha leans her chin on Bob’s shoulder. She has to incline her head to do it; he’s got a hell of a lot of height on her. The moment he notices her stretching, he hunkers lower on the bed.

“The Admiral isn’t entirely wrong,” Natasha says. “Maverick’s not a good teacher. But he’s probably the best aviator I’ve ever flown with, and that’s who we need for the mission. We need someone who can push us until miracles start looking possible.”

“Do you think the mission’s possible?”

Being Bob, he asks the question without any indication of stress, or uncertainty. He says it like he’s asking about the weather forecast, the wind speed, the conditions for take-off. Natasha wonders if this is him gathering data, until she feels him rest his cheek against her temple. Not just data, then. He really wants to know, or he senses she wants to tell him. With Bob, one is as likely as the other.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “No one’s cleared the course the way Maverick wants. Coyote went into g-LOC from the climb, and we were ‘dead’ even before the bird strike. We didn’t hit the target. I didn’t need to tell the Admiral any of that; he knows.”

“He asked me about you as well.”

She stares down at the hospital blanket covering her knees. It makes sense, she thinks. Questions need to be asked; that’s appropriate. Losing a multimillion dollar piece of equipment is something that should always be investigated, and ejecting from a fighter carries so much risk. Crippling fractures, spinal injuries. Death. She and Bob could both have been killed; even worse if only one of them had been.

Tell it to his family at the funeral. Natasha clenches her hands on top of the covers.

Bob squeezes her shoulder. “I told Admiral Simpson the truth,” he says gently. “I’ve never flown with anyone more professional than you, Phoenix. We had engines on fire, a plane spinning out, and you handled it. You did everything you could.”

“Helps that I didn’t get you killed, huh.”

Bob shrugs, careful not to dislodge Natasha’s chin from his shoulder. “I know the risks, same as you. If it happens, it won’t be because of anything you do wrong. And I’ll have your back right up until the end.”

She has to laugh, though quietly, and with a glance in the direction of the closed door. Something tight within her chest is loosening, uncoiling like a poisonous snake, slipping out of sight and leaving her in shaky peace. She knows her handling of the situation was correct. An investigation won’t find her at fault, any more than a tree is at fault for the lightning that strikes it. She’s confident that no one could have done differently.

Knowing a thing isn’t the same as feeling it, though. Bob’s unwavering trust hits her somewhere her mind can’t reach. Natasha breathes out, and lets guilt go free with the air she exhales.

They sit in silence for a while. Out in the corridor, a night nurse passes on steady feet. The patterns of moonlight drift slowly across the walls and ceiling. Natasha leans some of her weight back on the pillow and most of her weight on Bob. He keeps an arm around her and says nothing. He’s warm, alive, and in the morning he’ll be back in the cockpit with her. There’s a rightness to that. A sense that they’re both exactly where they need to be.

Natasha tilts her head to look at him; waits for him to meet her eyes, and then holds them, smiling, letting him read her. She knows he’s gotten it when he glances at her mouth. It’s the signal she needs to kiss him.

She’d have predicted Bob would be gentle with that, and she’s right. He’s the one angling his neck to spare her from stretching; his mouth is warm, he keeps the kisses short, more sweetness than passion. It’s not setting her world on fire. But as soon as she thinks it, Natasha realises that fire is the last thing she needs right now.

Right now, she needs this.

Pulling apart isn’t awkward in the slightest; they check on each other, a visual once over. Pre-flight checks, Natasha thinks with amusement and a stir of desire in her stomach. All good to go.

But then Bob eases a little further away. He rubs her shoulder to show no hard feelings. He’s not pushing further, so Natasha retreats. Shy, she thinks. Needs a little more warmup than she does, or maybe the antiseptic hospital vibe just isn’t doing it for him. She settles her head back on his shoulder and gives them both a minute to catch their breath.

“Bob?” she asks eventually.

“Hm?”

“How come I’ve never seen you out at Lemoore? At any of the socials, or the bars?”

“I’m the invisible man,” Bob says, quietly cheerful. “And I don’t fit in too well with a lot of aviators, which is fine. I actually prefer being in the background. I saw you around a few times, by the way; your WSOs speak really highly of you.”

“Glad to hear it. And you know you don’t get to be wallpaper anymore, right? I’ll be looking you up. We have a good thing going, we could request for one of us to transfer. Keep the dream team together.”

Bob is quiet for a few seconds. Then, he gently removes his arm from around her shoulders, dislodging Natasha’s chin from his. He finds almost immediately that there’s nowhere to put himself, given the size of the bed and the two adults they’re trying to cram into it. Wriggling to try and put a few inches of space between them, he comes dangerously close to ejecting himself straight onto the hospital floor. Natasha barely manages to grab him by the back of his hospital gown, nearly tearing the thing off him. They avert disaster for the second time that day.

Between the muffled laughter and Bob’s quiet cursing, they get him settled on the bed. His arm ends up back around Natasha’s shoulders; there’s nowhere else it can go.

“Well, that didn’t work,” Bob says unnecessarily. “But the point I was trying to make before…all that, is, I’m not really acting like your WSO is supposed to right now. Unless you do this with all your friends. Which would be fine if so, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

He has a point; he usually does. Their disagreements have been non-existent so far, and that’s mostly down to Bob’s complete lack of ego. He’ll say a thing and mean it honestly. He’ll listen when Natasha talks, and he’ll do it with respect. He never needs to talk louder than her, or exist above her in the invisible pilot pecking order so many of the guys subject themselves to. He’s at her side or at her back, and there’s just no difference in the two. There’s so much charm to that kind of unconscious respect.

Silently, Natasha admits that he’s right. She’s letting the line between ground and sky grow blurry.

But this mission is different.

“If we were in the same squadron, there’d be boundaries,” Natasha says. “Day to day ops don’t mix with workplace relationships, and that’s a rule I’m careful about. I’m just not sure the normal rules apply here. There’s nothing normal about anything we’ve had to deal with so far. But if you feel differently, no hard feelings. We’re friends either way.”

“But you’re saying we could be more than friends.”

“For now, sure. And we’ll worry about the future when it gets here. You can only look so far ahead in the sky.”

“I mean,” Bob says. “I just want you to know- never mind, actually, that’s irrelevant. I’m in. You’re…something else, you know? I’ve been trying to work out how to describe it, and I can’t. I just know that I want to be with you.”

As speeches go, it’s clumsy. A little incoherent. And delivered with such a raw honesty, Natasha feels her insides twist. It’s been a while since anyone did that to her, she thinks. A while since she let them.

She’s the Phoenix. She can’t afford to fall. And yet, right now she feels like she’s soaring.

“Bob,” she says. “Come here.” Twisting her way out from under the hospital blankets she turns to straddle his lap. His hands find her hips. When she kisses him this time, she feels the beginnings of fire. This time, it’s welcome.

They fumble their way around hospital gowns, hands wandering, hindering each other; Bob works out pretty fast that Natasha has a couple of tickling spots on either side of her ribcage. He gives her hell for that, snickering against her mouth, right up until she yanks his gown off his head and presses her bare chest to his. In the air conditioned chill, her nipples are solid pebbles. Natasha rubs them purposefully against Bob’s soft skin.

But she feels a hesitancy from him; it reminds her a little of the fear when they first met, a man out of his depth drawing one last deep breath in expectation of a wave about to knock his feet out from under him. She feels how much he wants her- the hospital pants aren’t hiding much, and his cock is a nice shape to grind on. Physically, he’s here for it. But something still isn’t right.

“Am I being too pushy?” Natasha asks, pulling back a little. “I figure you’ll tell me, but something feels off here.”

Visibly flushed, Bob gives a short laugh. “You’re fine. I’ve just…never actually made it this far. You know, with someone else.”

It takes Natasha a moment to work out what he’s saying. When she gets there, she’s incredulous. “Robert Floyd, are you seriously telling me-”

“Phoenix,” Bob hisses, halfway to nervous giggles. Natasha herself is way ahead of him. “Keep it down, the nurses keep walking past.”

“Could you just answer the question?”

“Technically you didn’t ask- yes, fine. I’ve just never gotten around to it, and I kind of hate going to bars, so.”

“What about on base?”

Bob shrugs. His smile is self-deprecating, but he doesn’t avoid her eyes. He finds the situation as funny as she does. “There wasn’t anyone I liked enough to take the risk for.” He lowers his head, kissing the hollow of her throat, her collarbones, drawing a line up the side if her neck. Natasha tilts her head back and thinks, hell. Not what she signed up for in this tiny hospital bed, and probably not the first time Bob’s been picturing. But, god, he’s found the sensitive skin under her left ear, and her breathing’s getting shaky. She wants him pretty bad.

If Natasha’s honest with herself, and she always is, she’ll admit that this whole thing fires her up like nothing else. She likes being first at things; who doesn’t? And she thinks of Bob, who puts his life in her hands every time they fly, who almost died with her not one day past, and who came back to her in the night so she’d know he still trusted her. Like he could read her stress from a different room. Like they’re both talking on a radio channel no one else gets access to.

She wonders if he knows how much that means. If he has any idea how devastating his quiet charm can be.

“Hey,” Bob says. He kisses Natasha’s chin; she ducks her head to find his mouth, and he makes a game of avoiding her, until she gives his shoulder a light slap. Grinning, he kisses the tip of her nose instead. “Just so we’re clear- I really want this. With you. I mean, you even make this hospital sexy, and if that doesn’t say something then I don’t know what does.”

“Bob,” Natasha says firmly. “I’m about to get naked, and so are you. No more hospital jokes while you’re fucking me. Are we clear?”

“Copy that.”

Natasha means to take it easy on him, but that proves unnecessary. They all but tear each other out of their ridiculous hospital pants, manoeuvring in sync to avoid losing anyone off the side of the bed, intertwining legs once they’re stripped down and bared to the cold. Bob gets his mouth around one of her nipples; the hesitation doesn’t last beyond the moan she gives him. Unprompted, he slips a couple of fingers between her legs and finds her clit at first touch.

She takes him face to face, sitting in his lap, fogging his glasses with her breathing. It’s a slow start; for the longest while she just rocks in his lap, rubbing the tip of his cock between her legs, letting him feel how wet he’s gotten her. She tests how far his patience stretches.

Bob doesn’t push. He touches her, though; squeezes her ass, her hips, weighs her breasts in his hands and drops his mouth to kiss her nipples. It feels like he’s learning her, inch by inch. He finds her buttons and presses them all; he looks for new ways to combine them. He tickles her ribs for the hell of it and Natasha muffles laughter.

Out in the corridor, a night nurse passes again. The footsteps slow near Natasha’s room; she freezes in Bob’s lap, his cock trapped between her thighs, his mouth beneath her ear.

Fuck right off, she thinks. Please just let us have this.

Bob kisses her neck. “Hey,” he breathes.

Silent, Natasha raises her eyebrows.

“No pressure, but I think I might be dying here.” He looks at her, laughing silently, flushed red and twitching gently when she drags a couple of fingertips over the head of his cock.

“You’re not dying,” Natasha whispers. Out in the corridor, the nurse passes by. It’s just the two of them now. “Not while you’re with me. I’ll never let that happen.”

“I know.”

She finds his mouth in the darkness, and lowers herself onto his cock.

A/N this ended up with more feelings and less smut than intended, I strongly encourage others to fill it too if they're tempted!

OP here, and that was fantastic! I really love how you did their character voices, and the fragile new relationship between them. I really liked Phoenix's PoV, and how much consideration she has for all the different factors. The way she was reading his body language and figuring him out was super sexy, and I love how enthusiastic and earnest he was. Really lovely job, anon.

This is fabulous!! I love their dynamic here, and the exploration of their relationship and how much affection and respect they already have for one another. Absolutely loved She likes being first at things and how she takes charge, and he lets her. Loved it!

I'm so in love with your story, it's perfect <3

This is absolutely lovely. You write them beautifully, I am in awe.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Prompt Post #1

Fill: "First Post", Phoenix/Bob, E, loss of virginity, 1/2

Re: Fill: "First Post", Phoenix/Bob, E, loss of virginity, 2/2 COMPLETE

Re: Fill: "First Post", Phoenix/Bob, E, loss of virginity, 2/2 COMPLETE

Re: Fill: "First Post", Phoenix/Bob, E, loss of virginity, 2/2 COMPLETE

Re: Fill: "First Post", Phoenix/Bob, E, loss of virginity, 2/2 COMPLETE

Re: Fill: "First Post", Phoenix/Bob, E, loss of virginity, 2/2 COMPLETE