Work Text:
Frank knew it was pathetic, but he really fucking needed it. He felt like shit, somehow each day was worse than the prior, and Mikey had been too busy with work to come over and take care of him. And yeah, he wanted to be babied and held, but something else needed even more attention. To be fair, Mikey had tried to give him all of his affection through his texts and phone calls, but he couldn’t keep his mind out of the gutter any more than Frank could half the time. It left Frank feeling empty, miserable, and fucking hard. His chest rattled with every cough and his limbs felt like they had forty pound weights strapped to them, so all of his previous attempts had been completely useless and painful— and he liked pain, but this wasn’t the sexy kind. His lower back was on fire and it spread down into his hips and legs, making it too hard to do anything but drag himself to the bathroom every few hours. He wasn’t eating, getting a cup of ice water felt next to impossible, and yet his body still found a way to funnel all of the blood flowing through it straight to his dick. He was so ill that he hadn’t even been bothering with his binder, sleeping in the same sweaty hoodie and hoping no one would randomly show up. His ribs felt bruised from all the hacking he’d been doing since Thursday.
His phone buzzed and Mikey’s picture popped up, right next to ‘Sent an Attachment’. Frank weakly swiped his thumb to unlock his phone and stare right into the glassy eyes— behind glasses worn at the very tip of his nose— of Mikey on his break at work. It was just a selfie, and he almost felt nasty for it, but it just made everything worse.
’Ugh, stop, I’m dyingggg…. I want u.’
Mikey read it right away and started typing back, then stopped, then started up again.
’I know, but you’re sick and gross.’
’mhmm and not just from the flu lol’, Frank typed back.
Mikey was always texting, but with him being at work, Frank figured he’d have to get creative. The chances of him getting up to any of their usual sext-ually active conversations were slim to none. He tried to stretch to alleviate some of the pain that was hollowing in on his left hip, but it didn’t help. If anything, it just reminded him of how much this sucked, and how much this whole process would suck. He didn’t care. It wasn’t optional. He’d been throbbing in his boxers so bad that every time he stood it felt like a trap door of cum between his legs, and he was fucking over it.
‘Oh yeah? What else? Ur sooooo sick:P’
Mikey’s text popped up with a quiet whoosh, almost missed by Frank who was too busy shifting and shimmying around to try to find a comfortable position. Even if he could get comfortable, and he knew he couldn’t, he didn’t have the energy to do much of anything with his hands anyways. His wrists ached, and it travelled through his hands out into his fingers, but he wanted them to hurt inside of him at the very least.
‘Are you touching urself to my pic? Hot. Here.’ Whoosh.
’Sent an Attachment.’ Whoosh.
Frank sighed frustratedly, a nasally groan, and flung himself over to look at his phone. Mikey had sent a video, showing off his outfit at work that day, and Frank squeezed his phone tightly in his hand. It was starting to feel pretty fucking unfair that he had to have the flu and a boner from hell, but when Mikey fuckin’ Way is toying with you through the phone, what are you supposed to do?
‘ur killing me baby’
Frank texted back and shoved his hand into his boxers, his back arching into the touch and making him whine in equal parts pain and desperation. He was so wet that his fingers effortlessly dipped into his heat and he had to physically grab his own arm to force himself away, the ache in his lower back now searing through his whole spine.
”Okay, that’s not gonna fuckin’ work,” he mumbled to himself. Anything helpful was stuffed in a drawer on the other side of his room, not too far away but far too much effort to exert just to be disappointed.
Whoosh.
’I wish I was there, I could go down on you and call you my dog. You’re probably so wet.’
“Fucking come on,” Frank croaked, sending himself into a heinous coughing fit for the twentieth time that day— more like that hour. He squeezed his thighs together and let out a hoarse, muffled moan at the barely-there friction. It sounded pitiful, and something about that and ‘call you my dog’ made his dick twitch. He gave up and rolled back to his side, the strain against the blanket he was wrapped up in making it slip up his leg and wedge right between his thighs, pressing into his crotch and making another moan catch in his throat. “Please.”
Frank bucked his hips and winced at the pain, but the friction was just enough that he thought he could get away with it. He threw his hand over to fumble around for the shirt on his nightstand that Mikey had left and pulled it over, burying his face in it and using the last of the little strength he had to tug the comforter and ball it up between his legs. He wrapped his arms around the bunch at the top and rolled his hips slowly, testing the waters before he decided to abandon all hope. It hurt, and it hurt bad, but he was too horny to care. He heard two more whoosh sounds on his phone but he clenched his eyes shut tight and rocked himself against the blanket, trying to restrain himself from going full force and losing all of his steam before he got anywhere. After a few minutes, he finally glanced over to his phone to distract from the bone-grinding pain in his hips.
’So needy.’
’Pathetic mutt.’
A moan cracked through his chest and nose, headache blaring in his skull from his blocked sinuses, and he ground his hips down harder into the thick comforter. Mikey knew exactly what he was doing, and it was working, so Frank had no complaints. His dick throbbed again against the fabric and he bit his bottom lip, sucking his lip ring between his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut again, shoving his face back into the shirt Mikey had left. It smelled like him, and it wasn’t even clean; stale laundry, cigarettes, and sweat. Frank whimpered out a broken string of moans and gasps and shoved his arms down to press even more weight against his crotch, wrapping his knees around the blanket to pull it closer. He felt like a puppy in heat, humping it desperately like it was the last train on earth to his destination of fucking getting off. He was so close that he clamped his jaw shut, pinching his tongue and tasting iron to stop another moan from ripping through him and making him cough and choke again.
Whoosh.
’You’re definitely touching yourself, you sick freak <3’
Frank whined and tried to type with trembling fingers but gave up, shakily scrolling back to the video and letting it play over and over again. He wrenched his eyes open to keep them locked on every inch of Mikey as he barreled through the blazing pain melting into his nerves and bones to focus all of his energy into the last few thrusts he thought he had left in him. His gut was swirling with heat and pleasure, his happy trail and bush were plastered to his skin with sweat and cum, and he swore if he had a tail it would’ve been wagging. He felt the peak of orgasm come over him and hastily stumbled his fingers over to the Audio Message button and held his thumb down.
”F— Fuck, fuck, oh god, Mikey,” he panted, his throat feeling like it ripped with every word. He gagged on a cough but spat out another string of expletives as he came, his hips jutting forward and making his whole bed shake with the force. “Fuck, fuck, shit, please, please, god, I’m gonna— I’m coming so hard for you.”
Frank rode it out until his hips stuttered to a stop, pain overtaking the ecstasy of finally exorcising his pent up energy, and he felt all of his sweat turn ice cold against his burning hot skin. “Holy shit.”
He let the audio record a few more of his shaky come-down breaths before releasing the button and sending it off to a probably busy Mikey while he writhed and tried to alleviate even a tiny amount of the worsening aching. He couldn’t complain, he knew exactly what would happen and he did it anyway, and he didn’t even regret it. It felt too good to feel bad about it.
Whoosh.
‘Good boy, very good puppy <3’
Frank smiled and shut his eyes, a lazy coughing fit thumping in his lungs. He couldn’t get a full breath in through his nose without it sounding like a wet paper towel, but he could send moaning videos to his boyfriend.
Priorities.