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Fic: Heating Up (MCR, Mikey/Frank, NC-17)
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turps who said "I would love some Mikey and Frank from the time they were living together. BFFs or pairing, either would be fine."
Here it is!
Title: Heating Up
Fandom: MCR
Pairing: Mikey/Frank
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2100
Warning/kink: barebacking
The first time Mikey brought a heater into the shower with him, Frank freaks out. He doesn't find out until after the fact, though, which means Mikey is still in one piece. That doesn't stop Frank from freaking, though.
“I can't believe you did that,” Frank says for the tenth time. “Seriously, you're going to fry yourself.”
“The water heater isn't working. I was cold,” Mikey says.
“That's fucking stupid,” Frank says. And then he notices that Mikey's only wearing a towel, and that trails of water are still trickling down his chest.
“What's stupid is that the water heater is broken,” Mikey says, completely ignoring the way Frank is ogling him.
Frank looks away quickly and says, “I'll call about it in the morning.”
Mikey doesn't say anything for a minute, just stands there, holding his towel in place. Like he's trying to figure something out.
Frank goes over to the coffee table and picks up his pack of cigarettes. He fumbles one out and lights it, still keeping his eyes averted.
“Huh,” Mikey finally says, and then disappears into his room.
*
Mikey waits until Frank is drunk to spring it on him. “I know you want to fuck me,” he says, and Frank's gone far enough that he doesn't choke on his beer.
“What?”
“You heard me,” Mikey says, and sits a little closer. “It's okay.”
Frank thinks maybe he didn't hear right, because the room is tilting and he knows he's fucking trashed. Maybe he's hallucinating. “I want to fuck you?” he repeats, just to make sure he got it right.
Mikey smiles and sits down with him on the couch. “Say it with conviction.”
Frank lets his head fall back against the cushions and imagines fucking Mikey, having Mikey's long legs wrapped around his shoulders while he thrusts inside him. “Fuck.”
“Not quite. Try again,” Mikey says, and dammit, even though his voice is even and his face is serious, Frank knows he's laughing on the inside.
“I think...” Frank slurs, then tries to speak clearer, “I think...”
“Yeah?” Mikey asks, pressing against his side.
“Think I'm gonna pass out now,” Frank says, blackness already crashing around him.
*
The next day, Frank is nursing a headache and wondering just what the fuck was said last night. But they're recording and that keeps him busy, although he keeps looking over at Mikey quizzically.
Gerard bumps into Frank in the middle of a song and says, “Get in the game, and stop eyefucking my brother,” really low so only Frank can hear.
Frank's sweaty and hot, but the words make even more heat rush to his face. “Shit,” he says and keeps his head down after that, trying not to think of anything but the music. He fumbles a few chords but no one seems to notice, and they do other takes anyway.
That night, Mikey stays over with Ray, getting lessons on his bass, or at least that's what they say. Frank doesn't think anything else is going on, not really, but he's unaccountably jealous anyway.
*
Mikey's bedroom door is open and he's sprawled out on his bed, fully clothed and fast asleep. Frank walks past once, twice, then three times before he stops to watch Mikey's chest rise and fall.
He feels like a total creeper watching Mikey sleep, but he can't seem to help himself. The door was open, after all, and he stays in the short hallway. What he wants to do is walk into the bedroom, get closer, maybe reach out and touch Mikey's messy hair. But he doesn't, and eventually he wanders into the living room to play a first person shooter by himself.
*
“I made breakfast,” Frank says to Mikey when he gets up one morning.
“I didn't hear the smoke alarm,” Mikey says, but he sits down in the kitchen and lets Frank serve him.
“Ha fucking ha,” Frank says. “I don't always set things on fire, you know. Even you could do eggs.”
Mikey doesn't point out the brown bits, just digs in. Frank pours him a cup of coffee and Mikey gives him a grateful look.
After they finish eating, Mikey says, “So maybe I shouldn't have tried to seduce you when you were trashed.”
Frank goes still halfway to the sink, holding their plates in his hands. He feels like a statue all of a sudden, stiff and unable to move. “What?”
“Just put the plates in the sink, Frankie,” Mikey says. Frank does, and they make a loud noise as they clatter against each other and the stainless steel. Mikey says, “I should've known you'd do something stupid like pass out on me.”
Frank doesn't know what to say, so he digs in his pocket for a cigarette and lights it, taking so deep a drag he nearly chokes.
Mikey takes a sip of his coffee and watches him, not saying anything more.
“You could've done it when I was just a little buzzed,” Frank finally says. “But waiting until I was shit-faced was a bad move.”
“I was building up my courage,” Mikey says.
Frank feels like he's drunk now, dizzy and unstable, so he leans back against the kitchen cabinet.
“So now you know I wasn't just fucking with you when you were drunk,” Mikey says.
“I didn't think that,” Frank says.
“So what did you think?” Mikey asks, getting up from the table and taking a few steps towards Frank.
Frank bites his lip. “I don't know. That I hallucinated it, maybe.”
Mikey comes even closer, then takes Frank's cigarette from him, taking a drag of his own. He hands it back and Frank takes his own drag, blowing the smoke out to the side.
It's a little surreal, sharing a cigarette in the kitchen like normal, but talking about … this. This, that Frank can't even put a label on. Fucking, sure, but there's an undercurrent of something else that means so much more.
“I don't just want to fuck you,” Frank says, bringing it up to the surface.
Mikey smiles and moves close. “I know.”
“I think I'd like to take you out. Or some shit like that,” Frank says, feeling like he's all of fifteen.
Mikey smiles wider and puts his hands on the counter around Frank, leaning in closer. “I'd like that. A date?” He's close enough to touch, to kiss. Frank licks his lips.
“Yeah, like that,” he says. He moves his hands the scant inches to Mikey's hips, holding him loosely.
“I'm going to kiss you now,” Mikey says, and Frank hasn't even brushed his teeth this morning, but Mikey doesn't seem to care because then he's kissing him, slow and careful.
He tastes like coffee and cigarettes, and Frank figures he does, too. It's not bad though, just... Mikey. Frank sweeps his tongue into Mikey's mouth slickly, tightening his hold on Mikey's hips.
Frank thinks, Finally. Finally. He might even whisper it against Mikey's lips. It feels like the years have been leading up to this point, even though he wasn't always aware of it. He tries to think of when he first figured it out, and all he can see in his mind is Mikey's smile.
“I want to get you naked,” Frank manages to say. He sucks on Mikey's lower lip in punctuation, then grabs his ass.
“Thought you wanted a date?” Mikey says, but Frank knows it's just a tease.
“Later,” Frank says, kissing Mikey again and then tugging him down the hall to the closest bedroom, which happened to be Mikey's.
Mikey's Joy Division shirt comes off first, then he skims out of his jeans and underwear. He grins, bright and eager, and says, “Okay, now what?”
“You are such a smartass,” Frank says, pushing him down to the bed and stripping out of his own shirt and jeans. And then there isn't anything between them at all, it's just skin on hot skin, and Frank is kissing Mikey like it's the first and only time he'll ever get to – desperate and urgent.
“Slow down,” Mikey says, gasping. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Frank does, even though he doesn't want to. Mikey's just so perfect, shifting under him and kissing back just as enthusiastically, his skin hot and smooth against Frank's.
Frank's cock is hard against Mikey's hip, and he shifts so that it's pressed against Mikey's.
Mikey lets out a moan and says, “Yeah, fuck yeah.”
Frank's never wanted anyone like he wants Mikey. He wants to bite and scrape and bruise and fuck him. He thrusts against him and gives a throaty groan.
They rock together, both of them making noises no one has a right to make unless they're enjoying themselves so much they just don't care how obscene they sound. They're kissing sloppily, wet and endless. There's teeth involved too, and Frank knows his lips will be swollen and red after this. He doesn't care.
“Thought you were going to fuck me,” Mikey gasps when they both pause for air. “There's lotion in the table.”
Frank stills for a long moment, then grabs for the drawer to the bedside table. The lotion is something sweet smelling and slick, and he applies it liberally to his fingers before moving between Mikey's legs again. Mikey spreads them wide and grabs a pillow, lifting his hips and shoving it under him.
It's been a long time since Frank's fucked someone he was crazy about. He wants to do this right, but his dick is throbbing now, insistent and ready.
Mikey hisses when Frank pushes a slick finger inside him, but his hands grab onto Frank's shoulders as he urges him on. He pushes back when Frank adds more.
The lotion on Frank's dick is cold, but Mikey is tight and hot, like he was made just for this. Mikey clenches around Frank's cock, making Frank moan. The sound echoes in the room, loud and lust-filled.
“Fuck,” Mikey breathes, hitching his legs higher on Frank's back. “Don't fucking stop.”
“Yeah, no,” Frank says, and thrusts in hard and deep. Mikey wraps his arms around Frank as best he can and tries to pull him closer even though Frank is as close as humanly possible.
They move together, both of them panting and grunting, begging each other for more. It's hard and fast, and Frank thinks maybe they'll have time for slow later. There's always going to be a later, that's the best thing about them coming together. It's not just a one time thing.
“Jerk yourself off,” Frank gasps, and Mikey squeezes his hand between them and starts stroking his cock.
Mikey comes soon after that, and the way he clenches around Frank's cock when he does pushes Frank over the edge. He fucks him harder, faster, erratic and searching. Then he stills and comes deep inside Mikey.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mikey says, slowly moving his legs down to the bed. Frank slips out of him and collapses on his side.
“You're amazing,” Frank says. He wraps an arm around Mikey's sweaty body and kisses his mouth.
“As good as you thought it'd be?” Mikey asks with a small quirky smile.
“Mmm,” Frank says, nipping Mikey's bottom lip. “A hell of a lot better. I was scared we'd fuck up.”
“How?” Mikey says, like they are made for each other and any other outcome is just unthinkable.
Frank shrugs a shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Never mind,” he says, and kisses Mikey again.
Mikey stretches out and then cuddles up against Frank's side. “I'm gonna take a nap now.”
“Did I wear you out with my fine skills?” Frank jokes, then kisses Mikey's temple. “Go on to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up.”
And he will be; he plans on staying in bed with Mikey until they have to shower and make their way back to the studio.
Mikey shifts and rests his head on Frank's shoulder, and Frank wraps his arms around him loosely. They're both still damp with sweat, but it's all good. Frank's fucking happy.
While Mikey drifts off, Frank starts thinking of places he can take Mikey on their first date. Eventually he drops off into sleep too and dreams of ice cream parlors and messy sex.
turps who said "I would love some Mikey and Frank from the time they were living together. BFFs or pairing, either would be fine."Here it is!
Title: Heating Up
Fandom: MCR
Pairing: Mikey/Frank
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2100
Warning/kink: barebacking
The first time Mikey brought a heater into the shower with him, Frank freaks out. He doesn't find out until after the fact, though, which means Mikey is still in one piece. That doesn't stop Frank from freaking, though.
“I can't believe you did that,” Frank says for the tenth time. “Seriously, you're going to fry yourself.”
“The water heater isn't working. I was cold,” Mikey says.
“That's fucking stupid,” Frank says. And then he notices that Mikey's only wearing a towel, and that trails of water are still trickling down his chest.
“What's stupid is that the water heater is broken,” Mikey says, completely ignoring the way Frank is ogling him.
Frank looks away quickly and says, “I'll call about it in the morning.”
Mikey doesn't say anything for a minute, just stands there, holding his towel in place. Like he's trying to figure something out.
Frank goes over to the coffee table and picks up his pack of cigarettes. He fumbles one out and lights it, still keeping his eyes averted.
“Huh,” Mikey finally says, and then disappears into his room.
*
Mikey waits until Frank is drunk to spring it on him. “I know you want to fuck me,” he says, and Frank's gone far enough that he doesn't choke on his beer.
“What?”
“You heard me,” Mikey says, and sits a little closer. “It's okay.”
Frank thinks maybe he didn't hear right, because the room is tilting and he knows he's fucking trashed. Maybe he's hallucinating. “I want to fuck you?” he repeats, just to make sure he got it right.
Mikey smiles and sits down with him on the couch. “Say it with conviction.”
Frank lets his head fall back against the cushions and imagines fucking Mikey, having Mikey's long legs wrapped around his shoulders while he thrusts inside him. “Fuck.”
“Not quite. Try again,” Mikey says, and dammit, even though his voice is even and his face is serious, Frank knows he's laughing on the inside.
“I think...” Frank slurs, then tries to speak clearer, “I think...”
“Yeah?” Mikey asks, pressing against his side.
“Think I'm gonna pass out now,” Frank says, blackness already crashing around him.
*
The next day, Frank is nursing a headache and wondering just what the fuck was said last night. But they're recording and that keeps him busy, although he keeps looking over at Mikey quizzically.
Gerard bumps into Frank in the middle of a song and says, “Get in the game, and stop eyefucking my brother,” really low so only Frank can hear.
Frank's sweaty and hot, but the words make even more heat rush to his face. “Shit,” he says and keeps his head down after that, trying not to think of anything but the music. He fumbles a few chords but no one seems to notice, and they do other takes anyway.
That night, Mikey stays over with Ray, getting lessons on his bass, or at least that's what they say. Frank doesn't think anything else is going on, not really, but he's unaccountably jealous anyway.
*
Mikey's bedroom door is open and he's sprawled out on his bed, fully clothed and fast asleep. Frank walks past once, twice, then three times before he stops to watch Mikey's chest rise and fall.
He feels like a total creeper watching Mikey sleep, but he can't seem to help himself. The door was open, after all, and he stays in the short hallway. What he wants to do is walk into the bedroom, get closer, maybe reach out and touch Mikey's messy hair. But he doesn't, and eventually he wanders into the living room to play a first person shooter by himself.
*
“I made breakfast,” Frank says to Mikey when he gets up one morning.
“I didn't hear the smoke alarm,” Mikey says, but he sits down in the kitchen and lets Frank serve him.
“Ha fucking ha,” Frank says. “I don't always set things on fire, you know. Even you could do eggs.”
Mikey doesn't point out the brown bits, just digs in. Frank pours him a cup of coffee and Mikey gives him a grateful look.
After they finish eating, Mikey says, “So maybe I shouldn't have tried to seduce you when you were trashed.”
Frank goes still halfway to the sink, holding their plates in his hands. He feels like a statue all of a sudden, stiff and unable to move. “What?”
“Just put the plates in the sink, Frankie,” Mikey says. Frank does, and they make a loud noise as they clatter against each other and the stainless steel. Mikey says, “I should've known you'd do something stupid like pass out on me.”
Frank doesn't know what to say, so he digs in his pocket for a cigarette and lights it, taking so deep a drag he nearly chokes.
Mikey takes a sip of his coffee and watches him, not saying anything more.
“You could've done it when I was just a little buzzed,” Frank finally says. “But waiting until I was shit-faced was a bad move.”
“I was building up my courage,” Mikey says.
Frank feels like he's drunk now, dizzy and unstable, so he leans back against the kitchen cabinet.
“So now you know I wasn't just fucking with you when you were drunk,” Mikey says.
“I didn't think that,” Frank says.
“So what did you think?” Mikey asks, getting up from the table and taking a few steps towards Frank.
Frank bites his lip. “I don't know. That I hallucinated it, maybe.”
Mikey comes even closer, then takes Frank's cigarette from him, taking a drag of his own. He hands it back and Frank takes his own drag, blowing the smoke out to the side.
It's a little surreal, sharing a cigarette in the kitchen like normal, but talking about … this. This, that Frank can't even put a label on. Fucking, sure, but there's an undercurrent of something else that means so much more.
“I don't just want to fuck you,” Frank says, bringing it up to the surface.
Mikey smiles and moves close. “I know.”
“I think I'd like to take you out. Or some shit like that,” Frank says, feeling like he's all of fifteen.
Mikey smiles wider and puts his hands on the counter around Frank, leaning in closer. “I'd like that. A date?” He's close enough to touch, to kiss. Frank licks his lips.
“Yeah, like that,” he says. He moves his hands the scant inches to Mikey's hips, holding him loosely.
“I'm going to kiss you now,” Mikey says, and Frank hasn't even brushed his teeth this morning, but Mikey doesn't seem to care because then he's kissing him, slow and careful.
He tastes like coffee and cigarettes, and Frank figures he does, too. It's not bad though, just... Mikey. Frank sweeps his tongue into Mikey's mouth slickly, tightening his hold on Mikey's hips.
Frank thinks, Finally. Finally. He might even whisper it against Mikey's lips. It feels like the years have been leading up to this point, even though he wasn't always aware of it. He tries to think of when he first figured it out, and all he can see in his mind is Mikey's smile.
“I want to get you naked,” Frank manages to say. He sucks on Mikey's lower lip in punctuation, then grabs his ass.
“Thought you wanted a date?” Mikey says, but Frank knows it's just a tease.
“Later,” Frank says, kissing Mikey again and then tugging him down the hall to the closest bedroom, which happened to be Mikey's.
Mikey's Joy Division shirt comes off first, then he skims out of his jeans and underwear. He grins, bright and eager, and says, “Okay, now what?”
“You are such a smartass,” Frank says, pushing him down to the bed and stripping out of his own shirt and jeans. And then there isn't anything between them at all, it's just skin on hot skin, and Frank is kissing Mikey like it's the first and only time he'll ever get to – desperate and urgent.
“Slow down,” Mikey says, gasping. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Frank does, even though he doesn't want to. Mikey's just so perfect, shifting under him and kissing back just as enthusiastically, his skin hot and smooth against Frank's.
Frank's cock is hard against Mikey's hip, and he shifts so that it's pressed against Mikey's.
Mikey lets out a moan and says, “Yeah, fuck yeah.”
Frank's never wanted anyone like he wants Mikey. He wants to bite and scrape and bruise and fuck him. He thrusts against him and gives a throaty groan.
They rock together, both of them making noises no one has a right to make unless they're enjoying themselves so much they just don't care how obscene they sound. They're kissing sloppily, wet and endless. There's teeth involved too, and Frank knows his lips will be swollen and red after this. He doesn't care.
“Thought you were going to fuck me,” Mikey gasps when they both pause for air. “There's lotion in the table.”
Frank stills for a long moment, then grabs for the drawer to the bedside table. The lotion is something sweet smelling and slick, and he applies it liberally to his fingers before moving between Mikey's legs again. Mikey spreads them wide and grabs a pillow, lifting his hips and shoving it under him.
It's been a long time since Frank's fucked someone he was crazy about. He wants to do this right, but his dick is throbbing now, insistent and ready.
Mikey hisses when Frank pushes a slick finger inside him, but his hands grab onto Frank's shoulders as he urges him on. He pushes back when Frank adds more.
The lotion on Frank's dick is cold, but Mikey is tight and hot, like he was made just for this. Mikey clenches around Frank's cock, making Frank moan. The sound echoes in the room, loud and lust-filled.
“Fuck,” Mikey breathes, hitching his legs higher on Frank's back. “Don't fucking stop.”
“Yeah, no,” Frank says, and thrusts in hard and deep. Mikey wraps his arms around Frank as best he can and tries to pull him closer even though Frank is as close as humanly possible.
They move together, both of them panting and grunting, begging each other for more. It's hard and fast, and Frank thinks maybe they'll have time for slow later. There's always going to be a later, that's the best thing about them coming together. It's not just a one time thing.
“Jerk yourself off,” Frank gasps, and Mikey squeezes his hand between them and starts stroking his cock.
Mikey comes soon after that, and the way he clenches around Frank's cock when he does pushes Frank over the edge. He fucks him harder, faster, erratic and searching. Then he stills and comes deep inside Mikey.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mikey says, slowly moving his legs down to the bed. Frank slips out of him and collapses on his side.
“You're amazing,” Frank says. He wraps an arm around Mikey's sweaty body and kisses his mouth.
“As good as you thought it'd be?” Mikey asks with a small quirky smile.
“Mmm,” Frank says, nipping Mikey's bottom lip. “A hell of a lot better. I was scared we'd fuck up.”
“How?” Mikey says, like they are made for each other and any other outcome is just unthinkable.
Frank shrugs a shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Never mind,” he says, and kisses Mikey again.
Mikey stretches out and then cuddles up against Frank's side. “I'm gonna take a nap now.”
“Did I wear you out with my fine skills?” Frank jokes, then kisses Mikey's temple. “Go on to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up.”
And he will be; he plans on staying in bed with Mikey until they have to shower and make their way back to the studio.
Mikey shifts and rests his head on Frank's shoulder, and Frank wraps his arms around him loosely. They're both still damp with sweat, but it's all good. Frank's fucking happy.
While Mikey drifts off, Frank starts thinking of places he can take Mikey on their first date. Eventually he drops off into sleep too and dreams of ice cream parlors and messy sex.
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