#BLACKLIVESMATTER

Frank doesn’t particularly like fighting, for one. He knows he’s hot-headed, and shit gets to him. It’s not a good combination and honestly, he’d prefer to just keep calm and talk about shit now and then.

But, see. The thing is that Billy’s a fucking bastard more often than not.

“So, were you planning on including me in your thoughts at all or was I supposed to just magically not get killed because of your bullshit moves?” Frank doesn’t drop the case that holds his rifle, although he’s halfway tempted to risk breaking it just for the loud thud, the dent in Billy’s hardwood floors.

“You know I would’ve told you in time, stop being so fucking dramatic about it.” Billy’s voice isn’t technically louder, but much sharper, saturated with self-righteous annoyance. He shrugs out of his jacket, brushes a bit of dust off the shoulder.

It’s that little thing, that domestic gesture that shows that Billy’s still not taking this seriously enough to neglect his jacket over it, that really gets Frank going. And since he already set down the case, he steps into Billy’s space instead, willing him to focus on this – on him.

“In time? When’s in time, then? After you triple crossed them and they sent their dogs on us?”

“Damn, Frank, why don’t you do yourself a favour and shut the fuck up?” And it’s not – it’s not the bullshit in itself, is it? It’s the fucking tone. It’s the way Billy shakes his head at him. Exasperated, condescending.

Frank takes him by the shoulder and slams him against the wall, hard. Drywall would give, but this one is solid bricks and the impact knocks Billy’s head back, vibrates through his bones. There’s a flutter in his eyelashes and he snarls, partly in pain.

And of course Billy Russo is quick as a panther and twice as deadly, but Frank’s quick, too. He’s got an arm on Billy’s chest before his eyes focus again and when he snarls again, all canines, sharp claws digging into Frank’s arm, Frank simply puts more weight on it, pressing him against the wall.

Two weeks ago, Billy got a few kicks to his torso that had Frank worried out of his mind. By now, they’re faded into shades of green and purple, but he still makes sure his arm is positioned higher, the pain of the bruising more of a distant memory than a punishment.

Not that Billy appreciates it. He jerks, uses the fact that Frank’s practically holding him up to knee him in the stomach. Frank gasps, heaves. It’s not hard enough to effectively knock him down or make him puke, but fuck. His vision blurry and fingernails digging into the wall, he pushes in closer to not lose his grip on him and risk another hit.

Billy’s flexible, but Frank using his bodyweight to press his leg to his chest must still be a little much. He makes a low, pained sound and writhes to ease the strain.

Frank, still blinking spots out of his vision, feels it more than he sees it, the hard lines of Billy’s body, his warmth. And Frank’s still nauseous, still burning with anger, but –

“You could’ve gotten us killed,” he says, mostly to get back on track. His voice isn’t shaking, but it feels rough, velvet in his throat.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t.” Billy’s doing a better job than him, his voice a very convincing blend of annoyance and bristled feathers.

Frank can feel the rise and fall of his chest. And of course he’s still angry, understandably so. With all the shit Billy does without telling Frank, it’s a wonder they made it this far. So really, he ought to be furious.

He presses closer until he feels Billy’s muscles start trembling. The scent of leather and hot metal, a hint of dust, Billy’s deodorant.

With a sharp, pained intake of breath, Billy lets his shoulder’s drop, tilts his head to the side, arches his spine. Frank has no idea whether it does anything for the strain on his thigh, but it surely does wonders when it comes to bringing them closer together. Like this, Frank can see the flutter of his pulse, delicate skin, throat bared. “Stop playing,” he says, but his voice doesn’t sound adequately annoyed, and his lips almost brush Billy’s skin.

“I’m not.” Billy knows. Without pulling back to check, Frank can tell that the corners of his mouth are twitching. “You’re hurting me.” There’s a tell-tale purr in his voice, a feline delight.

It’s enough to make Frank’s chest hot with anger once more. “Stop it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. But when Billy huffs a little laugh and lets his thigh slip, Frank’s palm follows the curve of his spine to his hip, holding him up. Hooking Billy’s thigh over his own hips.

Billy’s laughing again, reaches for him. Frank hadn’t stopped to restrain his wrists, and now that he’s holding Billy up, he can’t stop him from running his hand through Frank’s hair. Short nails scratching along the buzzed back, then he’s fisting his hand in the longer top and pulls.

The kiss is a mess right from the start. Frank’s mouth is soft-lax with the pain of Billy’s hand in his hair, but he instinctively tightens his grip on his thigh. His arm slips from Billy’s chest, instead slipping down to the dip in his waist, digging bruises. Billy’s moan is soft, his teeth sharp. Frank tastes hot metal and presses closer, heat and muscle mass.

“Wait –“ The seductive little purr has melted from Billy’s voice, instead he sounds needy, breathy, the three-knuckles-and-a-tongue kind of voice that drives Frank a little crazy every time he hears it. There’s no room between them, not really, but Billy sneaks his hand down anyway, undoing Frank’s fly with thief’s grace.

And fuck but Frank hadn’t noticed how hard he’s gotten over this. Anger and adrenaline and Bill, all up in his space, pulling his hair. That’ll do it. His lashes flutter a little when Billy strokes him, his vision blurring, world reduced to black fabric, pale skin, dark eyes. He moans, lets Billy maul his mouth again.

When Billy pulls back a little to undo his own trousers, Frank makes sure that he’s supporting most of his weight, hands still gripping his thigh. It’s all he can do with his own cock pulsing in Billy’s right hand, mind stupid-fuzzy. Billy finally pulls his shirt up just a little, just enough to have an easier time pushing the waistband of his underwear down, and the milk-pale skin of his abdomen is enough to have Frank dizzy, his mouth watering. “Let me suck you off.”

At the words – or his voice, rough-deep with arousal -, Billy’s cock twitches, but he tightens his thigh around him. “Not now, stay here.” With that, he pulls Frank into another kiss and finally wraps his hand around their cocks again. Frank reaches down to help and stops thinking.

There’s heat, the scent of gun powder and sweat and Billy’s hair wax, melting down his hairline. The sound of Billy’s soft little moans that finally get that breathless, desperate quality to them that makes Frank dizzy with arousal. He leans in closer until he feels those sounds against his abuse-hot lips, feels the soft heat of Billy’s mouth. He can feel the heat coil in his abdomen, but it takes Billy’s nails in his shoulder, his sharp teeth, his trembling thigh wrapped around his hip to finally push him over the edge.

Pleasure pulses through him, white-hot, and he rides it out slowly, until the world comes back into focus. To make sure Billy doesn’t slip from his grip, he leans against his chest, presses him securely against the wall while they catch their breath. He’s got a split lip and where Billy’s shirt is still pulled up, he can make out the first hints of fresh bruises on his hip.

On second thought, they may be a little like those couples.

-

…I feel like I really got carried away here. This genuinely felt like a good base for an actual smutty one-shot, tbh?? It was great fun to write and I hope you like it, but also, once again, I’m so sorry it took so long! ;^;

I was listening to Hate Me by Wildhood for most of the planning stages of this...can u tell 😌 love that shit for them.. (although, of course, they genuinely love each other. But like. The VIBES. thanks mr Stephens for my life)

Also…which shoulder IS IT??? I originally wanted to go more in that direction or mention it some more & thus legit went to that one glorious gifset of Billy doing his little shoulder thing, all squinty to figure it out but either a) some gifs are mirrored or b) it changes?! Which would be super interesting imo but I don’t want to start that whole essay here. So.