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goldenlikedayl1ght · 4 days

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taking what's not yours - f. castle & m. murdock

a/n: ALRIGHT ITS FINALLY DONE uhhh sorry this has no smut i was just goofing and wanted to write something cute with our two favorites and you guys seemed to really want this one so! i have no regrets actually! im gonna go take a nap now warnings: polyamorous relationships, frank has nightmares, reader is autistic, reader has an oral fixation/biting problem, nosebleeds/blood, crying, cursing, lots of cute nicknames, talks of death, some sexual comments, lots of kissing and fluff word count: 3.2k comments and feedback are always appreciated <3 summary: a week in the life of a relationship with frank castle and matt murdock, your two favorite vigilantes. pairing: frank castle x autistic!gn!reader x matt murdock now playing: taking what's not yours - tv girl "you know where to find me/and i know where to look"

Soft country music from before country music as a genre went modern and became what it is today plays from the radio Frank insists on keeping on while he cooks dinner. His flannel is tight around his chest and the sleeves are rolled up as he brings a spoon to his mouth, tasting the sauce he’s been preparing for the past few hours. He adds more pepper.

The door opens from across the apartment, and all he hears is, “Frank! Tell Matt to stop being mean to me!” You and Matt make your way through the apartment after taking off your shoes and coats, Matt loosening his tie as he follows you into the kitchen. Frank turns when you step into the kitchen, immediately moving over to him and finding your place in the crook of his arm.

“Red bein’ mean to you, honey?” Frank asks as he kisses the top of your head, grinning at Matt as he huffs, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if it’s handsome if he’s so mean, does it?” You ask.

“No, it doesn’t,” He grins, and you stick your tongue out to Matt playfully, and he mimics you before going over to Frank and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi.” The lawyer hums, happy to be back home with his two favorite people.

“Hi.” Frank grins, unsure of how serious you are about Matt being mean to him. “What’s going on, why are you being mean?” Matt raises an eyebrow at you, unhappy with your running to Frank.

“Can’t just run to daddy to fix your problems, pup.” He accuses, and you scoff. His words are playful, but your face is red at the call out.

“You know what, Murdock—”

“Hey! Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Frank cuts in, and Matt tilts his head in your direction, and you quietly plead for Matt not to tell on you, and--

“They bit me.” Frank sighs at his words.

“I was being affectionate!” You immediately go into defense mode, ducking out of Frank’s arm, trying to casually walk off from the pair towards the fridge, only for Matt to grab your arm, pulling you between the two men, your back against Frank’s chest, face to face with Matt.

“You cannot bite people, pup.” Matt says, and you frown.

“I like biting people—”

“That’s a problem!” Frank’s words attempt to be serious, but they’re coated by a soft laugh as his hands, rough from a long day of working blue collar, rub up and down your arms.

“See? You’re getting Frank to agree with me, do you know how hard that is to do?” Matt hums, and you tilt your head.

“What? You love Frank, it’s actually kind of gross—”

“It is gross isn’t it?” Matt asks teasingly, leaning up to kiss Frank again. You roll your eyes at the fact that you’re being reprimanded by your boyfriends, sandwiched between them, forced to deal with the consequences of your actions. “But I’m being serious, okay?”

“Matty,” Your head leans back against Frank’s chest, “I don’t bite anyone who isn’t you or Frank..”

Alright, let’s level with each other—Frank and Matt are well aware of the fact that you’re neurodivergent. You get overstimulated with loud, crowded situations very easily, you struggle to understand jokes a lot, and you once told them that in middle school, you became so hyper fixated on waffles to the point where you ate them for breakfast and lunch most days, practically begging your mom to let you have it for dinner most nights (She let you have them once a month) and then, after fourteenth months, you stopped. You have not been able to eat a waffle since.

The point is the two men you’re sandwiched between are no strangers to your neurodivergence. They know it’s stimulating in the best way to chew or suck on something, your oral fixation coming back with a vengeance after you tried to repress it for so long. You chew on everything. You chew on the strands of your hoodies, you chew on your sleeves, you chew on ice, gum, you chew on your boyfriends, and you chew on your cheeks to the point where you draw blood, which always gets Matt to scold you, because he can smell the coppery blood from his place across the room, and immediately tells Frank.

Matt Murdock is a little tattletale.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Frank hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ll get you something to chew on—”

“What, like a chew toy? That’s embarrassing,” you groan, and Matt just laughs a bit, leaning in to oppress a kiss to the shoulder that Frank is not leaning on.

“Then stop biting, pup.”

You pause, contemplating the options you have. Fix your biting issue or have Matt and Frank fix it for you. Honestly, you don’t think you have the neurotypical willpower to fix this problem, so you go,

“Okay, fine. You guys have my permission to do what you want to fix it.” You huff. Frank presses a kiss to your cheek while Matt presses a kiss to the other. You feel the smirks against your skin, and you realize what’s happening before you can run, “Wait, no, I swear to god—” Matt picks up your legs with ease as Frank secures his arms around your torso, the pair beginning to carry you to the couch. You groan as they throw you onto the leather couch, landing with a huff. “You’re both awful.”

Matt leans down and bites your shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“Jokes on you, Daredevil, I’m into that—” You feel Frank sink his teeth into your arm.

“Wrong answer.” Matt responds for him.

Later that night, after dinner, you’re laying against Matt, your legs resting in Frank’s lap. You’re listening to music, and the environment is very relaxed, none of you are particularly on edge. Matt’s fingers are resting in your mouth. You relax like this a lot, just sucking his fingers gently. You’re absentmindedly just sucking on his fingers when you bite down on them—It’s not an accident, and Matt would call you out on it if you lied.

So when you bite down, not entirely consciously, he huffs, “With the biting, baby, come on,” he softly condemns, and remembering your deal, Frank gets up with a sigh, patting your leg before he got up and headed to the kitchen. You’re confused for a second before Matt’s nose twitches with recognition, so he grabs your shoulder and pulls you close, his hand finding your cheeks and squeezing your mouth so that it’s in an ‘o’ shape.

Frank approaches you with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter, and your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and the rest of your features are squished by Matt’s hands. Frank scoops a big wad of peanut butter onto the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You’re confused, as Matt’s hand leaves your face, as you begin munching on the peanut butter.

You take a while to eat the peanut butter, quietly enjoying the taste while enjoying how long you’re keeping yourself busy, since it’s taking a long time to work down the peanut butter due to how sticky it is in the roof of your mouth. When you’re done licking and enjoying the taste of the peanut butter, you look to Frank.

“What was that for?”

“Well, it kept you busy from biting, didn’t it?” He grinned. Your face is flushed as you hand him the spoon.

“Can I have some more?”

Frank chuckles and kisses you quick.

“Sure, honey.”

A few nights later, Frank sits on the couch of the apartment, the windows open wide as he listens to the howling wind outside. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know. His skin is still hot, trying to relax after waking up from a nightmare. It’s always the same. Maria and his children, always dying in his arms. Always sitting at the kitchen table, always with you and Matt, always dead.

The chill that comes in from the window is enough to make him feel alive through as he quietly waits for Matt to get back. He’s in an old tee shirt and sweatpants, flicking his lighter on and off in the quiet as he tries to focus on something that isn’t the idea of the pair of you dead, dead like his wife, dead like his kids, dead dead dead—

“Frank? What are you doing up?” Matt’s soft voice echoes through the apartment, and his head tilts softly. He goes over to the couch, still in his full Daredevil suit. Frank stands up and goes over to him by the window, pulling off his cowl just to look at his face. His hand lands gently on Matt’s face, his thumb rubbing gently on the scars that surround Matt’s eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Matt catches the lie and does not call him out.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Frank’s jaw hardens, and even though Matt cannot see, he avoids his gaze. And in a moment of pure vulnerability, he wraps his arms around Matt, holding him close. Matt’s hand gently runs up and down his spine, trying to comfort him. After a few moments of quiet, he asks, “Do you want me to wake them up?” You were always better at making people feel better than Matt was—Especially Frank.

“Nah.. No point..” He says quietly. After a few more minutes of quiet, he feels another pair of arms wrap around him from behind, your chest against his back. You press soft kisses onto the back of his shoulders.

“Too late.” Matt hums. You’re wearing an old tee shirt of Frank’s, a pair of boxers you bought for yourself and a pair of Matt’s fuzzy socks. You stay there for a little while, sleepily hugging Frank, comforting him. Your eyes grow heavy, and slowly, you fall asleep against him, just for a moment. Then, Frank picks you up, and you wake up again, tired.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask him, and he just smiles down to you.

“We’re gonna go to bed while Red showers, and he’ll be right back.” He tells you, gently placing you on the bed. You yawn as Frank crawls into bed, and you find yourself on top of him, your legs tangled with his. You listen to Matt shower and fall asleep waiting for him to come join you.

He comes back out with his hair wet, in just his sweatpants. He tucks himself into bed, his arms around Frank, as you sprawl out on top of them, desperately needing to be close to both. Frank is nowhere near tired. Matt knows that, and just gently kisses his hair and the back of his neck.

“You need sleep.”

“You ain’t the boss of me, red.” He grumbles, and you hush them harshly, causing them to both laugh a little bit. Matt slowly falls asleep, trying to stay awake to comfort Frank, but he’s spent his entire night beating the shit out of goons and criminals, so he’s absolutely spent. Frank tilts his head and presses another kiss to his lips. “Go to bed, I’ll be okay.” Matt wants to protest but he just buries his face in the crook of his neck.

Frank’s hands gently trail your torso a bit. His hands are rough and sort of cold, but they just explore your back as he attempts to find sleep. It’s a fruitless venture, but he doesn’t mind. He’s okay with just listening to the pair of you breathing.

“Are you two wearing my flannels?” Frank has about seven flannels, and he has four in the wash and one that has a tear waiting to be fixed, so he’s looking for his spare two when he finds you painting Matt’s nails on the floor of the apartment. You’re painting Matt’s nails a nice shade of dark red, with little hearts in a lighter pink.

That had taken a lot of convincing, really, but once you had agreed not to bite him all day, he reluctantly agrees to let you paint his nails, desperately wanting to be good at something and be focused on one thing for more than twenty minutes.

Periodically, Matt’s foot will tap against your back, reminding you to adjust your posture as you work on your masterpiece. He just got done with a big court case, so he tells you he’ll maintain your artwork for at least a few days. But yeah, you two are most definitely wearing Frank’s last two flannels.

“They’re comfy,” You defend, focusing on your work. Matt’s foot taps against your tailbone to remind you to straighten your back.

Really, Frank doesn’t mind. But he enjoys fucking with the two of you, so he just smirks and sits behind the pair of you. ‘

“But they’re my clothes—”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you left them out, Frank.” Matt smirks, knowing exactly what he’s up to.

“Besides, look how good Matt looks in your clothes!” You hum, leaning over to nudge him gently, a grin on your face. You finish up Matt’s nails, capping up the nail polish as Matt begins gently blowing in his nails to get them to dry faster. Then, you wipe your nose, thinking it’s running, and when you pull away, you see a swipe of blood on Frank’s warm flannel. Oh, fuck.

With his slightly wet nails, Matt’s movements are not nearly as quick as he would have liked as he smells the blood before the gushing really starts, ripping off a paper towel and quickly holding it under your nose, and you take it from him to hold it there as he stands up, going to get something softer like a tissue or toilet paper to pack your nose—

You hold the paper towel to your nose, and guilt already starts to eat at you, as hot tears fill your eyes and then you feel silly because you think Frank might think you’re overreacting, but you just find his hands on your shoulders as he says,

“Hey, hey, why are we crying?” And you feel even sillier.

“I ruined your flannel.”

Frank had been covered in blood more times than he could count, as has Matt—their bodies are riddled with scars, head to toe, bullet and stab wounds echoing over the rough skin of both men, mostly faded now, but Frank is no stranger to blood—It doesn’t even bother him anymore, and Matt can’t see anyways, so what does he care about the sight of blood?

But you, who cannot kill the bugs that find their ways into your apartment, who gasps and covers their mouth when you accidentally curse in church (Matt always laughs, the dick), who orders the same lunch every day and has been unable to drink anything that wasn’t ice water, are horrified at a swipe of blood on a stolen flannel.

“Oh, no, honey, you didn’t ruin anything,” He shakes his head, and gently tugs at the flannel that hangs on your arms, “Come on, let me get this off,” The Punisher’s voice is gentle, a type of gentle reserved just for you, one that the countless skeletons in his closet, all with a bullet in their skulls, do not know and could not possibly perceive. You allow him to slip the flannel off, as Matt comes back with a rolled-up tissue, before sitting in front of you, kneeling as if he’s at mass—

“Lean your head forward for me,” he asks, his hand on the side of your head, and you do, taking the paper towel away, just for Matt to gently push that bundled up piece of tissue into your nose, to get it to stop bleeding.

Your boys, they are experts at getting things to stop bleeding.

At least Matt’s nails look really nice.

Frank throws the flannel in the wash, along with the rest of your laundry, and you find yourself sandwiched between them, the perfect amount of squeezing happening on either side of you, the same affect a weighted blanket would have on you. Your hot tears roll still, quietly betraying you, as the pads of Frank’s rough fingers come up to wipe them away, and Matt’s thumb finds it’s place sitting between your lips.

You sit like this for a while—Frank pressed up against you, Matt in his flannel and you, gushing blood from your nose, packed tight with tissues, and Matt’s thumb as your favorite stim toy.

A few days later, you’re just decompressing from work—Your bones ache, and you’re waiting for Matt to get home, wanting to satisfy that oral fixation, as if it’s the worst craving you’ve ever had. Sensing your restlessness, Frank puts a small package in front of you. You raise your eyebrow, and look at him, skeptical.

“Is it a bomb?” He scoffs and chuckles a bit.

“Open the damn package.” His voice is laced with the smirk that sits on his face, not mad, not upset, not at all judging. Your fingers peel back the packaging, and when you’re done unwrapping, you’re left with a soft necklace, and a blue, rubber moon. You look to him curiously. “It’s uh,” he leans down so his forearms are keeping him up against the counter. “You chew on it. You’re not gonna stop bitin’ or sucking on stuff, so, you might as well bite something that isn’t human.” He tells you.

In truth, Frank had spent all damn day scrolling on your laptop, looking for the perfect fix to your problem, and grew frustrated when he realized that all the stim toys were marketed towards young boys who had the privilege of getting a diagnosis young (living with and loving two people with disabilities, as well as having horrible PTSD, has radicalized Frank Castle).

You grin when you hear his explanation, getting up and going to him, resting your hands on his shoulders before leaning up and kissing him softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Honey.”

From across the apartment, you hear the door open, and a voice calls out,

“Are you guys cheating on me? You know I can hear you across the apartment, right?” Matt’s voice calls out, and you laugh, as Frank just smiles.

“Yes, I can, Red,” He says back, before leaning in to kiss you again.

Your eyes are heavy with sleep as you spot Matt, laying across the couch, looking like a god damn renaissance painting. He’s so hot. You find yourself walking over to him, dropping your new necklace on the coffee table, as you climb on top of him, finding yourself literally acting like a blanket, burying your face in his neck as his hand comes up to, like usual, let you gently suck on his fingers.

Frank rolls his eyes when he sees the pair of you cuddling, and just shakes his head when he sees the stim toy abandoned on the table. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of the pair of you, Matt just in his briefs, and you in your entire pajama ensemble.

The apartment is full of a gentle silence, as Frank watches the pair of you sleep, quietly thankful that he kept living.

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anna-hawk · 9 days

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Good Boy

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock

Summary: Frank loves giving Matt nicknames and wonders which one he likes best. There's one that Matt definitely likes particularly much.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 2,7k

Tags and warnings: smut, light Dom/sub undertones, praise kink, pet names, come eating + sharing, bj

A/N: Based on this small comic. The second I saw it, I knew I needed to put it in writing and give it an end. I really hope you like it @kuriusagiart. Thank you for allowing me to write for you 🧡

Read it on AO3

As soon as he was through his apartment door, Matt heaved a giant sigh of relief at being back home after a long, very long day. The days had gradually gotten warmer, which did nothing for the fact that he had to wear a suit to work. Whichever suit or work it might be, too. He put the jacket that he’d been carrying over his arm on a coat hanger next to the entrance door and untied the already loose knot of his tie until he could take it off. While he walked further into the apartment and towards the bedroom, the entrance door closed before heavy footsteps sounded from behind him. Inside the bedroom, Matt put the tie on a dresser, where Frank joined him without a word and pressed his chest to Matt’s back. It always amazed Matt how much Frank seemed to need to touch Matt after a tiring day, trying to get to skin as quick as possible. Frank never let anything on outside, but as soon as they were out of the public eye, he was all up in Matt’s personal space. Not that Matt could complain, as he smiled to himself when barely a second later, Frank slid his hands under Matt’s arms to reach for the buttons of his shirt, his lips mouthing over the back of Matt’s neck.

“Frank, you’re gonna ruin my shirt,” Matt grumbled at the hurried way Frank was dealing with the buttons, the threads holding on for dear life under his rough fingers.

The only downside to all of it was that a few of his dress shirts had suffered from Frank’s hastiness; buttons flying, a rip there.

“Altar boy,” Frank grunted back, not stopping his assault on the shirt whatsoever and instead lifting it over Matt’s stomach to get to the last buttons.

While Matt undid his pants at a slower pace, he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Frank’s use of that nickname.

“You are such a nickname freak.”

Frank snorted. An instant later, Matt could feel the grin against the side of his neck.

“What’s your favorite?” Frank wondered after uttering a satisfied sound at finally getting Matt’s shirt fully open and pulling at it to expose more of Matt’s neck to him. “Choir boy?” He kissed his way along Matt’s shoulder as he tugged a bit more at the shirt to pull it down one arm now.

Matt didn’t reply and instead turned his head to the side to give Frank more access to his skin, which rose with each of Frank’s touches.

“Red?” Frank continued without missing a beat, while keeping his attention on Matt’s neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of small marks over it.

Again, Matt chose to ignore him in favor of enjoying what Frank was doing with his mouth and hands.

“Babe?” Frank intoned with an audible smirk now, the term getting a grimace of disgust out of Matt. “Sweetie?”

This time, Matt had had enough.

“Ah, shut up. Ew!” he groaned on a shudder, and pushed Frank’s face away from him with a hand against the man’s cheek.

Frank laughed heartily, the sound vibrating against Matt’s hand and through his body before he caught Matt’s wrist. There was a sudden shift in Frank’s whole body language, as well as in the rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing, which had Matt stilling as a shiver ran through him.

“Or…” Frank drew out the word as he gently tugged at Matt’s wrist, his voice lowering a few octaves before he slowly licked his way between two of Matt’s fingers, teasing at the center, which got a small gasp out of Matt. “Good boy,” Frank rasped in a low and gravelly voice, right against Matt’s cheek and ear as he wrapped his arms around Matt’s chest.

The name hit Matt like a ball of heat that spread through his whole body and located itself in his chest and groin. He felt his face heating, while his mouth went slack and let a soft moan escape. Until Frank had called him that for the first time, Matt never would have believed that he could respond that way to being called that particular pet name. Or the idea that he could crave the satisfaction of being good for someone, being praised. The first time Frank had called him that, Matt had felt deeply embarrassed by his reaction, coming so hard that night that he’d gone dizzy with it. Frank’s own reaction to how Matt had responded had been enough to soothe that feeling, however. He’d come just as hard as Matt, a feeling of surprise and awe rushing over to Matt from the other man. They hadn’t gone down that path anymore, until tonight, but Matt had known that first night that this only worked for him because it had been Frank.

Frank made a pleased sound and curled his fingers under Matt’s chin to bring his face towards his. Using his thumb, Frank rubbed along Matt’s bottom lip and slightly pulled it down.

“Yeah?” Frank whispered against Matt’s lips. “Wanna be a good boy?” he continued, and slid his other hand down to slip it inside Matt’s boxers.

Matt’s entire body jerked at the feeling of Frank’s warm and callused fingers wrapping around his length, which had gone from interested in the proceedings to fully hard at Frank’s last pet name. He moaned as Frank pulled him out of his boxers to give him a few perfunctory pumps.

“Please,” he sighed, and parted his lips further to let Frank’s thumb into his mouth.

Frank groaned deeply as Matt sucked and nipped at his thumb, his own cock pressing more insistently against Matt’s ass.

“Only got started, and you’re already beggin’?” Frank hummed appreciatively, swirling his other thumb over Matt’s slit that was starting to leak pre-come. “Gonna make it real good for ya.”

Matt’s hips bucked forward as Frank tightened his fist and twisted it over the head to coat his palm with Matt’s pre-come, before sliding back down all the way to the base. Matt had to reach for Frank’s thighs to anchor himself as Frank began jerking him off with a rhythm that only quickened with each downward stroke. He tilted his head back over Frank’s shoulder as he gasped and moaned, his hips twitching and thrusting forward on each particularly sharp pass over the sensitive head.

“Not gonna hold out long, huh?” Frank rumbled against Matt’s throat that he was kissing and sucking on anew, while his other hand kept Matt’s body steady against his own, the palm resting over Matt’s chest.

He certainly knew Matt’s body and its tells perfectly, since Matt was indeed only a few strokes away from coming. Nodding jerkily with a tiny whine as his breaths came at a quicker speed, Matt’s grip on Frank’s jeans tightened as his orgasm began to rise, his whole body going slowly taught in anticipation.

That's when Frank took his hand away.

Matt's entire body pitched forward at the sudden lack of contact on his cock, the delicious tightness gone.

“Frank!” he gasped, as out of breath as if he'd run a marathon, his fingers scrabbling at Frank's arm over his chest in despair. “Please, don't — I — please.” He had a hard time focusing on his words, Frank's earlier use of the pet name and his need to come taking up his every thought. “You said — you said you'd make it good. You said-”

He cried out hoarsely as Frank's fingers abruptly returned to his cock, even his heightened senses having not warned him of the impending contact. Matt went up on his toes for a brief moment as his head flew back over Frank's shoulder, his fingers digging into Frank's arm as Frank's hand flew over his length.

“Sh, sh, 'm sorry… Just couldn’t help myself,” Frank admitted in a rough voice right against Matt's ear. “Needed to hear you beg again… Fuckin' beautiful when you let go, Red.” He thrust his hips against Matt's ass, letting Matt feel the way Frank’s cock was straining against the fly, as well as smelling Frank's own pre-come through the barriers of fabric. “But you can come now. Been so good for me… Such a good boy for me.”

Between the wild pulls on his cock, the scent of Frank and the heat of his body taking over Matt’s every sense, the use of those two words again had Matt suddenly flying over the edge with a loud shout of bliss. His cock spurted long lines of pearlescent come all over the side of the dresser, until the last, weaker shots poured over Frank's fingers.

Matt slumped against Frank’s chest as the pressure of the entire day suddenly eased off him. Grinning, probably dopily, Matt turned his face towards Frank’s with a satisfied hum, until he felt Frank’s lips meeting his. Frank chuckled into the slow kiss, and squeezed Matt’s chest lightly. Reaching down, Matt caught Frank’s wrist and pulled the hand away from his spent dick, only to bring it to his face. Ending the kiss, Matt turned his head forward again to lick over Frank’s fingers, cleaning away the traces of his own come.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Frank grunted, before he was using the hand that Matt was so carefully cleaning to grab the side of Matt’s face and turn it to him to crush their mouths together again.

Matt groaned and turned in Frank’s embrace, opening his mouth for Frank’s insistent tongue, which was focused on getting its share of Matt’s release. The hunger in Frank’s actions had them stumbling against the dresser, Matt’s ass colliding with the wood as he caught their fall. He grinned to himself at Frank’s reaction, his senses taking in Frank’s spiking lust and rise in body heat, his dick hard against Matt’s hip. With a quick move, Matt had their positions reversed, with Frank now leaning against the dresser, his chest rising and falling quickly as he held himself up with his hands on the wood. Without another word, Matt sank to his knees in front of him and made quick work of taking care of the belt, buttons, and zipper. Even before he pulled Frank’s jeans down, Matt’s senses could make out the hot outline of Frank’s length. As soon as it was out of the confines of Frank’s clothes, Matt curled his fingers around it and leaned forward. He slowly licked and sucked over the head with the barest pressure, running the tip of his tongue along the frenulum and the slit at intervals.

“Shit, Red,” Frank rasped, sliding the fingers of one hand through Matt’s messy hair to gently grip it.

He might have been about to say something more, but Matt slid his mouth down to the base to suck there while he cupped Frank’s balls and stroked a thumb over them, cutting off any further words and transforming them into a long groan of pleasure. The sound reverberated through Matt, who moaned in turn at the knowledge that Frank was enjoying what Matt was doing to him. While he jerked Frank off, Matt’s mouth went further until he was tonguing and sucking at Frank’s balls. The fingers in his hair tightened, and Frank grunted as his hips bucked faintly. As Matt made his way back up to the head, Frank finally pulled Matt’s mouth away and tilted his head up.

“Open up.”

Matt obeyed immediately at the need in Frank’s rough voice, his jaw slackening and his mouth opening wider. A second later, Frank slowly pushed between Matt’s lips, sinking in until he barely grazed the back of Matt’s throat. Sliding back out, he did it again a few more times, until Matt moved in until Frank’s tip was pressing against his throat. He moaned throatily as he pushed forward, relishing in the small tremors of pleasure running through Frank at the stimulation, the fingers tugging at his hair, and the scent of Frank’s arousal sharping all the more.

“Fuckin’ Christ, the way you go off on that,” Frank rumbled in awe, as he did as Matt requested and thrust in and out of his mouth while getting deeper every time.

Matt only groaned and whined around Frank, his cock slick with Matt’s drool and making wet squelching noises each time Frank slid further down Matt’s throat. As he contracted his throat around Frank, Matt felt a rush of satisfaction at the cry of pleasure, followed by a sling of half formed curses that fell from Frank’s mouth. He moaned and redoubled his efforts as he could feel Frank getting closer, his sole focus on bringing Frank pleasure. However, Frank clearly had other ideas, since he pulled Matt off all the way by his hair but kept him close.

“Open up,” Frank repeated, his voice having gone to its deepest timber yet.

A shiver ran through Matt at the command and just like earlier, Matt did as he was told. He kept his hands on Frank’s thighs as he stuck his tongue out as well, giving Frank the opportunity to place the head on it as he stroked himself hard and fast. The bitter taste of new droplets of pre-come hitting his tongue had Matt groaning again, a shudder of anticipation running through him at what was to come.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect like that, Red. Gonna take my come like the good boy you are, right?” Frank gritted out between his teeth.

As tired as Matt might be from the long day and the very recent, spectacular orgasm he’d just had, his dick still jerked at the praise. He nodded enthusiastically and made a sound of fervent agreement, never taking his tongue away from Frank’s cock as he let his senses take in the way Frank’s body began to go rigid, how his breathing shortened and heat culminated in his groin. A few more passes of his hand over his dick later and Frank was coming, his hips jerking as he moaned and shot all over Matt’s awaiting tongue. Matt groaned at the sweet and tangy taste coating his whole tongue, not moving until he was sure he’d gotten all of it. He slid his lips around the head once Frank was done and sucked the last traces away, the act having Frank sighing and stroking his fingers through Matt’s hair. Satisfied that he’d gotten it all, Matt stood and cupped the back of Frank’s head to pull him into a kiss. Frank made a sound of surprise, as he was still reeling from his orgasm, only to wrap his arms around Matt’s back and growl into his mouth as Matt slid his still come-covered tongue along Frank’s. They only stopped kissing once every lingering taste of come was gone, and ended with their foreheads touching, breathing deeply and smiling lopsidedly.

As Matt put a hand on the dresser to pull away from Frank, it landed right into the little puddle of come that he'd made on the furniture. He grimaced and sighed.

“You really need to stop breaking or dirtying up my stuff, Frank,” Matt muttered with a pointed wave of his hand. It might have been Matt's come, but he blamed Frank for where it landed.

Frank snorted. “Didn’t hear ya complain, Choir boy.”

“Nope, not doing this again.” Matt shook his head with a roll of his eyes, but huffed out an amused laugh all the same as he cleaned his hand on the shirt he'd just taken off while he headed for the bathroom this time.

Frank followed again with a loud laugh and caught up with him at the shower stall.

“Nah, no need. Now I know which one’s your favorite,” he whispered into Matt’s neck.

Despite the tiredness, a frisson of arousal still went through Matt. Frank’s voice just had this effect on him when he was using that low tone. He was still too tired for anything more, however.

“Don’t you go wearing it out now,” he smiled with one side of his mouth pulling up, as he turned to face Frank.

Frank chuckled and made a noise of understanding, kissing Matt briefly.

“I can always try finding new ones you like.”

But the way Frank said those words told Matt that Frank was about to go for another round of silly nicknames, so he pushed him away.

“That’s it. I’m showering on my own.”

Frank laughed, but thankfully remained quiet, which granted him access to the shower in the end.

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