FIC: Radar Love (Top Gun, Ice/Slider, R)
He was a blunt instrument, mostly, Slider, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a sensitive instrument. And maybe it was less Slider’s radar than that takes one to know one shit, but he saw right through Kazansky’s ice-cold exterior not one week after they’d met. It had been the USS Hunter, both of them new transfers, and for that reason, they’d been assigned to bunk together. And old Tommy was a hell of an actor, that smooth operator shit, but Slider had gotten up in the middle of the night, and Ice, in the haze between sleep and dream, had looked at Slider in nothing but his boxers and his hands had tightened around his bedclothes. Slider hadn’t said anything, but when he came back from the head he’d come back to Ice’s bed, the sheets canopying over Slider’s shoulders as he pressed Ice to the mattress. Ice had been quiet that night, his face pushed into the pillows and his teeth drawing blood as they cut into his bottom lip, zipping up the moans.
It happened pretty regular after that. Slider hadn’t counted on longevity, but he legitimately liked Ice, and the kid was dynamite in the sack.
The quiet thing, though, that hadn’t lasted. And that might’ve been the real surprise about Tommy, was that the fucker could talk.
Ice was cool, and controlled . . . everywhere but in Slider’s bed. Or the backseat of his car, or the showers after a hop; wherever they happened to be when Slider took him. And that’s always how it went; for all Ice’s bravado, for all his height and linebacker shoulders, all six feet, hundred and eighty pounds of him was basic bottom. And from the moment Slider pushed into him, Ice was gone. The dirty things that fell out of that pretty mouth were sometimes sufficient to make Slider blush, and he’d spent most of his adult life among sailors. But it wasn’t all dirty talk. Sometimes Ice was sweet. The only time either of them had said “I love you,” Slider had been taking Ice on his back in the TOPGUN house. They’d been at it a long time, a slow position with Slider sitting up and Ice laying like he was sunbathing, his knees just slightly bent, his spine relaxed. Ice’s eyes had been closed and Slider had synched up his strokes with Ice’s breathing, and the words had just fallen out, like Ice couldn’t hold them in anymore. “I love you, I love you.” And if Slider regretted anything in this life, it was not telling Ice, “I love you, too.”