Gravity [Boys of Summer]
Title: Gravity [Boys of Summer]
Author: cassie_roulette
Pairing: Ray/Frank
Rating: NC-17 for SEX
POV: Third, limited
Summary: Frank was an exploitive little bitch when he wanted to be.
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe otherwise, a good most of this is sadly fiction.
Author Notes: I started this when I was visiting Australia over the fall and it's been sitting in my folder halfway finished ever since. I figured it was about time to do something with it. For the most part, there is no plot involved this time, only wonderful, wonderful sex involving Ray Toro. Also, this story takes place several years before any of the others.
Dedications: Happy Valentines Day fandom! I wrote you some smutty porn! <3
Warnings: Sexy men making sexy sex.
Time and Place: 04/16/04 Worcester, MA
Previous
One More Time 05/17/07 Edmonton, AB, Canada
Kashmir 07/28/07 San Bernardino, CA
Your Biggest Fan 04/16/07 San Antonio, TX
High on Life 08/28/07 Syracuse, New York
It wasn't the first time it had happened. But it had been a while.
The first time being maybe two months back, that night in the hotel. And every time since then had been somewhere behind at least some semblance of a closed door.
None of that mattered though, since all of Ray's attention was focused on the legs wrapped around his waist and the fingers twined into his hair, pulling a little too hard but just enough and fuck he loved it, Frank fucking knew he loved it and it was why he did it in the first place.
It was dangerous to screw around backstage, but for some reason Ray had a feeling that that was the idea. Their set was over and the next band was already setting up and just the fucking bass that vibrated up his feet and legs and spine and straight to his dick had him moaning into Frank's mouth, more than anything wanting to silence the other man who never knew quite when to shut the fuck up.
Frank was an exploitive little bitch when he wanted to be.
He knew that Ray got turned on from playing. He knew that after shows, Ray usually had to find a bathroom or a closet or a quiet area apart from everyone else so that he could reach down his pants and bring himself off before he went crazy.
Sometimes he watched. And it never went further than that. Frank getting his daily kick of voyeurism which in turn prompted him to jerk off himself.
Except for today.
Today was the rare occasion that Frank's stage-lust had driven him over the edge of reason, and when he'd found Ray concealed behind a high stack of amps with one arm braced out against the smooth, black surface and the other down the front of his jeans and his head hanging low with that fucking hair covering his eyes-
No words had been exchanged. It was just Frank grabbing Ray by the shoulder to twist him around, wrapping his arms around his neck and using the leverage to latch onto him, legs around his hips, yanking with them, not even caring that he'd given no warning and Ray could very well lose his balance and send both of them careening to the floor in a mess of limbs.
To Ray's credit though, he'd barely missed a beat. For all that he should be fucking livid at the interruption. He'd been jerking off and that just wasn't something you interrupted, it was part of some Guy Code or something, it was bad form. But God, it was Frank, it was the reason he'd been so flustered in the first place, having had to watch the other man writhe around on stage and fuck his guitar and lick his microphone and grind against the monitors.
One time, maybe about a year ago, he'd actually come in his pants from the sight of it. The soft electric buzz of the Les Paul covering his crotch hadn't helped. It was all so sexual, everything about the music and their collective stage personas, and it had just been too much to handle. Fortunately, no one had seemed to notice.
So now here was Frank, pulling on his shirt and with his legs, maneuvering until his back was shoved up against the wall of amps, encouraging Ray to grind into him and whispering fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me against his ear like a mantra.
The younger man's hands pulled harder at the curls in their grasp. And really, how could Ray say no?
He'd never really thought of himself as gay, but each time this happened it was a little harder to deny. There was just something about this band. Closer than family, everyone always so open and so affectionate, touching each other, saying they loved each other. Almost came as no surprise that every so often as the need arose, Ray and Frank would find a secluded corner to release their frustrations.
"Come on Ray, I fucking need it," Frank whined against his lips, struggling with his pants and growling in frustration when he seemed to realize that he wouldn't be able to shove out of his jeans with his legs clamped around Ray's waist.
Ray, not often having the upper hand in these situations, chose to take full advantage of Frank's momentary state of weakness, hooking his hands under the other man's knees and grinding harder against him. It was almost too easy given the difference in their height plus the added help of Ray's muscular thighs. The strength of his lower body alone was enough to keep Frank shoved up against the surface of the amps.
Glad for the cover noise of the band on stage, Frank had started groaning aloud, his mouth open wide and his eyes closed, a face easily recognizable to anyone who'd ever watched him play.
And for the first time since Frank had jumped on him, Ray managed to speak.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed, putting a malice into his voice that he didn't really feel. "Jesus shit Frank, fucking anyone could see us back here!"
Frank only whined, gripping onto Ray's shoulders and rubbing their hips together insistently, striking Ray with the vivid mental image of a stubborn child tugging on his mother's skirt.
The thought just made him smirk, roughly untangling Frank's legs from his midsection, wrapping an arm around his waist and actually carrying him a few feet over to shove him down face first over a speaker that stood about waist-height on Ray.
"You're such a fucking whore, Frank," Ray growled, reaching around to unfasten the younger man's jeans and yank them down around his ankles.
Revealing that Frank had chosen to go commando today.
Typical.
Frank however was just squirming about in place, casting a look back over his shoulder and locking eyes with Ray in a way that screamed defiance and challenge and that little bitch attitude that Ray would never admit that he loved, red smudges and jagged black x's and the sweaty fauxhawk hanging down to one side.
"Raaaay," Frank moaned, arching his hips up into the air, fucking presenting himself like a cat in heat. And as much as Ray could smack him for it, he was undeniably irresistible and practically dripped with a sexual attraction few other human beings could hope to emulate. "Come on, Ray, you know you want to, Ray."
And of course he fucking wanted to. That was beside the point.
From his vantage point he could see the crossed guns inked into the top of Frank's hips, the designs that he loved so much to run his fingers over calling to him like muscle memory, familiar skin to skin contact that urged him closer. Frank grit his teeth together and whimpered aloud when Ray traced along the intricate black lines, palming out with both hands until his nails were scraping along the small of Frank's back, earning another desperate noise that made Ray's stomach flip with need.
It wasn't exactly jealously that had Ray acting a little rougher than necessary. He was new to this shit, had never been attracted to a man before, and for all that this had been going on for a couple of months now, neither he nor Frank had ever stopped to talk about it unless it was actually happening. Grateful as he was for the other man's initiative though, something about Frank's wanton nature scraped on his nerves, the way he'd groan and arch and tilt his neck back in invitation.
Then again, Ray thought bitterly to himself, spitting in his open palm and rubbing it over his aching cock that he'd just freed from the confines of his already loosened pants, looking down at Frank with something close to predatory hunger. If I looked like that, I'd probably be shameless, too.
And thus, the misguided anger. The lust flavored with spite, the love fueled by the desire to make it hurt maybe a little more than necessary.
He knew that Frank wanted it when he dug the tips of his fingers into his soft hips, jerking him back against the first thrust forward, groaning under his breath at the nearly painful heat that engulfed his senses.
"Fucking shit, no one can fuck me like you can, Ray," he heard the shorter man moan, doing his best to grind back for all that his feet didn't quite reach the ground and he had nothing to get his leverage from.
Ray thought of all the times he'd stayed awake at night, horny and sweating and making peace with his own hand because he wanted Frank but didn't have the nerve to act again on the lust that had overcome them that first night, wondering if it was destined to be a one time thing or if the other man even remembered, drunk as he'd been. That is until Frank had solved that problem on his own and ambushed Ray in his hotel bed, crawling under the blankets and wrapping his lips around the older man's dick without so much as a pick-up line.
"Frank," he groaned out shamelessly, leaning down over his body to get in deeper, pulling back only to thrust forward once more, building a rhythm that he knew neither of them would be able to stand for long.
When Frank bucked too much for Ray's liking, Ray answered by laying a sound smack across his ass, earning a little yelp of surprise and a shift in position that reeked of submission and made Ray heady with the power of it all.
"I think you want someone to see," Frank panted, looking back over his shoulder with the makeup smudged around his eyes, hair hanging limp across his face.
"Shut up," Ray hissed, thrusting harder in an attempt to wipe the fucking smirk off his face. All it accomplished however was wrenching a strangled scream out of Frank, prompting Ray to clamp a hand down over his mouth, gritting out "I said shut up!"
The words were haunting him though, that maybe he did fucking want someone to watch what was happening, to see the way Frank reacted to his body and cried out uselessly behind his large hand. Despite the stifling, Frank just seemed to be getting louder, planting his hands on the amp and shoving his body back against Ray's for more, not even able to squirm that much since his pants were still bunched up around his feet, kicking uselessly.
Ray could perfectly see the rest of the designs branded into Frank's back through the sweat-soaked material of his white stage shirt, pushing it up further to reveal more skin, drinking it in with a hunger that bordered on hysteria when he realized that this was a fucking man he was so into, that was making him buck and groan.
It took him a moment to realize that the incoherent noises Frank was making had turned into a repetition of Ray's name, that his tone had gone from horny to pleading and that fucking tears were building up against the surface of Ray's hand. In a moment of panic, Ray jerked his hand away as if burned, holding himself still within Frank's body as the younger man sputtered and gasped for air.
"Ray-" he coughed, once more looking back over his shoulder. "Fucking... need it-"
Ray gasped out as he started to ask "What-" until he looked down and really took in the situation. Of the hard surface that Frank was bent over with really no forgiveness when it came to rubbing himself off against something and Jesus that probably hurt-
Ray's hands were shaking as he stepped back and pulled Frank's pants off the rest of the way, grabbing him by the hips and helping him turn over so that they could actually look at one another face to face, really look at the way that Frank was naked from the waist down and hard and panting and completely unphased by how hopelessly slutty he looked.
Another moment of silence went by as they stared at each other. Ray never really looked at Frank when they did this, and the whole 'fucking a man' thing became a million times more real when you could just see his fucking dick, like the worst gay porn ever made, with his legs spread and his body covered in sweat.
"Ray-"
And that was all it took, the unabashed fucking need that he could hear, the realization that he was the one who was doing this to Frank, he was the one making a mess out of the man who for all intents and purposes, looked like a one man sex show whenever he played. That was what had him stepping back forward and pulling Frank's legs back around his waist, tangling his hands up into his hair and pushing back in hard, very nearly sobbing aloud into Frank's neck when he could feel his body lurch underneath his own.
Frank's back arched hard up off the speaker, grinding himself without reserve against Ray's stomach to get the friction he needed, wrapping his arms around Ray's back and clawing his hands up and down his spine, pulling his shirt and his hair and anything he could get his grip into.
At this point Ray didn't even care if someone did see them, all that mattered in the whole fucking world was that Frank kept screaming for him, kept writhing and panting, like he was fucking possessed, finally just clamping his legs around Ray's hips as he came, neck falling back and mouth parted and finally fucking silent as his spine curved to an impossible angle and then fell limp, his whole body collapsing into a shivering mess of limbs.
"Ray," he whispered once more, burying his face into the older man's neck and that was the breaking point for him, the weak little whimper of an exclamation that made Ray lose it. Frank gripped on tight once more when Ray came into his body, holding on with his legs and arms and even his teeth, biting down against the nape of throat and shoulder as he reeled from the stimulation, oversensitive and susceptible to every fucking movement.
"Christ," Ray panted as he came down from it, still leaning over Frank with his pants on the floor, fire in his chest as his lungs struggled to let him breathe as much as he needed to.
"You're fucking telling me," Frank shot back, lifting a shaky arm to rake his bangs out of his eyes.
Ray couldn't help but laugh nervously, looking up from where he'd collapsed, tossing his own hair aside to see that Frank was grinning right back, that everything was still okay.
"They're probably waiting for us," Frank muttered, breaking the silence after the staring went on for maybe a moment too long.
"Yeah... yeah," Ray agreed, stepping back and tugging up his pants quickly, shaking his arms out to try and get the blood flowing once more after having been as tense as he was.
But for all that Frank had been the one bent over and used and all sorts of contorted, he was the first one to pull himself together and dash off, giggling that stupid fucking girly giggle and giving Ray a dorky grin over his shoulder before disappearing from Ray's line of sight.
"Fucking asshole," Ray muttered, though his own lips were curved in a suspicious smile as he ran after him.
Author: cassie_roulette
Pairing: Ray/Frank
Rating: NC-17 for SEX
POV: Third, limited
Summary: Frank was an exploitive little bitch when he wanted to be.
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe otherwise, a good most of this is sadly fiction.
Author Notes: I started this when I was visiting Australia over the fall and it's been sitting in my folder halfway finished ever since. I figured it was about time to do something with it. For the most part, there is no plot involved this time, only wonderful, wonderful sex involving Ray Toro. Also, this story takes place several years before any of the others.
Dedications: Happy Valentines Day fandom! I wrote you some smutty porn! <3
Warnings: Sexy men making sexy sex.
Time and Place: 04/16/04 Worcester, MA
Previous
One More Time 05/17/07 Edmonton, AB, Canada
Kashmir 07/28/07 San Bernardino, CA
Your Biggest Fan 04/16/07 San Antonio, TX
High on Life 08/28/07 Syracuse, New York
It wasn't the first time it had happened. But it had been a while.
The first time being maybe two months back, that night in the hotel. And every time since then had been somewhere behind at least some semblance of a closed door.
None of that mattered though, since all of Ray's attention was focused on the legs wrapped around his waist and the fingers twined into his hair, pulling a little too hard but just enough and fuck he loved it, Frank fucking knew he loved it and it was why he did it in the first place.
It was dangerous to screw around backstage, but for some reason Ray had a feeling that that was the idea. Their set was over and the next band was already setting up and just the fucking bass that vibrated up his feet and legs and spine and straight to his dick had him moaning into Frank's mouth, more than anything wanting to silence the other man who never knew quite when to shut the fuck up.
Frank was an exploitive little bitch when he wanted to be.
He knew that Ray got turned on from playing. He knew that after shows, Ray usually had to find a bathroom or a closet or a quiet area apart from everyone else so that he could reach down his pants and bring himself off before he went crazy.
Sometimes he watched. And it never went further than that. Frank getting his daily kick of voyeurism which in turn prompted him to jerk off himself.
Except for today.
Today was the rare occasion that Frank's stage-lust had driven him over the edge of reason, and when he'd found Ray concealed behind a high stack of amps with one arm braced out against the smooth, black surface and the other down the front of his jeans and his head hanging low with that fucking hair covering his eyes-
No words had been exchanged. It was just Frank grabbing Ray by the shoulder to twist him around, wrapping his arms around his neck and using the leverage to latch onto him, legs around his hips, yanking with them, not even caring that he'd given no warning and Ray could very well lose his balance and send both of them careening to the floor in a mess of limbs.
To Ray's credit though, he'd barely missed a beat. For all that he should be fucking livid at the interruption. He'd been jerking off and that just wasn't something you interrupted, it was part of some Guy Code or something, it was bad form. But God, it was Frank, it was the reason he'd been so flustered in the first place, having had to watch the other man writhe around on stage and fuck his guitar and lick his microphone and grind against the monitors.
One time, maybe about a year ago, he'd actually come in his pants from the sight of it. The soft electric buzz of the Les Paul covering his crotch hadn't helped. It was all so sexual, everything about the music and their collective stage personas, and it had just been too much to handle. Fortunately, no one had seemed to notice.
So now here was Frank, pulling on his shirt and with his legs, maneuvering until his back was shoved up against the wall of amps, encouraging Ray to grind into him and whispering fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me against his ear like a mantra.
The younger man's hands pulled harder at the curls in their grasp. And really, how could Ray say no?
He'd never really thought of himself as gay, but each time this happened it was a little harder to deny. There was just something about this band. Closer than family, everyone always so open and so affectionate, touching each other, saying they loved each other. Almost came as no surprise that every so often as the need arose, Ray and Frank would find a secluded corner to release their frustrations.
"Come on Ray, I fucking need it," Frank whined against his lips, struggling with his pants and growling in frustration when he seemed to realize that he wouldn't be able to shove out of his jeans with his legs clamped around Ray's waist.
Ray, not often having the upper hand in these situations, chose to take full advantage of Frank's momentary state of weakness, hooking his hands under the other man's knees and grinding harder against him. It was almost too easy given the difference in their height plus the added help of Ray's muscular thighs. The strength of his lower body alone was enough to keep Frank shoved up against the surface of the amps.
Glad for the cover noise of the band on stage, Frank had started groaning aloud, his mouth open wide and his eyes closed, a face easily recognizable to anyone who'd ever watched him play.
And for the first time since Frank had jumped on him, Ray managed to speak.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed, putting a malice into his voice that he didn't really feel. "Jesus shit Frank, fucking anyone could see us back here!"
Frank only whined, gripping onto Ray's shoulders and rubbing their hips together insistently, striking Ray with the vivid mental image of a stubborn child tugging on his mother's skirt.
The thought just made him smirk, roughly untangling Frank's legs from his midsection, wrapping an arm around his waist and actually carrying him a few feet over to shove him down face first over a speaker that stood about waist-height on Ray.
"You're such a fucking whore, Frank," Ray growled, reaching around to unfasten the younger man's jeans and yank them down around his ankles.
Revealing that Frank had chosen to go commando today.
Typical.
Frank however was just squirming about in place, casting a look back over his shoulder and locking eyes with Ray in a way that screamed defiance and challenge and that little bitch attitude that Ray would never admit that he loved, red smudges and jagged black x's and the sweaty fauxhawk hanging down to one side.
"Raaaay," Frank moaned, arching his hips up into the air, fucking presenting himself like a cat in heat. And as much as Ray could smack him for it, he was undeniably irresistible and practically dripped with a sexual attraction few other human beings could hope to emulate. "Come on, Ray, you know you want to, Ray."
And of course he fucking wanted to. That was beside the point.
From his vantage point he could see the crossed guns inked into the top of Frank's hips, the designs that he loved so much to run his fingers over calling to him like muscle memory, familiar skin to skin contact that urged him closer. Frank grit his teeth together and whimpered aloud when Ray traced along the intricate black lines, palming out with both hands until his nails were scraping along the small of Frank's back, earning another desperate noise that made Ray's stomach flip with need.
It wasn't exactly jealously that had Ray acting a little rougher than necessary. He was new to this shit, had never been attracted to a man before, and for all that this had been going on for a couple of months now, neither he nor Frank had ever stopped to talk about it unless it was actually happening. Grateful as he was for the other man's initiative though, something about Frank's wanton nature scraped on his nerves, the way he'd groan and arch and tilt his neck back in invitation.
Then again, Ray thought bitterly to himself, spitting in his open palm and rubbing it over his aching cock that he'd just freed from the confines of his already loosened pants, looking down at Frank with something close to predatory hunger. If I looked like that, I'd probably be shameless, too.
And thus, the misguided anger. The lust flavored with spite, the love fueled by the desire to make it hurt maybe a little more than necessary.
He knew that Frank wanted it when he dug the tips of his fingers into his soft hips, jerking him back against the first thrust forward, groaning under his breath at the nearly painful heat that engulfed his senses.
"Fucking shit, no one can fuck me like you can, Ray," he heard the shorter man moan, doing his best to grind back for all that his feet didn't quite reach the ground and he had nothing to get his leverage from.
Ray thought of all the times he'd stayed awake at night, horny and sweating and making peace with his own hand because he wanted Frank but didn't have the nerve to act again on the lust that had overcome them that first night, wondering if it was destined to be a one time thing or if the other man even remembered, drunk as he'd been. That is until Frank had solved that problem on his own and ambushed Ray in his hotel bed, crawling under the blankets and wrapping his lips around the older man's dick without so much as a pick-up line.
"Frank," he groaned out shamelessly, leaning down over his body to get in deeper, pulling back only to thrust forward once more, building a rhythm that he knew neither of them would be able to stand for long.
When Frank bucked too much for Ray's liking, Ray answered by laying a sound smack across his ass, earning a little yelp of surprise and a shift in position that reeked of submission and made Ray heady with the power of it all.
"I think you want someone to see," Frank panted, looking back over his shoulder with the makeup smudged around his eyes, hair hanging limp across his face.
"Shut up," Ray hissed, thrusting harder in an attempt to wipe the fucking smirk off his face. All it accomplished however was wrenching a strangled scream out of Frank, prompting Ray to clamp a hand down over his mouth, gritting out "I said shut up!"
The words were haunting him though, that maybe he did fucking want someone to watch what was happening, to see the way Frank reacted to his body and cried out uselessly behind his large hand. Despite the stifling, Frank just seemed to be getting louder, planting his hands on the amp and shoving his body back against Ray's for more, not even able to squirm that much since his pants were still bunched up around his feet, kicking uselessly.
Ray could perfectly see the rest of the designs branded into Frank's back through the sweat-soaked material of his white stage shirt, pushing it up further to reveal more skin, drinking it in with a hunger that bordered on hysteria when he realized that this was a fucking man he was so into, that was making him buck and groan.
It took him a moment to realize that the incoherent noises Frank was making had turned into a repetition of Ray's name, that his tone had gone from horny to pleading and that fucking tears were building up against the surface of Ray's hand. In a moment of panic, Ray jerked his hand away as if burned, holding himself still within Frank's body as the younger man sputtered and gasped for air.
"Ray-" he coughed, once more looking back over his shoulder. "Fucking... need it-"
Ray gasped out as he started to ask "What-" until he looked down and really took in the situation. Of the hard surface that Frank was bent over with really no forgiveness when it came to rubbing himself off against something and Jesus that probably hurt-
Ray's hands were shaking as he stepped back and pulled Frank's pants off the rest of the way, grabbing him by the hips and helping him turn over so that they could actually look at one another face to face, really look at the way that Frank was naked from the waist down and hard and panting and completely unphased by how hopelessly slutty he looked.
Another moment of silence went by as they stared at each other. Ray never really looked at Frank when they did this, and the whole 'fucking a man' thing became a million times more real when you could just see his fucking dick, like the worst gay porn ever made, with his legs spread and his body covered in sweat.
"Ray-"
And that was all it took, the unabashed fucking need that he could hear, the realization that he was the one who was doing this to Frank, he was the one making a mess out of the man who for all intents and purposes, looked like a one man sex show whenever he played. That was what had him stepping back forward and pulling Frank's legs back around his waist, tangling his hands up into his hair and pushing back in hard, very nearly sobbing aloud into Frank's neck when he could feel his body lurch underneath his own.
Frank's back arched hard up off the speaker, grinding himself without reserve against Ray's stomach to get the friction he needed, wrapping his arms around Ray's back and clawing his hands up and down his spine, pulling his shirt and his hair and anything he could get his grip into.
At this point Ray didn't even care if someone did see them, all that mattered in the whole fucking world was that Frank kept screaming for him, kept writhing and panting, like he was fucking possessed, finally just clamping his legs around Ray's hips as he came, neck falling back and mouth parted and finally fucking silent as his spine curved to an impossible angle and then fell limp, his whole body collapsing into a shivering mess of limbs.
"Ray," he whispered once more, burying his face into the older man's neck and that was the breaking point for him, the weak little whimper of an exclamation that made Ray lose it. Frank gripped on tight once more when Ray came into his body, holding on with his legs and arms and even his teeth, biting down against the nape of throat and shoulder as he reeled from the stimulation, oversensitive and susceptible to every fucking movement.
"Christ," Ray panted as he came down from it, still leaning over Frank with his pants on the floor, fire in his chest as his lungs struggled to let him breathe as much as he needed to.
"You're fucking telling me," Frank shot back, lifting a shaky arm to rake his bangs out of his eyes.
Ray couldn't help but laugh nervously, looking up from where he'd collapsed, tossing his own hair aside to see that Frank was grinning right back, that everything was still okay.
"They're probably waiting for us," Frank muttered, breaking the silence after the staring went on for maybe a moment too long.
"Yeah... yeah," Ray agreed, stepping back and tugging up his pants quickly, shaking his arms out to try and get the blood flowing once more after having been as tense as he was.
But for all that Frank had been the one bent over and used and all sorts of contorted, he was the first one to pull himself together and dash off, giggling that stupid fucking girly giggle and giving Ray a dorky grin over his shoulder before disappearing from Ray's line of sight.
"Fucking asshole," Ray muttered, though his own lips were curved in a suspicious smile as he ran after him.