Another TFLN ficlet
Bandslash, NC-17, ~1000 words. slutty!asshole!Frank/various. For this prompt on the TFLN meme.
***
"This doesn't mean anything," mumbles Bob around Frank's cock.
Frank shoves him further down. If the talking is intelligible, his throat isn't full enough. "Sure it does," he says. "It means my ass is so hot you can't stay away from it even when I take it half a country, a band, and a relationship away from you. Quit drooling."
Bob tries to respond to that, but Frank wedges his cock in at an angle that requires him to choose between vocalizing or breathing, and he gives up. Thank god. Sometimes Frank wants to add duct tape to his sex arsenal. Just as important as a condom for protecting him from unpleasant eventualities like syphilis and emotional attachment.
The emotional attachment can be handy sometimes, though. Random one-night stands sometimes walk away if Frank is too much of a dick, but not Bob. Frank has yet to find a dick move that will keep Bob from hooking up with him.
"Yeah, bitch, swallow that shit," Frank mumbles, and Bob does.
***
Frank started fucking Patrick just to annoy Bob, back when they'd just broken up and Bob was still acting all jealous and possessive. He knew Bob and Patrick used to have this oh-but-we-shouldn't unresolved sexual tension thing going on when they lived together, so it only made sense.
That's why Frank fucked him the first time. Every time since then, it's because of Patrick's mouth.
Frank normally doesn't make a whole lot of noise during sex beyond the basics, like "right there" and "harder" and "bite my cock again and I'm throwing you out the window naked, motherfucker." He's never been one for gasping and moaning and "oh god"ing all over the place. But Patrick's mouth, it turns Frank into a believer, and inspires him to evangelize to the neighbors until they bang on the wall. It's a beautiful, glorious thing.
"Oh fuck, oh Christ, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna," Frank babbles. It's not even a warning, it's more that he's so excited about the impending joy of orgasm that he feels the need to announce it. (Frank doesn't do warnings. If his cock is in someone's mouth they shouldn't need a fucking warning to know that at some point there's going to be jizz coming out of it.)
Patrick lets Frank come in his mouth, but not down his throat, and he spits into the sink. Frank rolls his eyes and leaves without returning the favor.
***
The sex that Frank has with Pete is not hate sex. He doesn't hate Pete. He actually kind of likes Pete, when he's not dripping emo on the carpet. But it's not carefully orchestrated BDSM, either. It's just the two of them consensually fucking each other's shit up.
Whoever wins the fight gets to come.
Frank ducks a swing and barrels forward, slamming his shoulder into Pete's stomach and knocking them both headlong onto the floor. It's dirty hardwood, and when Pete rolls on top and starts punching him, Frank takes as much damage from the surface beneath him as from the fists above.
It hurts. Frank doesn't like things that hurt, but he likes things he can control. He can control this.
He rears up and crashes the top of his head into Pete's face. Pete loses his balance and falls backward onto Frank's legs. He stays there for a second, just long enough for Frank to pounce on top. Pete's nose is bleeding from the headbutt. Frank pins his arms down with his knees, unzipping his fly, and leans forward to stick his dick in Pete's mouth.
Pete wriggles and squirms, but he takes it. His blood trickles over his lip and into his mouth, mixing with his spit to lube up his throat for Frank's cock. Frank holds down one of Pete's arms with his hand and the other with a knee, propping his free hand against the floor for balance. The position stretches his thigh muscles almost to the point of pain, but he can barely feel it anymore, he's so worked up.
He fucks Pete's throat, shallow and fast. Pete retches. Frank pulls out enough to be sure that he's not about to get puke on his dick, then pushes back in. He can feel the movement of Pete's body as he humps the air, choking, thrashing. When Frank is about to come, he shifts back, freeing Pete's arms. Pete lashes out, knuckles catching Frank in the ribs. Frank shudders, takes another punch, and comes all over Pete's face.
Frank never loses.
***
Frank has been trying to fuck Mikey for years.
He's not subtle about it. His passes aren't double entendres, they're single entendres, because there is only one interpretation of the sentence "let's fuck." Mikey hasn't responded to his advances, so Frank has mostly cooled it out of sheer boredom, although he still gives it a shot once in a while, just in case.
He hasn't lately, so it's kind of unexpected when Mikey corners him behind a vending machine and says, "On your knees."
Frank obeys, mostly out of surprise. Mikey shoves Frank's head against the wall with his hips. "Here's the deal," he says. "You're a dickbag in bed. I know because you've fucked just about everyone I know. So I'm gonna give you a taste of what you're handing out, and if you don't like it, you knock it the fuck off." He grabs Frank by the hair, nearly ripping it out. "If you do like it, you stick with me and leave my friends the fuck alone."
Mikey's crotch is in Frank's face, and he can feel the hard-on. He breathes out long and deep, making sure Mikey can feel the warmth through the fabric of his jeans. Frank is hard too, harder than he is when he's about to get a blowjob, and that doesn't make sense.
Mikey unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. "Ask for it."
It might not make sense, but Frank fucking wants it.
"Please," he whispers, and opens his mouth wide.
***
"This doesn't mean anything," mumbles Bob around Frank's cock.
Frank shoves him further down. If the talking is intelligible, his throat isn't full enough. "Sure it does," he says. "It means my ass is so hot you can't stay away from it even when I take it half a country, a band, and a relationship away from you. Quit drooling."
Bob tries to respond to that, but Frank wedges his cock in at an angle that requires him to choose between vocalizing or breathing, and he gives up. Thank god. Sometimes Frank wants to add duct tape to his sex arsenal. Just as important as a condom for protecting him from unpleasant eventualities like syphilis and emotional attachment.
The emotional attachment can be handy sometimes, though. Random one-night stands sometimes walk away if Frank is too much of a dick, but not Bob. Frank has yet to find a dick move that will keep Bob from hooking up with him.
"Yeah, bitch, swallow that shit," Frank mumbles, and Bob does.
***
Frank started fucking Patrick just to annoy Bob, back when they'd just broken up and Bob was still acting all jealous and possessive. He knew Bob and Patrick used to have this oh-but-we-shouldn't unresolved sexual tension thing going on when they lived together, so it only made sense.
That's why Frank fucked him the first time. Every time since then, it's because of Patrick's mouth.
Frank normally doesn't make a whole lot of noise during sex beyond the basics, like "right there" and "harder" and "bite my cock again and I'm throwing you out the window naked, motherfucker." He's never been one for gasping and moaning and "oh god"ing all over the place. But Patrick's mouth, it turns Frank into a believer, and inspires him to evangelize to the neighbors until they bang on the wall. It's a beautiful, glorious thing.
"Oh fuck, oh Christ, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna," Frank babbles. It's not even a warning, it's more that he's so excited about the impending joy of orgasm that he feels the need to announce it. (Frank doesn't do warnings. If his cock is in someone's mouth they shouldn't need a fucking warning to know that at some point there's going to be jizz coming out of it.)
Patrick lets Frank come in his mouth, but not down his throat, and he spits into the sink. Frank rolls his eyes and leaves without returning the favor.
***
The sex that Frank has with Pete is not hate sex. He doesn't hate Pete. He actually kind of likes Pete, when he's not dripping emo on the carpet. But it's not carefully orchestrated BDSM, either. It's just the two of them consensually fucking each other's shit up.
Whoever wins the fight gets to come.
Frank ducks a swing and barrels forward, slamming his shoulder into Pete's stomach and knocking them both headlong onto the floor. It's dirty hardwood, and when Pete rolls on top and starts punching him, Frank takes as much damage from the surface beneath him as from the fists above.
It hurts. Frank doesn't like things that hurt, but he likes things he can control. He can control this.
He rears up and crashes the top of his head into Pete's face. Pete loses his balance and falls backward onto Frank's legs. He stays there for a second, just long enough for Frank to pounce on top. Pete's nose is bleeding from the headbutt. Frank pins his arms down with his knees, unzipping his fly, and leans forward to stick his dick in Pete's mouth.
Pete wriggles and squirms, but he takes it. His blood trickles over his lip and into his mouth, mixing with his spit to lube up his throat for Frank's cock. Frank holds down one of Pete's arms with his hand and the other with a knee, propping his free hand against the floor for balance. The position stretches his thigh muscles almost to the point of pain, but he can barely feel it anymore, he's so worked up.
He fucks Pete's throat, shallow and fast. Pete retches. Frank pulls out enough to be sure that he's not about to get puke on his dick, then pushes back in. He can feel the movement of Pete's body as he humps the air, choking, thrashing. When Frank is about to come, he shifts back, freeing Pete's arms. Pete lashes out, knuckles catching Frank in the ribs. Frank shudders, takes another punch, and comes all over Pete's face.
Frank never loses.
***
Frank has been trying to fuck Mikey for years.
He's not subtle about it. His passes aren't double entendres, they're single entendres, because there is only one interpretation of the sentence "let's fuck." Mikey hasn't responded to his advances, so Frank has mostly cooled it out of sheer boredom, although he still gives it a shot once in a while, just in case.
He hasn't lately, so it's kind of unexpected when Mikey corners him behind a vending machine and says, "On your knees."
Frank obeys, mostly out of surprise. Mikey shoves Frank's head against the wall with his hips. "Here's the deal," he says. "You're a dickbag in bed. I know because you've fucked just about everyone I know. So I'm gonna give you a taste of what you're handing out, and if you don't like it, you knock it the fuck off." He grabs Frank by the hair, nearly ripping it out. "If you do like it, you stick with me and leave my friends the fuck alone."
Mikey's crotch is in Frank's face, and he can feel the hard-on. He breathes out long and deep, making sure Mikey can feel the warmth through the fabric of his jeans. Frank is hard too, harder than he is when he's about to get a blowjob, and that doesn't make sense.
Mikey unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. "Ask for it."
It might not make sense, but Frank fucking wants it.
"Please," he whispers, and opens his mouth wide.