Prompt Post #1

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Fill: "Home for Thanksgiving", Goose/Carole/Maverick, Explicit, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

This got a little long, so double-comment length update! Party time! (Part 3 posted as soon as I vaguely try to fix my spag, for which I vaguely apologise.) Also, has anyone else noticed that Mav is REALLY fun to pick on? I've noticed that.


Pete had just finished the sandwich when Carole bustled in with her arms full of groceries, and Nick almost ran her over taking them from her before she had a chance to even shut the door.

"I carry my own shopping all the time, darling," she protested, but let him have the bags. She was in jeans and one of Nick's varsity sweaters, which was so big it fell off her left shoulder, revealing the strap of her baby pink bra, details which Pete had made himself ignore when she'd gone out, but which were vitally important now. Carole glanced at him and said, "I can tell by the way Pete's gawping at me that you asked him."

"You bet I did," Nick told her, setting the bags on the counter, and starting to put away the contents, calling across the apartment like this was a normal, everyday conversation. "Took a while to talk him around, but I think I've got him onboard."

"I'm right here," Pete grumbled. He'd never imagined that Nick Bradshaw could make him blush, and certainly not twice in the space of an hour.

"Of course you are." Carole walked over and draped her arms around Pete's shoulders pressing her cheek against his. She smelled sweet and a little sharp, like oranges, but not, and Pete's heart immediately started hammering.

He glanced at Nick who was still putting away groceries, and had to have seen all this, but wasn't reacting to the way Carole was nuzzling Pete's ear. Pete tentatively reached up and put his hand over hers where it curled around his shoulder.

"That's right," she said, and kissed the back of it. "You've got such nice hands; I've got all kinds of places I want you to put them."

"Don't let her steamroll you, Pete," Nick said when Pete looked at him with wide eyes.

"Aw, he loves it," Carole said, but straightened and went over to the cupboards. "I don't keep the rice up there anymore, honey. It's too high for me to get down without the step."

The rice negotiation involved a lot more hands on each other than on the rice, but eventually they got everything stowed away, ending with Nick lightly slapping Carole's ass, and Carole standing on her toes and nipping his earlobe.

Throughout all this, Pete stayed frozen at the kitchen table, legs slightly apart to accommodate the hard on that would not go down, no matter how sternly he told it to fuck off. It'd been bad enough when both the Bradshaws had been firmly off limits, but now that he could be with one of them, his body was demanding sex, and it was demanding it now.

Nick headed for the door, picking up his coat on the way by.

"You heading out to see Bill Taylor?" Carole asked, still rearranging the groceries Nick had just put away. "Well, tell him I said hey."

"Roger, wilco," Nick said, and got in a, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kids," before the door shut behind him. It sounded like a compartment hatch coming down as the water rose.

Pete thought that Carole would be all over him as soon as Nick was gone, but instead she sat across the table from him, in the same place Nick had been before, and took his hands in hers. "You okay, Pete?" she asked, bending down a little to catch his eye.

"Of course," he said, and tried for the Pete Mitchell I'm-the-best-there-is cocky grin. From Carole's doubtful expression, he hadn't quite hit the mark. "This is not how I was expecting today to go," he admitted.

Carole squeezed his hands. "Good surprise, or bad surprise?"

Pete thought that was going to depend on how badly he fucked up the next hour, but said, "All good," and did better with the smile this time.

"Glad to hear it," Carole said, and giggled when he drew her hands up and kissed the backs of her knuckles. "You're such a sweetheart. Nick, he writes about you all the time, says you're all kinds of trouble, always have one of the officers after you for some darn thing or other, won't listen to the rules, think you know better than everyone."

Nick was at least half as bad, or he had been when they'd been in the pre-flight classes together. Pete wondered if Carole knew that. She probably did; Nick didn't seem like he kept much, if anything, from her. "I like to see for myself," he said. "A lot of times the stuff 'everyone knows' isn't true, if you're good enough to get past it."

"See, and that's how I knew I liked you," Carole said. "What's the fun in doing what everyone else is doing?"

"Yeah!" Pete said, and he didn't have to force a smile this time. "Yeah, exactly."

"So are you going to take me to bed, or what?" She drew her hands away, which was disappointing until she pulled her shirt off and tossed it over the back of the empty chair. The pink bra was mostly lace, and offered very little coverage; her left nipple peaked through one of the gaps, dark against her peaches and cream skin. "You're catching flies," Carole said, and Pete closed his mouth. "Oh come on, say something, a girl likes to hear a little something when she takes her shirt off."

"Wow?" Pete tried. His cock was pressing against the inside of his jeans so hard it hurt, and he couldn't think clearly through the haze of want. Carole looked like something out of a dirty movie, no, something out of a dream: gauzy and perfect and unreal, but somehow sitting across a wobbly kitchen table in a rat trap apartment. "I know Nick tells you how beautiful you are every other minute, but that's not enough times."

"That'll do," Carole said, and stood to start unbuttoning her jeans. "So do you want to just put me on the counter and do the deed here, or take me to bed, or what? I don't think that old couch is up to much."

"Bed, definitely," Pete said, getting up as well. His dick rubbed against his jeans, and it was all he could do not to touch himself. She was in her sock feet and panties already, and he hadn't taken a thing off. "But first..." He held out his hand, and she came around the table, and put her arms around his neck. She smelled just as sweet now, sweeter with a little edge of musk and perspiration making Pete's mouth water. He leaned in most of the way, and her lips met his.

She was a little taller than him, but without her heeled boots, it didn't make much difference. Pete leaned into the kiss, waiting until she parted her lips before deepening it. She liked going slow. She liked it when he slid his hands down her back and squeezed her ass. Carole was making all the little hums of approval and muffled moans that Pete had heard the night before, like this was every dirty thought he'd been trying not to have about her, come to life and running her hands through his hair.

Carole hooked a leg around his hips, dragging their bodies closer and rubbing her inner thigh against his jeans. Pete came with a desperate whine, jerking forward against her as he squeezed her ass to grind their bodies together. He was moving entirely out of hazy red need, and even the pleasure-pain of coming inside his jeans felt like the best thing that had ever happened to him. She kept kissing him as he rubbed against her and whimpered.

She was still kissing Pete when his brain switched back on again, and he realised what the fuck he'd just done. He pulled away, but didn't get very far because she still had three out of four limbs wrapped around him. It was far enough to try to see her face and figure out exactly how pissed off she was. "Oh, fuck. I mean shit. I mean... I am so sorry. I don't... that never happens." That last part wasn't entirely true, but it had been a while. It didn't usually happen.

"Oh, that. I don't mind." Carole leaned in and kissed the tip of Pete's nose. "You just got excited, that's all. I bet you've just been horny as heck this whole time you've been here."

"Yeah," Pete admitted. He was almost glad his face was flushed from sex, so that she couldn't see how completely humiliated he felt. He put his hands on her shoulders, which seemed like a better choice than her ass, and said, "I want you so much. I wanted to make it good for you. I'm usually good at this." Sex and flying were the two things he reliably didn't fuck up; the relationships surrounding them, however, didn't always work out as well.

"I'm sure you are, as many women as Nick says as you have," Carole assured him. She still hadn't let go, was still punctuating her words by laying kisses over his face. "In fact, I'm so sure, I'm going to just go wild and give you another chance to show me." When he didn't immediately answer, she pulled back and frowned at him. "If that's okay."

Not trusting his voice, Pete nodded.

"Okay," Carole said, and hopped down. "How about you go wash up, and I'll meet you in the bedroom?"

Pete cleared his throat, shoved down another apology, and said, "Okay," in a voice that mostly sounded like it came from a grown man.

Carole smiled at him, and took his left hand from her shoulder and kissed the palm. "Just so you know, this is how I was feeling about what you'd been doing so far." She put his hand between her legs, and pressed his fingers against her pussy. She was already so wet that she'd soaked through her panties, and standing with her legs apart made the scent of her arousal fill the tiny kitchen. She held his hand there for a moment, then pulled it back up to his mouth, and licked herself off his fingers, her teeth scraping past the pads of his fingertips, then sucking back down again. The resulting slurping sound blew the last functioning circuit in Pete's brain. "Don't take too long," Carole said, and stepped away.

"Okay," Pete said again, thinking of Nick's warning about not letting her steamroll him, and the cartoon of Wile E. Coyote squashed perfectly flat onto the pavement.

"Get it together, Mitchell!" he hissed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He stripped, turned the shower on cold, and quickly washed himself off, before realising the guest towel Carole had given him was still folded on the back of the couch.

He eyed the pink and green towels on the rack, bending to press his nose to them. The pink one smelled like that not-orange stuff Carole wore and maybe some kind of flower. The green one was damp from being used that morning and smelled like Nick's aftershave. Pete pulled up a handful of it so he could press his face into it and imagine, just for a moment, that he was in the shower with Nick, burying his face in his hair, against his belly, between his legs. Pete dropped the towel, and dried off with his own t-shirt.

"Why can't you ever have enough?" he whispered to his reflection. He had a stunning woman lying on her bed in the next room, wet and ready for him, and here he was thinking about her husband, who he could never have as anything other than a friend, who he shouldn't want as anything other than a friend. He wondered how long it would take Nick and Carole to figure out that the bottomless pit of need that drove Pete's ambition would eventually ruin everything around him.

"Okay. Here we go," he said, and took a breath, before going into the bedroom.

Re: Fill: "Home for Thanksgiving", Goose/Carole/Maverick, Explicit, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

This is so hot and good. And Pete's delicious pining for Nick right at the end tops this chapter off so well.

Continuing to read :)

~Angel