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Billy wasn't one to avoid his problems. There was too much shit in his life not to face it head on. The problem with that, though, was he couldn't figure out whether or not Frankie was a fucking problem. He didn't know what Frankie was. And that sure as hell didn't scare him, but it did confuse him. When he woke up after... after he'd let Frank fuck him, after he'd let Frank take care of him, he inhaled sharply and turned suddenly in his cot. Frank wasn't in it. Frank wasn't gone, though. When Billy rubbed the grit out of his eyes, he could see Frank sitting on his own cot just nearby, some paper balanced on his knee and a pen in his hand as he scratched over it. Writing Maria a letter? Standing quiet vigil over him? He didn't know and he didn't ask. His ass was sore, and he just wanted some more sleep. He just rolled back over onto his side and tried to get himself just a few more Z's as the rest of the men slowly trickled into the barrack. Sleep didn't come, though. Frank was there, Billy could feel his occasional gaze on his shoulders even with his back to him, but there was just too much shit to slog through to keep it all back. He should check on Martin and Dougie, at least get news on them. They were his brothers, he needed to know they were ok even if they were getting sent back to the mainland. That was the etiquette. Did he care? Sometimes. It was hard to tell. Sometimes he felt like he did, sometimes he felt like he only cared because he knew that he was supposed to, but wasn't that caring in itself? Who knew. It was too mixed up to untangle, and too much introspection for him to care to try. He'd check on his brothers because that's what a team leader did, he'd let them think he cared, and he'd live in a grey area of never quite knowing what emotions, if any, he was feeling. Frankie, though, if there was anyone he could care about and be sure of it, it was Frankie. Didn't matter whatever weird shit they'd both gotten into the night before. That wasn't happenin’ again, but Frankie was a fucking absolute truth. Which was exactly why he wanted so bad to tell him that shit that had gone down, and exactly why he knew he couldn't tell him. He hadn't understood yesterday why so few men had been pulled off for the mission he'd been given. Billy almost always ran with his full team roster. He hadn't understood why the fuck any of their enemies would steal the bodies of his fucking fallen brothers out of their morgue, but he'd known it couldn't be for anything good. He'd been disgusted by it, and he knew they'd needed to bring back those bodies because it was the fucking decent thing to do. Billy had been pulled aside after the general debriefing, not a surprise as team leader. Agent Orange always gave him the fucking creeps, made his skin crawl. Sometimes like knew like, and when Billy looked in those eyes, he knew there was a familiar kind of empty looking back, they were two negative poles repelling one another. "This entire op is need to know basis, and no one touches those bodies but you, understood?" "Gonna be awful hard to get two bodies back—" "No one but you. Understood?" "Sir, yes, sir." Billy had understood that order when he was dragging one of the bodies into the SUV. Not just bodies. He'd known these men. Marcus, they'd eaten side by side one or twice in the mess tent. Kerry, he'd died still owing Billy a piece of gum, which he supposed he could forgive, given the circumstances. Sometime between the transport, between their gunning down the jeep they'd been ordered to track, between his carrying his former brother's back to rest in peace, one of the bags had burst in Marcus's hollowed out gut. Pink gummy powder had leaked out from under his clothing. Billy had lifted his shirt, he'd seen the burst open stitches over Marcus's blue belly, the powder that was dryer and whiter there. It wasn't hard to put two and two together and he felt sick, wiping his hands quickly on his jacket. Nobody cared about these men, about bringing back their bodies so they could get a proper burial, Rest In Peace. They'd just wanted these drugs back. They were worth more than the marine carrying them. This was all they really were. Meat body bags, all of them. If he died out here, would this be him? Just a convenient heroin carrying case to get it stateside? Fuck, they wouldn't even have to clean him up after. There would be no one stateside to claim Billy's body. They could just empty him out and chuck him in the nearest dumpster. A slightly hysterical laugh had bubbled out past his lips at the thought. Just past it, he had heard Dougie's shouted warning, felt himself being shoved out of the way of gunfire. An ambush. He'd been too distracted to notice it. That was on him. Dougie and Martin were on him. What if they hadn't made it through the night? What if the morgue had needed a few more bags, and they'd been just a little neglected in the med tent... He sat up sharply now in his cot, feeling Frank's eyes on him again. "You get any news on my guys?" he asked, blowing well past any possible conversation Frank might be thinking of having. "Yeah, stable, got flown out to the hospital for more treatment." Frank's voice was its usual steady, breathy tone. It made Billy's shoulders relax a little. He had just nodded his thanks and grabbed his kit to do a little grooming. The guys could tease him all they fucking wanted about him being a peacock in the middle of the desert with no hens to try and woo, but the ritual comforted him. There had been few things he could control growing up, keeping clean and taking care of himself was one of them. If there was a hitch to his step now, the boys didn't notice it, and Frank didn't comment on it, either. He crouched at the wash basin and little mirror stuck to the side of a pole that they'd set up for this shit. God, he couldn't wait until he had R&R and could stand in front of a real bathroom mirror to trim his beard and clean up his shave. Billy was just running some coconut oil onto his beard and hands when Gunner entered the tent. "Brass wants a meeting with you, Lieutenant." "Thanks, Gunner." Billy wiped his face off a little and didn't let himself catch Frank's eyes in the mirror. Didn't take a genius to figure out what the meeting was about. He thought about telling Frank, taking him aside right now and filling him in on the whole fucked up situation. But he folded his towel up methodically instead, walked it over to his cot and set it down over the edge. "Everything alright, Bill?" Billy looked down quickly and flashed him a grin. "Right as rain, Frankie. You remember the rain? Think I miss that the most." It was honest. He'd fallen asleep in a million different bunks and couches and floors and closets inside of wherever he'd been fostered before making it to the boys’ home, and the sound of rain had always been the same. Nothing could make him sleep as good as the rain, especially the tinny plunk of it tapping over a car roof. They couldn't change that. Here, though, there hadn't been a drop since they day they’d come. It was uncanny. "Careful what you wish for, Billy. Bet this place is shit in a flood." Frank shook his head. He'd folded up his letter by now and had it laying on his pillow. Billy wondered, not for the first time, what he'd written. Frank could be such a quiet man, yet he never seemed to run out of things to write Maria."I want buckets of it." Billy shot back, forcing his tone into its usual cheerful banter. He jerked his head towards the letter. "Send them my love, huh?" "Already done. You want company to the tent?" "Nah." Billy brushed him off nice and neat, and went to see what sort of shit he was in. He'd cut off his right arm before he dragged Frankie into any of it. —
Dear Maria,
When are you going to let me be right, instead? Just once. You're killing me. Suffice to say it happened. I'll fill you in at home, know you'll like hearing it more that way. He sends his love to you and the kids. I got the new pictures. Using the one of you all at the zoo as a bookmark so I can see it whenever I have any down time. Counting down the days ‘til my next leave. I'm going to invite Billy to crash with us again, think he could use it.
All of my love.
Frank knew he was old fashioned. It wasn't that he didn't use the phone, too, when they had the chance, wasn't like he didn't skype his babies every chance he got, got to see them chattering excitedly with him over the gritty display and feel like his heart was gonna twist out of his chest when he saw how much they seemed to grow between every tour. Some things, though, just had to be pen and paper. It's how he first kept in touch with Maria, and nothing was going to change that. Something was up with Billy. More than just what they'd done last night, he'd bet anything on it. He considered following him to the command tent anyway, but the last thing he wanted to do was piss him off right now. Billy was as feral as a bodega cat, you got close enough you could feed him, maybe stroke him and hold him, but if you chased him, tried to pick him up, it was done. He went to get a morning run in instead, hit the showers. He couldn't help but think of his last time in there, how close he'd felt to Bill in there, open, what had come after... He couldn't force it to happen again, but he could hope they fell into it like they had. He sure wasn't about to write it off as a one-time thing. That felt like he'd be doing both him a Billy a disservice. By the time he was back in their tent, so was Billy. He'd been tossing their ball between himself and Gunner, shooting the shit. Billy's smile was easy and he didn't look over at Frank when he'd entered the tent. Frank let him be. Don't chase. Sure enough, Billy sauntered back over to his cot eventually, put himself in Frank's presence. “When's your next R&R scheduled?” he asked, tossing the football towards Frank's head. The leather smacked into the palm of his hand, and he looked up. “Two weeks, why?” As team leaders, they always got scheduled their R&R apart. Made sense, but it was also annoying because if Frank was going to spend any time in the city, well, he wanted to spend it with Bill. He could admit that. “Nah, got moved to this weekend. You and me both.” Frank's forehead furrowed in surprise, and then confusion. Last he'd seen Billy going off, he’d thought he might be in trouble, now he was getting them favors? He didn't know which should worry him more. “How'd you swing that?” “Anyone ever tell you not to look a gift in the mouth?” “Horse, you mean?” “Ain't it both?” They shared a look, just a quick pass of their gaze meeting, and Frank snorted. Billy's lips split into a bright grin. “Come on, Frankie. Don't ask stupid questions.” “Fine, Fine.” — Billy guessed he shouldn't have been worried when he'd walked into the command tent. He’d known why he was there. There was no way they hadn't known that he knew. But, it turned out that even in their line of work it was easier to buy a man off than it was make him disappear. So the questions had been less about threats and more about finding out just what his silence was worth. That had trapped Billy. What were any of them worth? All he'd known as he had sat down in silence and felt three of his commanding officers standing over him trying to decide if he was going to be in the sand later or in their pocket... in that moment, what he'd known was that he had to be worth more than how big his body cavity would be when they scooped everything out. He knew he was already empty. He couldn't let them make it that real. That scared the shit out of him more than he could ever say. “That. That never fucking happens to me, and it never happens to Frank... And I want a couple more things.” Agent Orange was a wise man. He knew Billy better than he would have liked. Billy had plans after this. Even putting away every paycheck he got, he knew his own start-up would be doomed to fail if he didn't have backers, didn't have people. Billy didn't have people, he just had Frank. He'd been toying with the idea of asking Frank to join him after they were out, start up together. Frank had a wife and two mouths to feed, though, and it didn't feel fair to even ask him to risk his livelihood. So Billy had presented himself as an investment. Because as far as he was concerned, he fucking was. The brass had listened as he’d pitched, and he'd left the room with promises written in sand and blood. Nothing concrete between them except the unspoken truth that everyone in that room could destroy each other, one way or another. The request for the weekend off with Frank was dumb and more than a little suspicious. But he didn't care. He wasn't going to tell Frank anything, anyway. Frank had a different set of morals than he did. Frank had things outside of this. Hell, Billy didn't even have a home outside of this. His leaves were always spent in hotels or crashing on Frank's couch when the man extended the invite, something that happened more often than not, anymore. Yeah, selling whatever soul he had to the devil would cost. But it didn't feel like something he couldn't afford. Did it? Did he fucking hate what they were doing to his fallen brothers? Of course he did. But he couldn't stop it. He knew that even if he whistle-blew that that shit had to be sticking to everyone's shoes. The stuff they already did here wasn't a war that any of them understood, something everyone stateside wanted to turn a blind eye to. This was just one more thing for them to ignore. So Billy would do what they did. He'd hate it, but he'd profit. He'd fucking come out on top for once. Why had he bothered to ask for a weekend off with everything else? Because he could. Because maybe Frank could help him forget everything he'd just done. — Frank found himself studying Bill the rest of the week. He wasn't a blind man, something was different, but he couldn't figure out if it was a difference he needed to worry about. Was it just different because of what had passed between them? Billy stayed close, but Billy always stayed close when Frank didn't push out too much. They were themselves, but maybe a different version of themselves, something else coming together. Something heavy. No touch was too obvious, no words too clear. He could feel it, though, when Bill leaned onto him a little heavier when they were sitting together and tired after recon, when Billy stood closer in formation, like he was protecting Frank from an invisible enemy. The closest moment they got to talking about it was when Billy had walked with him back from an interrogation, long fingers covered in blood. Frank's own twitched, and he reached to touch his rough fingertips to the pulse line running down Billy's red wrist. “Let’s get you cleaned up Billy.” “I'm fine.” “You're gonna get clean for me.” Frank had taken the risk of persistence. He couldn't forget how Billy had acted when he came back to the tent covered in blood. Had he been hiding that? Did Billy always feel like that, or was it just when it was the blood of people he knew? Frank wasn't about to ask. He was just gonna care and fix it. He'd pulled him aside outside the tents, unclasped his canteen, and had Billy cup his hands so he could pour water into them. His own hands were dirty when he rubbed over Billy's fingers, but he'd empty the whole damn canteen if that's what it took to get them clean. — Jesus, Billy felt stupid. Since when was he so fucking hung up on his own morals? Never, that's when. Yeah, he'd never liked being dirty too much, but blood and dirt had been a part of his life. Nothing in Billy's life had been gentle. His earliest, maybe only, safe memory had been of rain pattering off a car roof, one last touch from his mother to his cheek, his eyes closed at a gentleness she never showed, and he'd slept so peaceful thinking that maybe things could be good for once. No idea that his life was about to change completely. His next memories after that were of boys’ homes, of skinned knees left unbandaged and dirt streaking his cheeks, of staring at the duct taped bumper of that old Chevy as it drove off back into traffic without him. He'd learned early to live in that, to get what he could when he could. He'd tried to love. He'd been a cute kid even though he was older than what was usually considered adoptable. His big eyes and cute face were enough of a draw for foster families to try and be kind, to do right by him at first. But Billy had come into it broken and with a deck stacked against him. Billy's love was too fierce, born out of desperation and isolation. It was ill tempered, and it wasn't kind, and he didn't know how to share it. Once they found out that Billy's love had claws and teeth, they were quick to drop him, to shuffle him back and forth until the boys’ home became his home, a place he didn't get taken out of, just aged out of. He had been pulled out of the thought when he’d heard Frank's canteen sloshing low. “You're wasting it, Frankie.” Billy's tone had been quiet as he’d watched pink drips soak into the sand under them. Not the water he was carelessly letting fall in the desert. Frank was wasting his time on him, wasting himself on him. It had been a moment of clarity he didn't fucking care for. He was too selfish for this, and as soon as he’d said it, he’d wanted to obliterate those fucking words from existence. Who the fuck was he fooling? He'd never let Frank go. Frank loved reading to his kids over skype whenever he could. This week had been an old Aesop’s fables book he'd dug up or some shit. Right then, all he could think was the scorpion and the frog. Would he drag Frank down with him whether he wanted to or not? Was that just his nature? Would he poison everything he touched, eventually? “I'm not wasting it, Billy.” Frank's voice had been steady as the last drip had fallen from the canteen. A heavy wash of words unspoken between them, bubbling up in the absence of water. Did he know? Did Frank know everything he wasn't saying? When he’d looked down, fingers were laced tight in a grip Billy hadn’t known he'd been giving. Their hands were clean. Billy had made sure he was his usual self the rest of the week. He treated it like a god damn mission. It was easy when a good part of his life was already about outward appearances, trying not to look too much like the inner predator he felt under his skin, those feral bits he let out when they went for blood. No, he was charming and all grins. Clean as a whistle, or at least as clean as a whistle could be in the sand. He was all good. It was all good, and he was actually feeling that by the time the weekend rolled around. Was he going to let Frank fuck him that weekend? Of course. Billy wasn’t an idiot, and he had learned to take on the pleasure of hedonism when he could between life's moments of rough. But it wouldn't be like last time. They could fuck, have fun, none of that daddy shit, that's for sure. How the fuck had he even let Frank get away with that the first time? He must have been out of his god damned mind. No, this weekend was all about getting fucked, having fun, and forgetting. He'd whistled a little to himself and surprised Frank when he tossed his bag of toiletries at him in the tent. “Come on, pack up, we're not coming back ‘til Monday,” Billy had told him, and he’d cracked a smile over Frank's clear confusion. “What, you get a hotel or something?” “Got us the hotel, Frankie.” Billy had snorted. There weren't exactly a lot of overnight options in the area. In fact, there was exactly one, just some business hotel for those who had to travel in the area. Which was good for him if meant it had a vacancy. “You know what they got in that hotel that they ain't got anywhere else around here?” “Privacy?” Frank had asked, glancing around the tent and the various other men dressing to get great for the day. “Air conditioning.” “Fuck. You're a damn genius, Billy” “Everyone's a genius compared to you, Frankie.” Billy had shot back, grin still on his face. He didn't even care when Frank had snorted and thrown his towel at his head. “You ever think about the shit we do, Frankie?” Billy found himself asking the question as they drove. His gear was stowed in the backseat of the SUV they'd commandeered for the weekend, shoved right on top of Frank’s because he'd care less if his got gritty from the floor. “Something happen, Billy? You know you can talk to me.” “It's nothing to worry your very little mind over, Frankie.” “Hey, if you don't want to...” Billy stopped him there. “Oh, we are fucking, Frank Castle. Believe you me, but just know I don't gotta be into whatever kinky games you are to have a good time. You might be looking to play daddy, but I don't have to be your little boy,” he shot at him flippantly. — Frank turned his head, watched how the other man's eyes were looking everywhere at the landscape except at him. “Bill, would you tell me if you're ok?” “Fuck off. You know you're my brother, Frankie.” “That's not an answer, Billy.” They both knew that. Frank watched Billy's jaw work. Watched his fist curl and uncurl as the other man studied it like he was looking at his hand for the first time. “Truth is, Billy...” Frank thought back to the original question, rubbing his hand over the steering wheel. “Sometimes I do think about it, yeah. This shit? It's dirty, it sticks... Some days, though, I just don't fucking care, you know? I've been here too long. Feel like most days I'm just a loaded weapon. Long as I can get home to them, long as you're ok and with me, they can point me at whatever they want.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to catch Billy's dark gaze in his own soft brown eyes. “But this, this here? Is something they can't have. You're mine, if you'll take me. I know you want to. I don't care if you ever say it, you know? It's not about that, never about that, not with you. It's more than words. It's just something we both know. But if this is too much for you...” “It's not.” Billy choked the words out quick, before Frank could finish the thought. “It's not. It's not too much. You're not too much.” “Ok... Ok.” Frank nodded, eyes back on the road. “So let me take care of you tonight, huh? Whatever's going on... Whatever it is you don't think you can tell me. Let me just take care of you.” He thought back to Billy's first request with him. “Let me make you forget about everything else.” “Okay... Okay.” — That AC was on full blast. It hit Billy like the sweetest punch in the face he'd ever felt. “Oh, that is the fucking shit,” he muttered, laughing and walking over to the unit, making sure it couldn't go up any higher, just in case. “I'm gonna take a shower.” “Clean up good.” Frank stood by the doorway, unlacing his boots and turning them upside down out of habit more than anything else. “Yeah, yeah.” Billy snorted a little, grabbing for his bag and pulling out soap. “Hey, mean it.” Frank's tone had enough unspoken in it that it made Billy look up from his bag to meet his eyes. “Clean up good,” he repeated the instructions, and Billy was almost embarrassed when he felt himself heat up over them. He nodded a little and walked into the bathroom. Frank didn't follow, and he wasn't sure if he should be disappointed by that. By the time he was done, Frank had clearly cleaned up at the sink. He'd changed into something more civilian, just some soft sweats and an old t-shirt, but Billy liked it all the same. He grinned a little when Frank whistled playfully on his return from the bathroom. He turned around slowly in his towel, arms out and laughing a little. “Yeah, real pretty, huh?” Billy was preening enough that he almost managed to say the word without scorn. “Fucking beautiful, Bill.” Frank's tone wasn't playful. It was honest. It was hungry. It surprised Bill by how hard it made him and how fast. “Come on, on the bed.” “What, no romance?” “Get on the bed for me, baby. Daddy wants to taste you again.” Billy bit the inside of his cheek. God damn it, he knew he shouldn't have bluffed that one. He climbed onto the bed, cursing the damn butterflies in his belly. “Hands and knees ok for you?” Frank checked. Considerate like that. “Want you comfortable.” Billy just nodded curtly. That didn't bother him, or at least, it didn't after a minute of feeling exposed and open for him. He wanted to scoff a little when Frank handed him the pillow, but he didn't. He just settled on it a little, let Frankie take care of him like he wanted. His breath hitched a little when Frank's hands parted his cheeks and he felt him kissing down the base of his spine. He was taking his time, rubbing the back of Billy's thighs. “If you bite my ass I'm gonna—Oh fuck.” Billy shuddered, train of thought lost when Frank spread him a little more and lapped over his rim. He'd been sore and fucked out the first time he did this. This was all about him, had to be. He couldn't imagine what Frank got out of this. But Jesus was the man moaning behind him like it was him getting the attention. His hands were gripping tight on Billy's thighs, keeping him close, rubbing them a little when he started to pant and rock back at his tongue. "J-Jesus, you're really into that, aren't you?" Billy's hair was a wreck, still wet from the shower and plastered to his face. When Frank's tongue curled inside of him, his hips curled in answer, and a low moan shook through him. He nearly whined when he felt Frank's tongue leave him, but god damn it he didn't do it. He could feel those pink, spit slick lips against his rim, breath tickling over his hyper sensitive skin when he spoke. "Yeah, sounds like you're pretty into it, too." Frank shot back. "You like it when daddy eats you out?" Bill shivered. Maybe he did, but that was his business. Just like it was Frank's business if he wanted to have marathon sex the entire night. Billy reached back behind him, held onto Frank's short cropped hair, and moaned while his tongue pushed into him in a cycle that threatened to short circuit his brain cells. A high, disappointed noise left his chest when Frank finally let up. Billy could hear the all too familiar sound of a jar unscrewing, and he laughed a little. “You know, whenever I opened that this week this was all I could think about?” — “Good.” Frank's words were punctuated with the slide of his fingers inside of him. He could feel Billy's thighs shake. He was happy with how much Billy was reacting now, clearly enjoying himself. Whatever he'd been living with this week, it wasn't here. The hotel had been a damn good idea, and he was grateful. Grateful for this moment of just them. He had Billy turn carefully onto his back when he looked like he could use a change in position. He climbed more over him on the bed, his own dick tenting his sweats, but that was something to deal with later. Now, he just wanted to watch Billy. God, his eyes were something. Sometimes Frank looked into them and he couldn't see anything, just a mystery, but sometimes, like now, Frank felt like he could see everything. He could see all of those cracks in Billy that he tried so hard to gloss over. He could see all of the love he'd deserved but had never gotten. Those eyes were somehow devoid of everything, but so full of want. — “I'm here. I'm right here,” Frank promised him as he kissed his knee, kissed up his thigh and sucked a pink mark on the skin under his navel. “Daddy is right here with you. You feel good for me?” “Yeah, fuck,” Billy breathed out. Frank's lips tickled and his belly twitched and dipped. “Yeah, it's good.” "You learning just how much this sweet little hole needs daddy, aren't you?" Frank teased him, making sure to push against his prostate and watch his lips part as he twisted on his fingers. "Yeah, Frankie. Oh my god, yes," Billy moaned back at him, his head hitting the pillow. He'd been lying on the drive. Frank was too damn much for him, but he couldn't give that up. He couldn't give up this new way Frank had found to shut off all of the other shit in his head. He pushed back on his fingers, felt his knees shake when those fingers twisted and Frank's knuckles rubbed over his rim, dragging along him and making him arch off the bed. "That's good, that's so good, Billy. Just let me take care of things, let daddy take care of you." “Yeah, Yeah,” he chanted out. This felt like a trap. It felt like the only home he'd ever known. Two truths there, and no lies. “I want you, come on,” Billy whispered, his fingers digging into the meat of Frank's biceps. “Say it.” “I—” Billy hesitated. “Not that, Billy.” Frank's tone was softer. “Daddy told you. You don't have to, just tell me what you want.” “Fuck me.” Billy's tone was relieved as he pulled on his arms. “Come on, get up here and fuck me.” He did, and if Billy thought it was going to be easier the second time around, he was wrong. Frank had Billy’s long leg thrown up and over his shoulder. He had him pushed near in half as he worked into him. Billy sobbed out a little when he felt him bottom out, shaking, too much. Just too damn much. But Frank kissed his forehead, those perfect cupid bowed lips were on his throat, hot breath against his sweat damp skin as he rocked into him. “God damn, Billy, God damn,” Frank whispered against his skin, and Billy smiled a little, glad he wasn't the only one at a loss for words. He pushed up into the roll of Frank's hips, but he wasn't familiar with this end of things yet, and his hips were jerking and stuttering before long, unable to keep up with Frank's pace inside of him. That liquid pleasure numbing his veins and heating his skin was too damn much to cope. When Frank kissed just behind the shell of his ear, when his hand was on his dick and he was whispering how good he felt inside, Billy was long gone. He was coming hard, faster than he thought he would. How did Frank make this feel so damn raw? He was cheating. He had to be. Billy would interrogate him, later. For now, he whined sharply when Frank stroked inside him again, fingers trembling as they grabbed for Frank's shoulders to stop him. “Too much, that's too much.” His nerves were on fire, and it was too close to hurting. Frank was good, though. He withdrew from Billy carefully, his breathing heavy. Billy shook his head quickly when he saw Frank's hand go to himself, willing to finish that job himself. “No, no, just give me a second. I'll do it, I'll do it,” Billy pleaded, not knowing why it felt so important, but it did. He needed to be the one Frank was coming from, not his hand. “Ok, ok, Billy, Daddy can wait,” Frank promised. His voice was soft, if a little strained. “Let's clean up a little, ok?” “Mhm.” Billy nodded quickly, flopping back onto the bed. He kept his eyes open as he tried to catch his breath. He watched Frank walk over to the sink for a washcloth and wet it down. He wiped himself clean of oil and the come that Billy had managed to smear on his stomach. He look good, skin flushed and damp with a little sweat from exertion. Billy was feeling fucked out, but he still wanted Frank in a way he hadn't felt before. He wanted to devour him in a way he felt in his core. He was still for all of 12 seconds when Frank came back to the bed. He let him wipe him clean, staring at him, wanting to be full of Frank in ways he couldn't understand, but his body could try to compensate at least. “I want to suck you.” Billy finally reached for him, hand on his hip to draw him close. Frank was still hard, jutting and easy to wrap his hand around. He was surprised how much he liked that, just holding him in his hand and listening to the low rumble of pleasure the action caused. “You know what you're doing down there, baby boy?” Frank whispered, watching him, and somehow it didn't sound as condescending as it could have. “Show me how, huh?” Billy whispered back, and he was the one who was doing the touching now. He needed to be. Frank had given so much, and he wanted to give back. He waited impatiently for Frank to sit. Billy didn't choke. He was careful, and Frank was careful, too. He could tell. Billy had never been one of those dickheads who would force a lady on his cock more, but he'd seen enough porn to be wary of another guy pulling that shit. Not Frank, though. He sucked on him until his jaw hurt a little, ‘til he felt himself drooling. Frank, though, fuck, Billy loved every noise he was drawing out of the man above him. It was worth a sore jaw. “That's so good, you're so good for daddy,” Frank praised in his gravel rough tone, and it was enough to make Billy shiver. He wanted to be. He thought about what Frank had said. How he didn't have to say it. That he could just feel it. He did. He did, and he felt like Frank understood that. Understood what his words did to Billy. Frank warned him before he came, and Billy kept his lips on the silky skin at the head of his cock. He lapped at his slit as he pumped a hand down his shaft. A streak of Frank's come hit his cheek, and Billy could feel the guttural moan that left the man as much as he heard it. He did that. His tongue dipped out to taste a little of the come on Frank's stomach as it shook with his pants. Not bad. "Baby's first blowjob." Frank finally caught his breath and grinned down at him, and Billy couldn't help it. He was laughing, a sharp hyena peel of laughter that had him curling in his lap more. Frank was laughing over him. His wide hand rubbing his shoulder. "You're such a god damn idiot," Billy wheezed a little, the fuck and the giddiness making him feel weak, weak in a kind of way that was safe, at least it was safe with Frank. "Yeah, yeah. You did great, though. Straight A.""And a god damn liar.""C plus.""Hey, take it back, keep lying.""B minus.""Fuck you." Billy laughed again. His hand curled against Frank's thigh, long fingers rubbing a little circle against his skin. “Hey, come up here.” Frank's hand pulled at his shoulder a little, and Billy shook his head. “M'good down here.” He kept his eyes closed, focusing on the soreness in his ass, the cool air on his damp skin. He only opened his eyes back up when he felt Frank shifting under him, twisting back towards the dresser and reaching for his phone. “What, level 57 of candy crush more important?” Billy asked, even though he suspected it was more that he was checking in on Maria or the kids. He couldn't fault him for that, but it meant he'd have to get up and off the bed soon which didn't sound so great to him. “Shut up.” Frank snorted out a little, thumb sliding over the display. “Daddy got you something.” Billy's lips twitched a little at the words. Frank was a dog with a bone. He never let up. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. “What'd you get me, huh?” “How do you like it, hard, soft?” Frank asked, and Billy snorted again with laughter, pulling at Frank's hand to see what the fuck he was going on about. “I know you didn't just—hey, what's that?” he asked when Frank showed him he screen. “App I found, white noise machine kind of thing. Hard or soft rain?” Frank remembered that? It had been so flippantly said that Billy had almost forgotten he'd mentioned it, himself. Frank, though, he heard everything he said, really heard it, the words and all of the blank spaces in between. His finger tapped over the screen, hesitating, like he thought Frank might laugh at him even if he knew he wouldn't. He knew that. He scrolled over the choices Frank had downloaded just for him. A surprise gift for him. Thunderstorm, rain storm, hard rain, soft rain... His thumb stopped when he found 'rain on car roof'. He hesitated, almost switching it before handing it back. “That one.” Frank didn't say anything. He just turned the app on and set it down on the nightstand beside him. He coaxed Bill up into his arms silently so they could lie down twined together in a way that Billy wanted to believe was claustrophobic, like if he stayed there, Frank would suck the life out of him. He'd complain, shift away any minute... Instead, Billy fell asleep to the tinny patter of rain, fell asleep to a touch on his cheek that for just a few fleeting moments his heart let him believe wasn't going to go away.