Little Miss Sunshine
May. 28th, 2008 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veiledndarknessTitle: Bittersweet
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: Dwayne/Frank
Rating: R for sexual descriptions and mild language
Summary: A taste just isn't enough...
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, and no harm intended.
xx
After the trip, after they’d returned home and pretended that everything was just fine, thanks for asking, Frank had hidden the magazines that he’d bought from the gas station. All of them had been crammed under his mattress. He couldn’t look at them, and felt little desire to do so. As he arranged them under the mattress, he felt a moment of fleeting disapproval, almost as if he could sense Richard’s disgust for Frank and everything that he stood for when he kept them instead of throwing them away.
Richard’s slightly curled lip and the way he spoke of Frank like he wasn’t even there; all those things didn’t bother him, mere drops of water that he shook off with practiced nonchalance. Richard wasn’t the first staunchly heterosexual man to show open disdain for Frank, nor would he be the last, of that Frank was certain.
*
While making his bed a few weeks later, Frank realized with a sudden start that the magazines were gone. He froze, hunched over the bed, his hands still clutching the bed sheet. He turned his head slowly and shot a casual glance over to Dwayne, who was perched on his bed, face buried in a book, nibbling on his lower lip as he read. Frank looked down at his bed again, the urge to panic growing stronger.
He exhaled slowly and flipped his mattress, checking the floor under his bed as he did so. Nothing but a few puffs of dust. Frank felt a wave of nausea roll over him. He made the bed hurriedly and all but ran from the room.
‘Maybe…maybe Sheryl,’ he thought frantically. ‘She could have thrown them out, or even Richard, who cares, right? He’ll be offended and throw them out.’
With that, Frank sat down on the couch, calming down at the thought. There had to be a logical reason, one that he had nothing to fret over.
*
On a particularly boring Sunday evening, Frank had retreated to his room for some rest. Sheryl and Richard were progressively getting louder with their bickering. Olive had gone to bed, her headphones firmly over her ears as she slept. Frank gave up pretending that he was watching his television show in favor of escaping to his shared room. He carried his cup of pop to the bedroom, fumbling with the doorknob, when a moan startled him.
He held still, his head tilted ever so slightly, hearing another moan then, softer than before, and then a faint rustling of sheets. Frank inhaled sharply, his mind flooding him with images of Dwayne touching himself, his pale hands gripping his…
Frank blinked as a drop of sweat beaded along his temple. He tried to push the image away. He had in fact been deliberately avoiding close contact with Dwayne ever since they had returned home. There had been too many looks, near touches, and moments of prolonged silence between them, even after Dwayne had resumed speaking. The nights in the hotel room had been sweet torture, and now Frank could feel the desire pooling lowly in his abdomen. He rested his suddenly sweaty palm on the knob, struggling to coax some sound into his throat, any noise really, to warn Dwayne that he was about to enter the room.
Frank uttered a feeble sound when another moan hit his ears. He bit his lip and turned the handle before he could stop himself. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
*
It was worse than he thought possible. Dwayne knelt on his bed, the magazine in front of him, Frank’s pick of the glossy sheets, the one that had the male centerfold pouting at the camera. The hetero magazines were casually spread on the bed, away from his reach. Dwayne was stroking himself occasionally, his other hand sliding hesitantly between his legs. He moaned at the teasing strokes, his eyes half-closed in delight.
Frank stared, his hand tightly clasping the plastic cup, his mouth working soundlessly. Dwayne looked up suddenly, sensing that he was no longer alone. He stared at Frank, his face turning a brilliant red. “F-Frank!” he whispered, his cock twitching at the name.
“Oh…I…uh, sorry,” Frank finally stammered, taking one awkward step back.
“Wait!” Dwayne pleaded, his shoulders hunched.
Frank closed his eyes, his erection already pressing insistently against his belly. “Dwayne,” he breathed. His voice was a strangled whisper. “I should go,” he said.
Dwayne crawled off the bed, his eyes gleaming slightly. “No…just…don’t yet?” he asked.
Frank opened his eyes, a damp spot forming on his shorts. “I took them, I’m sorry,” Dwayne said calmly, “I was curious and I knew you had the magazines.”
“Dwayne…it’s fine,” Frank said.
Dwayne pressed closer to him. “I need your help,” he whispered.
Frank swallowed dryly. “You do?” he echoed.
Dwayne nodded. “My fingers aren’t long enough,” he said. “And the angle’s not right.”
“No,” Frank said. He took another step back, his eyes wide and unnerved.
Dwayne nodded. “Please?” he said simply.
“You don’t…we can’t…” Frank said, groping for words, anything to stop Dwayne from looking at him like that. “It’s not right.”
“Says who?” Dwayne challenged, his chin lifted in defiance. He took Frank's hand in his, drawing it down to his erection.
Frank bit his lip hard, his fingers curling around the swollen length. “We can do this, and I know you want to, Frank, I see it,” he all but purred. “I feel it,” he added, palming Frank’s aching erection.
Frank moaned softly. “Dwayne…” he said, his voice fading into a low groan.
“Please?” Dwayne asked again, leading him back to the bed. Frank followed him, the protests fading. He swallowed his guilt, his uneasiness and his fears as he set the cup down on the nightstand. Dwayne sat down on the bed, reclining with his head on the pillow.
"What...I mean, that is, what do you already know?" Frank rubbed the back of his neck.
Dwayne's lips twitched in amusement. "More than you think," he murmured. He gestured to the magazines. "I want you to do that to me."
Frank licked his dry lips. "I...Dwayne...really, isn't there a boy at school you like..." he stalled.
Dwayne snorted. "No, they don't interest me. Fuck them, they're all clones. I don't wanna be with someone who isn't different from the crowds." He sat up a little and took Frank's hand in his. "You're different."
Frank's heartbeat picked up when Dwayne rubbed his thumb along his palm. "If you want me to beg, I will," Dwayne continued casually, "Whatever it takes."
"Dwayne..." Frank tried to think of an excuse, anything to get him away from the far too tempting boy. Every excuse he started to say faded, his resistance crumbling fast when Dwayne's other hand wandered down his pale chest, his hand gripping his still hard cock.
Dwayne watched him with half-lidded eyes. He stroked himself slowly, sighing when a droplet of fluid smeared across the pad of his thumb. He lifted his thumb and licked it off, Frank's strangled moan a small victory for him.
Frank pushed Dwayne's hand aside and gripped the base of his cock. "You...You tease!" he sputtered.
Dwayne moaned, spreading his thighs apart again. Frank ignored the tiny voice of logic in his mind and moved his hand, up and down in a slow motion. Dwayne gasped and grabbed handfuls of his sheets, his hips arching up to meet Frank's hand. Frank twisted his wrist, the dribbles of pre-come slicking his palm up easily.
Dwayne shuddered, color flooding his cheeks. "More..." he choked out.
Frank moved in fast, his lips sliding down over the head, his tongue pressing firmly to the underside of Dwayne's cock. Dwayne jumped a little, his eyes rolling back into his head. "Oh shit..." he whispered.
Frank took his time, breathing in the scent of Dwayne's arousal greedily. He flicked his tongue, listening to Dwayne's gasps and moans, felt him writhe under his touch. Frank pressed one damp finger to Dwayne's skin, circling over the opening. Dwayne moaned sharply as the tip of Frank's finger pushed in.
He eased his finger in slowly, the tight wet heat gripping him. He flicked his tongue again, the move distracting Dwayne thoroughly. Frank pushed again, and curled his finger, searching. He brushed over the rough patch after a moment and nudged it with his finger.
Dwayne slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back the noises he was making. His hips lifted, pleasure flooding him. As Frank nudged his prostate, Dwayne came hard with a muffled sob, his body arching up. Frank swallowed reflexively, the bittersweet fluid a strong memory for him.
Dwayne shivered on the bed, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "Frank..."
Frank licked his lips absently and glanced at him questioningly. He could feel the words bubbling up in his chest, excuses, and apologies even and yet...yet he couldn't say he regretted it. He wanted more already, a taste of Dwayne just wasn't enough.
Dwayne sat up with a dazed smile. "Show me more."
xx
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: Dwayne/Frank
Rating: R for sexual descriptions and mild language
Summary: A taste just isn't enough...
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, and no harm intended.
xx
After the trip, after they’d returned home and pretended that everything was just fine, thanks for asking, Frank had hidden the magazines that he’d bought from the gas station. All of them had been crammed under his mattress. He couldn’t look at them, and felt little desire to do so. As he arranged them under the mattress, he felt a moment of fleeting disapproval, almost as if he could sense Richard’s disgust for Frank and everything that he stood for when he kept them instead of throwing them away.
Richard’s slightly curled lip and the way he spoke of Frank like he wasn’t even there; all those things didn’t bother him, mere drops of water that he shook off with practiced nonchalance. Richard wasn’t the first staunchly heterosexual man to show open disdain for Frank, nor would he be the last, of that Frank was certain.
*
While making his bed a few weeks later, Frank realized with a sudden start that the magazines were gone. He froze, hunched over the bed, his hands still clutching the bed sheet. He turned his head slowly and shot a casual glance over to Dwayne, who was perched on his bed, face buried in a book, nibbling on his lower lip as he read. Frank looked down at his bed again, the urge to panic growing stronger.
He exhaled slowly and flipped his mattress, checking the floor under his bed as he did so. Nothing but a few puffs of dust. Frank felt a wave of nausea roll over him. He made the bed hurriedly and all but ran from the room.
‘Maybe…maybe Sheryl,’ he thought frantically. ‘She could have thrown them out, or even Richard, who cares, right? He’ll be offended and throw them out.’
With that, Frank sat down on the couch, calming down at the thought. There had to be a logical reason, one that he had nothing to fret over.
*
On a particularly boring Sunday evening, Frank had retreated to his room for some rest. Sheryl and Richard were progressively getting louder with their bickering. Olive had gone to bed, her headphones firmly over her ears as she slept. Frank gave up pretending that he was watching his television show in favor of escaping to his shared room. He carried his cup of pop to the bedroom, fumbling with the doorknob, when a moan startled him.
He held still, his head tilted ever so slightly, hearing another moan then, softer than before, and then a faint rustling of sheets. Frank inhaled sharply, his mind flooding him with images of Dwayne touching himself, his pale hands gripping his…
Frank blinked as a drop of sweat beaded along his temple. He tried to push the image away. He had in fact been deliberately avoiding close contact with Dwayne ever since they had returned home. There had been too many looks, near touches, and moments of prolonged silence between them, even after Dwayne had resumed speaking. The nights in the hotel room had been sweet torture, and now Frank could feel the desire pooling lowly in his abdomen. He rested his suddenly sweaty palm on the knob, struggling to coax some sound into his throat, any noise really, to warn Dwayne that he was about to enter the room.
Frank uttered a feeble sound when another moan hit his ears. He bit his lip and turned the handle before he could stop himself. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
*
It was worse than he thought possible. Dwayne knelt on his bed, the magazine in front of him, Frank’s pick of the glossy sheets, the one that had the male centerfold pouting at the camera. The hetero magazines were casually spread on the bed, away from his reach. Dwayne was stroking himself occasionally, his other hand sliding hesitantly between his legs. He moaned at the teasing strokes, his eyes half-closed in delight.
Frank stared, his hand tightly clasping the plastic cup, his mouth working soundlessly. Dwayne looked up suddenly, sensing that he was no longer alone. He stared at Frank, his face turning a brilliant red. “F-Frank!” he whispered, his cock twitching at the name.
“Oh…I…uh, sorry,” Frank finally stammered, taking one awkward step back.
“Wait!” Dwayne pleaded, his shoulders hunched.
Frank closed his eyes, his erection already pressing insistently against his belly. “Dwayne,” he breathed. His voice was a strangled whisper. “I should go,” he said.
Dwayne crawled off the bed, his eyes gleaming slightly. “No…just…don’t yet?” he asked.
Frank opened his eyes, a damp spot forming on his shorts. “I took them, I’m sorry,” Dwayne said calmly, “I was curious and I knew you had the magazines.”
“Dwayne…it’s fine,” Frank said.
Dwayne pressed closer to him. “I need your help,” he whispered.
Frank swallowed dryly. “You do?” he echoed.
Dwayne nodded. “My fingers aren’t long enough,” he said. “And the angle’s not right.”
“No,” Frank said. He took another step back, his eyes wide and unnerved.
Dwayne nodded. “Please?” he said simply.
“You don’t…we can’t…” Frank said, groping for words, anything to stop Dwayne from looking at him like that. “It’s not right.”
“Says who?” Dwayne challenged, his chin lifted in defiance. He took Frank's hand in his, drawing it down to his erection.
Frank bit his lip hard, his fingers curling around the swollen length. “We can do this, and I know you want to, Frank, I see it,” he all but purred. “I feel it,” he added, palming Frank’s aching erection.
Frank moaned softly. “Dwayne…” he said, his voice fading into a low groan.
“Please?” Dwayne asked again, leading him back to the bed. Frank followed him, the protests fading. He swallowed his guilt, his uneasiness and his fears as he set the cup down on the nightstand. Dwayne sat down on the bed, reclining with his head on the pillow.
"What...I mean, that is, what do you already know?" Frank rubbed the back of his neck.
Dwayne's lips twitched in amusement. "More than you think," he murmured. He gestured to the magazines. "I want you to do that to me."
Frank licked his dry lips. "I...Dwayne...really, isn't there a boy at school you like..." he stalled.
Dwayne snorted. "No, they don't interest me. Fuck them, they're all clones. I don't wanna be with someone who isn't different from the crowds." He sat up a little and took Frank's hand in his. "You're different."
Frank's heartbeat picked up when Dwayne rubbed his thumb along his palm. "If you want me to beg, I will," Dwayne continued casually, "Whatever it takes."
"Dwayne..." Frank tried to think of an excuse, anything to get him away from the far too tempting boy. Every excuse he started to say faded, his resistance crumbling fast when Dwayne's other hand wandered down his pale chest, his hand gripping his still hard cock.
Dwayne watched him with half-lidded eyes. He stroked himself slowly, sighing when a droplet of fluid smeared across the pad of his thumb. He lifted his thumb and licked it off, Frank's strangled moan a small victory for him.
Frank pushed Dwayne's hand aside and gripped the base of his cock. "You...You tease!" he sputtered.
Dwayne moaned, spreading his thighs apart again. Frank ignored the tiny voice of logic in his mind and moved his hand, up and down in a slow motion. Dwayne gasped and grabbed handfuls of his sheets, his hips arching up to meet Frank's hand. Frank twisted his wrist, the dribbles of pre-come slicking his palm up easily.
Dwayne shuddered, color flooding his cheeks. "More..." he choked out.
Frank moved in fast, his lips sliding down over the head, his tongue pressing firmly to the underside of Dwayne's cock. Dwayne jumped a little, his eyes rolling back into his head. "Oh shit..." he whispered.
Frank took his time, breathing in the scent of Dwayne's arousal greedily. He flicked his tongue, listening to Dwayne's gasps and moans, felt him writhe under his touch. Frank pressed one damp finger to Dwayne's skin, circling over the opening. Dwayne moaned sharply as the tip of Frank's finger pushed in.
He eased his finger in slowly, the tight wet heat gripping him. He flicked his tongue again, the move distracting Dwayne thoroughly. Frank pushed again, and curled his finger, searching. He brushed over the rough patch after a moment and nudged it with his finger.
Dwayne slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back the noises he was making. His hips lifted, pleasure flooding him. As Frank nudged his prostate, Dwayne came hard with a muffled sob, his body arching up. Frank swallowed reflexively, the bittersweet fluid a strong memory for him.
Dwayne shivered on the bed, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "Frank..."
Frank licked his lips absently and glanced at him questioningly. He could feel the words bubbling up in his chest, excuses, and apologies even and yet...yet he couldn't say he regretted it. He wanted more already, a taste of Dwayne just wasn't enough.
Dwayne sat up with a dazed smile. "Show me more."
xx
