Happy Together 05

Austin, 2013: Let's share secrets (II)

Summary:

"I offer you something, Hangman."
The blonde raises an eyebrow, disdainful.
"I see that you want to fight, so I'm going to give you a choice: we have a few punches and then makeup sex, or I tell you something about myself as horrible as what I learned about you today, and we will be even."

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Fandom: Top Gun (Movies)

Relationships: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Pete "Maverick" Mitchell  

Characters: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Original Child Character(s), Original Characters

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, Age difference, Grammarly is My Wingman, DADT Repeal, Homophobia, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Bad Parents

INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/happy-together.html

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On the ride back, Jake stares persistently out the window as if his fascination with the Austin cityscape prevents him from speaking.

"Shall we stop to eat something?" Bradley proposes when they are five minutes from the hotel.

Jake turns to look at him with tight lips and distrustful eyes.

"I prefer to eat in the room," he says defiantly as if he expects Bradley to argue with him.

"Okay," he responds with a shrug.

Truthfully, he is also tired after a day of traveling and the effort to maintain his composure during the funeral. Jake slumps his shoulders and presses his forehead to his window, looking defeated.

What is bothering him?

The passive-aggressive attitude persists. When he asks him what he wants to eat, Jake answers, "Order whatever you want," before going into the bathroom for a long time. When he invites him to watch TV, he snorts, "Can't you stand the silence?" When the food arrives, he purses his lips and stares at the tray angrily. He can tell Jake wants to complain, but Bradley went out of his way to order his favorites, and they're in Texas: the food leaves nothing to be desired.

Jake spends the entire dinner frowning, shooting Bradley resentful glances. Near the end, he makes a downright pornographic noise as he bites into the tiramisu, and Bradley can't contain his laughter, happy to see him relax. His face goes from delight to rage in an instant.

"Don't think you know me just because you can order me dinner, Bradshaw," he spits.

Then, he understands that Jake is ashamed for being vulnerable. He wipes his mouth with the napkin and pushes the plate away.

"I offer you something, Hangman."

The blonde raises an eyebrow, disdainful.

"I see that you want to fight, so I'm going to give you a choice: we have a few punches and then makeup sex, or I tell you something about myself as horrible as what I learned about you today, and we will be even."

Jake stares at him, confused and intrigued. He opens and closes his hands and looks back and forth between Bradley and the bed. Bradley smiles to himself because this confirms that, as he imagined since they first fought at flight school in Corpus Christi, this alpha is as intelligent as he is attractive.

How stupid I am, he thinks, always letting beautiful, selfish guys steal my heart. He loves Jake for everything he has in common with Maverick - his willingness to point out wrongdoing bordering on insubordination, his flying style, his ability to make even the driest aviation presentations erotic - and also for the very different that he is - his conceit, his casual cruelty, his taste for high boots. Either way, neither of them will love him back. Pete because he will always see him as a child. Jake because he will always see him as a competitor.

"Okay, Bradshaw, tell me your horrible secret."

"First, you must promise."

"Promise?"

"We are both going to promise. I will never talk about this weekend with your family, not even with Coyote. You are going to promise not to say anything of what I am going to tell you, nor try to find out more details than the ones I will give you."

Jake narrows his eyes, his curiosity beginning to be tinged with concern.

"I'm officially intrigued." But Bradley stares at him until he exhales forcefully. "Okay, I promise. Tell me your big secret."

Bradley fixes his eyes on the ground and begins to speak in a calm voice.

"I was eight years old, and he was thirty. I thought he loved me, really. I thought I understood what was going on between us."

He ignores Jake's inarticulate noise and keeps talking. He has to get it off his chest. Who better than this betrayed alpha to understand the betrayal he suffered?

"While I was a child, he manipulated me into silence. I had learned about love in Disney films, so making myself believe that adults wouldn't understand wasn't tricky. It's always like this in fairy tales, right? The king who opposes the alpha princess loving an omega and a beta without royal blood, the beta covered in ashes with the pumpkin carriage, the two omega who weave nettle shirts for their five alpha brothers, and five beta brothers turned into swans. Our sentimental education is full of supposed lessons about the need to hide love. So I shut up and played his game. A gallant courtship, that's what I called it in my mind. When I turned eighteen... I still don't know how, but he used his power to take away what I loved most. I realized that everything had been a game for him and… I left home."

A noise makes him look up. Jake is standing with his hands gripping the table; behind him, the chair is lying on the floor. His face is reddish, his nostrils are flaring, his eyes are wide open, and his pupils have dilated so much that he can barely see the green in his eyes.

"Who was he?" he demands between teeth, angry.

"I can't." He tries to control the excitement that causes him to see Jake on the verge of frenzy. "I can't tell you, Jake."

Jake lets out an angry growl, pushes away from the table, and walks towards him. He drops to his knees in front of Bradley and takes his hands. He looks at him with fervor.

"It wasn't your fault, Bradley. You know that, right?"

"Of course, it was my fault. It was me who…"

"No! He was the adult. Just tell me his name, Bradley, you won't have to do anything, I'll take care of everything, okay? He won't  abuse anyone else."

"Abuse? Take care? What are you talking about?"

"The pedophile who abused you, of course. People like that don't deserve to be on Earth." He pauses. A new idea seems to worry him. "Do Neven and Wolfe know?"

"What? Of course not!"

He doesn't want to imagine what would happen if the clan found out he tried to court Maverick. The humiliation! That seems to calm Jake down a bit, but it doesn't cut his indignation.

"It doesn't matter. They are your uncles, and they did not protect you. Fuck it! Brad, Brad," he takes his face in his hands, "forgive me if I made you feel like... That you had to do something that you didn't... Oh! For Trinity's sake, all those times I jump out of bed. It's not... I didn't mean to... We can have all the cuddles you want. Yeah?"

"Jake, Jake! You haven't understood anything. What…?"

What has he done? Why isn't he even able to tell his story without creating even more problems?

"This is a misunderstanding, okay?"

"Brad, don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying! It's just that I've never told this story before and… I realize now how it sounds. I swear to you, I was not abused."

"You just told me that a guy over thirty made you believe..."

"No, it wasn't like that. I mean, yes, but the other way around. He manipulated me so we wouldn't have sex. When I was eight years old, I fell in love with a much, much older omega from my clan. When I proposed to him he... He didn't laugh at me, he didn't tell me it was inappropriate, just that I was too young."

"Oh," Jake says, perplexed. He leans back until he is sitting on the floor.

"Yeah. Well, I guess... There are days when I feel generous and think that he didn't want to break my heart and just thought it would pass. Other days, I feel bitter, and I'm sure he was flattered to have me pining away, willing to fulfill his smallest whims. The truth is that I don't know. I don't know why he acted like that. The fact is, that he didn't say "no" to me, and I spent ten years thinking that… that I just had to court him and we would be happy together."

"So, you're not gay?"

"Are you going to get into that now?" He snaps angrily. "I'm bisexual, okay? Yes, theoretically, I would be able to..." he struggles to find the right word, "maintain a traditional relationship with omega and..." he sighs. "I guess I could have something like a good friendship with a beta who would agree to have a platonic relationship with me. But you're right about something. I am broken inside. Trinity knows I tried. After all, I grew up in a military clan. I knew what was expected of me. But no omega after him has... Nothing, I don't feel anything, you see? All the people I like have narrow hips, vegetal-related scents, and flat chests. I like alphas, and I was born in a time and family that accepted me as I am. I'm not going to waste my life on a fake marriage."

Jake nods slowly.

"Okay. I didn't want to imply..." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "It doesn't matter! So that's your dreadful secret? That you've been in love with the same omega since you were eight?"

"You make it sound almost romantic," he reproaches.

"It is certainly not as sordid as I feared," and he can see the relief in his voice. "I was ready to..." He averts his eyes, obviously embarrassed of losing his composure for the second time that day.

Bradley gets out of the chair and sits on the floor next to him.

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with wanting to be the alpha in shining armor. Thank you for wanting to avenge my virtue."

Jake snorts.

"Your virtue?" He asks mockingly. "The ship of your virtue sailed long ago, Bradshaw. In fact, I was there when it went sailing and sank thanks to my…"

"Oh! Shut up," and throws him to the ground to kiss him.

Hangman's fun, relaxed laugh convinces him that they'll be okay.

They eventually move to bed. They spend the night slowly loving each other.

Bradley knows that Jake doesn't love him and never will, but he also knows he won't betray his trust. So this feels good. It feels like a breakthrough on his own path to healing. He won't have Pete, but he can have Jake's friendship. It will have to be enough. On Sunday, as promised, they visit the Neven-Wolfe family. His three youngest cousins are at home: twins Molly and Ella, fourteen, and little Benjamin, who arrived by surprise in 2002. Grant, the oldest, is in DC working for Navy Intelligence. Dinah is in Austin but has to work this weekend at the hospital where she does her internship.

"None of them are named after their parents?" Jake asks, confused when they are alone, washing dishes by hand.

He giggles.

"No. We're a relatively new clan, only three generations, you know? And basically, we have grown through adoptions. Grandpa Metcalf and grandpa Heatherly left their clans in the late 1970s and began adopting officers with no prior ties to the Navy." He doesn't mention that they were in a particularly advantageous position to do so by directing Top Gun; he knows that Jake would be offended if he started to state the obvious. "So they all come from different traditions, and agreeing on one or two names was almost impossible. They left that task to my generation."

"And has someone already been born within the clan?" Jake asks in a carefully casual tone.

Bradley glances at him and delays his response with the excuse of vigorously scrubbing a frying pan with leftover meat. He knows what Jake is really asking: if there is any Nick or Carole in one of his extended family's houses.

Tradition dictates that the names of dead members be passed to the next generation as quickly as possible. It is a custom that dates back to the animist past when it was believed that giving a baby the name of a dead relative tied its spirit to the clan and allowed it to continue helping. Although nearly nine centuries of Christianity have eroded the belief, name inheritance continues to be practiced. Jake himself is the third Jacob of the Seresin clan. Well, it was going to be. Most likely, one of his nephews now carries name and burden.

Another part of the tradition is that the direct descendants of the person whose name is given to a new member acquire a special responsibility. They become guardians or godparents of these babies. Their biological children will be considered siblings of these people, and any sexual relationship between them is considered incest. That last part is a social convention since having a clan name without being blood-related to the branch of the clan from which the name originated is perfectly possible. Everyone knows it's a convention, but very few people challenge the rule. The anthropological explanation is that clans always need to outspread, and the complicated kinship and incest rules of Western Europe are cultural strategies to justify the preference for exogamous marriages and - unfortunately - the kidnapping of omegas.

Damm! This is definitely going to screw everything up.

"I am the oldest of this generation," he finally admits.

Jake drops a pot into the sink in surprise, the clink of china against metal sounding like a cannon shot in his ears.

"Fuck! How clumsy I am! Ah! Look, it didn't break. I don't know what Henry would think if the first time I came to his house, I broke a plate. And they are pretty dishes, right? Was this china chosen by Henry or Leonard? Honestly, I can't imagine your Uncle Rick in that. I mean, he's a cool guy and all, but..."

Bradley stops listening to concentrate on holding back his tears. He won't cry, he won't.

As a child, when he thought Maverick would marry him, his stupid fantasy included fathering the Nick and Carole of the next generation of the clan. Now, he is an adult and has realistic expectations in line with the times in which he lives and his sexual orientation: there are no babies in his future. He already discussed this with his uncle Ice, clan leader, and his grandfather Jester, the oldest. They calmed his anxiety about possibly betraying the clan. Being a father should not be an obligation, they explained to him. Their clan is modern, not tied to land nor to ancient inheritance rules that demand an heir to the first alpha or similar nonsense. They are a military clan. As long as Bradley contributes to the advancement of the family within the DoD with honor, he will be doing his duty.

But he can't explain any of that to Jake. He can't reveal the clan's inner workings to his... Lover? Friend with benefits? Colleague? He doesn't even know what they are right now! So he'll have to accept whatever Jake decides to do with this information.

They finish washing the dishes in an awkward silence, which Jake tries to fill with empty comments about the quality of the dishes, cutlery, and general decor of the house. For the rest of the visit, he spends most of his time with his cousins. That, of course, wins him points with Leonard.

"He's good with children," comments the beta.

They are sitting on the back verandah of the house. In the yard, Jake plays football with Dinah, Molly, and Ben. Rick and Henry have gotten lost in one of the rooms of the house, taking advantage of the fact that there are a couple of extra adults to keep an eye on their restless offspring.

"Yes," Bradley admits reluctantly.

Bitterness escapes him, and his uncle gives him a condescending look.

"You're not going to tell me that you're jealous."

"No! Why would you think? It is just that…"

"Didn't you expect him to like children?"

"No. To be honest, no."

"Sometimes, it's good to make mistakes with people. It keeps you alert."

"Yes, of course."

"So?"

"So what?"

Leonard stares at him and smiles, sardonic.

"Oh really? Don't you have two children of your own of marriageable age?"

"I have the same responsibility with all the single adults in the clan, Bradley, don't play coy."

"It's not like I can get married."

"Well, the Supreme Court will issue its ruling on United States v. Windsor this fall, right? And anyway, a lot of states already recognize same-gender marriage, even if it's just two people," and it's evident in the tone of his voice that that last bit is a little too much for him.

Bradley huffs in frustration and covers his face with his hands. His uncle shakes his shoulder.

"We just want you to be happy, Brad."

"Yes, I know." He puts his hands on his knees and leans back in his chair. "I'm the one who always chooses wrong, that's all."

"Well, you misschoose great. The boy is very nice."

"That boy doesn't want anything serious, uncle. This is just… in your time they already had friends with benefits, right?"

Leonard gives him a calculating look, then looks back to the yard, where Molly and Ella have thrown Jake to the ground while his little brother runs with the ball.

"If you say so."

By the time they leave the uncle's house, Bradley thinks he has calmed down enough. In truth, he reasons what Jake thinks of his position within the clan doesn't matter. Because he didn't want anything serious before. It's even better. Now that Jake thinks he knows of his supposed obligations, he won't believe that Brad wants something long-term, and he won't be afraid of him creating drama. Jake hates drama. Believing that Brad can't offer him anything more than this informal arrangement is the best way to prevent him from wanting to cancel the arrangement.

On the ride back to the hotel, Jake is happy and talkative. He thought his cousins were great and the feeling seems mutual because they want to visit the Machado ranch. His uncles also receive praise. Overall, the visit was a success. Bradley is justly rewarded for having such excellent relatives with a spectacular blowjob.

By the Trinity, that mouth!

"I'm coming," he warns him between gasps.

The blonde just looks at him with lustful eyes and applies more pressure with his lips while moving his hand up and down. Bradley's world is reduced to those green eyes, green as... he bites his lips. He grunts as the orgasm rocks him, and on his tongue, there is not one name but two.

He's so, so fucked up.

The reading of the will is at ten in the morning, and the flight back to New York at one, so they go with their luggage to the McGinnis Lochridge offices. They are shown into a well-lit meeting room, where the three Seresin sisters and their spouses are already waiting.

"Jacob."

"Julius."

There are two seats prepared for them on one side of the conference table. That they are on the opposite side of the rest of the family is pure coincidence, of course. Bradley completely disconnects from the ritual. He just intertwines his fingers with Jake's under the table, puts on a bland face, and begins to mentally recite the F/A-18 technical manual. It's not until he feels his hand almost break from the sudden pressure that he starts to pay attention to what the lawyer - a sixty-something beta - is reading.

"…this annual allowance of one million dollars will continue until Jacob reaches the age of forty or has a legitimate child, whichever comes first. If Jacob does not have a child before the age of forty, the properties and assets of the Seresin conglomerate assigned to him in this will must be assessed in their fair value; that amount will be given to him in cash, and these assets will pass to the alpha children of Elizabeth, Catalina, and Isabel. If Jacob had a legitimate child before the age of forty, the allocation of one million dollars annually would pass to our grandchild, the child of our alpha. This assignment will remain in place until our grandchild,  born to our alpha son, turns eighteen, when they may decide to participate on the board of the Seresin conglomerate as holder of ten percent of its shares."

The lawyer pauses and raises his head, sweeping his audience with bored eyes. Bradley takes the opportunity to look, too. On the other side of the table, they still haven't recovered from their shock, but their astonishment doesn't stop them from looking at them with hatred. He sees that Jake has a hypocritical smile carved into his face and decides to imitate him.

The lawyer takes a drink of water and returns to reading.

"About…"

Everything goes back to gibberish after that.

When it's all over, the lawyer leaves at a pace too fast to be casual.

"Well, that was interesting," Jake says, clapping his hands and standing up. Bradley imitates him.

"No, you can't leave," Catalina tries to stop him.

He gives her an annoyed look.

"Our plane leaves at one, I'm afraid this has taken longer than I expected."

"But you have to sign the papers to renounce…"

"Renounce? Do you think I'm going to quit? Didn't you hear the will of our dear mommies, little sister? I am the alpha of the family, and just because I have a big dick, I get a quarter of the clan's shares. It's that easy."

"What you are is a shame. How do you have the courage to bring your little catamite to this family event?" Isabel demands. "Our mothers would never have approved."

"Well," Jake shrugs, "at least I'm not fucking my sister's alpha."

He takes advantage of the astonishment that follows his accusation to put his fists on the table and lean toward his sisters and brothers-in-law.

"This is what is going to happen: you are going to commission a new identity statement for the Seresin conglomerate, which commits to gender equality, sexual diversity, and the fight against all types of discrimination. Then, you will ask for a report about how much it will cost to implement salary equality between alphas, betas, and omegas in all our companies and subsidiaries. You will send me those documents in less than four months, and if I find them satisfactory, we will move on to implementation. After the Seresin conglomerate is in the 21st century, I will let you play with the reins I inherited."

"This is... it's an outrage!" Julius explodes. "You haven't done anything for this company. You can't come now and demand that we betray the values that..."

"Spare me the speech, brother-in-law. I have to take a plane. Bradley?"

And they leave.

They don't say anything until they're in the car on the way to the airport.

"By the Trinity," Bradley exhales. "Have I told you that you're very, very attractive when you get all bossy?"

"Yeah?" Jake doesn't take his eyes off the road, but he smiles.

"Yeah." he's so hard it hurts. "I could suck you right now, but I don't want us to crash."

"You know? The airport bathrooms have quite large stalls."

"And the plane?"

Jake turns his face for a moment to wink at him.

"Do you have any idea how many daily flights there are from Austin to New York? I'm sure we can reschedule."

"Okay."

Jake speeds down the I-35.

They arrive in New York at nine at night. They separate without saying goodbye. It shouldn't hurt, but it does.

INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/happy-together.html
 

Felices juntos 05

Austin, 2013: Vamos a compartir secretos (II)

Resumen:

-Te ofrezco algo, Hangman.
El rubio alza una ceja, desdeñoso.
-Ya veo que tienes ganas de pelea, así que te voy a dar a elegir: nos damos unos cuantos puñetazos y tenemos sexo de reconciliación, o te cuento algo de mi tan horrible como lo que he aprendido hoy de ti, y estaremos a mano.

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Fandom: Top Gun (Movies)

Relaciones: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Pete "Maverick" Mitchell / Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Personajes: Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Personajes originales, personajes infantiles originales

Etiquetas Adicionales: Mpreg implícito, Relaciones Alfa/Beta/Omega, Jake "Hangman Seresin tiene malos padres

ÍNDICE: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/felices-juntos.html

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Durante el viaje de vuelta, Jake mira con insistencia por la ventana, como si su fascinación con el paisaje urbano de Austin le impidiera hablar.

-¿Paramos a comer algo? -le propone Bradley cuando están a cinco minutos del hotel.

Jake se gira a verlo con los labios apretados y ojos desconfiados.

-Prefiero comer en la habitación.

Lo dice desafiante, como si esperase que Bradley le discuta la idea.

-Vale -responde con un encogimiento de hombros.

La verdad es que él también está cansado después de un día de viaje y el esfuerzo por mantener la compostura durante el funeral. Jake deja caer los hombros y pega la frente al cristal de su ventana, en actitud derrotada.

¿Qué es lo que le molesta?

La actitud pasivo-agresiva persiste. Cuando le pregunta qué quiere comer, responde “Pide lo que quieras” antes de meterse al baño por largo rato. Cuando lo invita a ver TV, bufa “¿No soportas el silencio?”. Al ver la comida, aprieta los labios y observa la bandeja con rabia. Se nota que desea quejarse, pero Bradley se esforzó en pedir sus favoritos y están en Texas, la factura no deja nada que desear.

Jake pasa toda la cena con el ceño fruncido, lanzándole miradas resentidas a cada rato. Casi al final, hace un ruido francamente pornográfico al morder el tiramisú de postre y Bradley no puede contener la risa, feliz de verlo relajarse. Su rostro pasa de la delicia a la rabia en un instante.

-No creas que me conoces solo porque puedes pedirme la cena, Bradshaw -escupe.

Entonces comprende: Jake está arrepentido de haberse mostrado vulnerable. Se limpia la boca con la servilleta y aparta el plato.

-Te ofrezco algo, Hangman.

El rubio alza una ceja, desdeñoso.

-Ya veo que tienes ganas de pelea, así que te voy a dar a elegir: nos damos unos cuantos puñetazos y tenemos sexo de reconciliación, o te cuento algo de mi tan horrible como lo que he aprendido hoy de ti, y estaremos a mano.

Jake le clava los ojos, confuso e intrigado. Abre y cierra las manos y mira alternativamente a Bradley y la cama. Bradley sonríe para sus adentros porque esto confirma que, como imaginaba desde la primera vez que se pelearon en la escuela de vuelo en Corpus Cristi, este alfa es tan inteligente como atractivo.

Qué estúpido soy, piensa, dejando siempre que tipos bellos y egoístas me roben el corazón. Ama a Jake por todo lo que tiene en común con Maverick -su voluntad por señalar lo mal hecho rayana en la insubordinación, su estilo de vuelo, su capacidad para hacer eróticas hasta las presentaciones sobre el más áridas sobre aviación- y también por lo muy diferente que es -su engreimiento, su crueldad casual, su gusto por las botas altas-. De todos modos, ninguno de los dos lo amará de vuelta. Pete porque siempre lo verá como a un niño. Jake porque siempre lo verá como un competidor.

-De acuerdo, Bradshaw, cuéntame tu horrible secreto.

-Antes debes prometer.

-¿Prometer?

-Los dos vamos a prometer. Yo no hablaré nunca de este fin de semana con tu familia, ni siquiera con Coyote. Tu vas a prometer no decir nada de lo que te voy a contar, ni intentar averiguar más detalles que los que te daré.

Jake entrecierra los ojos, su curiosidad empieza a teñirse de inquietud.

-Estoy oficialmente intrigado. -pero Bradley se le queda mirando hasta que exhala con fuerza- Vale, prometo. Cuéntame tu gran secreto.

Bradley fija los ojos en el suelo y empieza a hablar con voz calmada.

-Yo tenía ocho años, él tenía treinta. Creía que me amaba, de verdad. Creí que entendía lo que pasaba entre nosotros.

Ignora el ruido inarticulado de Jake y sigue adelante, tiene que sacárselo del pecho y ¿quién mejor que este alfa traicionado para entender la traición que él sufrió?

-Mientras era niño me manipuló para que guardara silencio. Yo había aprendido de amor en los filmes de Disney, así que hacerme creer que los mayores no entenderían no fue difícil. En los cuentos de hadas siempre es así, ¿verdad? El rey que se opone a que la princesa alfa ame a un omega y un beta sin sangre real, la beta cubierta de cenizas con su carroza de calabaza, las dos princesas omegas que tejen camisas de ortigas para sus cinco hermanos alfas y cinco hermanos betas convertidos en cisnes. Nuestra educación sentimental está llena de supuestas lecciones sobre la necesidad de ocultar el amor. Así que me callé y seguí su juego. Un cortejo galante, así lo llamaba en mi mente. Cuando cumplí dieciocho… Aún no sé cómo, pero usó su poder para quitarme lo que más amaba. Me di cuenta de que todo había sido un juego para él y… me fui de casa.

Un ruido lo hace levantar la mirada. Jake está de pie, con las manos apoyadas en la mesa, a sus espaldas la silla está tirada en el suelo. Tiene la cara rojiza, las fosas de la nariz le aletean, sus ojos están muy abiertos y las pupilas se han dilatado tanto que apenas se le puede ver el verde de los ojos.

-¿Quién fue? -exige entre dientes, iracundo.

-No puedo. -controla con esfuerzo la excitación que le provoca verlo al borde del frenesí- No puedo decirte, Jake.

Jake suelta un gruñido rabioso, se aparta de la mesa y camina hacia él. Se deja caer de rodillas frente a Bradley y le toma las manos. Lo mira con fervor.

-No fue tu culpa, Bradley. Lo sabes, ¿verdad?

-Claro que fue mi culpa. Fui yo quien…

-¡No! Él era el adulto. Solo dime su nombre, Bradley, no tendrás que hacer nada, yo me encargaré de todo, ¿sí? No abusará de nadie más.

-¿Abusar? ¿Encargarte? ¿De qué estás hablando?

-Del pedófilo que abusó de ti, por supuesto. Gente como esa no merece estar en la tierra. -se detiene, una nueva idea parece preocuparlo- ¿Neven y Wolfe lo saben?

-¿Qué? ¡Por supuesto que no! -No quiere imaginarse lo que pasaría si el clan se entera de que trató de cortejar a Maverick. ¡Qué vergüenza!

Eso parece tranquilizar un poco a Jake, pero no calma su indignación.

-No importa. Son tus tíos y no te protegieron. ¡A la mierda! Brad, Brad -le toma la cara entre las manos-, discúlpame si te hice sentir que… Que tenías que hacer algo con lo que no… ¡Oh! Por la Trinidad, todas esas veces que me levanté de la cama enseguida. No es… No quise… Podemos tener todos los abrazos que quieras. ¿Sí?

-Jake, ¡Jake! No has entendido nada. ¿Cómo…?

¿Qué ha hecho? ¿Por qué no es capaz ni de contar su historia sin crear más problemas aún?

-Esto es un malentendido, ¿sí?

-Brad, no me mientas.

-¡No te miento! Es solo que nunca había contado esta historia y… me doy cuenta ahora de cómo suena. Te lo juro, no fui abusado.

-Me acabas de decir que un tipo de más de treinta te hizo creer…

-No, no fue así. O sea, sí, pero al revés. Me manipuló para que no tuviéramos sexo. A los ocho años me enamoré de un omega de mi clan mucho, mucho mayor. Cuando le propuse matrimonio él… No se rio de mí, no me dijo que era inapropiado, solo que yo era muy joven.

-Oh -dice Jake, perplejo. Se echa hacia atrás, hasta quedar sentado en el suelo.

-Si. Bueno, supongo que… hay días en que me siento generoso y pienso que no quería romperme el corazón, que simplemente pensó que se me pasaría. Otros días me siento amargado y estoy seguro de que le halagaba tenerme suspirando, dispuesto a cumplir sus mínimos antojos. La verdad es que no lo sé. No se por qué actuó así. El caso es que no me dijo “no”, y yo me pasé diez años pensando que… que solo debía cortejarlo y seríamos felices juntos.

-Entonces, ¿no eres gay?

-¿Te vas a poner en eso ahora? -le espeta con rabia- Soy bisexual, ¿okay? Sí, teóricamente sería capaz de… -lucha por encontrar la palabra adecuada- mantener una relación tradicional con un omega y… -suspira- supongo que podría tener algo así como una buena amistad con un beta que aceptara tener una relación platónica conmigo. Pero en algo tienes razón, tengo algo roto dentro. La Trinidad sabe que lo intenté. Después de todo, crecí en un clan militar. Sabía lo que se esperaba de mí. Pero ningún omega después de él me ha… Nada, no siento nada, ¿entiendes? Todas las personas que me gustan tienen caderas estrechas, olores vegetales y pectorales planos. Me gustan los alfas y nací en un tiempo y una familia que me aceptan como soy. No voy a desperdiciar mi vida en un matrimonio de mentira.

Jake asiente lentamente.

-De acuerdo. No quería implicar… -se rasca la nuca, incómodo- ¡No importa! ¿Así que ese es tu horrible secreto? ¿Qué estás enamorado del mismo omega desde que tenías ocho?

-Lo haces sonar casi romántico -le reprocha.

-Ciertamente no es tan sórdido como temía. -y se nota el alivio en su voz- Estaba listo para… -aparta los ojos, obviamente avergonzado por perder la compostura por segunda vez en el día.

Bradley baja de la silla y se sienta en el suelo a su lado.

-¡Ey! No hay nada de malo en querer ser el alfa en brillante armadura. Gracias por querer vengar mi virtud.

Jake resopla.

-¿Tu virtud? -pregunta burlón- El barco de tu virtud zarpó hace tiempo, Bradshaw. De hecho, yo estaba ahí cuando salió a navegar y se hundió gracias a mis…

-¡Oh! Cállate -y lo tira al suelo para empezar a besarlo.

Es la risa divertida y relajada de Hangman lo que lo convence de que estarán bien.

Eventualmente se mueven a la cama. Pasan la noche amándose lentamente.

Bradley sabe que Jake no lo ama, que nunca lo amará, pero también que no traicionará su confianza. Así que esto se siente bien. Se siente como un avance en su propio camino a la sanación. No tendrá a Pete, pero puede tener la amistad de Jake, y eso tendrá que ser suficiente.  El domingo, como prometieron, visitan a la familia Neven-Wolfe. Sus tres primos más pequeños están en casa: las gemelas Molly y Ella, de catorce, y el pequeño Benjamín, llegado por sorpresa en 2002. Grant, el mayor, está en DC trabajando para la Inteligencia de la Marina. Dinah si está en Austin, pero tiene guardia este fin de semana en el hospital donde hace su pasantía.

-¿Ninguno lleva el nombre de sus padres? -pregunta extrañado Jake en un momento que están solos, lavando platos a mano.

Suelta una risita.

-No. Somos un clan relativamente nuevo, solo tres generaciones, ¿sabes? Y básicamente hemos crecido por adopciones. El abuelo Metcalf y el abuelo Heatherly dejaron sus propios clanes a fines de los setenta y empezaron a adoptar oficiales sin lazos previos con la Marina. -no menciona que estaban en una posición especialmente beneficiosa para ello al dirigir Top Gun, sabe que Jake se ofendería si se pone a decir obviedades- Así que todos vienen de tradiciones diferentes y convenir en uno o dos nombres era casi imposible. Le dejaron esa tarea a mi generación.

-¿Y ya nació alguien dentro del clan? -pregunta Jake con tono cuidadosamente casual.

Bradley lo mira de refilón, se demora en responder con la excusa de restregar con fuerza un sartén con restos de carne. Sabe lo que está preguntando Jake, en realidad: si hay algún Nick o alguna Carole en una de las casas de su familia extendida.

La tradición manda que los nombres de los miembros muertos pasen a la siguiente generación lo más rápidamente posible. Es una costumbre que se remonta al pasado animista, cuando se creía que darle a un bebé el nombre de un familiar muerto ataba su espíritu al clan y le permitía seguir ayudando. Aunque casi nueve siglos de cristianismo han erosionado la creencia, la herencia de nombres se sigue practicando. Jake mismo es el tercer Jacob del clan Seresin. Bueno, iba a ser. Lo más probable es que alguno de sus sobrinos lleve ahora el nombre y la carga.

Otra parte de la tradición es que los descendientes directos de la persona cuyo nombre se otorga a un nuevo integrante adquieren una responsabilidad especial. Se convierten en guardianes o padrinos de estos bebés. Sus hijos biológicos serán considerados hermanos de estas personas y cualquier relación sexual entre ellos se considera incesto. Esa última parte es una convención social, ya que es perfectamente posible tener un nombre de clan sin tener relación consanguínea con la rama del clan de donde se originó el nombre. Todo el mundo sabe que es convención, pero muy poca gente desafía la regla. La explicación antropológica es que los clanes siempre necesitan extenderse y las complicadas reglas de parentesco e incesto de Europa Occidental son estrategias culturales para justificar la preferencia por matrimonios exogámicos y -desgraciadamente- el secuestro de omegas.

¡Maldición! Esto definitivamente lo va a joder todo.

-Yo soy el mayor de esta generación -admite al fin.

Jake deja caer un pote al fregadero de la sorpresa, el tintineo de loza contra el metal suena como un cañonazo en sus oídos.

-¡Joder! ¡Qué torpe soy! ¡Ah! Mira, no se rompió. No se qué pensaría Henry si la primera vez que vengo a su casa le rompo un plato. Y son platos lindos, ¿verdad? ¿Esta loza la eligió Henry o Leonard? La verdad, no me imagino a tu tío Rick en eso. O sea, es un tipo chévere y todo, pero…

Bradley deja de oírlo para concentrarse en contener las lágrimas. No va a llorar, no lo hará.

De niño, cuando creía que Maverick se casaría con él, su estúpida fantasía incluía engendrar a los Nick y Carole de la siguiente generación del clan. Ahora es un adulto y tiene expectativas realistas, a tono con la época en la que vive y su orientación sexual: no hay bebés en su futuro. Ya tuvo esta conversación con su tío Ice, líder de clan, y su abuelo Jester, el más anciano. Ellos calmaron su ansiedad sobre la posibilidad de estar traicionando al clan. Ser padre no debe ser una obligación, le explicaron. Su clan es moderno, no está atado a una tierra, ni a antiguas reglas de herencia que demanden un heredero del primer alfa, o pendejadas semejantes. Son un clan militar, mientras Bradley contribuya al avance de la familia dentro del DoD con honor, estará cumpliendo con su deber.

Pero no puede explicarle nada de eso a Jake. No puede revelarle el funcionamiento interno del clan a su ¿amante?, ¿amigo con beneficios?, ¿colega? ¡Ni siquiera sabe qué son ahora mismo! Así que tendrá que aceptar lo que sea que Jake decida hacer con esta información.

Terminan de lavar los platos en un silencio incómodo, que Jake trata de llenar con comentarios vacíos sobre la calidad de los platos, los cubiertos y la decoración general de la casa. Durante el resto de la visita, le dedica la mayor parte del tiempo a primos. Eso, por supuesto, le gana puntos con Leonard.

-Es bueno con los niños -comenta el beta.

Están sentados en la veranda trasera de la casa. En el patio, Jake juega fútbol con Dinah, Molly y Ben. Rick y Henry se han perdido en alguna de las habitaciones de la casa, aprovechando que hay un par de adultos extras para vigilar a su inquieta prole.

-Si -admite Bradley renuente.

La amargura se le escapa, y su tío le da una mirada condescendiente.

-No me vas a decir que estás celoso.

-No. ¿Cómo se te ocurre? Es solo que…

-¿No esperabas que le gustaran los niños?

-No. La verdad, no.

-A veces es bueno equivocarse con las personas. Te mantiene alerta.

-Si, claro.

-¿Entonces?

-¿Entonces qué?

Leonard le clava los ojos y sonríe, sardónico.

-¿En serio? ¿No tienes dos hijos propios en edad casadera?

-Tengo la misma responsabilidad con todos los adultos solteros del clan, Bradley, no te hagas.

-No es como si me pudiera casar.

-Bueno, el Tribunal Supremo emitirá su fallo sobre Estados Unidos versus Windsor este otoño, ¿no? Y, de todos modos, un montón de estados ya reconocen el matrimonio entre personas del mismo género, incluso si son solo dos personas -y es evidente en el tono de su voz que eso último ya es un poco demasiado para él.  

Bradley bufa, frustrado, y se cubre la cara con las manos. Su tío le estrecha un hombro.

-Solo queremos que seas feliz, Brad. 

-Si, lo sé. -separa las manos y se echa hacia atrás en su butaca- Soy yo quien elige mal siempre, eso es todo.

-Pues mal elegiste de un modo excelente. Ese muchacho es muy simpático.

-Ese muchacho no quiere nada duradero, tío. Esto es solo… en tu época ya tenían lo de amigos con beneficios, ¿no?

Leonard le da una mirada calculadora, luego mira de nuevo al patio, donde Molly y Ella han lanzado a Jake al suelo mientras su hermano menor corre con la pelota.

-Si tu lo dices.

Para cuando dejan la casa de los tíos, Bradley cree haberse calmado lo suficiente. En realidad, razona, lo que Jake piense de su posición dentro del clan no importa. Porque no quería nada serio antes. Incluso es mejor. Ahora que Jake cree conocer sus supuestas obligaciones, no pensará que Brad quiere algo a largo plazo y no temerá que él cree drama. Jake odia el drama. Que crea que Brad no puede ofrecerle nada más que este arreglo informal es la mejor forma de prevenir que quiera cortar su arreglo.

En el viaje de regreso al hotel, Jake está feliz y conversador. Sus primos le parecieron geniales y parece que el sentimiento es mutuo, porque quieren visitar el rancho de los Machado. Sus tíos también reciben elogios. En general, la visita fue un éxito. Bradley es justamente recompensado por tener tan excelentes parientes con una mamada espectacular.

Por la Trinidad, ¡esa boca!

-Me corro -le advierte entre jadeos. 

El rubio solo lo mira con ojos lujuriosos y aplica más presión con los labios mientras mueve arriba y abajo la mano. El mundo de Bradley se reduce a esos ojos verdes, verdes como… se muerde los labios. Gruñe mientras el orgasmo lo sacude, y en su lengua no hay un nombre, sino dos. Está tan, pero tan jodido.

La lectura del testamento es a las diez de la mañana, y el vuelo de regreso a New York a la una, así que se van con el equipaje a las oficinas de McGinnis Lochridge. Les hacen pasar a un salón de reuniones bien iluminado, donde ya esperan las tres hermanas Seresin y sus cónyuges.

-Jacob.

-Julius.

Hay dos asientos preparados para ellos en un lado de la mesa de conferencias. Que estén en el lado opuesto del resto de la familia es pura casualidad, por supuesto. Bradley se desconecta totalmente del ritual. Solo entrelaza sus dedos con los de Jake por debajo de la mesa, pone cara de respeto y empieza a recitar mentalmente el manual técnico del F/A-18. No es hasta que siente que su mano casi rompe por la presión repentina que presta atención a lo que el abogado -un beta sesentón- está leyendo.

-… esta asignación anual de un millón de dólares se mantendrá hasta que Jacob cumpla los cuarenta años o tenga un hijo legítimo, lo que ocurra antes. Si Jacob no tuviera un hijo antes de los cuarenta años, las propiedades y valores del conglomerado Seresin que se le asignan en este testamento deberán ser tazadas en su justo valor, se le entregará esa cantidad en efectivo y estos recursos pasarán a los hijos alfas de Elizabeth, Catalina e Isabel. Si Jacob tuviera un hijo legítimo antes de los cuarenta años, la asignación de un millón de dólares anuales pasaría a nuestro nieto hijo de nuestro alfa. Esta asignación se mantendrá hasta que nuestro nieto nacido de nuestro hijo alfa cumpla dieciocho años, cuando podrá decidir participar en la junta del conglomerado Seresin como poseedor del diez por ciento de sus acciones.

El abogado hace una pausa y levanta la cabeza, barre con ojos aburridos a su audiencia. Bradley aprovecha para mirar él también. Al otro lado de la mesa aún no se recuperan del pasmo, pero el asombro no les impide mirarlos con odio. Ve de refilón que Jake tiene una sonrisa hipócrita tallada en el rostro y decide imitarlo.

El abogado toma un trago de agua y regresa a la lectura.

-Respecto a…

Todo vuelve a ser un galimatías después de eso.

Cuando todo termina, el abogado se va a un paso demasiado rápido para ser casual.

-Bueno, eso fue interesante -dice Jake, de una palmada y se levanta, Bradley lo imita.

-No, no puedes irte -intenta atajarlo Catalina.

Él le da una mirada fastidiada.

-Nuestro avión sale a la una, temo que esto ha tardado más de lo que esperaba.

-Pero tienes que firmar los papeles para renunciar a…

-¿Renunciar? ¿Crees que voy a renunciar? ¿No oíste la voluntad de nuestras queridas mamis, hermanita? Soy el alfa de la familia, y solo por tenerlo grande me toca un cuarto de las acciones del clan. Es así de simple.

-Tu lo que eres es una vergüenza. ¿Cómo tienes el valor de traer a tu catamito a este evento familiar? -le reclama Isabel- Las mamás nunca lo habrían aprobado.

-Bueno -se encoge de hombros Jake-, al menos yo no me estoy tirando al alfa de mi hermana. -aprovecha el asombro que sigue a su acusación para poner los puños en la mesa e inclinarse hacia sus hermanas y cuñados- Esto es lo que va a pasar: ustedes van a encargar una nueva declaración identitaria para el conglomerado Seresin, que se comprometa con la igualdad de género, la diversidad sexual y la lucha contra la todo tipo de discriminaciones. Después harán un estimado de cuánto costará implementar la equiparación de salarios entre alfas, betas y omegas en todas nuestras empresas y subsidiarias. Me mandarán esos documentos en menos de cuatro meses y, si los encuentro satisfactorios, pasaremos a su implementación. Después de que el conglomerado Seresin esté en el siglo XXI, les dejaré jugar con las riendas.

-Esto es… ¡es un ultraje! -estalla Julius- Tu no has hecho nada por esta empresa. No puedes venir ahora a exigirnos que traicionemos los valores que…

-Ahórrame el discurso, cuñado. Tengo que tomar un avión. ¿Bradley?

Y se van.

No dicen nada hasta que están dentro del auto, en camino al aeropuerto.

-Por la Trinidad -exhala Bradley- ¿Te he dicho que eres muy atractivo cuando te pones todo autoritario?

-¿Si? -Jake no despega los ojos de la ruta, pero sonríe.

-Si. -está tan duro que le duele- Podría chupártela ahora mismo, pero no quiero que choquemos.

-¿Sabes? Los baños del aeropuerto tienen unos cubículos bastante amplios.

-¿Y el avión?

Jake gira la cara un momento para guiñarle el ojo.

-¿Tienes idea de cuántos vuelos diarios hay de Austin a New York? Seguro que podemos reprogramar.

-Vale.

Jake acelera por la I-35.

Llegan a New York a las nueve de la noche. Se separan sin despedirse. No debería doler, pero duele.

ÍNDICE: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/felices-juntos.html
 

Happy Together 04

Austin, 2013: Let's share secrets (I)

Summary:

"I need your help," Jake finally announces.
Bradley looks at him surprised. He and Jake aren't…
"You ask your friends for help, Hangman. Machado is your friend."
"I can't," the blonde admits in a frustrated voice and sips his lemonade.
That definitely gets his attention.
"Because?"
"I need you to be sober to tell you," and he pushes the lemonade in his direction.

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Fandom: Top Gun (Movies)

Relationships: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Pete "Maverick" Mitchell  

Characters: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Original Child Character(s), Original Characters

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, Age difference, Grammarly is My Wingman, DADT Repeal, Homophobia, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Bad Parents

INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/happy-together.html

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Jake sits in his booth without asking permission, two glasses of lemonade in his hands. Bradley thinks he should be amazed but remembers that this is Seresin. There's something in him. He has an uncanny ability to locate Bradley anywhere (Natasha finds it hilarious). Maybe he doesn't say hello because things have been pretty weird since the weekend they spent in Tokyo last spring. Bradley doesn't know how to handle this thing he feels; he just knows he shouldn't feel it.

"I need your help," Jake finally announces.

Bradley looks at him surprised. He and Jake aren't…

"You ask your friends for help, Hangman. Machado is your friend."

Now it's Jake who has a surprised expression, and despite himself, he feels his chest swell with pride. He hasn't completely lost control, okay. With any luck, Jake will leave and not come back until he wants to fuck. That's the only thing that connects them.

"I can't," the blonde admits in a frustrated voice and sips his lemonade.

That definitely gets his attention.

"Because?"

Jake stares at him, clearly annoyed by his resistance. Bradley doesn't know whether to be happy for not making things easy for Hangman or uneasy about the show of trust that implies being Coyote's replacement.

"I need you to be sober to tell you," and he pushes the lemonade in his direction.

Bradley looks suspiciously at the glass and instinctively squeezes his whiskey. He had carefully planned this leave week in New York: eat, get drunk, go to the hotel, dream about Maverick, cry, and repeat on a loop until it was thirty-six hours before returning to the ship. Jake can't just barge into his life and demand... But he can't turn to Coyote... Screw it!

The lemon juice is poured down in one go, in deliberately long gulps. The light and wonderful mental haze that alcohol provided disappears. Fuck the power of citrus! He leaves the empty glass on the table, burps, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"So?"

"My mothers have died. Yes, all three at the same time. In a hunting accident. Don't bother giving me your condolences," he warns him with his hand raised. "They stopped talking to me when they discovered I had applied to the Naval Academy behind their backs. I haven't been home for ten years. But now it turns out the family needs me because the sea will dry up before the Seresin clan gives a less-than-perfect image at a public event," he lets out a bitter laugh, "and the funeral counts as a public event. One which none of their children can miss. I can't go alone," he admits bitterly. "I know I'll lose my temper if I go alone. I can't tell Javier because his wives would go, and I don't want to..." he sighs. "María Celeste and María José work for a subsidiary of the Seresin conglomerate. I can't take the risk of putting them on my family's radar. So there's only you left. I know what we have is casual, and family drama is not part of the contract, but they can't hurt you, and I trust that you won't hurt me. So please come with me to Austin for the funeral and the reading of the will."

Bradley doesn't say anything because he's not sober enough yet. He reaches for Jake's lemonade, and he gently pushes the glass in his direction. He is more confident in his response after the second dose of citric acid.

"Friend or boyfriend?"

"Huh?" Jake blinks, confused.

"Do they know you're gay? Am I going as a friend or as a boyfriend?"

As far as Bradley is concerned, if Jake is afraid to put the Machados on his family's radar, they're a bunch of bastards, and he'll be happy to give them a hard time. From the way Jake's face goes from resignation to malicious interest, the possibility of fulfilling his duty to the clan and screwing them over at the same time hadn't occurred to him.

"I suppose," he answers slowly, "that nothing is more appropriate for a Seresin in the Navy than get himself a nepobaby."

Bradley smiles, proud. He often feels his last name is a burden. He never expected that he could instrumentalize it to make Jake happy. Seeing him smile with that Machiavellian glint in his eyes feels good. Damn, this is the kind of thing he vowed to avoid. It'sn't enough with Mav? Now he's going to let this alpha break his heart, too? Too late.

"What time are we leaving?"

"I have tickets for tomorrow, Saturday, at eight hundred hours, at JFK. The funeral will be at 1600, and the reading of the will be on Monday at ten hundred," Jake pauses and looks him up and down. Whatever he sees satisfies him enough that he doesn't blurt out any of his usual hurtful comments. "I'll text you the flight details."

And he leaves.

There is nothing unusual in his attitude. Neither of them is a fan of unnecessary words. It shouldn't hurt. Bradley shakes his head, looks sadly into his half-finished whiskey, and pulls out his phone.

They answer on the third ring.

"Uncle, listen..."

They barely talk during the flight. Jake, ever prepared, booked a car at the Austin airport.

"A Mercedes?" Bradley can't help but look at the shiny car with discomfort.

"This is a theater, love," Jake answers as he puts his bag in the back seat and gets behind the wheel.

Bradley nods.

They have been together for almost six hours between security, flight, landing, driving to the city, and checking into the hotel. They have never spent so much time together without having sex. The tension accumulated during the trip explodes as soon as they close the bedroom door.

Bradley drops his backpack and pushes Jake against the wall to kiss him hard. The other grunts with satisfaction and begins to pull at his shirt to grab his nipples. Bradley pulls back a little to look at him. Jake's pupils are dilated with desire, his cheeks are flushed, and his aroma... He could choke on that smell of fresh grass!

"Are you going to stare at me, Rooster , or are we going to fuck?"

"Fuck, fuck."

They finish taking off their pants with feverish hands and stumble to the sofa in the suite. Bradley sits, and Jake climbs on top of him. They keep kissing. Bradley leaves the blonde's lips to nibble his neck and his ears.

"Don't leave marks on me," Jake gasps with some practical sense. "We have... The funeral... It's not appropriate..."

"Fuck it!" he spanks him. "You're mine! I want every omega in Texas to know why they don't have a chance with the Seresin heir."

Jake pulls away to look him in the eyes, surprised. Of course, things are often said in the heat of passion, but Bradley never let his possessiveness come to the surface before. He will definitely have to cut things off after this. Or not? Because Jake is smiling, playful.

"Really? You want them to know that I'm your bitch?" and he moves his hips, making their erections rub.

"You're no one's bitch." as long as Jake thinks this is just a game, he can safely be honest. "My family has a list of obedient bitches, if I want. The point is, you're a wolf, like me."

He grabs him by the back of the neck with one hand to kiss him again, and with the other, he grabs both of his cocks and starts masturbating them. He feels Jake's hands tremble on his shoulders. The air is filled with the aroma of sexual pheromones. The mix of smells is almost perfect. The only thing missing is... Bradley comes with a rattle. Jake lets out an unusually high-pitched moan, and the orgasm shakes him.

They stand very still, foreheads pressed together, breathing ragged, sticky semen running between Rooster's fingers and the skin of their bellies down their thighs to the floor. It's dirty and intimate. He doesn't want it to end. He doesn't want to open his eyes and find Jake looking at him with that cold indifference he always shows after sex. He's never been teased but realizes he doesn't like his cuddling habit right afterward.

"If I don't get up soon, my legs will cramp, Brad," the blonde whispers in his ear.

Bradley lets him go because, at least today, he was gentle about breaking the spell. Jake always jumps to wash away the remains of semen without saying a word. Not today. Today, he stands up and offers him a hand.

"Shall we shower together?"

They order lunch from room service. Jake opens his laptop and shows him photos so he can get a basic idea of the family structure.

"I'm the youngest and the only alpha. My omega sisters are Elizabeth, Catalina, and Isabel." he can't help but raise an eyebrow questioningly. "Yes, they were named after the queens. No, they didn't name me after any king, but after my grandfather. It was going to be Jacob Seresin III."

"Ah."

While Jake continues explaining to him about arranged marriages, nephews and nieces he doesn't know, and old family feuds or with other clans that affected Texas politics in the last half-century, he cannot contain his melancholy. It must be showing on his face because Jake cuts off his explanation about how half of the state's infrastructure ended up under his clan's control and looks at him a little anxiously.

"What?"

He debates for a moment, telling half the truth: that all of this sickens him. But so far, he has been brutally honest and has done well. It doesn't matter. Jake doesn't like him, but he's not cruel.

"I'm thinking that we've known each other for five years, and we've been sleeping for two, but I didn't even know you had sisters."

Jake stares at him, bewildered.

"There a Wikipedia page about us?" he says weakly.

"I'm not a stalker or a reporter, Hangman." he decides it is better to leave the matter. "Look at the time! Let's get dressed."

They arrive at the cemetery fifteen minutes before the ceremony begins. Now, the rented Mercedes makes sense. The street is full of luxury cars. Between the grave and the street, there are small groups of people. The clothing style clearly distinguishes the invited elite from drivers and security personnel. Their uniforms are a clarion call in the middle of the sea of black, and they immediately become the focus of attention. Jake wants to walk to his family immediately, but Bradley stops him.

"Wait," he says, nodding at the approaching car, a black suburban with a Navy license plate.

"What…?"

The car stops, and a lieutenant hurries out of the passenger seat to open the back door and stand at attention. Bradley really enjoys, perhaps too much, the look of surprise and admiration on Jake's face when he sees Vice Admiral Rick "Hollywood" Neven, his beta, Vice Admiral Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, and his omega Henry descend. The two officers wear dress uniforms that shine in the sun. The omega wears a discreet black suit with an exquisite cut that screams money.

Hollywood immediately turns to the couple.

"Nephew," he says to Bradley casually but loud enough for the bystanders to hear, "Lieutenant Seresin."

"Uncle," Rooster greets him with a nod, then looks at Wolfe and Henry, who are a few steps behind, in the most traditional way, "Uncles."

"Vice Admiral Neven, Vice Admiral Wolfe, Mr. Neven," Jake greets and clicks his heels.

"We are very sorry for your loss. Your mothers were a great pillar of this community," Henry says with a soft voice and a contrite expression, his blue eyes a little moist.

Jake blinks once, twice, and swallows dryly. As always, he can go along with whatever and answers with just the right amount of shyness and gratitude.

"Thank you, Mr. Neven."

Henry smiles, steps forward, and puts a hand on his cheek. Some in the audience of (supposedly disinterested) guests and employees gasp in surprise.

"Please, Jake. I told you that you could call me Henry. We are family, right?"

Hollywood clears his throat. Perfect in his role of the traditional alpha allways uncomfortable with public displays of affection. He offers his arm to Henry and looks at his nephew's partner.

"Lead the way."

As they walk towards the grave site, Jake becomes thoughtful.

"Why?" -he whispers.

"Because you are my boyfriend, Seresin."

The blonde nods, gives him a minimal smile of gratitude, and extends his hand in silence. They arrive in front of the rest of his family with their fingers intertwined. As he had warned him, the faces of his three sisters and six brothers-in-law are hieratic masks. It is impossible to know if they are hurt by the death of their mothers or if they are celebrating the secret that the damn old women finally kicked the bucket.

"Jacob," greets an alpha with a dark brown beard with some gray hair.

"Julius," Jake greets dismissively.

This is Elizabeth's alpha, the eldest. According to Jake, he is a distant cousin, chosen because he carries the family name and doesn't mind being a puppet controlled by his wives. The beta of the marriage is a redhead of Polish origin, who was already Julius's lover when he began the theater of his courtship of the first of the Seresin omegas. The matriarchs gave her two options: pass her support to Elizabeth or disappear on the next yacht ride she took. The rest is history.

"This is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, fighter pilot of the United States Navy, my boyfriend," and he smiles, the bastard.

Bradley sees how nine pairs of eyes, the only expressive part of those nine faces petrified by education and Botox, rapidly reflect surprise, offense, and disgust, only to quickly return to disdain.

"I don't know how..." Catalina starts to say, but her brother cuts her off.

"His family also decided to come to pay their respects." he gestures vaguely to where Hollywood is staring at them with hard eyes. "After the service, I will introduce you to Vice Admiral Rick Neven, his beta, Vice Admiral Leonard Wolfe, and his omega, Henry," he says with an innocent tone and cruel smile.

That silences them, of course. Bradley knows Hollywood and Wolfman are celebrities in Texas, although not because of their military merits, but because they married Henry Ruth, one of the most beautiful omegas in the United States in the eighties. Henry won the 1982 Omega Texas Beauty Contest and became a finalist in Omega America. He had a fairly successful modeling career after that. His wedding to the couple of aviators was covered in society magazines across the country in 1988. Even if the family did not recognize the former model - somewhat doubtful - the uniforms loaded with stars and medals of the two vice admirals are impossible to ignore.

Their eyes change again. Now, there is resentment in some and a grudging respect in others.

"Let's sit down," Elizabeth orders through clenched teeth.

As tradition dictates, there are seats for the omega daughters and their alphas, and their betas remain standing one step back, with a hand on the shoulder of each spouse. Jake's seat is closest to the priest, because, although he is the youngest, he is the alpha. Bradley stands behind him and puts his right hand on his left shoulder, as befits a partner. He's not exactly surprised when he notices Jake trembling under his hand. The absolute silence he kept about this past life, his decision to ask him for help, the vulnerability when they had sex in the hotel. Jake is on the edge.

He does not listen to empty words about faith, absolution, and rebirth of the flesh. Those women who go down to the grave in their elegant coffin for three - united in death as in life - do not deserve his sympathy. He highly doubts they will receive forgiveness from heaven if Jake was kicked out of the house for being gay. Because no one disinherits an alpha son for joining the Navy.

"I know I'll lose my temper if I go alone," he told him yesterday in New York, and he understands why. He knows his lover well and realizes that this matters to him. This family that rejected him still has power over Jake. He can feel the gazes on his back, all those people who think they have the right to judge them, and it feels… yes, it feels good to protect Jake for a day. Imagine that they are more than casual lovers.

When the service ends, the guests come to pay their respects to the four heirs. Jake rises at the same time as his sisters and, with a blank face, accepts platitudes and false claims of shared pain. Bradley doesn't move from his side. At one point, he feels Uncle Wolfe's hand on his shoulder and realizes they had walked to stay at his back. The imposing figure of the two decorated officers discourages even the bravest. No one gives Jake anything more than the obligatory gaze of faux contrition.

Finally, the priest says goodbye, and Elizabeth turns to her younger brother.

"We will have a reception at home," she informs with a bitter expression.

"If I may," Henry comes forward with a face so sweet that anyone would think he was talking to unruly infants.

Elizabeth swallows and says what she is obliged to say.

"Of course, omega Neven," and even smiles.

"The truth is, Omega Seresin, life on warships is terrible for manners." He closes his eyes and shakes his head from side to side a couple of times as if remembering something unpleasant. "Your brother looks so tired, don't you think?"

"I'm fine," Jake says as he stumbles and falls backward. Only Bradley's quick reaction keeps him on his feet.

Henry rolls his eyes and looks at Elizabeth with poorly concealed frustration. Bradley focuses on Jake's weight against his hands because he wants to laugh. He knows what his uncle is doing, and he is not surprised that it works: Henry perfected his persona of submissive and harmless omega until it became a perfect mask, which he can maintain in the face of any pressure, although his true personality is far from it.

In their clan, they are used to use lies as a weapon. It is not considered reprehensible to use the most reactionary stereotypes or revolutionary arguments, depending on the moment. The important thing is to achieve the goal and fortify the family. The problem is when someone decides to use that ability to deceive another person in the family, he reflects bitterly. But it's best not to think about Mav now but rather enjoy how Henry appeals to Jake's sisters' supposed shared experience of dealing with stubborn, unsubtle alphas.

"Excuse me if I criticize your brother, but I don't think his presence will be beneficial at such an important and delicate moment."

"But..." Jake tries to argue in his best imitation of a five-year-old child.

"Honey," Henry cuts in in the tone used with little children without even looking at him, "don't interrupt your elders. We have to help your sisters. As I was saying, Omega Elizabeth. My husbands have been looking forward to having Jake visit Austin to talk," he rolls his eyes as if he can't stand the frustration, "about jets. If we go to your reception, they'll bore everyone talking. Guess about what?"

"Jets," Catalina answers with poorly contained hostility.

"Exactly!" Henry nods, smiling. "I see intelligence runs in the family. So, let's do this. I'm taking these two home. I'm used to alphas talking about jets, warships, and all kinds of alpha things at the table. You will honor your mothers accordingly, without last-minute appearances that will only generate," he wrinkles his nose, "impertinent chatter."

By this time, the three sisters look at Henry as if he were an angel of the Lord.

"I always knew that such beauty could only hide the most solid intelligence, omega Neven." Isabella agrees.

"Perfect! Rick?" Henry calls as he extends his arm.

Immediately, the alpha takes his elbow and begins to lead him back to the car. Leonard follows them.

Jake gives a strangled smile at his family.

"Well, see you on Monday."

"Do not be late." his older sister warns him. "And behave at the Neven's."

Jake narrows his eyes and purses his lips. Bradley doesn't want to know if the comment will be what finally makes him lose his temper.

"Sure. See you Monday," he says and drags him by the arm.

When they arrive at the car, a strong hug awaits them in triplicate, which restores their balance.

"You really look tired, Hangman." Uncle Hollywood tells him. "Go to sleep and stop by tomorrow, okay?"

"Vice Admiral Neven, I wouldn't..."

"We've wanted to meet you for a while," Wolfe cuts him off, "not just because you're Brad's friend. You are a great pilot, Seresin, and you will be a great officer," and gives him a friendly pat on the arm. "Now let Bradley drive. That's an order."

Jake nods with a somewhat embarrassed smile. He turns to look at Uncle Henry and opens his mouth, but he warns him.

"If you call me omega, I'm not responsible for myself, lieutenant."

"Of course. See you tomorrow, Mr. Neven." Bradley clears his throat, and Jake rectifies. "I mean, see you tomorrow, Henry."

"That's better."

INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/happy-together.html

 

Felices Juntos 04

Austin, 2013: Vamos a compartir secretos (I)

Resumen:

-Necesito tu ayuda -anuncia Jake por fin.
Bradley lo mira con sorpresa. Jake y él no son…
-Le pides ayuda a tus amigos, Hangman. Machado es tu amigo.
-No puedo -admite el rubio con voz frustrada, y toma un trago de su limonada.
Eso atrae definitivamente su atención.
-¿Por qué?
-Necesito que estés sobrio para decirte -y empuja la limonada en su dirección.

--------------------------------------------

Fandom: Top Gun (Movies)

Relaciones: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Pete "Maverick" Mitchell / Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Personajes: Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Personajes originales, personajes infantiles originales

Etiquetas Adicionales: Mpreg implícito, Relaciones Alfa/Beta/Omega, Jake "Hangman Seresin tiene malos padres

ÍNDICE: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/felices-juntos.html

--------------------------------------------

Jake se sienta en su reservado sin pedir permiso, con dos vasos de limonada en las manos. Bradley piensa que debería asombrarse, pero recuerda que se trata de Seresin. Hay algo en él, tiene una capacidad extraña para localizar a Bradley donde sea (Natasha lo encuentra hilarante). Igual no saluda, porque las cosas están bastante raras desde el fin de semana que pasaron en Tokio la primavera pasada. Bradley no sabe cómo manejar esto que siente, solo sabe que no debería sentirlo.

-Necesito tu ayuda -anuncia Jake por fin.

Bradley lo mira con sorpresa. Jake y él no son…

-Le pides ayuda a tus amigos, Hangman. Machado es tu amigo.

Ahora quien tiene expresión sorprendida es Jake y, a su pesar, siente como se le hincha el pecho de orgullo. No ha perdido totalmente el control, bien. Con un poco de suerte, Jake se irá y no volverá hasta que quiera coger. Eso es lo único que los une.

-No puedo -admite el rubio con voz frustrada, y toma un trago de su limonada.

Eso atrae definitivamente su atención.

-¿Por qué?

Jake le clava los ojos, claramente fastidiado por su resistencia. Bradley no sabe si sentirse feliz por no ponerle las cosas fáciles a Hangman, o inquieto por la muestra de confianza implica ser el sustituto de Coyote.

-Necesito que estés sobrio para decirte -y empuja la limonada en su dirección.

Bradley mira con desconfianza el vaso y aprieta instintivamente su wiski. Tenía cuidadosamente planeada este semana de descanso en New York: comer, emborracharse, ir al hotel, soñar con Maverick, llorar y repetir en bucle hasta que faltaran treinta y seis horas para regresar al barco. Jake no puede simplemente irrumpir en su vida y exigir… Pero no puede recurrir a Coyote… ¡Al diablo!

Se baja el jugo de limón de una sola vez, en tragos deliberadamente largos. La leve y maravillosa bruma mental que la proporcionaba el alcohol se esfuma. ¡Joder con el poder de los cítricos! Deja el vaso vacío en la mesa, eructa, se limpia la boca con el dorso de la mano.

-¿Entonces?

-Mis madres han muerto. Si, las tres al mismo tiempo. En un accidente de caza. No te molestes en darme el pésame. -le advierte con la mano levantada- Dejaron de hablarme cuando descubrieron que había aplicado a la Academia Naval a sus espaldas. Hace diez años que no voy a casa. Pero ahora resulta que me necesitan porque primero se seca el mar antes que el clan Seresin de una imagen menos que perfecta en un evento público -suelta una risa amarga-, y el funeral cuenta como un evento público. Uno en el que no puede faltar ninguno de los hijos. No puedo ir solo. -admite con amargura- Sé que perderé los papeles si voy solo. No puedo decirle a Javier porque sus esposas irían y no quiero… -suspira- María Celeste y María José trabajan para una subsidiaria del conglomerado Seresin, no puedo correr el riesgo de ponerlas en el radar de mi familia. Así que solo quedas tú. Se que lo que tenemos es casual y el drama familiar no es parte del contrato, pero a ti no pueden hacerte daño y confío en que tú no me harás daño. Así que, por favor, ven conmigo a Austin para el funeral y la lectura del testamento.

Bradley no dice nada, porque aún no está lo suficientemente sobrio. Estira la mano hacia la limonada de Jake, quien empuja suavemente el vaso en su dirección. Después de la segunda dosis de ácido cítrico, confía más en su respuesta.

-¿Amigo o novio?

-¿Eh? -Jake parpadea confundido.

-¿Saben que eres gay? ¿Voy como amigo o como novio?

En lo que a Bradley respecta, si Jake tiene miedo de poner a las Machado en el radar de su familia, son un atajo de cabrones y estará encantado de hacerles pasar un mal rato. Por el modo en que la cara de Jake pasa de la resignación al interés malintencionado, no se le había ocurrido la posibilidad de cumplir con el clan y joderlos al mismo tiempo.

-Supongo -responde lentamente- que nada más apropiado para un Seresin en la Marina que conseguirse a un nepobebé.

Bradley sonríe, orgulloso. A menudo siente su apellido es un lastre, nunca esperó que pudiera instrumentalizarlo para hacer feliz a Jake. Se siente bien, verlo sonreír con ese brillo maquiavélico en los ojos. Maldición, este es el tipo de cosa que se prometió evitar. Ya es suficiente con Mav, ¿ahora también dejará que este alfa le rompa el corazón? Demasiado tarde.

-¿A qué hora nos vamos?

-Tengo pasajes para mañana sábado a las ochocientas horas, en el JFK. El funeral será a las mil seiscientas y la lectura del testamento el lunes a las diez de la mañana. -Jake hace una pausa, lo mira de arriba abajo. Lo que sea que ve lo satisface lo suficiente como para que no le suelte ninguno de sus comentarios hirientes- Te mando los detalles del vuelo por texto.

Y se va.

No hay nada de inusual en su actitud. Ninguno de los dos es fan de las palabras gratuitas. No debería doler. Bradley sacude la cabeza, mira con tristeza su wiski a medias y saca su teléfono.

Le responden al tercer timbre.

-Tío, escucha...

Apenas hablan durante el vuelo. Jake, siempre preparado, reservó un auto en el aeropuerto de Austin.

-¿Un mercedes? -Bradley no puede evitar mirar la brillante carrocería con incomodidad.

-Esto es un teatro, amor -le responde Jake mientras pone su bolsa en el asiento trasero y se mete tras el volante.

Bradley asiente.

Entre el control de seguridad, en vuelo, el aterrizaje, conducir hasta la ciudad y el registro en el hotel, llevan casi seis horas juntos. Nunca han pasado tanto tiempo juntos sin tener sexo, la tensión acumulada durante el viaje estalla en cuanto cierran la puerta de la habitación.

Bradley deja caer su morral, empuja a Jake contra la pared para besarlo con fuerza. El otro suelta un gruñido de satisfacción y empieza a tirarle de la camisa para agarrarle los pezones. Bradley se separa un poco para contemplarlo. Jake tiene las pupilas dilatadas de deseo, las mejillas sonrojadas y su aroma… ¡Podría ahogarse con ese olor a yerba fresca!

-¿Te vas a quedar mirándome, Rooster, o vamos a coger?

-Coger, coger.

Terminan de sacarse los pantalones con manos febriles y caminan a trompicones hasta el sofá de la suite. Bradley se sienta, Jake se le sube encima. Se siguen besando. Bradley deja los labios del rubio para mordisquearle el cuello, las orejas.

-No me dejes marcas -jadea Jake con algo de cordura- Tenemos… El funeral… No es apropiado… 

-¡A la mierda! -le da una nalgada- ¡Eres mío! Quiero que cada omega de Texas sepa por qué no tiene oportunidad con el heredero Seresin.

Jake se aparta para mirarlo a los ojos, sorprendido. Por supuesto que suelen decirse cosas al calor de la pasión, pero Bradley nunca dejó que su posesividad saliera a flote. Definitivamente tendrá que cortar las cosas después de esto. ¿O no? Porque Jake está sonriendo, juguetón.

-¿De verdad? ¿Quieres que sepan que soy tu perra? -y mueve las caderas, haciendo rozar sus erecciones.

-Tu no eres la perra de nadie. -mientras Jake crea que esto es solo un juego, puede ser honesto sin peligro- Mi familia tiene una lista de perras obedientes, si quiero. El punto es que eres un lobo, como yo.

Lo agarra por la nuca con una mano para volver a besarlo y con la otra agarra sus dos pollas y empieza a masturbarlos. Siente las manos de Jake temblar en sus hombros. El aire se inunda del aroma de feromonas sexuales. La mezcla de olores es casi perfecta, solo falta… Bradley se corre con un estertor. Jake suelta un gemido inusitadamente agudo y el orgasmo lo sacude.

Se quedan muy quietos, con las frentes pegadas, respiraciones entrecortadas, el semen pegajoso que se escurre entre los dedos de Rooster y la piel de sus vientres por los muslos hacia el suelo. Es sucio e íntimo. No quiere que termine. No quiere abrir los ojos y descubrir que Jake lo está mirando con esa indiferencia fría que muestra siempre después del sexo. Nunca se ha burlado, pero se da cuenta de que no le gusta su manía de acurrucarse inmediatamente después.

-Si no me levanto pronto, me dará calambre en las piernas, Brad -le susurra el rubio al oído.

Bradley lo deja ir, porque al menos hoy fue delicado al romper el hechizo. Jake siempre salta a lavarse los restos de semen sin decir palabra. Hoy no. Hoy se levanta y le ofrece una mano.

-¿Nos duchamos juntos?

Piden almuerzo al servicio de habitaciones, Jake abre su laptop y empieza a mostrarle fotos para que tenga una idea básica de la estructura de la familia.

-Soy el menor y el único alfa. Mis hermanas omegas son Elizabet, Catalina e Isabel. -no puede evitar alzar una ceja de modo interrogante- Si, las nombraron por las reinas. No, a mi no me nombraron por ningún rey, sino por el abuelo. Iba a ser Jacob Seresin III.

-Ah.

Mientras Jake le sigue explicando sobre matrimonios concertados, sobrinos y sobrinas que no conoce, y viejas rencillas familiares, o con otros clanes, que afectaron la política de Texas en el último medio siglo. No puede contener la melancolía. Se le debe notar en la cara, porque Jake corta su explicación sobre cómo la mitad de la infraestructura de del estado acabó bajo el control de su clan y lo mira un poco ansioso.

-¿Qué pasa?

Debate por un momento decir la mitad de la verdad: que todo eso le da asco. Pero hasta ahora ha sido honesto hasta la crudeza y le ha ido bien. No importa. Jake no lo quiere, pero no es un tipo cruel.

-Estoy pensando que hace cinco años que nos conocemos y dos que estamos acostando, pero ni siquiera sabía que tenías hermanas.

Jake se le queda mirando desconcertado.

-¿Hay una página en Wikipedia? -pero se nota que ni él mismo lo cree.

-No soy un acosador ni un reportero, Hangman. -decide que es mejor dejar el asunto- ¡Mira la hora! Vamos a vestirnos.

Llegan al cementerio quince antes de la hora de la ceremonia. Ahora, el mercedes rentado adquiere sentido. La calle está llena de autos de lujo. Entre la tumba y la calle hay pequeños grupos de personas. El estilo de las ropas permite distinguir a la elite invitada de choferes y personal de seguridad. Sus uniformes son una clarinada en medio del mar de negro y se vuelven foco de atención enseguida. Jake quiere caminar hacia su familia enseguida, pero Bradley lo detiene.

-Espera -y señala con un movimiento de cabeza al auto que se acerca, un suburbano negro placas de la Marina.

-¿Qué…?

El auto se detiene y un teniente se apresura a salir del asiento de copiloto para abrir la puerta trasera y pararse en firme. Bradley disfruta mucho, quizás demasiado, la cara de sorpresa y admiración de Jake cuando ve descender al vicealmirante Rick "Hollywood" Neven, su beta, el vicealmirante Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, y su omega Henry. Los dos oficiales llevan uniformes de gala que resplandecen bajo el sol. El omega lleva un discreto traje negro de exquisito corte que grita dinero por todos los costados.

Hollywood se dirige inmediatamente hacia la pareja.

-Sobrino -le dice a Bradley con voz casual, lo suficientemente alto como para que lo escuchen-, teniente Seresin.

-Tío -saluda Rooster con un asentimiento de cabeza, mira luego a Wolfe y Henry, que están unos pasos atrás, del modo más tradicional-, tíos.

-Vicealmirante Neven, vicealmirante Wolfe, señor Neven -saluda Jake y hace chocar sus tacones.

-Lamentamos mucho tu pérdida. Tus madres eran un gran pilar de esta comunidad -dice con voz suave y expresión contrita Henry, sus ojos azules un poquito húmedos.

Jake pestañea una, dos veces y traga en seco. Como siempre, es capaz de seguir la corriente de lo que sea y responde con la cantidad exacta de timidez y agradecimiento.

-Gracias, señor Neven.

Henry sonríe, se adelanta y le pone una mano en la mejilla. Hay varios sonidos de sorpresa entre el público de (supuestamente desinteresados) invitados y empleados.

-Por favor, Jake, te he dicho que puedes llamarme Henry. Somos familia, ¿no?

Hollywood carraspea, perfecto en su rol de alfa tradicionalista, incómodo con las demostraciones públicas de afecto. Le ofrece su brazo a Henry y mira a la pareja de su sobrino.

-¿Nos guías?

Mientras caminan en dirección al sitio de la sepultura, Jake se torna pensativo.

-¿Por qué? -susurra.

-Porque eres mi novio, Seresin.

El rubio asiente, le da una sonrisa mínima de agradecimiento y extiende su mano en silencio. Llegan frente al resto de su familia con los dedos entrelazados. Como le había advertido, las caras de sus tres hermanas y seis cuñados son máscaras hieráticas. Es imposible saber si les duele la muerte de sus madres o celebran el secreto que las malditas viejas al fin estirasen la pata.

-Jacob -saluda un alfa de barba castaña oscura con algunas canas.

-Julius -saluda Jake, displicente.

Este es el alfa de Elizabeth, la mayor. Según Jake, es un primo lejano, elegido porque lleva el apellido de la familia y no le molesta ser un títere controlado por sus esposas. La beta del matrimonio es una pelirroja de origen polaco, que ya era amante de Julius cuando empezó el teatro de su cortejo a la primera de las omegas Seresin. Las matriarcas le dieron dos opciones: pasar su apoyo a Elizabeth, o desaparecer en el siguiente paseo que diera en yate. El resto es historia.

-Les presento al teniente Bradley Bradshaw, piloto de combate de la Marina de los Estados Unidos, mi novio -y sonríe, el muy cabrón.

Bradley ve cómo nueve pares de ojos, la única parte expresiva de esos nueve rostros petrificados por la educación y el bótox, reflejan en rápida sucesión sorpresa, ofensa y repugnancia para regresar rápidamente al desdén.

-No se cómo… -empieza a decir Catalina, pero su hermano la corta en seco.

-Su familia decidió también venir a presentar sus respetos. -hace un gesto vago hacia atrás, desde donde Hollywood los mira con ojos duros- Después del servicio les presentaré al vicealmirante Rick Neven, su beta, el vicealmirante Leonard Wolfe, y su omega Henry -dice con tono inocente y sonrisa cruel.

Eso los hace callar, por supuesto. Sabe que Hollywood y Wolfman son celebridades en Texas, aunque no por sus méritos militares, sino porque se casaron con Henry Ruth, uno de los omegas más bellos de Estados Unidos en la década del ochenta. Henry ganó el título Omega de Texas en 1982 y llegó a finalista en Omega América. Tuvo una carrera de modelo bastante exitosa después de eso. Su boda con la pareja de aviadores fue portada en las revistas de sociedad de todo el país en 1988. Aún si la familia no reconociera al exmodelo -algo dudoso-, los uniformes cargados de estrellas y medallas de los dos vicealmirantes son imposibles de ignorar.

Los ojos cambian de nuevo. Ahora hay resentimiento en algunos, en otros un respeto renuente.

-Vamos a sentarnos -ordena Elizabeth entre dientes.

Como manda la tradición, hay asientos para las hijas omegas y sus alfas, sus betas se quedan de pie, un paso atrás, con una mano en el hombro de cada cónyuge. El asiento de Jake es el más cercano al sacerdote, porque, aunque es el menor, es el alfa. Bradley se para detrás y le pone la mano derecha en el hombro, como corresponde a una pareja. No está precisamente sorprendido cuando nota que Jake tiembla bajo su mano. El silencio absoluto que guardó sobre esta vida pasada, su decisión de pedirle ayuda, la vulnerabilidad cuando tuvieron sexo en el hotel. Jake está al límite.

No escucha las palabras vacías sobre fe, absolución y renacimiento de la carne. Esas mujeres que bajan a la tumba en su elegante ataúd para tres -unidas en la muerte como en la vida-, no merecen su simpatía. Duda mucho que reciban el perdón del cielo, si echaron a Jake de la casa por ser gay. Porque nadie deshereda a un hijo, un alfa, por enrolarse en la Marina.

“Sé que perderé los papeles si voy solo”, le dijo ayer en New York, y entiende por qué. Conoce bastante bien a su amante y se ha dado cuenta de que esto le importa. Esta familia que lo rechazó aún tiene poder sobre Jake. Puede sentir las miradas clavadas en su espalda, toda esa gente que se cree con derecho a juzgarles y se siente… si, se siente bien proteger a Jake por un día. Imaginar que son más que amantes casuales.

Cuando termina el servicio, los invitados pasan a presentar sus respetos a los cuatro herederos. Jake se levanta al mismo tiempo que sus hermanas y, con el rostro vacío, acepta lugares comunes y falsas afirmaciones de dolor compartido. Bradley no se mueve de su lado. En cierto momento, siente la mano del tío Wolfe en su hombro y comprende que el matrimonio se ha puesto a sus espaldas. La imponente figura de los dos condecorados oficiales desalienta incluso a los más valientes. Nadie le da a Jake otra cosa que la obligatoria mirada de falsa contrición. 

Al fin el sacerdote se despide y Elizabeth se vuelve hacia su hermano menor.

-Tendremos una recepción en casa -informa con expresión amargada.

-Si me permite -se adelanta Henry con una cara tan dulce que cualquiera creería habla con infantes revoltosos.

Elizabeth traga en seco y dice lo que está obligada a decir.

-Por supuesto, omega Neven -e incluso sonríe.

-La verdad, omega Seresin, la vida en los barcos de guerra es pésima para los modales. -cierra los ojos y mueve la cabeza de un lado a otro un par de veces, como si recordara algo desagradable- Su hermano luce tan cansado, ¿no cree usted?

-Estoy bien -afirma Jake, al mismo tiempo que trastabilla y se cae hacia atrás, solo la rápida reacción de Bradley lo mantiene de pie.

Henry tuerce los ojos y mira a Elizabeth con frustración mal disimulada. Bradley se concentra en el peso de Jake contra sus manos porque quiere estallar en carcajadas. Sabe lo que su tío está haciendo, y no le sorprende que funcione: Henry ha perfeccionado su personaje de omega sumiso e inofensivo hasta convertirlo en una máscara perfecta, que puede mantener frente a cualquier presión, aunque su verdadera personalidad está muy lejos de ello.

En su clan es costumbre mentir hacia afuera. No se considera reprochable usar los estereotipos más reaccionarios o los argumentos más revolucionarios, según sea el momento. Lo importante es lograr el objetivo y fortalecer a la familia. El problema es cuando alguien decide usar esa capacidad para la insidia con otra persona de la familia, recuerda con amargura. Pero es mejor no pensar en Mav ahora, sino disfrutar cómo Henry apela a la supuesta experiencia compartida con las hermanas de Jake de lidiar con alfas testarudos y carentes de sutileza.

-Disculpe si critico a su hermano, pero no creo que su presencia sea beneficiosa en un momento tan importante y delicado.

-Pero… -intenta argumentar Jake en su mejor imitación de un crío de cinco años.

-Cariño -lo corta Henry con el tono que se usa con los niños pequeños sin siquiera mirarlo-, no interrumpas a tus mayores. Tenemos que ayudar a tus hermanas. Como le decía, omega Elizabeth. Mis esposos han estado deseando tener a Jake de visita en Austin para hablar -tuerce los ojos, como si no pudiera soportar la frustración- de aviones. Si vamos a su recepción, aburrirán a todo el mundo hablando, ¿adivine de qué?

-De aviones -responde Catalina con mal contenida hostilidad.

-¡Exactamente! -asiente Henry, risueño- Veo que la inteligencia es un asunto de familia. Así que, hagamos esto. Yo me llevo a estos dos a mi casa. Estoy acostumbrado a que hablen de aviones, barcos y otras cosas de guerra en la mesa. Ustedes rindan honores a sus madres como corresponde, sin apariciones de último minuto que solo generarán -arruga la nariz-, conversaciones impertinentes.

Para este momento, las tres hermanas miran a Henry como si fuera un ángel del señor. 

-Siempre supe que tanta belleza solo podía ocultar la más sólida inteligencia, omega Neven. -asiente Isabel. 

-¡Perfecto! ¿Rick? -llama Henry en lo que extiende su brazo.

Enseguida el alfa le toma el codo y empieza a conducirlo de vuelta al auto. Leonard los sigue.

Jake le da una sonrisa estrangulada a su familia.

-Bueno, nos vemos el lunes.

-No llegues tarde. -le advierte su hermana mayor- Y compórtate en casa de los Neven.

Jake entrecierra los ojos y aprieta los labios. Bradley no quiere saber si el comentario será lo que finalmente le haga perder los papeles.

-Si, hasta el lunes -dice y lo arrastra por el brazo.

Cuando llegan junto al auto, les espera un abrazo fuerte y por triplicado, que les devuelve el equilibrio.

-En verdad luces cansado, Hangman. -le dice el tío Hollywood- Váyanse a dormir y vienen mañana a casa, ¿si?

-Vicealmirante Neven yo no…

-Hace tiempo que queremos conocerte -lo corta Wolfe-, no solo porque seas amigo de Brad. Eres un gran piloto Seresin, y serás un gran oficial. -le da una palmada amigable en el brazo- Ahora deja que Bradley maneje. Es una orden.

Jake asiente, con sonrisa algo avergonzada. Gira para mirar al tío Henry y abre la boca, pero este lo ataja.

-Si me llamas omega, no respondo de mí, teniente.

-Por supuesto. Hasta mañana, señor Neven. -Bradley carraspea y Jake rectifica- Quiero decir, hasta mañana, Henry.

-Así está mejor.

ÍNDICE: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/felices-juntos.html
 

Happy Together 03

 Rome, 2011: Are you getting off your perch, Rooster?

Summary:

It's September, and Rome gives them a warm night, an ideal night to celebrate the repeal of the DADT. Jake is happy for Natasha and Bob, for the beta SEAL couple making out in the corner, for every queer person in the DOD, but...
If he makes his pass to Bradshaw today, in front of Phoenix, the damn woman won't leave him alone for the rest of his days... At the same time, what better day than today? If it doesn't work, he can chalk it all up to the euphoria of the day.

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Fandom: Top Gun (Movies)

Relationships: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Pete "Maverick" Mitchell  

Characters: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Javy "Coyote" Machado, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Robert "Bob" Floyd

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, Age difference, Grammarly is My Wingman, DADT Repeal, Homophobia

INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/happy-together.html

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The atmosphere in the bar is absolutely perfect. The staff doesn't speak much English, but they understand what they're celebrating and show exceptional patience with the broken Italian most of the group speaks. The local patrons have left, reticent to compete with the crowd of marines, pilots, soldiers, and SEALs that fill the bar, pool tables, dance floor, and (of course) bathrooms. Without having to exchange more than glances, everyone went to the same place two hours from the base with (what a coincidence!) a discreet rainbow flag on the door.

Jake leans on Javier's shoulder and smiles. His brother moves his shoulder to push him.

"Leave the schmuchiness, Seresin. Starting today, people can talk."

"Let them talk," and he straightens up, but only so he can take another sip of his beer, "I've always wanted to see how your wives roast homophobes."

Javier lets out an evil chuckle at the idea. Although perfectly sober because he is a designated driver, Coyote basks in the collective happiness. He is as straight as a 1950s TV character, but he is a generous guy and familiar with discrimination because of the color of his skin. So, he immediately signed up to celebrate the repeal of DADT.

"Look over there," Jake points his index finger at the dance floor. "They are disgusting with so much sweetness."

He doesn't move his eyes to see his friend's reaction because the vision of Natasha and Bob hugging while moving to the rhythm of Bob Marley ("Everything will be alright") is mesmerizing. They look at each other with such tenderness and, at the same time, such determination. Jake admires and envies the Omega couple in equal measure because he is sure he is better than Phoenix in the air, but that... he doesn't know if he will ever have that.

Even before realizing that he was more interested in the smells of alphas rather than the aromas of omegas and betas, he had an almost instinctive distrust of the idea of marital commitment. It's not like he grew up with good examples, really. His mothers, too busy increasing the family wealth and presenting to the world an image of a perfect family, didn't have time to pay attention to his "inexplicably weaknesses." His omega mother gave birth four times in ten years until the birth of Jake, alpha, and male, ensured the family's succession. But his value to the family didn't bring him any kind of privileges. His alpha mother strongly advocates that children should be seen, not heard and that any alpha must be trained from early childhood for resilience, leadership, and autonomy. His omega mother took care of his omega brothers, his beta mother of the administration, and the staff ought to ensure Jacob would become the perfect alpha heir. Between the hypocrisy of relationships within his old, respectable, wealthy family and the unattainable examples of the media, Jake grew up feeling inadequate and unable to live up to the title of Seresin heir.

When he realized that what he liked about being at an alpha-only boarding school was precisely the abundance of alphas, he had to rethink a few things in life. Paradoxically, his Spartan upbringing had prevented him from forming close ties with his family, and leaving them behind didn't hurt him too much. However, to say that he had left them behind was an understatement. Their mothers had cried, attempted to negotiate, and threatened, as befitted their traditional gender roles. When he didn't give in, they disinherited him. Two hours later, he was sitting in Austin's central station with the Naval Academy acceptance letter in his hand and a backpack between his legs - all that remained of his luxurious life as the Seresin heir.

As he watched the train that would take him to Annapolis approach, Jake felt a strange sensation, as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. It would take him a while to realize this is what freedom feels like.

It was exhilarating.

Still, he entered the Navy aware of DADT, so he kept his eyes forward and his desires hidden under the iron self-control instilled in him at home. He thought he could manage on his own. Well no. In fact, no one can live forever without human contact. That lesson was taught to him by Javier during the second year of the academy. The Machado clan welcomed him as another son. His sexual orientation only generated a passing comment about how difficult it is to live on God's green earth with so many people meddling in other people's lives.

It's been eight years since he left his family behind. It's September, and Rome gives them a warm night, an ideal night to celebrate the repeal of the DADT. Jake is happy for Natasha and Bob, for the beta SEAL couple making out in the corner, for every queer person in the DOD, but at the same time... What is he going to do now? How do you start living a life where you don't have to hide most of yourself?

"You know, now you can leave abstinence," says Javier in a casual tone.

He turns at him, raising an eyebrow, skeptical.

"Are you making a pass at me, Lieutenant Machado?" he asks in a faked scandalized voice, putting a hand to his chest to reinforce the comedy.

"Idiot! If I cheat on my wives, my own father will help them hide the body." Jake nods because it's true that Mr. Machado doesn't mess around. "On the other hand, your knight in shining armor is alone in the corner."

Jake doesn't move. He is perfectly aware of where Bradley Bradshaw sits drinking his usual beer. He automatically knows where Bradshaw is whenever they are in the same room. He also knows how he likes pizza, his favorite brand of beer, that he has seen "The Black Cauldron" and "Risky Business" more than fifteen times, and that he prefers pens with black ink. Bradshaw is a stoic and lonely guy. He's a nepobaby, of course, but you'd never know it by the way he acts. He studies hard, gets his hands dirty with airplanes, and flies like a damned as if he has something to prove to this institution where every officer from captain up seems to have known him since he was a toddler. His only known friend is Natasha "Phoenix" Trace. It was because of her that, this morning, he mentioned his (fearsome) family connections for the first time.

Until yesterday, his proclivity for learning and remembering details about Bradshaw was something he had to keep under control. Besides the risk inherent in trying something with another alpha (in that sense, the omegas have it easier, with the narrative of softness and tenderness), going after Bradshaw had the additional problem that they would never be in equal foot. Bradley would be saved from a DADT investigation if anyone became suspicious with a single call from Kerner, Kazansky, Heatherly, Neven, or Wolfe. Jake has no one. He would probably be used as a scapegoat: a degenerate who tried to corrupt a pure child raised in the most honorable tradition of the Navy.

But today…

"Hitting a straight guy is the most embarrassing thing in the world, Javy," he says, relying on logic.

Coyote snorts mockingly.

"I'm straight, brother. I assure you that the looks Rooster gives your ass every chance he gets have nothing to do with comparative interests."

Jake blinks several times, confused.

"Come again?"

"I'm saying that that Rooster would love to climb on your pole, Hangman. I've seen it with my queer ally superpowers. Furthermore, the order to attack comes from high command," he raises his cell phone with the chat with his wives open on the screen.

Maria C Hot Vanilla Sweet: Go get your man, Hangman. [María J My Beloved Whip "liked" this message]

Jake can't hear the noise in the bar because his heart is beating so hard. He has drunk. He has enough alcohol in him to feel less shame than usual, but not so much that he loses sight of the consequences of his actions. He is, in scientific terms, tipsy. If he makes his pass to Bradshaw today, in front of Phoenix, the damn woman won't leave him alone for the rest of his days... At the same time, what better day than today? If it doesn't work, he can chalk it all up to the euphoria of the day.

It would be a shitty excuse, but it could work.

"Altre due Bud Light, per favore," says to the beta behind the bar.

"Con limone?"

"Sì."

Tattoos-covered hands bring the two bottles in less than three minutes. Jake rests his hands on the bar and silently contemplates the amber glass, where the humidity begins to condense and drain.

"Only in England drink hot beer." Javier warns him.

Jake looks at him, unsure. His brother gives him an encouraging smile. Jake nods, takes the bottles, and heads, dodging couples, to the corner where Bradley Bradshaw occupies a small table. The alpha raises his eyes when he stops in front and isn't quick enough to hide his surprise.

Jake puts the beer in front of him and sits in the second chair at the table.

They drink in silence.

Jake feels Bradley's brown gaze sweep over him, measuring him. He doesn't try to avoid his eyes. He looks straight at him, challenging. He can understand that it is also a risk for the other alpha. This whole celebration has a hint of desperation. They know that repealing DADT won't take away all the institutionalized homophobia in the DOD and society at large. Tomorrow, they will return to their posts and have to pretend that they are not affected by the jokes, the disregard for their feelings, and the double standards.

They only have tonight, he thinks bitterly.

"Are you going to get off your perch, Rooster?" he blurts.

Bradley looks at him with a mixture of amusement and melancholy. There's something in his gaze... Jake feels like he's seeing him, but at the same time, he's seeing someone else. But melancholy gives way to a decision in a few seconds. Rooster stands up and holds out his hand.

"There is a hotel two blocks away. At the bar, they told me that they accept all types of guests."

Surprised by the efficiency of the proposal, Jake can't do anything other than take the hand and allow himself to be pulled towards the exit of the bar. They stop briefly next to Coyote.

"Machado, do me a favor," Bradley says as he puts an arm around Jake's waist, "take Natasha and Bob back to the base."

Javier looks at them dumbfounded, from the eyes shining with excitement to the intertwined fingers.

"Sure, yes." he babbles. "So… use protection?"

"Always," Jake promises.

In the morning, Jake will realize that this was a mistake. Bradley Bradshaw isn't the kind of alpha you have a euphoric one-night stand with. He is an alpha with whom to make a life. Too bad it can't be.

Notes:

"Don't ask, don't tell" (DADT) was the official United States policy on military service of non-heterosexual people instituted during the Clinton administration. The policy was issued under Department of Defense Directive 1304.26 on December 21, 1993, and was in effect from February 28, 1994, until September 20, 2011.

INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/happy-together.html