Yesterday was national kissing day, and I was talking about how it would have been a good excuse for a kiss meme, and how it seemed those kind of themed memes seemed to have died out a little
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Sink Right In - Bob/FrankdesfinadoJuly 11 2011, 04:16:26 UTC
Frank always has bruises the next day, and he wears them like a badge. Like he fucking wants someone to ask. He laughs big and loud with the techs, head tossed back as he downs the dregs of his beer, and Bob can see the purpling skin at the base of his neck from last night, the yellow higher up, just under his jaw, from a few nights before.
Every time, Bob tries to kiss them better. He's got this idea that if he can just spread Frank out and touch his lips to the bruised skin - the small fingerprints of blue-black along his hipbones, the wide and messy purple shapes on his knees - then he'll stop leaving them there.
"Pussy," Frank grunts, and sits up almost immediately from where Bob's pushed him down on his back on the hotel bed, "if I wanted fucking T.L.C. I'd call your mom." His mouth is ugly twisted up like that, his eyes narrowed. Bob just wants to get him on his back, wants to press his lips to the mark on Frank's neck, the ones beneath his t-shirt that he can't see.
Re: Sink Right In - Bob/Frankturps33July 11 2011, 10:36:10 UTC
Gah. That is amazing. So hot and harsh.
Frank bucks up against Bob, the hard line of his dick against Bob's stomach, eyes glassy and challenging. Bob uses his other hand to push Frank's t-shirt up to his armpits, skating his clammy palm across the inked skin to hover over the small bruises along Frank's ribcage.
I'm imagining that right now, and it is beautiful!
Re: Sink Right In - Bob/FrankjedusaurJuly 11 2011, 21:29:57 UTC
Oh fuck. Violent antagonistic sex is my FAVORITE. I love it when Frank is characterized as wanting to act out and be subdued. And the your-mom line is awesome.
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Every time, Bob tries to kiss them better. He's got this idea that if he can just spread Frank out and touch his lips to the bruised skin - the small fingerprints of blue-black along his hipbones, the wide and messy purple shapes on his knees - then he'll stop leaving them there.
"Pussy," Frank grunts, and sits up almost immediately from where Bob's pushed him down on his back on the hotel bed, "if I wanted fucking T.L.C. I'd call your mom." His mouth is ugly twisted up like that, his eyes narrowed. Bob just wants to get him on his back, wants to press his lips to the mark on Frank's neck, the ones beneath his t-shirt that he can't see.
"Lie down," Bob presses between gritted teeth.
"Man up," ( ... )
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Frank bucks up against Bob, the hard line of his dick against Bob's stomach, eyes glassy and challenging. Bob uses his other hand to push Frank's t-shirt up to his armpits, skating his clammy palm across the inked skin to hover over the small bruises along Frank's ribcage.
I'm imagining that right now, and it is beautiful!
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I really love fic that treats this relationship as a two-person mosh pit. :D This is hot and perfect. Thank you!
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