Frankentim fan fiction ahoy.
Title: From Tim's Lips to Frank's Eyes
Fandom: Homicide: Life on the Street
Pairing: Frank/Tim
Rating: R for innuendo.
Summary: Tim and Frank are made mutually aware of what Tim wants.
Disclaimer: Everything and anything that is Homicide: Life on the Street belongs to it's creators, Tom Fontana, James Yoshimura, maybe, NBC, perhaps David Simon, and I mean no harm in borrowing them.
When was it that Frank started thinking about him like this? It seemed like something he should remember, but the first time was elusive. There should have been a clap of thunder or something to distinguish that moment from all the other moments they’d shared together. At the very least, he ought to be aware of some general time period that he could tie to the realization that he was attracted to his partner, like around the March case, or sometime in late ninety-six, but even that he was unsure of.
Frank had always been aware of his ability to recognize handsomeness in members of the same sex, but on a scale of one to ten in relevancy, as a married man that fact ranked somewhere between zero and none. When he was a young man growing up segregated from the opposite gender, the boys he was surrounded by were not uncommon guests in his fantasies, more like the standard of the time, but after college and then Mary, those feelings were almost nonexistent. Frank was comfortable with his sexuality- or at least he pretended to be- but then his sexuality was, up until the point in which his partner started figuring habitually as the main feature in his midnight fantasies, convenient to him. After that, Tim’s ambiguous sexual identity ceased to be amusing to him. That conversation starting in the car and ending on the stoop of Zeke Lafeld’s father’s home had been funny at the time, but it became more embarrassing than anything else in retrospect.
He liked how Tim sucked at his lip. It drew his attention to an almost ridiculous point. Luckily Tim, while otherwise gifted in intuition and detection, was completely oblivious in regards to anything related to the man himself, and Frank’s thoughts were no doubt so far flung from expectation that no one else in the precinct noticed anything strange about his attention either.
It wasn’t that he didn’t try to keep himself from noticing Tim. He did try, but his lackluster effort was unrewarded, and so his compulsion only worsened over time, until the sight of Tim’s raw lower lip, wet from sucking and biting at it, sometimes triggered a surge of yearning like physical touch through his body.
What was the man doing, after all, sucking at that lower lip so often that Frank could only surmise he must have been weaned too early or that he had an oral fixation of epic proportions. Even the suggestion of that second theory was a thought in his black books. Mary was reluctant to perform that feat for him, but something made him think Tim would have no qualms about it. In fact, he figured Tim would probably be an eager participant.
That was how he imagined Tim in bed, when he imagined him, which was all too often, eager to please, passionate, uninhibited, willing…
Willing. Willful wouldn’t be too bad, either, Frank decided sometime after the stroke while sitting behind the steering wheel after Tim and he struggled playfully over the keys. He could imagine him above him, beneath him, restless like he couldn’t stay still even if he tried. He was a few inches taller than Frank, but he was all lanky height, and Frank didn’t count that for much. He might playfully subdue him.
Tim would probably like it any which way as long as they were both getting what they needed. He’d probably be adventurous, because, Frank mused, what was bisexuality other than a sexual adventure? It was almost funny how quickly he became comfortable with Tim as a sexual fantasy. Tim on top of him with his legs on either side of Frank. Tim with his mouth shaped around Frank, his hair under Frank’s fingers. He thought there would be somewhere he was unwilling to go in fantasy, but he found there was no breaking point; he wanted it all.
Once he dreamt that he was screwing Tim on his desk at the precinct. Kay and Munch were talking to each other in the fish bowl, but they didn’t seem to notice what Tim and he were up to on the other side of the glass. The phone was ringing, and neither Tim nor he stopped to pick it up. Both of them had their clothes on, trench coats and all, and what should have been an uncomfortable experience wasn’t through the magic of unconsciousness. In the dream, he was aware of the fact that Gee was writing a report on the subject but Frank also knew he could rewrite it before Gee submitted it.
Another time he dreamt he was in bed with Mary and Tim at once, but only Tim seemed to mind. While he was soothing Tim’s uneasiness, Mary had climbed under the covers.
Supposedly sex dreams were about the desire to foster social intimacy between oneself and another. What Frank got out of his dreams was a desire to foster penetration between himself and Tim.
The one fantasy that was off limits to Frank was imagining Tim with that restaurateur that he seemed to enjoy telling Frank about. It was distasteful. Not that the thought didn’t come to his mind, and with some regularity, of how Tim might do it with him, and it got him hard to think about it, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Many kinds of conclusions could be drawn from such but Frank wasn’t one for unfounded theories.
Fandom: Homicide: Life on the Street
Pairing: Frank/Tim
Rating: R for innuendo.
Summary: Tim and Frank are made mutually aware of what Tim wants.
Disclaimer: Everything and anything that is Homicide: Life on the Street belongs to it's creators, Tom Fontana, James Yoshimura, maybe, NBC, perhaps David Simon, and I mean no harm in borrowing them.
When was it that Frank started thinking about him like this? It seemed like something he should remember, but the first time was elusive. There should have been a clap of thunder or something to distinguish that moment from all the other moments they’d shared together. At the very least, he ought to be aware of some general time period that he could tie to the realization that he was attracted to his partner, like around the March case, or sometime in late ninety-six, but even that he was unsure of.
Frank had always been aware of his ability to recognize handsomeness in members of the same sex, but on a scale of one to ten in relevancy, as a married man that fact ranked somewhere between zero and none. When he was a young man growing up segregated from the opposite gender, the boys he was surrounded by were not uncommon guests in his fantasies, more like the standard of the time, but after college and then Mary, those feelings were almost nonexistent. Frank was comfortable with his sexuality- or at least he pretended to be- but then his sexuality was, up until the point in which his partner started figuring habitually as the main feature in his midnight fantasies, convenient to him. After that, Tim’s ambiguous sexual identity ceased to be amusing to him. That conversation starting in the car and ending on the stoop of Zeke Lafeld’s father’s home had been funny at the time, but it became more embarrassing than anything else in retrospect.
He liked how Tim sucked at his lip. It drew his attention to an almost ridiculous point. Luckily Tim, while otherwise gifted in intuition and detection, was completely oblivious in regards to anything related to the man himself, and Frank’s thoughts were no doubt so far flung from expectation that no one else in the precinct noticed anything strange about his attention either.
It wasn’t that he didn’t try to keep himself from noticing Tim. He did try, but his lackluster effort was unrewarded, and so his compulsion only worsened over time, until the sight of Tim’s raw lower lip, wet from sucking and biting at it, sometimes triggered a surge of yearning like physical touch through his body.
What was the man doing, after all, sucking at that lower lip so often that Frank could only surmise he must have been weaned too early or that he had an oral fixation of epic proportions. Even the suggestion of that second theory was a thought in his black books. Mary was reluctant to perform that feat for him, but something made him think Tim would have no qualms about it. In fact, he figured Tim would probably be an eager participant.
That was how he imagined Tim in bed, when he imagined him, which was all too often, eager to please, passionate, uninhibited, willing…
Willing. Willful wouldn’t be too bad, either, Frank decided sometime after the stroke while sitting behind the steering wheel after Tim and he struggled playfully over the keys. He could imagine him above him, beneath him, restless like he couldn’t stay still even if he tried. He was a few inches taller than Frank, but he was all lanky height, and Frank didn’t count that for much. He might playfully subdue him.
Tim would probably like it any which way as long as they were both getting what they needed. He’d probably be adventurous, because, Frank mused, what was bisexuality other than a sexual adventure? It was almost funny how quickly he became comfortable with Tim as a sexual fantasy. Tim on top of him with his legs on either side of Frank. Tim with his mouth shaped around Frank, his hair under Frank’s fingers. He thought there would be somewhere he was unwilling to go in fantasy, but he found there was no breaking point; he wanted it all.
Once he dreamt that he was screwing Tim on his desk at the precinct. Kay and Munch were talking to each other in the fish bowl, but they didn’t seem to notice what Tim and he were up to on the other side of the glass. The phone was ringing, and neither Tim nor he stopped to pick it up. Both of them had their clothes on, trench coats and all, and what should have been an uncomfortable experience wasn’t through the magic of unconsciousness. In the dream, he was aware of the fact that Gee was writing a report on the subject but Frank also knew he could rewrite it before Gee submitted it.
Another time he dreamt he was in bed with Mary and Tim at once, but only Tim seemed to mind. While he was soothing Tim’s uneasiness, Mary had climbed under the covers.
Supposedly sex dreams were about the desire to foster social intimacy between oneself and another. What Frank got out of his dreams was a desire to foster penetration between himself and Tim.
The one fantasy that was off limits to Frank was imagining Tim with that restaurateur that he seemed to enjoy telling Frank about. It was distasteful. Not that the thought didn’t come to his mind, and with some regularity, of how Tim might do it with him, and it got him hard to think about it, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Many kinds of conclusions could be drawn from such but Frank wasn’t one for unfounded theories.