Drowning Lessons

I assure Brendon I can handle it from here and he reluctantly leaves, shutting the door behind him. I look into the smeared mirror and assess the damage. My lip is split and bloody, bruises litter my face and neck. Luckily the booze assuaged the pain, leaving a dull throb rather than a stabbing reminder that I had done practically nothing to defend myself. I sigh and slowly turned to unroll some toilet paper and wet it to clean my face. The dried blood is cracked and coming off in pieces, leaving a slight pink stain on my skin. As I’m about to throw the bloodied tissue away, the room begins to spin and I feel the familiar signs of nausea assaulting my stomach and throat. The LAST thing I want to do with a few bruised ribs is violently contract them to empty the contents of my stomach. I look around, not wanting to sit on the piss-stained toilet or lie down on the equally stained floor. I suppose my next best option is the bath. At least that’s where people go to get clean.

I carefully step over the edge and sprawl out on the floor of the tub, trying my best to ignore the how fucking disgusting all of this was. I close my eyes and practice breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I’m not sure if it’s the controlled breathing, the booze, or the beating, but thoughts of Frank going to “smoke” with another guy and how pissed he looked seeing me on the ground dissipate as I begin to doze off.

Right as I’m beginning to feel even slightly okay, the door across from me swings open with an audible groan and I almost jumped out of my skin. Frank stood in the doorway, biting at his lip ring and looking more shocked and embarrassed than I think I had ever seen him.

“Hey” he says softly.
“Hey” I reply with a crack in my voice, doing my best to avoid his gaze.

He’s quiet and unmoving for a moment, before he finally shuts the door and locks it behind him. I try to close my eyes and ignore his movements, no knowing what to say and not feeling like dealing with anything at the moment but my own headache.

“Scoot” he demands.
I peak an eye open, and see him already in the process of climbing into the tub.
“Frank, what are you- c’mon man there’s no room!” I protest.
“Shut up, there’s plenty” he counters and sits himself between my legs, facing me.
We’re both silent for what seems like hours, before I open my eyes again and see Frank’s gaze roaming over my face, assessing the damage.
“What the fuck was that guy thinking” he begins, “He had no right to touch you. I don’t care what his girlfriend did it wasn’t y-“
“Frank” I attempt.
“-our fault that she couldn’t keep herself under control. Fuckin’ skinhead I swear if I ever –“
“Frank” I say more sternly.
He pauses, taking his lip ring back into his mouth, looking at me intently.

“You didn’t have to do that” I mumble.
He looks at me incredulously, “And what? I should have let him beat your face in?”
“It didn’t have to be you. Besides, you were…busy”. Fuck, that sounded-
He smirks at me, his hazel eyes lighting up with amusement. “A little jealous are we?”
I snort and channel my inner Cher from Clueless, “As if.”
He obviously doesn’t buy my nonchalant tone and reaches his bruised hands across to mine, pulling me gently but with enough force so that I’m pulled across the tub and my chest lands against his.
“Frank, what are you-“
“Shut up” he interrupts, positioning his body so that we’re both comfortable. Well, as comfortable as I can be with my body pressed firmly against his with my head in the crook of his neck. The blush I had been fighting off pushed its way to my cheeks with full force, and I was at least grateful that he would be unable to see it.

“It sucks that Matt walked out on us like he did.” He starts out of nowhere after a good few minutes of just the sound of our breathing echoing against the walls. “The guy I was busy with was a potential drummer for whatever we do next, and I figured I’d have a quiet talk and share a drag with him.”
A quick huff of relief escapes my lips, and all I can muster is a weak “Oh.”
“Don’t worry, he’s not nearly as pretty as you” he teases.
I pull my head up quickly and punch his chest in feign frustration.
“You’re damn right he isn’t” I sass and flick my hair a little. We both erupt into giggles. When we quiet I’m about to suggest we find the other guys and get the hell out of this shithole, but as I turn, I find myself inches away from Frank’s face.

His breath on my face is sweet but diluted with the tang of cigarette smoke. Without warning, he smashes his lips against mine. His lip ring catches the cut in my lip, causing it to sting and reopen, but I think a bomb could go off in the house and I wouldn’t care enough to push him away. I attempt to shift my body so that he doesn’t feel me becoming embarrassingly hard against his leg. He disagrees without words and instead presses his leg harder against me, causing me to emit a blush-worthy moan. He smirks into the kiss and starts a rhythm with his leg, never stopping his assault on my lips. Soon he moves down, and I raise my head, allowing him full access to my throat.
He pulls back a little, saying something about “pretty skin” and how he should “be the only one to bruise it”. He kisses down my jaw, eventually latching onto some skin and sucking just forcefully enough that I’m sure I’ll have a few more marks on my already bruised skin. By now I’m just a moaning mess.
I suppose he likes what he hears though, as he replaces his leg with his hands, palming me through my increasingly tight jeans.

“Fuck, Frank”
“Working on it” He chuckles.

I find it in myself to be brave, and boldly push my hand against him.
He releases a breathy moan and throws his head back, lost in the sensation. His vulnerable position gives me room to flip myself so that I’m kneeling over him. I mimic his actions, kissing down his neck while I fumble with his jeans. At the first sign of an opening, I plunge my hand down and grasp him, reveling in the growl that emerges from his throat.
I can’t say I knew what I was doing. Hell, I never thought I’d be jacking another guy off, but this was Frank. Frank, who had stayed up all night with me, offering me both coffee and companionship as I struggled to get lyrics onto paper, who had time after time thrown what had to be the sultriest of looks at me from across the stage, and had seriously beat up a man twice his size to keep him off of me. I didn’t care that he was a guy, or that I had resigned myself to a night without company. I wanted this. I wanted him.
He gained some control back over his movements and pulls at the clasp of my pants.

“Fuck Gee. God you have no idea…how long” he pants, finally succeeding and wrapping his hand around me. My knees waver at how good it feels, like they’re about to give out.
“Fr-Frank. I-I…” I squeak
“That’s it sugar. I want to see your face as you cum all over yourself.”
My cheeks heat at his, well, frank statement, but it’s the hottest thing I think I’ve ever heard. I give in to my own pleasure while increasing the speed of my hand, wanting desperately for him to heed his own words. The acoustics of the bathroom echoes our moans. Paired with Frank gasping “fuck” an unholy amount of times, a familiar warmth rises in my stomach.

“Oh shit, oh fuck” I chant, and he must pick up on my approaching climax. He flicks his wrist and increases his speed, encouraging me with words I’d only dreamed of hearing coming from his mouth.
“Mm c’mon baby. Come for me” he breathes, and it’s enough to send me hurling over the edge. My body releases and the warm liquid begins to cover his hand, which seems to send him flying too, as I feel him release against me, which I have to admit is pretty hot. We both lay back, sweat covering our foreheads and breathing heavily. After a few minutes Frank unwinds himself and grabs a towel off of the decrepit shelf. I do my best to not think of where it’s been as he wipes both himself and I off.

“Thanks” I mumble.
“Anytime, sugar” He winks. Somehow another damn blush rushes to my cheeks, which he caught for what was probably not the first time. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you do that.”
I feel myself become even hotter, if that was even possible.
“We’re not ever gonna talk about this again” I attempt.
“Oh honey, trust me, we’re gonna do more than just talk about it again” He says with one of his award-winning smirks, and winks once more.

Dear God, do I hope so.

Notes

Woohoo! I finished a story and I'm actually pretty proud of it.
You would think that, as an adult who reads boatloads of smut and is not embarrassed, I would be able to easily write smut. But It's actually kind of hard so like sorry if it sucked?

I may or may not elongate this at another time and draw a bit more story out, but for now I'm going to leave it at this.
Thanks so much to those who stick around and read the whole thing.
I'd love to hear from you guys, so let me know what you think, or if there's something you'd like to see in the future.
Oh and again, my wattpad is @tradgician if you're interested

Thaaaanks! <3
xoxo ghoul