theprettymarine | [voice test]

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frank

[voice test]

Billy didn't know how to name the feeling he had when Frank married Maria. He was happy for his friend, for both of them. He did everything a best man was supposed to do, and then some, because he would be damned if Frank didn't have a decent wedding, even if it was a rush job. Because Maria was pregnant. But Frank was happy and that was what mattered.

But something did shift in him as he watched his friend take his vows. No one sticks around. Maybe that wasn't totally fair - Frank was his brother, they were Marines, and they would share things that no one else did, and that was okay. He didn't need anything else from Frank. He didn't deserve anything else.

They had some leave before their first deployment, which was how Frank managed to get married at all. And after Frank resurfaced from his brief honeymoon, Billy was happy to meet him for drinks.

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"Fuck, just-- fuck--"

He could't even articulate, not when Frank was making those sounds behind him. Frank's fingers dug into his thigh and Billy found himself hoping it bruised.

He finally touched his cock, stroked himself a little as Frank pushed into him. Billy still felt like he could be half asleep, everything warm and a little fuzzy, brought into sharp focus by little things: the pinch of Frank's fingers, the perfect fucking slide of his cock, his voice against his shoulder.

Frank moved his hand up from Billy's thigh and wrapped it around his cock as well. He didn't stop Billy's hand from moving. Rather, he slid his fingers between, helped that slow, aching stroke, so it was the both of them working together. Even though they weren't working hard or fast, he didn't think he was going to last very long, not with the way that Billy felt. It was a little embarrassing.

"Fuck, baby." His hips sped a little, got a bit more aggressive. He was seeking now. Billy felt too fucking good.

Frank's angle and speed changed, and Billy swore he saw stars. His breath caught and he couldn't find words, he could only moan as he tried to meet every push of Frank's hips, making sure he got as deep as he could on every thrust.

He didn't even manage a warning this time. He pushed his face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound he made as he came. He made a mess over their fingers and he got tight around Frank with another, sharp moan.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck, Bill. That's it, good boy," Frank breathed, working his way through the clench of his body, through the twitch of his cock and the messy feeling of it over their fingers. He stroked him through it. Billy's hips were still moving, even as he made a mess of himself. Frank groaned softly in his ear.

Billy swore his cock gave an extra twitch at that gruff praise. He shivered as Frank got everything he could out of him. "Shit, Frank--"

Frank's voice against his ear was fucking perfect, all of this was. He couldn't believe it was real. "Lemme feel you," he breathed. "C'mon, Frankie, lemme feel you."

It barely took anything at that point. Frank was already almost there. So Billy’s sweet, needy voice and the way he moved? That was a reckoning, an undoing. Frank was done, and it wasn’t just because Billy was begging him for it. He was done and he’d known it for months.

He put his hand back in Billy’s thigh as he fucked into him, fucked him through it, to the end. It was good and hazy and slow, and because he was bare, he could feel the way he spilled into him. He gripped Billy’s hair and tugged gently.

“There you go, good boy,” he growled. “There you go, that’s for you.”

Billy was almost on his stomach with Frank's weight bearing down on him. It was perfect. He felt another delicious little shudder as Frank growled in his ear and pulled his hair. He arched his back, pushing his ass against Frank's hips.

Good boy.

It wasn't fair how that got to him.

"Jesus, Frankie."

Billy looked good, sprawled and boneless and easy like that, and Frank was practically on top of him by now, enjoying the feeling of him. He lingered as long as he could but, god, he’d woke thinking of something else and now he still was.

He eased out of Billy slowly. “Hold still, beautiful,” he murmured, already missing down his spine. “Stay right there.”

Billy pushed his face against the bed, dazed as Frank pulled out of him. He made a quiet, protesting sound but Frank was already shushing him, kissing down his back. He worked on catching his breath and hiccuped on it when he realized where Frank was going.

His whole body was humming, warm and perfect, and he almost felt like he could fall asleep again.

When Frank reached Billy’s ass, he paused briefly to suck a bruise up on one cheek. But he was moving once the mark was made, spreading Billy’s cheeks and pressing his mouth to him. He went slow and lazy, tongue a deep thing, chasing the taste of himself.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped when Frank's tongue teased over his hole. His hips jumped and he could feel the mark Frank left throb faintly. Whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been this. He moaned and tried to get his knees up under him, tried to give Frank more room, or more ease, or--

Maybe it'd be better if he stayed down, but he kept his thighs spread as Frank worked and he swore his cock tried to wake back up.

Frank grabbed at him, gripped tight, and dug his thumb in against the meat of his ass. He groaned softly as he worked at his hole. But Billy was squirming and moving, and Frank wanted him easy.

He shushed against his skin gently, really pressed into eating him out between the soft, soothing sound.

Frank's hands were perfect on his hips, digging in against him in a way he knew would leave bruises. He'd see Frank's fingers all over him tomorrow.

And that fucking shushing - that sound haunted his wet dreams, ever since Frank first did it in some corner of the barracks.

His tongue felt good, and Billy was intimately fucking aware of the fact that they'd just gone bareback and he'd been real into it. And now-- now Frank's tongue was in his ass, cleaning him, eating him the fuck out and he was going to get hard again if he kept this up.

Even after Billy was cleaned out, Frank lingered on him, licking and sucking obscenely, until the next time that he looked at him he was all pink and slick and completely obscene to look at. He flushed a little. He'd never really been good at filthy talk, but looking at Billy's ass like that conjured all sorts of pornographic filth to his mind.

He sighed and rested his forehead against Billy's hip for a moment.

Bill just tried to remember how to breathe when Frank finally stopped. He moved his hips, just slightly, then gave up when he felt the weight of Frank's head against him.

"Fuck," he sighed, finally remembering how to make words happen.

"Hey," Frank breathed, a sigh of the noise, and laughed a little bit as Billy sort of croaked out his words gently. He was practically shaking, practically coming apart at the seams. Frank took pity on him, but didn't move up just yet. He kissed his hip gently. "You doin' okay there, Bill? You need to go back to sleep for a hot minute?"

"Fuck you," he breathed, almost a laugh. Billy moved, like he meant to roll over, but then gave up on the idea and stayed as he was, just breathing.

"Fuck, I think I'm half-hard again," he mumbled into a pillow, a grin in his voice as he enjoyed the feeling of Frank's weight on him.

"You did," Frank pointed out, sort of quietly gleeful. He slid up Billy's body, nuzzled against the nape of his neck as he laid there, face down in the pillows, and gave him a sort of sympathetic noise. "And I did. Twice."

He pressed a kiss to his skin. Billy was definitely more than half-hard. "You want some help with that? Or maybe I should just roll over and let you get nasty, huh?"

He laughed, still dazed. "Gimme a minute, man." He turned his head to try and look at Frank, a lazy grin on his face. God, Frank looked amazing, and he fucking ached for him.

"Jesus, where the hell you learn to do that?"

"I have to have some secrets, don't I?" Frank teased. He cupped Billy's chin and kissed him tenderly, holding him in close as he kisses on him and tangles up as intimately as he ever has with Maria.

Softly, into the quiet space between them, Frank said simply, "I wasn't picky about who I was fooling around with as a kid. The pastor and my folks went off about all the fun shit being a sin, and that just made me want to do it more. Just because I'd never fucked until Maria and you doesn't mean I wasn't doing other shit."

Billy just rolled his eyes and smiled under Frank's kisses. It felt good to be held, and he hated the quiet part of him whispering that it wouldn't last. He'll leave you, too.

He huffed a quiet laugh at the idea of little Frank Castle touching dicks to piss off God. Billy nudged their foreheads together.

"Yeah, me and God haven't been on speaking terms since before puberty. After that I didn't really give a shit who said anything was right or wrong."

“I wouldn’t say I’m on speaking terms either,” Frank said. Hadn’t been for a while. Arguing terms, definitely. Fighting terms. They were the same terms he’d had with his old man, so maybe that was kind if fitting.

Frank ran his fingers over Billy’s cheek and jawline gently. His eyes went, momentarily, to the knot of scarring on Billy’s shoulder that they did not talk about, and then came back up.

Billy saw the way Frank looked at his shoulder. They were too close for him not to notice.

"You've never asked," he said quietly. Other people had, plenty, but Billy never really gave them an answer. Or, if he did, it was vague at best. Childhood injury.

“Would you say if I did, Bill?” Frank asked, and it was an honest, soft question in this honest, soft space. He held him gently, close. He wanted Billy to trust him, but he knew what a terrifying thing that was sometimes.

“Sometimes people need their secrets,” he said. “Won’t make you give yours up if you need to keep it. But yeah. I’m asking about it, if you’re willing to tell.”

Billy was quiet for a long moment, like he changed his mind about answering. But eventually he wet his lips, and he looked at a space between them, a thousand yards away.

"I was in group homes when I couldn't get into foster care. There was a guy that would come around, a volunteer. He'd play pick up games with us, we all thought he was so cool. I guess I was ten, eleven."

He paused; the corner of his mouth twitched, almost like a smile, but there was nothing behind it.

"When a grown man tells you you're pretty, you know there's nothing good coming next." He pulled away a little, rolled onto his back so he could stare at the ceiling. "I went after him with a stickball bat. He got pissed off, broke my arm. Ripped my rotator cuff in three places."

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