Archive of Our Own

The cool autumn air drifted through Frank’s short blonde curls as he stepped out, letting the gym door slam shut behind him. He fluffed his hair, exhaling into the breeze. It had been a good class—his jiu-jitsu was getting better every week—but he still felt like he could’ve pushed harder.

Usually, he burned off the rest of that energy on the punching bag in the free weights area, picturing his fists landing on the faces of everyone he couldn’t stand. One of them, lately, being Joey’s friend, Danny.

His roommate had gotten held up at work and couldn’t pick him up like he always did. Instead, he’d sent him, and he'd shown up earlier than usual, causing Frank to have to rush out of there as soon as the instructor let them go.

Frank didn't get it. Danny was older by a few years, unemployed—at least officially—and always going on about how his freelance journalism was “paying the bills.” Sure. The permanent five o’clock shadow and the eye bags said otherwise. Probably more like up all night gaming and being a drain on society. The thought made Frank snort.

He was glad the drive was short. He just wanted to get home, shower, and eat something. He’d worked up a decent sweat, and he always hated that the gym didn’t have private showers. The guys there were way too comfortable letting everything hang out and swing around—and Frank wasn’t exactly competing with, well…much of anything. The last thing he needed was some dusty old fuck making comments. That would surely end in violence, and getting banned was the fastest way to lose the only outlet he had for his anger issues.

His hand brushed the pocket knife hidden in his pants. It grounded him, in a way. Not that he’d ever had to use it to defend himself.

When he spotted the idling black Camry in the parking lot, he suddenly wished he had set aside even a few minutes with the punching bag. He should have made him wait. Danny had such a punchable face, especially when he opened his mouth. There was always a too-personal question followed by a cocky remark. Six months since Joey had introduced them, and it never got less irritating. Then again, he was driving him home, so he couldn't exactly despise him entirely. Joey probably got him a nice gesture for doing it too—like a gift card or something—he was always too nice to this loser.

He didn’t bother ducking his head towards the window or waving. He just yanked the door open and dropped into the passenger seat like he owned the car, clicking his seatbelt in place with a sharp exhale through his nose.

Danny was reclined, eyes on his phone, thumbs moving fast over the screen. He barely acknowledged Frank, only offering a tight hum, like even that was more effort than he wanted to give. As was typical, he was wearing his too-plain black nylon coat and too-ordinary black jeans. Equally dark, metal rings circled most of his lean fingers as they clutched his unremarkable, black phone case. Everything about Danny was always so neutral and black. Even his hair: wavy, short, also black (big surprise), was tidied with the slightest sheen of gel. The only thing that he couldn’t really file away as average was the 2-inch scar that angled across the side of his forehead. Frank had never asked where Danny got something that intense. He would never admit it, but part of him wished he had a sick scar like that.

“Can we go?” Frank was already wearing a scowl, which only grew the longer he stared at perfect, cool Danny.

Danny took a long moment to respond. “Just a sec…”

Frank's eyelid twitched in irritation.

Then Danny finally put his phone down in the cupholder and straightened in the seat. His movement caused his cologne to plume, ambushing Frank’s nose instantly. He hated how good it smelled. In contrast, here Frank was, sweaty from the gym, getting into Danny's clean car and plush, leather seats. No, he didn't care. He told himself he didn't care.

Danny cast Frank a long look as he shifted the car into drive. “Joey said you'd be in a mood.”

Frank rolled his eyes, “Just drive, asshole.”

Fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel when Danny reached the red light, as if he were conjuring up an inflammatory response. But instead, his words were calm and inquisitive. “Shouldn’t you have your license by now. You're what…already 22?”

“Shut up…I'm working on it.” Frank gritted his teeth. Danny was already starting his bullshit. Even if he could drive, he couldn't afford a car right now.

“...Sure you are.” A dark chuckle.

Frank shot a glare over at Danny, who was just staring at him in amusement instead of looking for a gap to merge. That fucking laugh. It crawled under Frank's skin like none he'd ever heard before. It was velvety yet cold, almost as if it were put on, as if Danny were wearing it like a mask. And nothing could ever get past it, because everything was always so entertaining to him.

Like hell he'd be the entertainment, again.

“How’s the layoff going?” Frank sneered.

A faint smile appeared on Danny's face as he finally located a gap and pulled out onto the busy street. "Well aren't you up-to-date on all things Danny Johnson."

"Don't flatter yourself, Joey happened to mention it,” Frank growled, “What happened? The Gazette get nervous? That Ghost Face story started making you a liability?"

“Someone needed to tell it.”

“Those gory details though. How'd that even get past your editor in the first place? They probably got tired of cleaning up after you.”

“Did you like those details?” Danny grinned, casting him a side-eye.

Frank shrugged, “That shit doesn't bug me.”

“That wasn't a yes or a no.”

The words hung there. Frank's gaze was fixed on the back of the pickup truck in front of them, jaw set below the tight line of his mouth. Danny was always steering the conversation exactly how he wanted it to go: deflecting towards a pry into anyone's psyche but his own. It was like he was constantly prodding at Frank's brain with those long, knobby fingers. The mental gymnastics needed to fight back was another workout in itself.

Frank crossed his arms. “So that’s what the blog is now? You're free to write whatever you want with no middleman? What was it, ‘Ghost Face Unmasked’ or some shit?”

“When you say ‘or some shit’, but get the name right, it doesn’t quite land.” Danny responded, amusement still curling on the edge of his voice.

Frank shot him a look. “Not my fault it's a cringey enough title that it's branded into my brain.”

Danny reached up and adjusted the rear-view mirror as he looked into it, calibrated fingers wrapping around it almost daintily. “To answer your original question, yes. It's part of my new freelance work.”

Fidgeting absently with a hem on his sweater, Frank glanced back at Danny, whose eyes had returned to the road. “How do you get close enough to get photos of his victims? …Aren't you afraid that he'd still be around when you're doing that?”

Danny snorted. "Shit, Frank. I didn't know you were such a fan of my portfolio.”

“I'm not,” Frank shot back, “it's just like watching a car crash in slow motion, can't look away.”

“Whatever you say, kid. And it's called research. I know his patterns.” Danny spoke slowly, “I actually think he might be more of a fan of my work than even you.”

“You talk like you've had a conversation with him."

Danny said nothing.

"Pretty pathetic though, banking your whole career on some psycho. What happens when he gets bored and stops, or they finally catch him?” Frank sneered.

The hands around the wheel tightened. They were slender, but the way every vein popped under the sinew and bones jutting out of Danny's knuckles just so almost showed a hidden strength—maybe even a skill. Yeah, like knitting. Frank snorted, shaking the thoughts away and basking in the victory. Though, looking back out of the windshield, he was already filling the awkward silence before even realizing it.

“I guess you’d be out of a job again, if they did.”

Danny clicked his tongue. Frank couldn't tell if it was amusement or annoyance, and he didn't look over to check.

“So, how was dance class?” Danny asked, his tone smooth. Of course. If he had been rattled, he'd already recovered. Spite curled in Frank’s chest.

“Real smooth change of subject.”

“Hey, I'm just asking about your interests since you asked about mine.” There was a devious twinkle in his eye as he shot Frank a sidelong glance. “Humour me.”

The second their eyes met, Frank darted his gaze back out the window. “It’s called jiu jitsu, idiot…and it was fine,” then added, “Just wish I could have punched something, but someone arrived 20 minutes early.”

“Oh, so it's my fault you're in a mood.”

“Yes.” Frank huffed, not bothering to deny the obvious.

Danny didn't respond, letting Rebel Yell play over the speakers in the absence of their voices. After another few streets, they'd be at his apartment, and Frank would be free of this torture. He always felt too stupid in Danny's presence—too young, too naive. His knuckles turned white on the edge of his hoodie as he let his eyes track across the blurring mess of autumn colours.

Then he felt his pocket buzz. A sigh puffed through his nostrils and he shifted to pull out his phone to see Joey's profile picture lighting up the screen. He tapped on his new notification: “yo, can you have Danny stick around until I get back from work? Prolly be only an hour or so after u get back. I got him something for his first month of freelancing (plus a lil something for helping me out today) thnx man.”

Frank stared at the screen for a few seconds, unblinking. Then he looked back at Danny's hands on the wheel: still too tight. A dull, specific dread settled in his stomach at the idea of another sixty minutes of this crap.

"Joey wants you to wait for him when we get back." He said. "Says he won't be long."

“He can call me.” Danny replied simply.

“He wants to give you something.”

Danny only offered the slightest shrug. Frank kept studying the side of his face as Danny focussed on pulling into the lot. He told himself it was to check if Danny was still agitated from earlier, or already loading another cocky remark into the barrel. But he found himself mapping the lines of Danny’s short dark waves resting on his creased brow, ruffling slightly from the cracked window.

Frank looked away as soon as Danny straightened the wheel into the parking spot. Before he'd even shifted it into park, Frank was already reaching for the door.

Frank's apartment building was shoddy, to say the least. Everything in it was broken. Most days, he was surprised if water even came out of the tap. Something was always going wrong. The paint chipped off the walls and the lobby lights were always about halfway alive on a good day. That's not even including the cockroach problem. It didn't even matter how clean Frank and Joey maintained their space—it was a disease that infiltrated the entire area. He didn't feel comfortable bringing anyone over into such a sketchy area of town, let alone into this booby-trap ridden rib of concrete. He hated how much it reminded him of his last shitty foster home with Clive.

Unfortunately, it was all he could afford as a student. What he wouldn't give for the sweet bachelor apartment that Danny had, deeper in the city. Joey would brag about it when he'd return from a visit. If Frank had a place like that, he would actually want to invite Julie and Susie over.

Danny had seen this place before, of course—Joey had him over sometimes—but that didn't stop Frank from dreading whatever snide observation was loading in that brain of his this time around. And Frank was feeling especially raw and pent up after touring his own inadequacies in Danny's mobile interrogation room.

Approaching the vestibule, he fumbled his key into the rusty lock, shooting Danny a sideways glance before pulling it open. He walked too fast to the elevator, reaching ahead of himself to mash the up button before Danny had even stepped inside the lobby.

Crossing his arms, Frank shifted his weight side to side and ran his fingers down the straps of his backpack for something to focus on. Danny came to a stop behind him. Frank was more than aware of every inch that existed between them. His cologne wrapped around him like invisible hands, and he could feel Danny watching him, the awareness crawling up his neck like the bugs he couldn't shake from this place.

The mechanical whirring of the lift was the only indication that the button had actually called it, but still. Why the fuck was it taking so long? He was practically aching for that shower. Frank reached out and jabbed the button again just as it arrived, as if it had waited to taunt him before its lazy doors yawned open at their feet.

Frank stepped in before they had even finished opening, and Danny followed on his heels, standing close enough that Frank could feel his breath. Then again, the elevator was exactly three people wide—if they were spooning. Frank mashed the button with a faded ‘17’ on it, already knowing that the backlight didn't work anymore. The elevator relented, obeying his command. He cracked his knuckles, probably out of frustration, probably more for distraction, or a tic to feel louder, bigger, taller. Maybe everything at once.

“You know…you work really hard to seem dangerous.” Danny’s sneer bounced off the thin metallic walls.

Frank's jaw tightened. “Shut up.”

“I’m just curious, do you picture someone in particular during class?”

“You would love it if I thought about you even half as much, you creepy fuck.” Frank scoffed, shaking his head dismissively.

“You think of me when you read my blog. Which, given your knowledge of Ghostface, seems to be quite a bit on the obsessive side.” Danny mused.

“I said shut up.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Frank's eyes darted to his periphery. He wasn't convinced that Danny was done.

And sure enough, Danny had stepped closer, looming behind Frank and blocking what little light trickled from the stained ceiling of the elevator.

“Do you think of me during other times?” He purred, inches from Frank's ear.

Frank whipped his gaze up towards him, blindsided. Danny was grinning ear to ear, drinking in his fluster, sharp canine teeth dangling in his gaping smile like stalactites. Then he barked a laugh in his face.

Oh. It was a joke. Frank stilled, only feeling the rage bubble hotter. “Fuck right off.” He muttered.

Danny breathed another chuckle. “Such a scrappy little thing.”

And then, Danny became the punching bag Frank had been denied. Unlike the worn leather dummy at his gym, this one wore a grin that begged to be smashed in.

Frank spun his body and wrapped his fingers into Danny's jacket. He shoved him into the wall, hard. The lift groaned in surprise, matched by Danny's grunt as his back hit metal. The elevator shuddered before stopping abruptly, causing Frank's guts to lurch in the half second of freefall.

Silence fell over them.

Elevator music was a luxury that didn't exist in Frank's universe, and the quiet was made worse by the fact that neither moved. Danny raised an eyebrow, his dimples still deep from the grin that hadn't budged. Frank's fingers were still curled in the nylon material, and he felt the heat of Danny's chest below them. His grip loosened. If he hated how close he was before, this shattered every remote sense of boundary he thought he had.

Frank pulled back, already forgetting the urge to punch him. He left Danny's coat rumpled and spun back towards the buttons. There was a new, ominous red indicator that might have once had a label a decade ago. His thumb found the buttons again, mashing them all aggressively. Different floors, doors open, doors closed. The ancient mechanism didn't offer a response, nor did any other lights greet him.

“Fucking…move.” Frank grumbled, hoping that speaking would help chill the strange heat burning in his throat. It didn't.

There was a grunt behind him, then shifting as Danny smoothed his coat. “Nice one, Frankie.”

“Don't fucking call me that.” Frank spat, jabbing more buttons like they owed him money. Frank's other hand plunged into his pocket, just for somewhere to go. His hand closed automatically around his knife, and he felt his agitation ebb a little.

The relief was short-lived.

“Well, now we're stuck in here. You really need to stop losing your cool so easily.” Danny drawled, then a long pause drew out. Frank’s eyes were lasered on the blinking red beacon as the tension coiled back through his jaw.

“You’re cute…small and angry.” Danny continued, voice jabbing all of Frank's buttons in perfect order to unlock his rage. “Like an untrained chihuahua.”

The knife came out before Frank even realized it, swinging open with a sharp click. He turned on Danny, body snapping into a fighting stance like a tableau he'd practiced a thousand times. He expected fear, but Danny's eyes flashed with something that looked more like interest as they studied the weapon. Then Danny crossed his arms and leaned back casually into the wall that his body had just dented in. The smile on his face widened.

“That's a very small knife, Frank.”

The rage boiled over. Frank let out a snarl as he attacked Danny, aiming for a warning slice on his arm. Maybe he could end up on top, for once, if he made Danny bleed.

But the disarm came an instant later. One second, the knife was clutched firmly in Frank's hand, and the next, it clattered to the worn tile floor as if his arm had simply disappeared. And Danny was gripping his wrist, slender fingers digging into his tendons. The sheer strength and dexterity from the abrupt movement caused Frank's head to spin.

“What was the plan? Stab me with that little thing? Then what? Can't be so impulsive with a blade, Frank. There's no fun in that.” Another husky laugh rattled off of the walls of the cramped space as Danny twisted his arm towards pain.

“Let go of me!”

“What else have you got, little man?” There was a crazed fire in Danny's eyes, like Frank was a specimen that had just confirmed everything he'd theorized.

Frank's training took over, subconscious fusing every nerve ending needed to move himself out of this predicament. He twisted his body and drove his knee towards Danny's groin. But Danny shifted immediately as if he'd already seen five moves ahead. He grasped his leg before it could reach its mark, holding on to keep Frank off-balance.

Those strong and slender fingers pressed firmly into Frank's thigh, heat seeping right through his grey sweatpants and sending a rush through his spine. Then Danny was moving towards him, pushing him back while his leg dangled uselessly below his grip. Frank hopped once to recover, but there was no more room. His back crashed into the opposite wall.

Danny still gripped his thigh, using it to shove Frank's body hard against the cool metal. Frank grabbed the front of his coat again with both hands.

“I’m going to fucking kick you senseless.” Frank spat.

Danny snorted, glancing down at the leg still caged within his grip, “With what?”

Danny’s hot breath sped out of his nose and bathed Frank's jaw. In the closeness, Frank could hear the way it whistled out of his nostrils as the man breathed hard. Danny's gaze tunneled into him. Their mouths were too close, but Frank resisted the urge to look, keeping his glare on those dark irises. Heat enveloped him, spreading around him from every inch of Danny's body, all leading to the searing press of his fingers in his thigh. The way his palms curled around Frank's quadriceps sent a warm shock through his lower stomach. Frank's chest was already rising and falling faster than the brief spar warranted. The walls seemed to shrink around them, and the space that should fit three now struggled to hold two bodies that had no business being this charged.

Then Danny's hands slid a fraction up his thigh, and a stuttered groan was carried out on Frank's exhale before he could bite down on it.

Their breaths stopped.

Danny swallowed, and Frank watched his Adam's apple bob as the saliva slid down his throat. Frank lifted his widened gaze back up to Danny's face, and found an indulgent look in his eye. Embarrassment jolted through Frank's chest before draining into a stifling rage.

Frank shoved him back, grunting with effort and using the creased wall as leverage. Mercifully, Danny released his thigh.

The blistering flush was mere seconds away from taking center stage on Frank's cheeks, and he turned away. He busied himself with straightening his hoodie, thoughts whirling as he stared at the lines of buttons. Not only were they his only salvation from this entire mess, but right now, facing them shielded his exasperation from Danny's too-observant eyes.

Frank's knees quivered. He didn't know what the fuck that just was. What any of this was.

Huffing angrily, he stepped forward and started mashing the buttons again. “Stupid…fucking…” he breathed, trying to hide the shake in his voice.

Thanks to some blessing from above, the elevator finally decided to move. Frank closed his eyes for a moment of relief and a silent prayer to whatever deity just bailed him out. But the buttons of all other floors—the ones he pushed in his fluster—were still illuminated, and his heart sank.

Floor 11.

Beep.

The door opened slowly. Frank was already punching the close door button. The door shut. The elevator began moving again.

Floor 12.

Beep.

The door opened slowly. Fuck! His thumb was still on the button to close the door, rapidly clicking it until it finally shut again.

A snicker rattled behind him. Frank whirled back around, tension pulling from his shoulders to his curled fingertips as if he were a stagnant marionette. “You got something to say?”

Danny simply stared at him analytically. His eyes dug into the heat under Frank's cheeks and peeled his skin back, exposing the embers and cataloguing it away someplace dark. The corners of Danny's mouth were frozen in a curl of amusement.

The elevator shifted again.

Beep.

Frank held his stare, wishing that looks could kill.

“Don't forget your knife.” Danny purred, finally pulling his dark eyes from Frank's and down to the floor.

“You made me drop it. You pick it up.”

Danny chuckled. It rolled out of his throat like syrup. “Might I remind you…you attacked me.”

Beep.

Frank continued glaring as he hit the button again. There was something daring in Danny's expression. The knife lay on the floor an inch from Danny's boot, it would be a lot easier if he just picked it up for him. It was like he wanted Frank to close the distance again, kneel in front of him…

Why was he thinking like that? Danny's just being a jerk as usual. There wasn't anything happening right now that wasn't part of his ordinary bullshit. Yet, as Frank approached slowly, he felt like he was testing a tiger, aiming to snatch its juicy meal out from between its claws before it could stop him. An impossible feat under that predatory stare that saw every twitch and flicker of hesitation.

And then, Frank picked it up, and shoved it into his pocket as he stood, face scrunching at Danny the whole time. But something had changed in Danny's face. It was as if the tiger had gotten a taste for something else, and was interested in more.

Beep.

Frank swallowed, spinning back around and closing the door again. He stared at the illuminated ‘16’, blood pounding in his ears while heat crawled up his back. He needed to get the fuck out of here. But when he did, Danny would be in his apartment. And he'd be alone with the freak until Joey gets in. He decided that he would lock himself in his bathroom and take an hour-long shower.

Beep.

Fuck that. Why was he thinking about hiding from someone in his own house? Danny should be the one feeling uncomfortable—he was the guest here. And Frank had just attacked Danny with his hands and a knife, and yet Frank was the one whose legs felt atrophic. And he didn't know why.

Beep.

The doors finally opened on his floor. But it didn't feel like salvation. Frank stepped out and glanced over his shoulder when Danny's footsteps didn't follow. The man hadn't budged, and he was wearing an unreadable expression.

“I’ll just ride it back down, call Joey later.” Danny said listlessly.

The elevator door started closing, and Frank reached out and caught it before his brain could catch up.

“Joey said it was important…” Frank said, pissed at himself, “He'll be here soon…just wait for him.” The words just kept coming out of his mouth. He needed to keep him here…for Joey.

Danny looked at him for a long moment. Frank didn’t let go of the door.

“Are you sure you'll be able to contain yourself?” Danny sneered.

Heat flared again, but not towards Frank's face. What the fuck was he implying? Then Danny tipped his head to the side.

“You're not going to slit my throat are you?” Danny asked with a smile.

“Just stay away from me.” Frank growled, letting go of the door, but hesitating until Danny shrugged and followed him out into the hall.

Frank unlocked and shoved his apartment door open, already shedding his backpack in the entryway. He kicked off his shoes before unzipping his hoodie and tossing it onto a bench already covered in various other outerwear.

“Pop’s in the fridge if you want.” He muttered.

Danny had put his boots neatly on the mat and leaned into the wall between the kitchen and the hallway. He looked at Frank with that same grin. “Not even going to offer me a proper drink?”

Frank scowled. “You're not drinking my fucking beer.” He smoothed his T-shirt and turned to disappear down the hallway towards the bathroom and the shower that called to him like a siren.

“You yap swear words like you've just learned them.”

Frank balled his hands into fists and whipped around. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

“See? Like that.” Danny snickered. “Someone needs to put a muzzle on you.”

“Do you really want me to hit your sorry ass?” Frank approached, muscles tense.

Danny scoffed. “Please, you're all bark and no bite. You never landed that kick you boasted so proudly abo—.”

Frank's fist met Danny’s jaw before he could blink. It landed perfectly, and Frank felt a wave of satisfaction ripple from his knuckles to his stomach as he watched Danny's head snap back.

“Who said I was going to kick you?” Frank crowed, a lopsided grin on his face. He shook the pain out his hand.

Danny's eyes narrowed as he wiped his split lip with his hand and steadied himself against the wall with the other. It finally, finally appeared as though Frank cracked through his mask, but his gaze was lit with a strange fire. Then it darkened into something sinister.

“Seems like the puppy can bite after all.” Danny laughed. “My turn.”

He lunged at him before Frank could react, fisting his hands into the front of Frank's shirt and slamming him backwards into the wall of the tight hallway. Frank splayed his hands around Danny's arms in defense, but couldn't push them away. He grunted, dropping his gaze down to stare at Danny's slender hands against his chest. His legs trembled again at the sight. The power. The strength. He looked back up at Danny, who was smiling down at him. The weak lighting from the entryway cast a shadow across his face.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Frank growled.

“Like what?” Danny murmured. He slowly dragged his tongue across his bleeding lip, knowing Frank's eyes were following every millimeter.

"J-just…" Frank craned his head away.

“Or what, little dog, you gonna hit me again?” Danny leaned in close, voice dropping to a murmur, “or are you just gonna keep staring at my mouth?”

Frank thrashed, but Danny's hands held him firm. “Get the fuck off me, man.”

“Don't tell me what to do.” Danny cooed, lips curling back into a grin. The blood painted his teeth.

Frank’s jaw tightened, breathing laboured through his nose. Heat tore through him, causing another light sweat to coat his skin. “Fuck…”

“Mm. You're so hot and bothered, and I know it's not from your little class.” Danny hummed, fingers curling under the hem of Frank's shirt. Frank let out another groan as those measured fingertips brushed his bare side.

The grin on Danny's face widened at the noise. “It's me…isn't it? You don't even need to go to the gym to break a sweat. Just need my hands on you.”

Paired with the feel of his cool rings fighting the heat on his clammy torso, Frank’s head swam in a humiliating wave of arousal. He wasn't pushing against Danny’s arms anymore. He just stared, panting through parted lips and paralyzed on the precipice of anger and desire.

Danny tilted his head to the side as his fingers shifted up towards his waist. “Where’s your fight now…Frankie?”

Frank fought to speak, to answer him, to maintain ground, irritation flaring in his chest at the nickname again. “I-it’s not…not you…” He managed hoarsely.

“Oh…but I'm pretty sure it is.” Danny inched his hand along Frank's skin. “Look at you, can't even speak full sentences, cheeks all red…”

“Get off…” Frank’s breaths tumbled unevenly out of his mouth.

“Mm…but if I walked away right now…that would only make you angrier, wouldn't it?” Danny leaned in close, his breath skimming Frank's ear, “I know what you really want.”

Frank gritted his teeth in a final grounding defiance. He gripped Danny's jaw and pushed his head away from the side of his face, hoping that Danny couldn't feel the tremors in his fingers. “You don't know shit, you arrogant bastard.”

The light from the hallway caught the blood on Danny's mouth, and it drew Frank's eye before he could stop it this time. The deep crimson curled around the edge of his lip into a perfect dollop that seemed to defy gravity and movement. When he met Danny's eyes again, the amusement had vanished.

“Frankie, you're going to fucking regret every word you've said tonight.” Danny's hands found his waist and squeezed, pulling a raspy yelp out of Frank's throat. Frank's knees went weak under the pressure of Danny's fingers digging in, the closeness of that dangling drop of blood, the smell of his own sweat mixed with the musky cologne that had soaked into his clothes and hands after the numerous times they'd touched. It all taunted him to do something other than stall. His grip loosened on Danny's jaw.

“You…hh…fuck…” Frank breathed, fighting to come up with a response, fighting to do anything other than be pinned against the tight hallway in his own damn home by a taller, stronger, smarter, better-smelling, better-looking, more put-together man than he was. But his breaths just came quick and stuttered as he watched Danny lean in, and he reluctantly let his hand drop off his face.

Teeth closed around his lower lip. Frank saw it coming, he heard the threat, but the warm tang of blood that filled his mouth was enough to make him forget to breathe. Danny pushed the back of his head into the wall with his face, and Frank's hands wound into the arms of his jacket.

Frank growled against his teeth, biting back, sucking on the blood and not knowing what to feel anymore. There was just anger, always anger. And the constant flow of it only made him more mad. Frank's fingers tightened into his jacket, twisting into fists while Danny advanced. Danny's heated body crashed against his, bringing a raspy groan from Frank's throat. The rage mixed with arousal left Frank feeling like a rabid animal. The urge to tear into Danny overwhelmed him like a sickness.

Their teeth clicked together in the open-mouth assault as if they were still fighting. And maybe Frank was still convinced they were. Danny's hands dragged down his waist, cupping his jutting hipbones like handles for him to use. He curled Frank's hips towards him, only allowing a meager brush of friction against his front.

Frank let out a breathy groan at the sensation. It felt like claws were tearing through his guts and squeezing at the same time. His hands snaked around Danny's shoulders, gripping and tugging while he fought Danny's tongue with his own.

A hand started traveling up his torso, fingertips rippling over each flexing rib as Frank breathed feverishly. Danny's thumb and forefinger brushed Frank's nipple, and Frank let out a hiss, twisting away from Danny's mouth. Danny took the opening to attack his neck with more bites, pressing him harder into the wall as his other hand snaked down towards his waistband.

Frank sucked on his lower lip as a grin formed on his face. For the first time tonight, he was glad he was sweaty. Let Danny lick at his salty, musky neck all he wants. Let him drag his hands across his sticky, clammy chest. Frank shouldn't be the one feeling like a deer in the headlights. He was in his own home. And annoying, perfect, loser Danny was sucking on his neck after Frank had threatened him with a knife and clocked him in the jaw and made him bleed. He threaded his hand into Danny's gelled hair, messing it up and tugging him closer.

Go ahead, Danny, lick my sweat.

Just as Frank was getting used to the feeling, Danny pulled his head back, still trapping him against the wall with the rest of his body. He peered down at him, broad chest rising and falling in even, heavy breaths.

"You look good with my blood smeared all over you." Danny tilted his head as he flashed his teeth again, revealing bubbles of crimson still dancing over them. Frank's grin grew a fraction larger as he watched his mark leak.

Danny’s eyebrow shifted up. “I didn't know you could smile so big, little dog.”

Frank snickered. “How do I taste?”

Danny's eyes flashed with something dangerous, then he twisted his nipple, eliciting a mortifying moan from Frank's lips.

“Oh. I'm going to need to hear that again, baby.”

Frank's smile withered. “Fuck you…”

“Nope. Other way around.”

Frank shivered as those long, calculated fingers knew exactly where to go, already wading through the forest of hair below his waistband and inching closer to their mark.

Then Danny's two longest fingers slid over Frank's cunt, sinking into the lips and circling his nub between them. Frank’s jaw fell open as he cried out, hating how it sounded. But he couldn't stop it. He didn't want to admit how often he'd stared at those fingers, and now they were massaging his cock with the same careful intensity that Danny applied to everything else.

Danny didn't return to his neck or mouth. He just watched Frank—violent, angry, loathsome Frank—come apart as his fingers sank into the immense slickness that couldn't be blamed on sweat alone. Each fingertip caught against small metal curves, and Danny’s investigative touch lingered as he felt around them. His nostrils flared. Of course. Of course Frank had those. Saliva flooded Danny's mouth as he tapped his rings against the piercings in a deliberate tease, drawing broken exhales out of Frank.

“Mmm…all this for me?” Danny purred, curling deeper.

Frank gasped and furrowed his brows, pulling the matted, sweaty curls on his forehead along with it.

"Say it, baby…say I'm always right." Danny's hot breath bathed Frank's slick neck—wide open and exposed in his fluster.

"F-fuck…" Frank hissed. "I—I don't know what you…"

"Frankie~" Danny chimed, gliding his fingers along his entrance.

"Ah…hhh." Frank clawed down Danny's lats. They were taut and stupidly wide. The violent urges were overwhelming. Frank wanted to hurt him, bruise his skin, cut into his flesh with his knife…make that pretty face bleed a little more. But Danny's fingers were working a mind-bending sort of magic, and it was making it difficult to stand.

“Say I'm right. Say that you want me.”

“Hhng…” Frank breathed, tipping his head back against the wall as if it would be enough to hold him up. “I—...ah!”

“I can't hear you, Frankie. Speak up.” Danny's cold, hungry eyes raked over his face as his fingers hooked into Frank's folds.

“F-fine…” Frank snarled, but it came out more like a whine, “You're always fucking right…happy?” His cheeks burned.

Danny's hand released Frank's nipple and snatched his jaw, craning his head to face him and holding it there. “Ecstatic.”

Then Danny pulled his digits from their sopping glove, and drove them into Frank's mouth before he could blink. He pushed down on Frank's tongue with them, forcing his mouth open wider and running them along his gums, painting his mouth with his own complexity of salty and sweet.

Frank let out a ragged grunt at the humiliation, partly in surprise, but mostly to stifle the gag from their reach. He never tore his eyes away from Danny's arrogant face as his fingers invaded his mouth.

“Why don't you tell me, Frank, how you taste?”

Frank sputtered as the fingers retreated. He gasped, swallowing and catching his breath as Danny held his face firm. His teeth clenched shut, jaw tight, denying their reentry, while also unsure where else to put his rage.

Danny tilted his head to the side and hummed. One might have thought it looked like satisfaction, but the tiger didn't just look interested anymore, it looked starved.

Frank refused to be intimidated any longer. This time, he moved first, grasping the hard line in Danny's pants. He knew it was there, he'd felt it brush against him enough times to know that the asshole wasn't as unaffected as his performance would suggest. The exhale that was forced out of Danny's lips only pushed Frank's adrenaline higher. He palmed Danny on top of his fly, fisting his other hand into the front of his coat.

“All this…for me?” Frank chirped.

Danny's crooked grin returned. He said nothing, dark gaze dropping down to observe Frank's hand as it moved over his thick jeans. The freckled fingers cupped Danny's erection in a way that showed experience, and it set his body alight with a feral urgency. His breaths quickened while he watched Frank's thighs tremble in need. It was cute how he couldn't hide it, and Danny needed to find out how those piercings felt against his cock.

Danny endured the retreat of Frank's hand as he lifted Frank's shirt up and over his head, moist fingertips gliding wet trails up his pecs. The shift ruffled Frank's damp curls, and those blue eyes met him again once the hem passed over his face. They were glazed over, more like calming seas instead of turbulent tides. It was as if the endless war that always seemed to wage within Frank's mind was sinking into the ocean, putting out the fires of rage under its endless depths and leaving only raw desire.

But the calmness didn't last, and the dark flames were fanned with the pause of hands and lips, as if Frank remembered just who exactly he was facing, and already regretted the moment of weakness.

Frank broke the stare first, fighting back, pinching the zipper of Danny's coat and not caring if he broke it as he tore it down. Then he gave the same treatment to Danny’s top, letting it all fall to the floor in a heap with his own. Frank faced Danny's wide, heaving chest for only a breath before he reached up and caught Danny's jaw, pulling him back towards him before he could convince himself that everything about this was a bad idea. Joey would be pissed. But that's an issue for future Frank. The riskiness made him squeeze his thighs together, attempting to bring some relief to the tingling heat between his legs.

Their mouths met again, and Danny clutched Frank's bare sides, gliding down to his hips, feeling every inch of his skin under the pads of his fingers. Frank’s kisses were still aggressive, but he'd stopped biting so hard and was more curious with his tongue than before. Soft groans trickled into his mouth from Frank's throat and Danny shifted his hands around to Frank's ass, gripping tightly as he began to rut against him. Danny relished in the noises, the trembling, the heat he could feel on his erection as he grinded into him. Frank was a piece of hardwood, and Danny whittled and carved him down to the sculpture he always knew was under there.

Danny growled into his mouth, squeezing his waist again and lifting him up.

Frank writhed, legs unsure of whether to kick Danny or stabilize himself, “Put me the fuck down.”

“Okay, Frankie.” Danny turned and tossed him onto the tattered couch that Frank and Joey had found on the curb. His roommate insisted that it had a lot of life left, but the spring that assaulted Frank's ass as he landed was a grim denial of that fact.

“Fuck!” Frank hissed, arching off of the thick corduroy. Danny's hands were already on his waistband, and pulling his pants down past his ankles. Suddenly, he was fully exposed, and staring down at Danny who was gripping his thighs and spreading his legs and—

Frank kicked him in the side of the head.

“Oops, reflex.” He lied.

Danny paused, blinking rapidly. It wasn't enough to cause him to see stars, but his thoughts jumbled for a breath. He turned his gaze back down towards Frank: The blood pulsed through his neck, under the skull tattoo that seemed to mirror the daring snarl frozen on his face. And there was a look in his eye, expectant and hungry, as if waiting to see what poking the bear would do.

Danny couldn't admit it to him yet. He couldn't admit that every time Frank looked at him like that—much unlike his boring fucking victims—it did something for him.

Instead, he simply didn't react, continuing with what he was planning on doing anyway. He gripped Frank's thighs, yanking him towards him; too close for another kick. Frank's slick hole and cock bordered with shiny metal was a dessert waiting to be savoured. And the red frustration on Frank's face was the cherry on top.

“Y-you—haa,” Frank gasped, arching as Danny's tongue found his tip and began circling it. His hands ached to grip something as if he were trying to hang onto reality itself. They twisted into Danny's raven hair and yanked on it, bringing his nub fully between Danny's lips. He bucked his hips towards him while he pushed Danny's face down harder, throwing his head back into the ragged armrest under the torrent of sensations.

The sounds that were coming out of Frank were ones he'd never thought the young man was capable of. Danny had only ever heard growls and snarls, not the broken moans that tasted as sweet on his ears as Frank did on his tongue. He pressed in deeper, letting Frank feel like he was forcing him down while Danny dug his nails into his thighs. And Frank took all of it, head tilted back, a line of saliva bridging the gap between his lips as he panted shamelessly.

Danny's cock was aching in his pants. Every time his tongue flicked over one of the piercings, it sent a shiver through Frank's thighs that rippled under Danny's fingers. It was all Danny could do not to pull out his cock and jerk himself while he watched Frank arch in pure pleasure. He loved seeing anyone at their most defenseless. And having finally broken Frank down to a moaning mess left his boxers wet and warm with precum.

“Holy fucking…shit.” Frank gasped, furious at the noises he was letting himself make, furious at how far away Danny was. He couldn't properly angle a punch at him down there. He could only pull his hair. Unfortunately, like his kick, it didn't appear to affect him in any way.

And it pissed him off.

He let out a wet growl that curdled in the back of his throat, though it was a poor attempt to reclaim the thread of hostility. Danny replied only by sucking him harder, and it turned his growls into begging whines. Obscene noises filled the living room that had only ever known metal music or the gunfire and explosions of Joey's first-person shooters. Never this. Not Frank receiving the most soul-shattering head he'd ever had in his life. Frank shuddered in bliss, gasping and mapping the rings of water damage on the ceiling as his hands loosened on Danny's hair.

There were too many jerks in his life, hiding around every corner. He'd only known defense and rage. It had become second nature in this cruel world of foster homes and beatings. But here was Danny, someone who had been just another jerk in the crowd, touching him in all the right ways as if Frank was, for once, something to behold, to look at and actually see.

The realization hit too close, and made him feel too exposed. Something about being wanted—being looked at like he mattered—made Frank's stomach tight with panic. He couldn't do this. He couldn't just lie here and take it while Danny's mouth made him forget how to be angry.

Frank found his strength in Danny's hair again and yanked him back, pulling him off.

"Stop," Frank hissed, but his voice cracked.

Those dark eyes met his, framed by long eyelashes, and Frank couldn't fight the hitch in his own breath. Danny's lips were red and wet, blurring where his lip was even bleeding from anymore. Frank stared too long. He needed to take back control, before Danny could make it worse with those observant eyes and knowing grin.

Frank shoved him back and climbed on top of him. “I'm not going to be the only naked one here.” He grumbled, undoing Danny's pants and pulling them down while avoiding his eye. Danny only offered a breathy snicker as he lifted his hips, willingly letting Frank shed his jeans and boxers.

“Still pissed?” Danny hummed as Frank resumed his straddle, thighs shivering as his knees bordered Danny's hips.

“Yeah…” Frank rasped, “And I'm going to fuck you…because I'm pissed.” He still avoided his gaze, cheeks on fire as he regarded Danny's thick cock that was hard and weeping precum against his inner thigh.

Then that fucking laugh was back, vibrating into Frank's hands that rested on the base of Danny's neck. Gritting his teeth, Frank snatched Danny's cock in his other hand, hoping to cut the laugh short. And it did, but it only made Danny grip his hips in anticipation and let out another amused hum.

“You do that, little dog.” Danny said lazily. He'd been fantasizing about Frank ever since he’d met him. He was so cute, and violent, and interesting, yet oh so misdirected and immature—in most things. Danny gripped his hipbones, gaze dropping to where Frank was lining him up. Not this, apparently. His mouth filled with saliva again.

And then Frank squeezed on his throat as he began slotting himself down, and Danny let out a groan.

“So fucking…hard for me…” Frank's attempt at a taunt came out breathier than he intended. Danny was so fucking big, and he hated how well he filled every inch of him. He made the mistake of glancing up at him before he was fully seated.

Danny's daring gaze burned into his. “You sure you can take it?”

Frank paused for half a breath, then responded by engulfing Danny to the hilt, drawing out simultaneous exhales from them both. His thighs quivered in shock—the stretch was immense and splitting—but he refused to fold. Sucking his lower lip into his teeth, he held on to Danny's throat for balance as he began to move. Danny’s stiff swallow lifted under his thumb as the man tilted his head back, gaze trailing down Frank's body as if he were exactly where Danny had planned for him to be.

“Fucking…so hot and bothered.” Frank tried another jab, gripping harder and rocking his hips faster.

“I know you are.” Danny hissed.

Heat surged low in Frank's torso. Arousal. Rage. It had all blended together and he couldn't tell one from the other anymore. “Shut…the fuck up!” The slap landed clean across Danny’s face. Frank's savage grin was immediate.

Danny's nails dug into his sides, not letting the pace falter. “Do that again.”

Frank winded his arm back and brought it across that grinning face again, causing Danny to hiss in pleasure. A flushed mark began spreading from where Frank had now struck him twice. Frank started to breathe a vicious laugh at the sight, but Danny’s ringed hands took over, thrusting Frank down harder while he fucked up into him.

“Ghhh…fuck, Danny!” Frank threw his head back, gasping as each thrust slammed into his center.

"Yeah, keep fucking yipping, little dog. Keep screaming my name." Danny rasped, one hand gripping Frank's hip hard enough to bruise, reminding him, despite the slaps, who was letting this happen. He drank in the sight of him bouncing on his cock. The red hue that extended from Frank's freckled cheeks down through the pulsing veins beneath his tattoos was incredibly tempting. So much heat from so much blood, moving fast and hot under his pale skin. The rage hadn't drained from his face, but the arousal fighting it was winning, lighting up his features whether Frank wanted it to or not. His dark eyebrows were knitted together, poorly bleached blonde curls plastered to his forehead with sweat.

And the cool kiss of metal on his groin with every press of Frank's cunt was enough to drive Danny close to the edge already. But he wasn't going to let that happen. Not yet. Not when Frank looked so hot and strangely relaxed in his frenzy—as if, for once, his anger was working for him rather than against him, and Danny wanted to watch that for much, much longer.

Danny slowed, hands coaxing Frank's hips to more manageable pace. Frank groaned again, using the leisurely cadence to catch his breath as he set both hands on Danny's traps. He watched Danny's beaten face every time he took him fully, and Danny watched him back through glassy eyes. The exhales that seeped over Danny's moist lips caused Frank to wet his own. Leaning in, Frank let their mouths meet again, tongue gliding over those sharp teeth and moaning when he tasted his metallic blood.

“You sound so delicious when you lose control.” Danny whispered into Frank's mouth. And Frank knew he had his lips against the cockiest smile known to mankind.

“I said…shut up…” Frank muttered back, voice breathless and barely there.

Instead of answering, Danny slid a hand off of his hips and pressed his fingers around Frank's cock, using Frank's own slickness to apply the perfect amount of friction. Frank collapsed into the side of Danny's neck with spiteful whine, furious at how easily Danny took back control with a simple touch. Squeezing a hand on Frank's ass, Danny rolled his hips up faster while rubbing between his piercings with finesse.

It was like viscous rivers meeting a delta in Frank's core, and the syrup spun into a whirlpool of tightness that begged for release. But he didn't want to let go. Fuck Danny for getting him into this. Fuck Danny making him feel this way. He panted, holding it all back behind a dam of pride.

“N-no…” he managed, pushing Danny's hand away. Fuck Danny for trying to give him something. He was here to take.

Danny stopped abruptly, causing the rhythm to falter. He lifted Frank up, pulling out and throwing him to the side, back into that buggersome, rogue spring. Despite the lean muscle that Frank had packed on in the past year of jiu jitsu, he weighed nothing to Danny. And Frank, like the scrappy dog he was, thrashed and snarled immediately before Danny climbed on top of him and seized his jaw.

“No…? No, you're not the one who's been shaking and moaning on my cock?” Danny dipped his head and ran his tongue up Frank's neck, dragging out a bone-deep shiver from him.

Without waiting for a response, Danny started pressing back into him. Frank hated how he needily tilted into Danny's angle while clutching his firm shoulders. Like the elevator, the couch wasn't wide enough for both of them, and Danny used the floor for balance, maneuvering Frank's leg to the side until their hips met again.

“Shit…” Frank gasped. With a larger person on top of him, the violent urges flared. But they quickly died away when Danny began to move. The hand around his jaw didn't loosen, and Frank stared into those dark eyes, only now realizing how much intent lived there.

He arched into his thrusts, nails digging into the curve of Danny's shoulders. The angle was doing everything for him—he didn't even feel the uneven, rumpled couch beneath them anymore. His groans got weaker, electric fingers curling towards his groin as he reached the edge. He knew he was coming apart under Danny's gaze, but he was staring at a reflection of his own stuttering breaths and tensed brows.

Danny shivered as Frank clenched around him. "That's it, little dog." He breathed, gliding his thumb over Frank's lower lip and slipping it into his mouth. It wouldn't be surprising if he was bit, especially with the defiance that flashed in Frank's stare. But then Frank's eyelids fluttered shut, and he brought his lips around Danny's thumb, sucking on the intrusion instead.

Danny watched. It was fascinating to him. And so was the tension twisting through Frank's body, the prickle of his nails getting angrier as his expression got softer. As if he was hanging onto the edge of a cliff, resisting the release he so desperately seemed to need. As if he was used to it. As if he'd done it his whole life. Balled up and angry and doing everything to prove something to himself and protect that ego. Danny pulled his thumb out of his mouth and replaced it with his lips. He dragged his hand down his body again, curling over scars and clammy goosebumps.

"You're going to come for me," Danny rasped, "stop pretending you won't."

Frank shivered.

Then he finally obeyed.

The rivers merged and twisted into a turbulent release that left Frank crying out, turning away from Danny and throwing his arm over his face to hide from it. But Danny pulled his arm up and pinned above his head, forcing him to face his climax as Danny continued fucking him through it. Frank's toes curled and nails broke the skin on Danny's shoulder, but the pace didn't slow.

The wave ebbed from Frank's body like the tide rolling out, and with it carried the current of tension and irritation. He let out soft groans as Danny's thrusts got quicker, plucking his nails from their indents in Danny's skin. Then Danny pulled out and leaned back, finishing on Frank's lower abs with a tense moan. His hand splayed across Frank's hip, fingers spread wide like he was framing a photograph.

Frank panted, eyes travelling all over Danny, all over everything that just happened. And Danny was doing the same, although grim satisfaction resided where Frank was vexed. Danny leaned back further, sitting back on a folded leg, one hand still gripping Frank's hip possessively, the other resting languidly around his own softening cock.

Frank shifted, shimmying back and out of Danny's reach as he avoided his eye. Before he allowed any part of the realization to land, he bent over and snatched his boxers, using them to wipe Danny off of his lower abs with a low growl. But it lacked all sense of bite. He threw his soiled boxers down the hallway into his room before throwing his pants and top back on.

He cast Danny a quick glance. The man was doing up his trousers and approaching him. Frank swallowed as he loomed in front of him.

"Don't—"

"My clothes." Danny cut in, corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

Frank looked down at his feet where Danny's coat and shirt lay. "R-right…" His voice barely worked. His throat felt raw. He picked them up in a swipe and held it out to Danny in front of his face, as if they were a shield. But Danny tipped his head to the side to peer around them. Their eyes met as Danny collected the garments. Frank didn't know why he stood there, but his feet felt rooted to the floor while he watched Danny pull his shirt over those now-messy, dark waves.

The hem of Danny's long sleeve top had just met his waistband when the door flew open. Joey stumbled in, arms laden with bags: his backpack from work, his lunch bag, and a third that looked like groceries.

Frank froze, knowing he stood in a crime scene surrounded by incriminating pieces of evidence: Danny's disshelved hair and split lip, the misshapen couch cushions, the heat blooming on his own cheeks, all enveloped by the aromatic cocktail of sweat and cologne and sex.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, finding his pocket knife for comfort. But it only brought dread this time. It hadn't helped him. It had only made everything worse. As if the blade wasn't small but instead too large for Frank to handle, cutting everything open and exposing too much of him to the most observant monster he knew. And the knowing look that passed between him and Danny sent that same warm shock through his core, proving that there was no way he could ever deny what had just happened between them.

Joey beamed when his eyes landed on Danny. "Oh, good, you're still here. Sorry for asking you to stay man, I know you're busy." He glanced at his roommate. "Frank, I don't know how you kept him here but thank you. I owe ya one!"

Frank's cheeks felt like they were going to combust.

"Anyways, here, Danny. I got you this gift card for that restaurant you like. Thanks for helping me out today and congrats on your first month of the blog!" He extended the card towards Danny, who leaned into the kitchen lights to accept it.

"Appreciate it, Joey." Danny smiled innocently.

Joey paused, furrowing his brows at Danny, then turned a sharp look towards Frank. "…Did you guys have a fight?"

Frank dug the edge of the knife handle into his palm. "Yeah…got pretty heated." The words came out partly broken. He glanced at Danny, who was already looking at him again with a stifled grin on his face.

Joey let out a frustrated sigh. "Again? You guys are always at each other's throats ." He turned and started taking off his shoes. "I was kinda hoping you'd talk a bit more today, y'know, get to know each other a little. Who knows, you might actually like what you find."