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Aug. 26th, 2010 03:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsThe tea party went okay yesterday, if by okay you mean tolerable until we could finally leave. I do love our niece but really there was no need to be there. It was all the niece's friends and their mam's so we didn't even see her for more than a few minutes. Plus, a tiny house and a lot of people isn't the best of combinations.
Some links now. My friendslist delighted me yesterday, from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
greedy_dancer bribing me to write android Mikey/Ryan by offering to write tentacle fic, and she came through! to shinetheway writing the most amazing vegetable Pete/Mikey AU which is here and really needs to be read and enjoyed.
Thenmahoni posted a response to a five things about space and it's the most beautiful and amazing entry If you love space, or even if you don't, you should go check it out.
dine linked to this amazing Fastlane vid. I miss that show.
frausorge your postcard came today. I love it. Thank you!
My flist = the best flist ♥
Now, another five things from me. For Shine.
Five times Mikey thanked Frank.
Mikey's hiding in some bar. He's close to the dance-floor, back against a wall and held upright against some guy who's got his whole body pressed against Mikey's. The guy's breath smells like beer and he's grinding his hips against Mikey's in a way that's close to too much.
Head spinning, Mikey half-closes his eyes, tilts his head to the side and exposes his neck.
"The fuck, Mikey."
Colour and lines swirl and Mikey staggers when he's suddenly left standing alone, the guy jerked away and to one side. Knees buckling Mikey clings on when Frank appears in his line of vision and grabs hold. Frank's grip is hard and his fingers dig in as he starts to walk, pulling Mikey beside him. One handed, Mikey tries to fasten his pants but he can't work the buttons, his fingers nerveless and useless. He swallows back the vodka that burns up his throat, almost falls when Frank pulls them outside, mouth pinched and saying nothing as he takes out his phone.
Frank stops walking and without the momentum Mikey sways, only Frank's steadying arm holding him upright.
"I've got him," Frank's saying, and Mikey wants to laugh or cry or run, anything but stand here as the world warps around him, concrete rolling under his feet and the lights painfully haloed, each touch of a stranger branded into his skin. He can feel them, bruises and touches and Mikey gags, vomit splattering his shoes.
"God, Mikey, you have to stop this," Frank says ending the call. He pulls a crumpled mess of napkins out of his coat pocket and rubs at Mikey's face, pushes back his hair and all the time keeps holding on, a steadying force.
Mikey lists to one side, needing that support, says almost inaudibly, "Thanks," and hopes that Frank gets what he means.
~~~~~
"I did your laundry you lazy fucker," Frank announces, and drops the pile of clothes on Mikey's bed. "You owe me, again."
Opening an eye Mikey looks past the jeans that are lying across his neck. Head throbbing he bats them to one side and pushes himself upright, an assortment of odd socks fall to the ground. "Thanks."
"Thank me by doing the dishes," Frank says. "Or with sexual favours, I'm easy."
"Sex it is," Mikey agrees and takes his glasses from Frank. Putting them on, he screws shut his eyes, blinks when the clothes on the bed come into focus, says slowly, "My underwear is pink."
Expression innocent, Frank says, "Wasn't it pink before?"
~~~~~
"We were wondering," Frank says. "And you don't have to say yes. Even if I will kick your fucking ass if you do, and we talked, and fuck."
Mikey bites down on the inside of his lip, hiding his smile as Frank runs his hands through his hair, fingers getting caught in a tangle. "You were wondering?"
Frank yawns, doesn't bother to cover his mouth. "If you'd be one of the godfathers?"
"Fuck yeah." Mikey goes in for a hug, holds on and thinks, thank you for trusting me, thank you for giving me this chance.
~~~~~
Frank's lying on the floor of the bus, stretched out between the chaos of half packed bags and piles of tour ruined clothes. He rests his feet on a hold-all and says, "He's got stupid teeth, like a horse."
"Yeah," Mikey agrees, cheek resting against the glass of the window. Outside the road stretches on, taking them home.
"He's a shitty bass player," Frank adds. "And acts like a fucking monkey on speed."
"Yeah," Mikey says again, the bright sun over heating his skin.
"His ink's ugly and so's his clothes." Frank pulls up his knees, his feet resting on a torn up pillow. "And the furry obsession is just fucking disturbing."
"Yeah," Mikey says, and pulls up his hands inside the arms of his hoodie.
Frank reaches out, rests his hand on Mikey's ankle, rubs his thumb over the bone. "You can do better."
"Thank you," Mikey says, despite knowing it's yet another miss-truth.
~~~~~~
Mikey's breathing is shallow, his neck prickling with sweat. He's gripping the cross-slats of the headboard, his knuckles white and his whole body over-heated. He shifts minutely, clenching around Frank's fingers, hoping that he'll move them deeper, or that touch to the right, anything but stay where he is, so close and teasing.
Frank laughs and says, "Impatient bastard," but at least he's moving, fingers hitting just right for the briefest of instant before Frank pulls back and eases another finger inside. It hurts at first, two into three feeling like too much of a jump, but Frank's careful, knows what he's doing as he rearranges his fingers, all teasing abandoned as he pushes inside, making Mikey gasp, pushing his mouth against the pillow in an attempt to muffle the sound.
"Mikey," Frank says, sickly sweet, and his rhythm is perfect, the stretch something good as Mikey attempts to push up his hips, meeting the thrust of Frank's fingers. "What do you say?"
Mikey bites into the pillow, the fabric damp against his lips. He's strung out, his whole body thrumming, his legs shaking as Frank folds forward and licks along the line of Mikey's lower back.
"Mikey," Frank says again, using his fingers relentlessly, fucking harder and deep until Mikey's unable to stay quiet, moaning around his mouthful of cottony pillow. "What do you need to tell me?"
Mikey wants to hold on, to keep this going as long as he can, but Frank knows every move, every play and Mikey's desperate, sounds pulled deep from his chest, cool air hitting his ass and back when Frank sits upright and then suddenly there's more, another slick finger up close to the others, and Frank's not trying to push it inside, just uses his other hand to hold Mikey open, stretching, causing and both easing the ache with each twist of his hand.
It burns and Mikey pushes back, feels a droplet of sweat slide down his cheek as he embraces the heat, pulls up his head and gasps, "Thank you, fuck, thank you," as Frank slips his finger inside.
Some links now. My friendslist delighted me yesterday, from
greedy_dancer bribing me to write android Mikey/Ryan by offering to write tentacle fic, and she came through! to shinetheway writing the most amazing vegetable Pete/Mikey AU which is here and really needs to be read and enjoyed. Then
mahoni posted a response to a five things about space and it's the most beautiful and amazing entry If you love space, or even if you don't, you should go check it out.dine linked to this amazing Fastlane vid. I miss that show.frausorge your postcard came today. I love it. Thank you!My flist = the best flist ♥
Now, another five things from me. For Shine.
Five times Mikey thanked Frank.
Mikey's hiding in some bar. He's close to the dance-floor, back against a wall and held upright against some guy who's got his whole body pressed against Mikey's. The guy's breath smells like beer and he's grinding his hips against Mikey's in a way that's close to too much.
Head spinning, Mikey half-closes his eyes, tilts his head to the side and exposes his neck.
"The fuck, Mikey."
Colour and lines swirl and Mikey staggers when he's suddenly left standing alone, the guy jerked away and to one side. Knees buckling Mikey clings on when Frank appears in his line of vision and grabs hold. Frank's grip is hard and his fingers dig in as he starts to walk, pulling Mikey beside him. One handed, Mikey tries to fasten his pants but he can't work the buttons, his fingers nerveless and useless. He swallows back the vodka that burns up his throat, almost falls when Frank pulls them outside, mouth pinched and saying nothing as he takes out his phone.
Frank stops walking and without the momentum Mikey sways, only Frank's steadying arm holding him upright.
"I've got him," Frank's saying, and Mikey wants to laugh or cry or run, anything but stand here as the world warps around him, concrete rolling under his feet and the lights painfully haloed, each touch of a stranger branded into his skin. He can feel them, bruises and touches and Mikey gags, vomit splattering his shoes.
"God, Mikey, you have to stop this," Frank says ending the call. He pulls a crumpled mess of napkins out of his coat pocket and rubs at Mikey's face, pushes back his hair and all the time keeps holding on, a steadying force.
Mikey lists to one side, needing that support, says almost inaudibly, "Thanks," and hopes that Frank gets what he means.
~~~~~
"I did your laundry you lazy fucker," Frank announces, and drops the pile of clothes on Mikey's bed. "You owe me, again."
Opening an eye Mikey looks past the jeans that are lying across his neck. Head throbbing he bats them to one side and pushes himself upright, an assortment of odd socks fall to the ground. "Thanks."
"Thank me by doing the dishes," Frank says. "Or with sexual favours, I'm easy."
"Sex it is," Mikey agrees and takes his glasses from Frank. Putting them on, he screws shut his eyes, blinks when the clothes on the bed come into focus, says slowly, "My underwear is pink."
Expression innocent, Frank says, "Wasn't it pink before?"
~~~~~
"We were wondering," Frank says. "And you don't have to say yes. Even if I will kick your fucking ass if you do, and we talked, and fuck."
Mikey bites down on the inside of his lip, hiding his smile as Frank runs his hands through his hair, fingers getting caught in a tangle. "You were wondering?"
Frank yawns, doesn't bother to cover his mouth. "If you'd be one of the godfathers?"
"Fuck yeah." Mikey goes in for a hug, holds on and thinks, thank you for trusting me, thank you for giving me this chance.
~~~~~
Frank's lying on the floor of the bus, stretched out between the chaos of half packed bags and piles of tour ruined clothes. He rests his feet on a hold-all and says, "He's got stupid teeth, like a horse."
"Yeah," Mikey agrees, cheek resting against the glass of the window. Outside the road stretches on, taking them home.
"He's a shitty bass player," Frank adds. "And acts like a fucking monkey on speed."
"Yeah," Mikey says again, the bright sun over heating his skin.
"His ink's ugly and so's his clothes." Frank pulls up his knees, his feet resting on a torn up pillow. "And the furry obsession is just fucking disturbing."
"Yeah," Mikey says, and pulls up his hands inside the arms of his hoodie.
Frank reaches out, rests his hand on Mikey's ankle, rubs his thumb over the bone. "You can do better."
"Thank you," Mikey says, despite knowing it's yet another miss-truth.
~~~~~~
Mikey's breathing is shallow, his neck prickling with sweat. He's gripping the cross-slats of the headboard, his knuckles white and his whole body over-heated. He shifts minutely, clenching around Frank's fingers, hoping that he'll move them deeper, or that touch to the right, anything but stay where he is, so close and teasing.
Frank laughs and says, "Impatient bastard," but at least he's moving, fingers hitting just right for the briefest of instant before Frank pulls back and eases another finger inside. It hurts at first, two into three feeling like too much of a jump, but Frank's careful, knows what he's doing as he rearranges his fingers, all teasing abandoned as he pushes inside, making Mikey gasp, pushing his mouth against the pillow in an attempt to muffle the sound.
"Mikey," Frank says, sickly sweet, and his rhythm is perfect, the stretch something good as Mikey attempts to push up his hips, meeting the thrust of Frank's fingers. "What do you say?"
Mikey bites into the pillow, the fabric damp against his lips. He's strung out, his whole body thrumming, his legs shaking as Frank folds forward and licks along the line of Mikey's lower back.
"Mikey," Frank says again, using his fingers relentlessly, fucking harder and deep until Mikey's unable to stay quiet, moaning around his mouthful of cottony pillow. "What do you need to tell me?"
Mikey wants to hold on, to keep this going as long as he can, but Frank knows every move, every play and Mikey's desperate, sounds pulled deep from his chest, cool air hitting his ass and back when Frank sits upright and then suddenly there's more, another slick finger up close to the others, and Frank's not trying to push it inside, just uses his other hand to hold Mikey open, stretching, causing and both easing the ache with each twist of his hand.
It burns and Mikey pushes back, feels a droplet of sweat slide down his cheek as he embraces the heat, pulls up his head and gasps, "Thank you, fuck, thank you," as Frank slips his finger inside.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 03:00 pm (UTC)I really loved the last one- so hot, omg! And the Pete one was just right- Frank not understanding and a bit jealous (or so I imagine, anyway), and Mikey just accepting the warped truth, knowing the realness of what he and Pete have.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 03:07 pm (UTC)Frank was totally jealous in the Pete one, he'd probably have been saving up the insults all summer.
I'm glad you like the last one, one day I'll be a grown up writer and put scenes like that in actual stories and not in places people won't see.
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-08-27 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-27 05:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 08:25 pm (UTC)It's an awesome card ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 08:26 pm (UTC)You make me blush with your comments, and I'm so glad that you like them all.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 04:05 pm (UTC)Oh, this was just--wow, amazing, so amazing. The first one's like a punch in the gut, with poor fucked up Mikey and Frank being all protective and fierce, and the last one's like a different kind of punch in the gut with the teasing (omg I love teasing) and the hot and nnnnnnnnggh.
And the godfather one. [flails in speechless delight] I cannot even say how much I love that one. Seriously, words fail me.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 05:10 pm (UTC)I'm happy you liked the last one. I'm working to banish my prudish fingers, maybe one day I'll write actual fucking *g*
I thought you'd like that one :D
no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 08:33 pm (UTC)i've been a bit in tune with my mikey love lately (not that i don't always) because of having to crank out so much pgm, and i can see him so clearly doing all of these things. i LOVE drunk fucked up club mikey, and frank telling mikey he can do better than pete is like a billionty <3's. and then teasing sex ngggrh *dies*
i conclusion, *LOVES YOU*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 09:10 pm (UTC)That's one of the things I love most about the band, they've got all this history and a lot of it is really fucked up, but they pulled themselves up and kept on living.
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 09:58 pm (UTC)I can't wait to read more Android!Ryan - you were so cruel to leave it there!
no subject
Date: 2010-08-26 10:06 pm (UTC)You read Android!Ryan? I didn't think anyone did. Guess I'll have to add more now *g*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-27 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-27 07:27 am (UTC)GODFATHER!MIKEY NEEDS TO BE TRUE. NEEDS TO.
(Also, no Frank, you're wrong. Mikey can't do better than Pete, they're meant to be. *polishes tinhat*)
no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 08:32 pm (UTC)I also love your tin hat ♥