"Do What You Love", Frank/Dwayne, NC-17
I've spent too much time in the HP fandom. I forgot that Muggles don't have handy cleaning spells to use after orgasm. Bahaha.
More Little Miss Sunshine fic, it's all that's on my mind lately.
Title: Do What You Love
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Frank/Dwayne
Rating: NC-17 (omg. *hides*)
Warnings: Uncle/nephew incest. Smut.
Summary: Ah, it’s just another Frank-and-Dwayne-getting-together fic, basically. I can’t work out how else to summarise.
A/N: Oh my God, my computer declared this file ‘corrupt’ when I was halfway through writing it and I had to re-write everything again. I was like, I suppose it is rather corrupt, but please let me have my story back. :/ Anyway, I hope I’ve got the American words where necessary - I’m actually British.
The first time they kiss is after they arrive back home from California, when the excitement of the day has died down and everyone is looking forward to a good night’s sleep in their own beds.
Frank comes back to Dwayne’s room just after brushing his teeth, and finds Dwayne hovering awkwardly by the door.
“Thank you for talking to me,” says Dwayne, “Earlier, I mean…”
“Of course,” replies Frank, smiling. He wonders vaguely what Dwayne was looking so nervous about.
“People don’t, much, you know. Because I don’t talk back.”
“Well, you do now.”
“Then thank you for listening to me,” Dwayne says.
“Any time you need me to listen, Dwayne, I’m here,” Frank tells him. He understands that it was a big deal for Dwayne to open up and speak to somebody, but he was willing to listen, and he doesn’t want Dwayne to see it as a favour, or anyone else to see it as his duty.
Dwayne nods. Then suddenly, he leans in and presses his lips against Frank’s. It is a quick kiss, but there is nothing to suggest that he had been aiming for Frank’s cheek and missed - there is nothing accidental about it, though it is obvious that Dwayne wants it to seem that way.
“Why-?” Frank begins.
“What?” asks Dwayne innocently.
Frank doesn’t know what to say. He can’t exactly accuse Dwayne of anything, can’t imply the kiss meant more when it was quite possible it didn’t. He stands there speechless, and Dwayne just smiles, shrugs, and goes to bed without another word.
* * *
The next day Frank decides to say something. He has to - he has been driving himself mad thinking about what it means. It hadn’t surprised him when he discovered he was falling in love with his nephew, he was used to falling for people he couldn’t - or shouldn’t - have. A teacher when he was in school, a student when he was teaching. Even a few cousins here and there when he was younger. It has gotten to the point where he doesn’t really feel guilty anymore, as long as he keeps it to himself and tries not to let it interfere with his life.
This, though, is definitely interfering with his life. The idea that Dwayne might feel the same way has crept into his mind and he can’t shake it out. There is such a big part of him hoping, wishing it was true, but at the same time - what would happen if it was? He knows nothing could happen. He couldn’t risk anybody finding out, couldn’t hurt Sheryl that way, couldn’t - well, couldn’t end up in jail.
“Dwayne, last night,” Frank begins when they are in their room the following afternoon. He’s come to think of it as ‘their’ room already. He is used to adjusting to sleeping in different places - he has spent a lot of time staying with various people when they didn’t trust him to be on his own, and even after an overnight hospital stay he started to think of the room as his.
“What?” asks Dwayne. He seems defensive.
“Well, when you - when you kissed me,” Frank stammers.
Before he has a chance to say anything else, Dwayne stands up and crosses the room towards him. “That was because I was saying thank you,” he says.
Frank nods. He thinks that maybe when he is with Dwayne, he spends a lot of time not knowing what to say.
The door is ajar, and he only notices this because Dwayne is leaning gently against it. Suddenly it shuts with a click. Then he notices that Dwayne is getting closer and closer, and part of his brain is telling him to step away, step back as Dwayne steps forward, but another part is telling him to stay, and gluing his feet to the floor.
Dwayne kisses him again, and just when he finds himself starting to kiss back, his nephew steps back and looks at him.
“And that was because I wanted to kiss you,” he says simply, then twists the doorknob, pulls the door towards him, and leaves.
* * *
That night at dinner, Dwayne sits opposite Frank. Every night before this, the two have sat together. Nobody comments on it, and Olive sits next to Frank instead, and events continue as normal.
Until Frank feels a foot brush against his underneath the table. He instinctively moves away, then looks up from his spaghetti and tries to catch Dwayne’s eye. But Dwayne is suddenly extremely interested in Richard’s ranting about something work-related, and Frank tries to get his attention by brushing his foot back.
Dwayne looks at him then, right in his eyes, and Frank raises his eyebrows. He feels Dwayne’s foot - bare, slender, soft - stroke his ankle gently. Dwayne pushes up the leg of his pants with his toes, and Frank, flustered, drops his knife. It clatters onto the table and everybody looks at him.
“You all right, Frank?” asks Dwayne, grinning.
“Fine. I’m fine.”
They get sucked into playing a board game with the rest of the family that evening - a disastrous affair - and Frank doesn’t have a chance to even speak to Dwayne until they are both in bed.
“Dwayne,” he says, and turns over in bed so he is facing him. Dwayne puts down his book and looks up. “Dwayne, we can’t.”
“At the dinner table, or ever?” asks Dwayne boldly.
“Ever,” Frank clarifies, then adds, “But especially not at the dinner table.”
“I’m not sure that makes much sense,” Dwayne admits.
“I know,” sighs Frank. “Dwayne, look, we can’t. It’s just not right-”
“I understand that we shouldn’t,” Dwayne interrupts. “But I don’t know about can’t. You want to, right?”
Frank rubs his temples. “Dwayne, I’m not sure what gave you that idea, but I’m very sorry if I did anything that made you feel as though-”
Dwayne interrupts him again. “I’ve seen you looking at me. Last year, too. At first I wasn’t sure, but then you said you were gay, and everything kind of added up. You’re not very subtle, you know.”
Frank can’t help but laugh. “Listen to me, though, even if I want to-”
Dwayne is pulling back the bedcovers and getting out of bed. Frank stops talking and has completely forgotten everything he was going to say in the first place as Dwayne tip-toes across the carpet and climbs onto his bed.
“Dwayne!” Frank objects half-heartedly, but he finds that a finger has been pressed against his lips to silence him.
“Shh,” Dwayne whispers. “Everyone is sleeping.”
He lifts one leg over Frank’s body and straddles his thighs, then smiles at him. He leans down and kisses Frank passionately. Frank hesitates, but Dwayne’s lips are hot and soft and he thinks there is nothing he can do anymore. He comforts himself by thinking that even if he wanted to stop this, he couldn’t. Dwayne is being surprisingly forceful.
“Dwayne, we really have to be careful,” he says quickly when they break apart.
Dwayne sits back up and for a moment Frank panics, worried he has changed his mind, worried he is going to run from the room and to his parents. But Dwayne is just peeling off his t-shirt, and Frank is distracted for a moment looking at Dwayne’s lean, pale chest and stomach. He shakes his head as Dwayne helps him to raise himself up on his elbows and take off his own shirt.
“I mean it,” he says as Dwayne tosses the shirt on the floor, “Your Dad’ll murder me if he ever finds out.”
“He’s not my Dad,” Dwayne hisses fiercely, leaning forward and pressing their chests together. Their faces are barely an inch apart. Frank gasps at the feeling of Dwayne’s bare skin against his own, and Dwayne covers the gasp by kissing him hard.
Frank wonders how long it has been since he’s had this, since he’s felt this. He doesn’t know but it’s definitely been too long. Dwayne shifts on top of him. He sucks in a lungful of air as his crotch comes into contact with Dwayne’s.
Dwayne sits back up, and with a slightly shaky hand, he reaches forward. His palm curls around the bulge in Frank’s pajama pants, and he looks down at it, his eyes lidded, heavy and dark.
“You do what you love, and fuck the rest,” Frank whispers because it comes back to him suddenly, and Dwayne looks at him and grins. He tugs down Frank’s pajama pants, biting his lip. He shuffles down the bed, pulling them down to Frank’s knees before he can’t move much further, and he tries to turn on the bed in order to undress himself.
He slips slightly, and ends up sitting awkwardly on Frank’s knees. They are suddenly hit by how ridiculous the situation is - to be doing this with the rest of the family just walls away - and Frank splutters with laughter. Dwayne follows, giggling as he grabs at the mattress and tries to sit back up.
“Shh!” Frank hisses desperately, trying not to think what would happen if Sheryl or Richard opened the door to this, and he beckons Dwayne towards him.
Dwayne looks from side to side, then down between Frank’s legs. He shrugs and shuffles forwards again - they both shudder when Frank’s erection comes into contact with Dwayne’s cloth-covered crotch - until he is straddling Frank’s chest.
Frank smiles at Dwayne and pulls at the waistband of his pants. Dwayne blushes when they are pulled down, sending a spark of heat rushing through Frank’s body and settling in his groin. Both suddenly realise the position they are in, and Frank makes himself look up at Dwayne’s face.
“Has a girl ever-” he whispers.
“I don’t like girls,” Dwayne whispers back, and then adds with a general wave of his hand, “I would have thought that would be obvious.”
“Right. Well,” says Frank, and then clears his throat, “Has a boy ever-?”
Dwayne shakes his head. “I hate everyone,” he murmurs with a smile. “Everyone except you.”
Frank smiles back. “How sentimental,” he whispers, a little sarcastic, and then he looks back down to Dwayne’s cock, which is at his eye-level. Dwayne sits lightly back down on Frank’s chest and takes a deep breath. Frank dips his head forward - he can’t even remember the last time he did this, some boy in a bar probably, and this is so much better, so much more meaningful - and he flicks his tongue out along the head of Dwayne’s cock. Dwayne bites his lip very, very hard.
Frank steadies him, placing his hands on Dwayne’s bony hips, and he licks along the length of his cock. He presses his lips against the head, then parts them, and he looks up at Dwayne - all breathless with wide eyes - before his cock slips into his mouth. He sucks, and then stops all of a sudden as Dwayne lets out a quiet, but unmistakable moan.
Dwayne looks just as shocked as Frank does, and he brings his fist up against his mouth to keep quiet. Frank can’t believe they aren’t stopping, but he can’t turn back now, and he takes Dwayne’s cock back in his mouth and sucks again, circling the head with his tongue, watching Dwayne’s eyes roll back.
Dwayne gasps suddenly, and slides away. “I-” he says, and then he’s blushing again and Frank can’t seem to get enough of seeing colour flood his nephew’s face. He feels like he’s going to explode, he needs something, he needs contact, he needs Dwayne to touch him.
Dwayne shuffles back down Frank’s body again, his hair in front of his eyes, and he stops where Frank’s slightly open thighs make a diamond with his own. He licks his palm and wraps his hand around Frank’s cock, moving up-down two, three - not enough - times before stopping.
“Dwayne,” Frank whispers in a strangled sort of way, but Dwayne shushes him and then thrusts his hips forwards so that their hard cocks bump together.
He leans down again, his body flat along his uncle’s, and they kiss again to keep from making any noise as their cocks rub together, hot and slick. When their lips break apart, Dwayne can’t seem to breathe, and he buries his face in Frank’s shoulder, gasping as he bucks his hips forward, grinding frantically against Frank’s cock.
Frank wraps his arms around Dwayne and lifts his own hips up off the bed a little, moving in time with Dwayne’s thrusts. Their cocks slide against each other, the friction just enough, sometimes too much, pushing him towards the edge, and Dwayne is making tiny incoherent noises in his ear.
The bed is creaking now, very quietly, along with their rhythm, and Frank hisses, “Fuck. Fuck.” Dwayne echoes him, pressing his hips down and moving quicker. Frank feels the first wave of orgasm twisting somewhere in his spine, and he shudders. Dwayne’s head presses deeper against him and he feels a scrape of teeth where his neck meets his shoulder.
Dwayne comes suddenly - Frank feels the wetness spread across their stomachs - but he lifts his body above Frank’s on his hands and keeps thrusting until Frank’s orgasm comes, too. Frank sputters and gasps as it does, feeling Dwayne watching him.
“Fuck,” says Dwayne simply after a moment, reaching over Frank’s head, his hand returning clutching Kleenex.
Frank chuckles softly. “Indeed,” he agrees, gesturing at Dwayne to move so that he can pull up his pajamas.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” Dwayne whispers, pulling up his own, and Frank marvels at his ability to form full - not to mention quite serious - questions after orgasm.
“I…but we…your…” Frank says vaguely as Dwayne cleans them up. “I don’t know…”
Dwayne tosses the now-used tissues into the trash can, then reaches over Frank’s head again for his cellphone. He taps various buttons for a few moments and Frank is too tired and satisfied to question him.
Then Dwayne is waving the phone in front of his face and he sees that he has set an alarm for fifteen minutes before Sheryl usually comes in to wake him up. Frank nods, and then Dwayne grimaces.
“Fuck, I have to go to school tomorrow,” he realises.
Frank groans. “Oh God, don’t say that.”
Dwayne laughs and rolls off him, snuggling up by his side in the single bed. Frank turns and kisses his forehead, then leans back and relaxes. He sighs.
“Night, Dwayne,” he whispers, but Dwayne is already asleep.
* * *
It is a surprise to both of them that they continue on this way for a good few weeks without anything happening to suggest their secret is not safe. They decide only to share a bed twice a week - and for it to be Dwayne’s, as his doesn’t creak quite so badly - but they find themselves breaking this rule far too often.
It’s difficult working out how to act during the day, too. Dwayne spends much of the time not speaking at all, simply because he is worried he will give something away if he does. They sit together at the dinner table every night and spend a lot of the evenings in Dwayne’s room just talking.
Frank knows it is exciting for Dwayne to have a secret like this, and it is easy for him to keep it. Nobody questions him when he stops talking. He is a teenage boy and anything he does, Sheryl and Richard can give that as a reason. For Frank it is harder, and he forces smiles whenever Sheryl mentions how nice it is for Dwayne to have found a friend in him.
But everything seems to be worth it when he and Dwayne have those chances together in the silence of the night, when they are completely alone and comfortable. That’s when Frank’s feelings of guilt and betrayal slip away. That’s when Dwayne feels like he is loved properly, loved and understood.
* * *
It has been four weeks. Olive and Dwayne are sitting in the living room. Dwayne is attempting some homework while Olive watches TV.
Suddenly Olive switches the TV off, and Dwayne looks up.
“Dwaaaaayne,” Olive sings sweetly.
Dwayne looks at her and tilts his head. “What?”
“Mum said she was wondering when you were going to bring a girlfriend home for tea.”
“Good for her,” Dwayne grunts and goes back to his algebra.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Dwayne?” Olive asks.
“No,” grumbles Dwayne, wishing she would just turn the TV back on again.
A pause.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Dwayne’s head jerks up. “What? No!”
Olive gives him a one-shouldered shrug and a sweet smile. “I was just asking,” she says, and picks up the TV remote again.
She puts it back down after a couple of seconds and turns back to Dwayne, whose head is sinking further into his textbook. “Dwayne?” Olive asks again.
“What?” Dwayne snaps a little sharper than he means to.
“Is Uncle Frank your boyfriend?”
“What?” he exclaims.
This is not what he has been expecting at all.
“What?” he cries again.
Olive looks apologetic. She looks down at her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just wondering when you were going to tell everybody.”
More Little Miss Sunshine fic, it's all that's on my mind lately.
Title: Do What You Love
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Frank/Dwayne
Rating: NC-17 (omg. *hides*)
Warnings: Uncle/nephew incest. Smut.
Summary: Ah, it’s just another Frank-and-Dwayne-getting-together fic, basically. I can’t work out how else to summarise.
A/N: Oh my God, my computer declared this file ‘corrupt’ when I was halfway through writing it and I had to re-write everything again. I was like, I suppose it is rather corrupt, but please let me have my story back. :/ Anyway, I hope I’ve got the American words where necessary - I’m actually British.
The first time they kiss is after they arrive back home from California, when the excitement of the day has died down and everyone is looking forward to a good night’s sleep in their own beds.
Frank comes back to Dwayne’s room just after brushing his teeth, and finds Dwayne hovering awkwardly by the door.
“Thank you for talking to me,” says Dwayne, “Earlier, I mean…”
“Of course,” replies Frank, smiling. He wonders vaguely what Dwayne was looking so nervous about.
“People don’t, much, you know. Because I don’t talk back.”
“Well, you do now.”
“Then thank you for listening to me,” Dwayne says.
“Any time you need me to listen, Dwayne, I’m here,” Frank tells him. He understands that it was a big deal for Dwayne to open up and speak to somebody, but he was willing to listen, and he doesn’t want Dwayne to see it as a favour, or anyone else to see it as his duty.
Dwayne nods. Then suddenly, he leans in and presses his lips against Frank’s. It is a quick kiss, but there is nothing to suggest that he had been aiming for Frank’s cheek and missed - there is nothing accidental about it, though it is obvious that Dwayne wants it to seem that way.
“Why-?” Frank begins.
“What?” asks Dwayne innocently.
Frank doesn’t know what to say. He can’t exactly accuse Dwayne of anything, can’t imply the kiss meant more when it was quite possible it didn’t. He stands there speechless, and Dwayne just smiles, shrugs, and goes to bed without another word.
* * *
The next day Frank decides to say something. He has to - he has been driving himself mad thinking about what it means. It hadn’t surprised him when he discovered he was falling in love with his nephew, he was used to falling for people he couldn’t - or shouldn’t - have. A teacher when he was in school, a student when he was teaching. Even a few cousins here and there when he was younger. It has gotten to the point where he doesn’t really feel guilty anymore, as long as he keeps it to himself and tries not to let it interfere with his life.
This, though, is definitely interfering with his life. The idea that Dwayne might feel the same way has crept into his mind and he can’t shake it out. There is such a big part of him hoping, wishing it was true, but at the same time - what would happen if it was? He knows nothing could happen. He couldn’t risk anybody finding out, couldn’t hurt Sheryl that way, couldn’t - well, couldn’t end up in jail.
“Dwayne, last night,” Frank begins when they are in their room the following afternoon. He’s come to think of it as ‘their’ room already. He is used to adjusting to sleeping in different places - he has spent a lot of time staying with various people when they didn’t trust him to be on his own, and even after an overnight hospital stay he started to think of the room as his.
“What?” asks Dwayne. He seems defensive.
“Well, when you - when you kissed me,” Frank stammers.
Before he has a chance to say anything else, Dwayne stands up and crosses the room towards him. “That was because I was saying thank you,” he says.
Frank nods. He thinks that maybe when he is with Dwayne, he spends a lot of time not knowing what to say.
The door is ajar, and he only notices this because Dwayne is leaning gently against it. Suddenly it shuts with a click. Then he notices that Dwayne is getting closer and closer, and part of his brain is telling him to step away, step back as Dwayne steps forward, but another part is telling him to stay, and gluing his feet to the floor.
Dwayne kisses him again, and just when he finds himself starting to kiss back, his nephew steps back and looks at him.
“And that was because I wanted to kiss you,” he says simply, then twists the doorknob, pulls the door towards him, and leaves.
* * *
That night at dinner, Dwayne sits opposite Frank. Every night before this, the two have sat together. Nobody comments on it, and Olive sits next to Frank instead, and events continue as normal.
Until Frank feels a foot brush against his underneath the table. He instinctively moves away, then looks up from his spaghetti and tries to catch Dwayne’s eye. But Dwayne is suddenly extremely interested in Richard’s ranting about something work-related, and Frank tries to get his attention by brushing his foot back.
Dwayne looks at him then, right in his eyes, and Frank raises his eyebrows. He feels Dwayne’s foot - bare, slender, soft - stroke his ankle gently. Dwayne pushes up the leg of his pants with his toes, and Frank, flustered, drops his knife. It clatters onto the table and everybody looks at him.
“You all right, Frank?” asks Dwayne, grinning.
“Fine. I’m fine.”
They get sucked into playing a board game with the rest of the family that evening - a disastrous affair - and Frank doesn’t have a chance to even speak to Dwayne until they are both in bed.
“Dwayne,” he says, and turns over in bed so he is facing him. Dwayne puts down his book and looks up. “Dwayne, we can’t.”
“At the dinner table, or ever?” asks Dwayne boldly.
“Ever,” Frank clarifies, then adds, “But especially not at the dinner table.”
“I’m not sure that makes much sense,” Dwayne admits.
“I know,” sighs Frank. “Dwayne, look, we can’t. It’s just not right-”
“I understand that we shouldn’t,” Dwayne interrupts. “But I don’t know about can’t. You want to, right?”
Frank rubs his temples. “Dwayne, I’m not sure what gave you that idea, but I’m very sorry if I did anything that made you feel as though-”
Dwayne interrupts him again. “I’ve seen you looking at me. Last year, too. At first I wasn’t sure, but then you said you were gay, and everything kind of added up. You’re not very subtle, you know.”
Frank can’t help but laugh. “Listen to me, though, even if I want to-”
Dwayne is pulling back the bedcovers and getting out of bed. Frank stops talking and has completely forgotten everything he was going to say in the first place as Dwayne tip-toes across the carpet and climbs onto his bed.
“Dwayne!” Frank objects half-heartedly, but he finds that a finger has been pressed against his lips to silence him.
“Shh,” Dwayne whispers. “Everyone is sleeping.”
He lifts one leg over Frank’s body and straddles his thighs, then smiles at him. He leans down and kisses Frank passionately. Frank hesitates, but Dwayne’s lips are hot and soft and he thinks there is nothing he can do anymore. He comforts himself by thinking that even if he wanted to stop this, he couldn’t. Dwayne is being surprisingly forceful.
“Dwayne, we really have to be careful,” he says quickly when they break apart.
Dwayne sits back up and for a moment Frank panics, worried he has changed his mind, worried he is going to run from the room and to his parents. But Dwayne is just peeling off his t-shirt, and Frank is distracted for a moment looking at Dwayne’s lean, pale chest and stomach. He shakes his head as Dwayne helps him to raise himself up on his elbows and take off his own shirt.
“I mean it,” he says as Dwayne tosses the shirt on the floor, “Your Dad’ll murder me if he ever finds out.”
“He’s not my Dad,” Dwayne hisses fiercely, leaning forward and pressing their chests together. Their faces are barely an inch apart. Frank gasps at the feeling of Dwayne’s bare skin against his own, and Dwayne covers the gasp by kissing him hard.
Frank wonders how long it has been since he’s had this, since he’s felt this. He doesn’t know but it’s definitely been too long. Dwayne shifts on top of him. He sucks in a lungful of air as his crotch comes into contact with Dwayne’s.
Dwayne sits back up, and with a slightly shaky hand, he reaches forward. His palm curls around the bulge in Frank’s pajama pants, and he looks down at it, his eyes lidded, heavy and dark.
“You do what you love, and fuck the rest,” Frank whispers because it comes back to him suddenly, and Dwayne looks at him and grins. He tugs down Frank’s pajama pants, biting his lip. He shuffles down the bed, pulling them down to Frank’s knees before he can’t move much further, and he tries to turn on the bed in order to undress himself.
He slips slightly, and ends up sitting awkwardly on Frank’s knees. They are suddenly hit by how ridiculous the situation is - to be doing this with the rest of the family just walls away - and Frank splutters with laughter. Dwayne follows, giggling as he grabs at the mattress and tries to sit back up.
“Shh!” Frank hisses desperately, trying not to think what would happen if Sheryl or Richard opened the door to this, and he beckons Dwayne towards him.
Dwayne looks from side to side, then down between Frank’s legs. He shrugs and shuffles forwards again - they both shudder when Frank’s erection comes into contact with Dwayne’s cloth-covered crotch - until he is straddling Frank’s chest.
Frank smiles at Dwayne and pulls at the waistband of his pants. Dwayne blushes when they are pulled down, sending a spark of heat rushing through Frank’s body and settling in his groin. Both suddenly realise the position they are in, and Frank makes himself look up at Dwayne’s face.
“Has a girl ever-” he whispers.
“I don’t like girls,” Dwayne whispers back, and then adds with a general wave of his hand, “I would have thought that would be obvious.”
“Right. Well,” says Frank, and then clears his throat, “Has a boy ever-?”
Dwayne shakes his head. “I hate everyone,” he murmurs with a smile. “Everyone except you.”
Frank smiles back. “How sentimental,” he whispers, a little sarcastic, and then he looks back down to Dwayne’s cock, which is at his eye-level. Dwayne sits lightly back down on Frank’s chest and takes a deep breath. Frank dips his head forward - he can’t even remember the last time he did this, some boy in a bar probably, and this is so much better, so much more meaningful - and he flicks his tongue out along the head of Dwayne’s cock. Dwayne bites his lip very, very hard.
Frank steadies him, placing his hands on Dwayne’s bony hips, and he licks along the length of his cock. He presses his lips against the head, then parts them, and he looks up at Dwayne - all breathless with wide eyes - before his cock slips into his mouth. He sucks, and then stops all of a sudden as Dwayne lets out a quiet, but unmistakable moan.
Dwayne looks just as shocked as Frank does, and he brings his fist up against his mouth to keep quiet. Frank can’t believe they aren’t stopping, but he can’t turn back now, and he takes Dwayne’s cock back in his mouth and sucks again, circling the head with his tongue, watching Dwayne’s eyes roll back.
Dwayne gasps suddenly, and slides away. “I-” he says, and then he’s blushing again and Frank can’t seem to get enough of seeing colour flood his nephew’s face. He feels like he’s going to explode, he needs something, he needs contact, he needs Dwayne to touch him.
Dwayne shuffles back down Frank’s body again, his hair in front of his eyes, and he stops where Frank’s slightly open thighs make a diamond with his own. He licks his palm and wraps his hand around Frank’s cock, moving up-down two, three - not enough - times before stopping.
“Dwayne,” Frank whispers in a strangled sort of way, but Dwayne shushes him and then thrusts his hips forwards so that their hard cocks bump together.
He leans down again, his body flat along his uncle’s, and they kiss again to keep from making any noise as their cocks rub together, hot and slick. When their lips break apart, Dwayne can’t seem to breathe, and he buries his face in Frank’s shoulder, gasping as he bucks his hips forward, grinding frantically against Frank’s cock.
Frank wraps his arms around Dwayne and lifts his own hips up off the bed a little, moving in time with Dwayne’s thrusts. Their cocks slide against each other, the friction just enough, sometimes too much, pushing him towards the edge, and Dwayne is making tiny incoherent noises in his ear.
The bed is creaking now, very quietly, along with their rhythm, and Frank hisses, “Fuck. Fuck.” Dwayne echoes him, pressing his hips down and moving quicker. Frank feels the first wave of orgasm twisting somewhere in his spine, and he shudders. Dwayne’s head presses deeper against him and he feels a scrape of teeth where his neck meets his shoulder.
Dwayne comes suddenly - Frank feels the wetness spread across their stomachs - but he lifts his body above Frank’s on his hands and keeps thrusting until Frank’s orgasm comes, too. Frank sputters and gasps as it does, feeling Dwayne watching him.
“Fuck,” says Dwayne simply after a moment, reaching over Frank’s head, his hand returning clutching Kleenex.
Frank chuckles softly. “Indeed,” he agrees, gesturing at Dwayne to move so that he can pull up his pajamas.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” Dwayne whispers, pulling up his own, and Frank marvels at his ability to form full - not to mention quite serious - questions after orgasm.
“I…but we…your…” Frank says vaguely as Dwayne cleans them up. “I don’t know…”
Dwayne tosses the now-used tissues into the trash can, then reaches over Frank’s head again for his cellphone. He taps various buttons for a few moments and Frank is too tired and satisfied to question him.
Then Dwayne is waving the phone in front of his face and he sees that he has set an alarm for fifteen minutes before Sheryl usually comes in to wake him up. Frank nods, and then Dwayne grimaces.
“Fuck, I have to go to school tomorrow,” he realises.
Frank groans. “Oh God, don’t say that.”
Dwayne laughs and rolls off him, snuggling up by his side in the single bed. Frank turns and kisses his forehead, then leans back and relaxes. He sighs.
“Night, Dwayne,” he whispers, but Dwayne is already asleep.
* * *
It is a surprise to both of them that they continue on this way for a good few weeks without anything happening to suggest their secret is not safe. They decide only to share a bed twice a week - and for it to be Dwayne’s, as his doesn’t creak quite so badly - but they find themselves breaking this rule far too often.
It’s difficult working out how to act during the day, too. Dwayne spends much of the time not speaking at all, simply because he is worried he will give something away if he does. They sit together at the dinner table every night and spend a lot of the evenings in Dwayne’s room just talking.
Frank knows it is exciting for Dwayne to have a secret like this, and it is easy for him to keep it. Nobody questions him when he stops talking. He is a teenage boy and anything he does, Sheryl and Richard can give that as a reason. For Frank it is harder, and he forces smiles whenever Sheryl mentions how nice it is for Dwayne to have found a friend in him.
But everything seems to be worth it when he and Dwayne have those chances together in the silence of the night, when they are completely alone and comfortable. That’s when Frank’s feelings of guilt and betrayal slip away. That’s when Dwayne feels like he is loved properly, loved and understood.
* * *
It has been four weeks. Olive and Dwayne are sitting in the living room. Dwayne is attempting some homework while Olive watches TV.
Suddenly Olive switches the TV off, and Dwayne looks up.
“Dwaaaaayne,” Olive sings sweetly.
Dwayne looks at her and tilts his head. “What?”
“Mum said she was wondering when you were going to bring a girlfriend home for tea.”
“Good for her,” Dwayne grunts and goes back to his algebra.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Dwayne?” Olive asks.
“No,” grumbles Dwayne, wishing she would just turn the TV back on again.
A pause.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Dwayne’s head jerks up. “What? No!”
Olive gives him a one-shouldered shrug and a sweet smile. “I was just asking,” she says, and picks up the TV remote again.
She puts it back down after a couple of seconds and turns back to Dwayne, whose head is sinking further into his textbook. “Dwayne?” Olive asks again.
“What?” Dwayne snaps a little sharper than he means to.
“Is Uncle Frank your boyfriend?”
“What?” he exclaims.
This is not what he has been expecting at all.
“What?” he cries again.
Olive looks apologetic. She looks down at her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just wondering when you were going to tell everybody.”