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rareslashIt was on telly at New Year in Britain, and my mind boggled : for yes, it has all the plot and characterisation of a porn film, and I was on tenterhooks wondering when the orgy was going to start. I hadn't seen it for about 10 years, and I was amazed.
I had a vague google for Top Gun slash, and what wasn't Top Gun flight jackets with 'slash pockets' (?) was dead links. C'mon : people write fanfic for crap films all the time. It surely can't be just because it's crap? Is it because it's no challenge? Because the subtext is all in your face and more like SUPERTEXT?
So, I wrote this for my mate Schmo, who watched it with me. It is something of a pisstake. It has not been beta'd either. I offer it up to anyone who can direct me to any more Top Gun slashfic.
Title: You've lost that lovin' feelin'
Rating: Erm, NC17 for non consensual fingering. How do you rate these things?
Pairing: Jester/Viper, Slider/Iceman, Maverick/Iceman, Maverick/Charlie, Maverick/Viper, Maverick/Goose. Maverick is such a ho.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just taking them to their logical conclusion. And I couldn't make money off this if I tried. I'll have to pay people to read it *slips you a fiver*
Notes: There was no beta. So tell me that the tenses are all screwy and that the sex is terrible. Although I already know the sex is terrible (sorry 'bout that), that's why it fades to black right when it does :) If it seems sketchy, it is because there is so much more backplot and foreplot and indeed, a whole, terrible novel in my head, where Goose & Maverick's relationship is explored, where we explain how it was that weekend when Jester's sister brought the kids over, and where Kelly McGillis runs away with Meg Ryan at the end and they show that poor forgotten child some real family love. But I'll spare you.
Viper really does turn up behind him in the locker room in the film, and Maverick really does walk to class gingerly the next day. I didn't invent that.
Random sample of the terrible crack that is Top Gun : "Maverick is alone in the locker room. Hands on the sink, he stares into the mirror unseeingly. He cannot quite comprehend that Goose is gone, but he feels like he missed something. Like he hadn't, totally, understood and like now he'll never get the chance. Gone, gone, gone." Bwaha. Ahem.
YOU'VE LOST THAT LOVIN' FEELIN' (or, Complicated isn't the half of it)
His eyes were open. Night after night he'd lain like this, in Jester's solid arms, while Jester slept the sleep of the just, his broad chest warm against his back, awake. Taut. Every now and again Jester would wake up, would sleepily realize he wasn't sleeping; he'd hold him closer then, run a wide hand down his ribs, peer over, his cheek brushing Viper's jaw, solicitous. Viper would look straight ahead of him, into the dark of the bedroom, seeing nothing but in his mind's eye, over and over, that flash of teeth, that cocky, rodent grin. Viper grits his own teeth. That boy is going to drive him crazy.
* * * * *
Maverick enjoys it. He knows it gets him in trouble, that it gets him marked down, but it's worth it because he's seen the looks. Or rather, he can't fail to notice the way Viper turns away when Maverick's about to catch his eye. Like he's been looking all along, watching him. And so Maverick stretches, flexes his arms in the white sleeves of his uniform, turns to Goose or to one of the others in class. Grins up at him knowingly from the front row.
* * * * *
Infuriatingly. He'd like to punch him in the face, knock him sideways. Hell, he'd like to beat him to a whimpering pulp. For doing this to him.
He hates himself. And when Jester offers to get him a glass of water, when he holds him close, he hates himself for the distance he is allowing to grow in his mind between he and Jester, because he almost wants to shrink away from his warmth, thinking of Maverick's - Maverick's skin would be hot, he thinks. Jester is warm, and large, and solid. Reassuring. They have something, something special and a hundred thousand cadets have come through this academy and he is surrounded all day, all year by their tight little asses in their white pants and no-one, no-one has ever made him resent Jester's presence before this. He thinks of the heat of Maverick's body pinned to the bed, the baby face contorted against the sheet and he hates himself.
* * * * *
In the bar, Maverick leans against the jukebox, his jacket over one shoulder. 'Goose,' he calls out, beckoning in the air, and Goose hands him a beer, leaves his hand on his hip for a moment and then he's slipped his fingers into Maverick's pocket, in his impossibly tight jeans, he's fished out a quarter and he's reaching for the jukebox. Maverick laughs, his head thrown back, he tussles a little as he reaches to put the coin in the slot but while Goose is rooting in his pocket with two fingers, he just stays leaning where he is and looks Viper full in the face across the room, where he is watching, his face frozen, his expression never changing, and Maverick smiles slowly, and broadly, like a cat.
* * * * *
Goose plays Their Song, sings it on bended knee to Mav, Mav sings back. It's a joke between them, because Goose knows that Maverick will take any opportunity that comes up, laughingly, carelessly. He's even sort of seeing their instructor. Ms Blackwood. (Although Mav hasn't told Goose just how awkward it had been, at her place.)
Goose doesn't let himself care that way about Maverick, and he sleeps with other people too, if only to prove to himself that it's not a problem. That he doesn't live for the moments when Mav leans in to kiss him, when he suddenly pushes him back against the wall, grinds against his thigh.
Pulls back, laughs, and then grinds again, hot kisses on his neck, hands fumbling with the fly of his jeans.
But he's not gonna pretend to himself that it's that lovin' feelin', not like the song means it. They love each other, sure, although he doubts Mav would ever say it that way. They've known each other since grade school.
* * * * *
Viper, though. Viper sees them across the room and it makes him sick to his stomach. Bradshaw has no self-respect. He expects Maverick to make an exhibition of himself but Bradshaw's exhibition is just… pathetic. It makes him want to spit, and Maverick looks at him again across the room and, still languidly singing amid the noise of the crowded bar, raises an eyebrow. And Viper wants to hurt him. The image of that face screwed up against the sheet, flushed red, that grinning mouth twisted in - pain? - eyes closed tight, the image he sees in the night comes back to him and suddenly in spite of his disgust his dick is hard. Jesus. He turns on his heel and leaves.
* * * * *
In class again. Maverick is ignoring him, but Viper still takes every fluid gesture he makes as a personal insult. Laughing : open mouth; red tongue. The ripple of a tricep. The play of the muscles under his shirt as the boy turns to face Slider, relaxed in his chair, one proprietary arm across the back of Iceman's. Maverick, chewing his gum, makes some witty remark and Slider graces him with a mouthed 'ha, ha' and Maverick shoots a glance at Ice.
"Lieutenant," Viper barks, kicking himself for losing himself to this brat's back muscles. Maverick turns round, and Viper almost regrets it, because now he is facing him, open-eyed. And he pushes his gum with his tongue into one cheek, slowly, and he lets his cheek bulge for a second.
Viper doesn't move. And the moment breaks, and Maverick is facing the front like a good student, chewing away again.
* * * * *
Goose is in the chair next to Mav. Of course he is. And that glance at Iceman is all he sees.
* * * * *
Maverick is alone in the locker room. Hands on the sink, he stares into the mirror unseeingly. He cannot quite comprehend that Goose is gone, but he feels like he missed something. Like he hadn't, totally, understood and like now he'll never get the chance. Gone, gone, gone. He's trying not to cry, and he doesn't even know all the reasons why. He shuts his eyes tight for one second, and when he opens them again Viper is there, behind him, his hard eyes staring back from the mirror. Maverick is too numb to flinch in surprise. He doesn't know to be afraid.
* * * * *
But Viper has him alone now.
Like he knew he would when he came in here, although he hadn't known it would be like this. He is crisp and cold in his uniform and slate-faced as always, and Maverick is broken already. Trying not to cry, for Christ's sake. Naked, or near as damnit, before the sink and broken down, and rather than taking the fun out of this, that cocky grin is so imprinted on Viper's memory that this moment of weakness just makes him want to hurt him more. No-one will disturb them in such a moment. It would be tasteless on their part.
Like maybe it's tasteless on his part to push himself forward right now and press his hard cock against Maverick's ass, his zipper digging into the base of the boy's spine and a grating, almost intolerable prickling against his aching erection. He knows how to relieve that ache. It's almost gentle, at first, the movement. His every muscle is rigid with anticipation, and with pent-up, long-nursed, well-planned hatred. And lust.
But to the kid, it's so unexpected. The brush of cloth against his shorts, then sliding close up against him and the surprising pressure of Viper's hard-on against his butt. The man's breath on the nape of his neck, suddenly, through his teeth clamped tightly shut, bared by the slightest curl of his lip. And this is the most emotion he has ever seen betrayed, by Viper.
None of which registers with him. His eyes are wet, and the empty weight in his belly stops him concentrating on the world around him right now. He moves to turn round.
Maverick moves to turn round, but Viper's body pins him to the sink and he cranes his neck around instead, incomprehension on his tragic face, and he's about to say something but Viper has been waiting for a long time and he is quicker, and pitiless, grabbing the boy's wrists in one steely hand and pushing himself forward again, shoving the boy's crotch up against the tiles.
Maverick hardly resists. He's beaten before he starts. Viper hurts him when he pulls off his shorts, dragging them to his knees, the cloth grazing him, Viper's tug bruising almost. Maverick stands there docile at the sink.
Viper cuffs him a couple of times, side to side, and Maverick sways a little. Jester's ring draws a little blood and Viper gives a grim almost-smile, but he gets enough satisfaction without hitting him and he doesn't bother. Because he knows that it's got to hurt when he jerks two, then three of his fingers into him, and he doesn't even take the trouble to spit on them first. The boy's legs are jammed together by his undershorts. Maverick lets out a sort of a dry sob; just a gasp, really. Shakes his hands free of Viper's, in a convulsive gesture, but doesn't struggle more; just plants his hands in front of him on the sides of the basin, and Viper sees his knuckles go white as he presses down.
Viper works his fingers in Maverick's ass, and Mavericks gasps and looks down at nothing while Viper stares, stares at them in the mirror. Maverick is red in the face and tears are squeezing from his eyes. Viper is grey and impassive. Like nothing's changed.
With his free hand, he unzips his pants though.
* * * * *
Maverick has lost the swagger. He walks to class for the last time, still in his uniform but without the confidence it always brought him, and walking… gingerly.
Laugh with me, people. Or at me, at your discretion :)
I had a vague google for Top Gun slash, and what wasn't Top Gun flight jackets with 'slash pockets' (?) was dead links. C'mon : people write fanfic for crap films all the time. It surely can't be just because it's crap? Is it because it's no challenge? Because the subtext is all in your face and more like SUPERTEXT?
So, I wrote this for my mate Schmo, who watched it with me. It is something of a pisstake. It has not been beta'd either. I offer it up to anyone who can direct me to any more Top Gun slashfic.
Title: You've lost that lovin' feelin'
Rating: Erm, NC17 for non consensual fingering. How do you rate these things?
Pairing: Jester/Viper, Slider/Iceman, Maverick/Iceman, Maverick/Charlie, Maverick/Viper, Maverick/Goose. Maverick is such a ho.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just taking them to their logical conclusion. And I couldn't make money off this if I tried. I'll have to pay people to read it *slips you a fiver*
Notes: There was no beta. So tell me that the tenses are all screwy and that the sex is terrible. Although I already know the sex is terrible (sorry 'bout that), that's why it fades to black right when it does :) If it seems sketchy, it is because there is so much more backplot and foreplot and indeed, a whole, terrible novel in my head, where Goose & Maverick's relationship is explored, where we explain how it was that weekend when Jester's sister brought the kids over, and where Kelly McGillis runs away with Meg Ryan at the end and they show that poor forgotten child some real family love. But I'll spare you.
Viper really does turn up behind him in the locker room in the film, and Maverick really does walk to class gingerly the next day. I didn't invent that.
Random sample of the terrible crack that is Top Gun : "Maverick is alone in the locker room. Hands on the sink, he stares into the mirror unseeingly. He cannot quite comprehend that Goose is gone, but he feels like he missed something. Like he hadn't, totally, understood and like now he'll never get the chance. Gone, gone, gone." Bwaha. Ahem.
YOU'VE LOST THAT LOVIN' FEELIN' (or, Complicated isn't the half of it)
His eyes were open. Night after night he'd lain like this, in Jester's solid arms, while Jester slept the sleep of the just, his broad chest warm against his back, awake. Taut. Every now and again Jester would wake up, would sleepily realize he wasn't sleeping; he'd hold him closer then, run a wide hand down his ribs, peer over, his cheek brushing Viper's jaw, solicitous. Viper would look straight ahead of him, into the dark of the bedroom, seeing nothing but in his mind's eye, over and over, that flash of teeth, that cocky, rodent grin. Viper grits his own teeth. That boy is going to drive him crazy.
* * * * *
Maverick enjoys it. He knows it gets him in trouble, that it gets him marked down, but it's worth it because he's seen the looks. Or rather, he can't fail to notice the way Viper turns away when Maverick's about to catch his eye. Like he's been looking all along, watching him. And so Maverick stretches, flexes his arms in the white sleeves of his uniform, turns to Goose or to one of the others in class. Grins up at him knowingly from the front row.
* * * * *
Infuriatingly. He'd like to punch him in the face, knock him sideways. Hell, he'd like to beat him to a whimpering pulp. For doing this to him.
He hates himself. And when Jester offers to get him a glass of water, when he holds him close, he hates himself for the distance he is allowing to grow in his mind between he and Jester, because he almost wants to shrink away from his warmth, thinking of Maverick's - Maverick's skin would be hot, he thinks. Jester is warm, and large, and solid. Reassuring. They have something, something special and a hundred thousand cadets have come through this academy and he is surrounded all day, all year by their tight little asses in their white pants and no-one, no-one has ever made him resent Jester's presence before this. He thinks of the heat of Maverick's body pinned to the bed, the baby face contorted against the sheet and he hates himself.
* * * * *
In the bar, Maverick leans against the jukebox, his jacket over one shoulder. 'Goose,' he calls out, beckoning in the air, and Goose hands him a beer, leaves his hand on his hip for a moment and then he's slipped his fingers into Maverick's pocket, in his impossibly tight jeans, he's fished out a quarter and he's reaching for the jukebox. Maverick laughs, his head thrown back, he tussles a little as he reaches to put the coin in the slot but while Goose is rooting in his pocket with two fingers, he just stays leaning where he is and looks Viper full in the face across the room, where he is watching, his face frozen, his expression never changing, and Maverick smiles slowly, and broadly, like a cat.
* * * * *
Goose plays Their Song, sings it on bended knee to Mav, Mav sings back. It's a joke between them, because Goose knows that Maverick will take any opportunity that comes up, laughingly, carelessly. He's even sort of seeing their instructor. Ms Blackwood. (Although Mav hasn't told Goose just how awkward it had been, at her place.)
Goose doesn't let himself care that way about Maverick, and he sleeps with other people too, if only to prove to himself that it's not a problem. That he doesn't live for the moments when Mav leans in to kiss him, when he suddenly pushes him back against the wall, grinds against his thigh.
Pulls back, laughs, and then grinds again, hot kisses on his neck, hands fumbling with the fly of his jeans.
But he's not gonna pretend to himself that it's that lovin' feelin', not like the song means it. They love each other, sure, although he doubts Mav would ever say it that way. They've known each other since grade school.
* * * * *
Viper, though. Viper sees them across the room and it makes him sick to his stomach. Bradshaw has no self-respect. He expects Maverick to make an exhibition of himself but Bradshaw's exhibition is just… pathetic. It makes him want to spit, and Maverick looks at him again across the room and, still languidly singing amid the noise of the crowded bar, raises an eyebrow. And Viper wants to hurt him. The image of that face screwed up against the sheet, flushed red, that grinning mouth twisted in - pain? - eyes closed tight, the image he sees in the night comes back to him and suddenly in spite of his disgust his dick is hard. Jesus. He turns on his heel and leaves.
* * * * *
In class again. Maverick is ignoring him, but Viper still takes every fluid gesture he makes as a personal insult. Laughing : open mouth; red tongue. The ripple of a tricep. The play of the muscles under his shirt as the boy turns to face Slider, relaxed in his chair, one proprietary arm across the back of Iceman's. Maverick, chewing his gum, makes some witty remark and Slider graces him with a mouthed 'ha, ha' and Maverick shoots a glance at Ice.
"Lieutenant," Viper barks, kicking himself for losing himself to this brat's back muscles. Maverick turns round, and Viper almost regrets it, because now he is facing him, open-eyed. And he pushes his gum with his tongue into one cheek, slowly, and he lets his cheek bulge for a second.
Viper doesn't move. And the moment breaks, and Maverick is facing the front like a good student, chewing away again.
* * * * *
Goose is in the chair next to Mav. Of course he is. And that glance at Iceman is all he sees.
* * * * *
Maverick is alone in the locker room. Hands on the sink, he stares into the mirror unseeingly. He cannot quite comprehend that Goose is gone, but he feels like he missed something. Like he hadn't, totally, understood and like now he'll never get the chance. Gone, gone, gone. He's trying not to cry, and he doesn't even know all the reasons why. He shuts his eyes tight for one second, and when he opens them again Viper is there, behind him, his hard eyes staring back from the mirror. Maverick is too numb to flinch in surprise. He doesn't know to be afraid.
* * * * *
But Viper has him alone now.
Like he knew he would when he came in here, although he hadn't known it would be like this. He is crisp and cold in his uniform and slate-faced as always, and Maverick is broken already. Trying not to cry, for Christ's sake. Naked, or near as damnit, before the sink and broken down, and rather than taking the fun out of this, that cocky grin is so imprinted on Viper's memory that this moment of weakness just makes him want to hurt him more. No-one will disturb them in such a moment. It would be tasteless on their part.
Like maybe it's tasteless on his part to push himself forward right now and press his hard cock against Maverick's ass, his zipper digging into the base of the boy's spine and a grating, almost intolerable prickling against his aching erection. He knows how to relieve that ache. It's almost gentle, at first, the movement. His every muscle is rigid with anticipation, and with pent-up, long-nursed, well-planned hatred. And lust.
But to the kid, it's so unexpected. The brush of cloth against his shorts, then sliding close up against him and the surprising pressure of Viper's hard-on against his butt. The man's breath on the nape of his neck, suddenly, through his teeth clamped tightly shut, bared by the slightest curl of his lip. And this is the most emotion he has ever seen betrayed, by Viper.
None of which registers with him. His eyes are wet, and the empty weight in his belly stops him concentrating on the world around him right now. He moves to turn round.
Maverick moves to turn round, but Viper's body pins him to the sink and he cranes his neck around instead, incomprehension on his tragic face, and he's about to say something but Viper has been waiting for a long time and he is quicker, and pitiless, grabbing the boy's wrists in one steely hand and pushing himself forward again, shoving the boy's crotch up against the tiles.
Maverick hardly resists. He's beaten before he starts. Viper hurts him when he pulls off his shorts, dragging them to his knees, the cloth grazing him, Viper's tug bruising almost. Maverick stands there docile at the sink.
Viper cuffs him a couple of times, side to side, and Maverick sways a little. Jester's ring draws a little blood and Viper gives a grim almost-smile, but he gets enough satisfaction without hitting him and he doesn't bother. Because he knows that it's got to hurt when he jerks two, then three of his fingers into him, and he doesn't even take the trouble to spit on them first. The boy's legs are jammed together by his undershorts. Maverick lets out a sort of a dry sob; just a gasp, really. Shakes his hands free of Viper's, in a convulsive gesture, but doesn't struggle more; just plants his hands in front of him on the sides of the basin, and Viper sees his knuckles go white as he presses down.
Viper works his fingers in Maverick's ass, and Mavericks gasps and looks down at nothing while Viper stares, stares at them in the mirror. Maverick is red in the face and tears are squeezing from his eyes. Viper is grey and impassive. Like nothing's changed.
With his free hand, he unzips his pants though.
* * * * *
Maverick has lost the swagger. He walks to class for the last time, still in his uniform but without the confidence it always brought him, and walking… gingerly.
FINIS
Laugh with me, people. Or at me, at your discretion :)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 04:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-16 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-16 04:43 pm (UTC)And thank you very much, also :)
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 03:35 am (UTC)this is lovely beyond belief. unf!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 07:22 am (UTC)I haven't read any other Top Gun fic at all, but I will go and find this lonely AFF one. Bless. That's where it was hiding!
Wow,
Date: 2005-02-25 03:17 pm (UTC)In addtition to the aff fic there is one more at contrelamontre community here: http://www.livejournal.com/community/contrelamontre/252950.html
Hey,
Date: 2005-02-26 09:02 am (UTC)Haha, don't encourage me also. It doesn't take much :P
Re:
Date: 2005-03-10 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 09:17 am (UTC)Where is this first writing effort? I lose at reading cyrillic, I'm afraid. L-O-S-E :D
But I'd love to see it.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 10:09 am (UTC)http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/9/missingdata.html
*thoughtfully* So this is what they call "shameless self-pimping"...
no subject
Date: 2005-04-28 05:14 pm (UTC)Thanks!!!!
Date: 2005-04-29 07:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 10:59 pm (UTC)