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Black Market Blood by blue_soaring (Explicit)
Fandom: BANDOM
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Length:
Author on DW:![[personal profile]](https://dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blue_soaring
Author on AO3:![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p2.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/232260-5272269/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
autoschediastic
Why this must be read: Frank's so fucking freaky he's potentially wigging out a fucking vampire. The one where Mikey's going away over the weekend and Frank promises to take care of Gerard, his shy and reclusive artist brother who happens to be a vampire.
This is such a fun and happy-making story. It balances perfectly between creepy and fluffy, with a healthy dose of happy, kinky vampire sex added. I loved the Frank characterisation, he's so wonderfully exuberant, and Gerard makes a perfectly adorable geeky artist vampire.
Excerpt from the story:
"Fuck," Frank says, an hauls open the fridge. Beside the carton of milk that's out tomorrow - Frank'll have to pick up more, since he knows Gee's gonna want coffee again before Mikey gets back - are two bags of donor blood. Frank quickly tightens his hold on the milk. Fuck. No way Mikey forgot to feed Gerard before he left. No fucking way.
Shoving the carton onto the counter, Frank snatches up one of the bags and runs for the basement. "Comin' down!" he shouts, hesitating barely a beat before he yanks the door open and pounds blindly down the stairs. "Gee, fuck, look, I found - Did you forget already? Are you okay?"
"Forget?" Gerard echoes, his voice gone hazy.
Frank's heart thuds into his ribs. "Fuck, you did, didn't you? Fuck. Fuck. One day and we're messing up. You didn't eat."
"Oh," Gerard says, and laughs, his voice coming back stronger. "No, sorry, I was painting. I didn't forget. I told Mikey I'd eat when you got here. Is that okay?"
Something weird squirms through Frank's belly. He thought he'd have another day to get used to the idea of feeding Gerard fucking human blood. "Yeah, no, oh. Okay. I just - Yeah. That's okay. Do you, uh, warm it up?"
"Yes, please," Gerard says. A brush clinks against a glass. "Don't worry so much, Frankie. We'll be fine."
"Right," Frank says, not so sure. "Fine." It's not like there's a handy rulebook for babysitting vague artsy type vampires. His eyes haven't had a chance to really adjust yet, but he can tell Gerard's smiling. He ends up smiling back.
Gerard says, "Coffee," his cheap 1960s diner stool creaking as he gets back to work.
"Fucker," Frank tosses back, and happily tromps back up the stairs, blood bag in hand. It's weird. Thirty seconds ago he was totally wigging out. There's no way that's not some freaky vampire power, like, infecting him with Gerard's good mood. As abilities go, it's pretty swank. Frank's been on the verge before of punching douchebags in their douchebag faces, and Gerard's calmed him down in minutes. That's some awesome anger management technique right there.
The coffee's almost done when he gets back to the kitchen. Rooting through the cupboard again, he hauls out two mugs, spacing them out evenly on the counter and placing the blood between them. He stares at the bag for a minute, then picks it back up again, poking at the seals. [...] The sight of blood doesn't exactly bother him - he's banged himself up worse walking down the fucking street than most people who come out of fender benders - and it isn't like he has to whip up a slab of poor, helpless cow to feed Gerard. It's just, Gerard eats people. And even if it's Gerard, vague, flaily Gerard, who shoos spiders outside for Frank instead of murdering the disgusting little bastards like they deserve, it's kinda creepy.
"Ugh," Frank says, under his breath, and turns away from the microwave to butcher his perfectly good cup of coffee with a pound of sugar and half a carton of milk. When the microwave beeps, he sucks his spoon clean to give the blood a quick stir. Then he pokes it with his finger to make sure it's warm all the way through, and not, like, boiling. It's a lot thinner than movie blood. He gives it a sniff, but it doesn't have that same metallic tang like his does. Probably whatever is put in it to keep it from clotting.
"Soup's up!" Frank calls, rinsing his finger in the sink and grabbing up both mugs. "You back from the door?"
"All good," Gerard calls, sounding way more present than he had ten minutes ago. Frank gets like that too, when he's really fucking starving. Zoned out to the max, but mention food, and he is on.
Bumping open the door with his foot, Frank says, "Watch it, okay, I don't wanna spill," and Gerard says, "Okay, Frankie," kinda eager and excited. Frank grins. It's almost, almost, like he got to cook for Gerard, and Gerard's all pumped up to try it. Sure, it's nuked blood, but whatever. All the grossness is totally worth it.
Black Market Blood (on AO3) or here (on DW)
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Length:
Author on DW:
blue_soaringAuthor on AO3:
Why this must be read: Frank's so fucking freaky he's potentially wigging out a fucking vampire. The one where Mikey's going away over the weekend and Frank promises to take care of Gerard, his shy and reclusive artist brother who happens to be a vampire.
This is such a fun and happy-making story. It balances perfectly between creepy and fluffy, with a healthy dose of happy, kinky vampire sex added. I loved the Frank characterisation, he's so wonderfully exuberant, and Gerard makes a perfectly adorable geeky artist vampire.
Excerpt from the story:
"Fuck," Frank says, an hauls open the fridge. Beside the carton of milk that's out tomorrow - Frank'll have to pick up more, since he knows Gee's gonna want coffee again before Mikey gets back - are two bags of donor blood. Frank quickly tightens his hold on the milk. Fuck. No way Mikey forgot to feed Gerard before he left. No fucking way.
Shoving the carton onto the counter, Frank snatches up one of the bags and runs for the basement. "Comin' down!" he shouts, hesitating barely a beat before he yanks the door open and pounds blindly down the stairs. "Gee, fuck, look, I found - Did you forget already? Are you okay?"
"Forget?" Gerard echoes, his voice gone hazy.
Frank's heart thuds into his ribs. "Fuck, you did, didn't you? Fuck. Fuck. One day and we're messing up. You didn't eat."
"Oh," Gerard says, and laughs, his voice coming back stronger. "No, sorry, I was painting. I didn't forget. I told Mikey I'd eat when you got here. Is that okay?"
Something weird squirms through Frank's belly. He thought he'd have another day to get used to the idea of feeding Gerard fucking human blood. "Yeah, no, oh. Okay. I just - Yeah. That's okay. Do you, uh, warm it up?"
"Yes, please," Gerard says. A brush clinks against a glass. "Don't worry so much, Frankie. We'll be fine."
"Right," Frank says, not so sure. "Fine." It's not like there's a handy rulebook for babysitting vague artsy type vampires. His eyes haven't had a chance to really adjust yet, but he can tell Gerard's smiling. He ends up smiling back.
Gerard says, "Coffee," his cheap 1960s diner stool creaking as he gets back to work.
"Fucker," Frank tosses back, and happily tromps back up the stairs, blood bag in hand. It's weird. Thirty seconds ago he was totally wigging out. There's no way that's not some freaky vampire power, like, infecting him with Gerard's good mood. As abilities go, it's pretty swank. Frank's been on the verge before of punching douchebags in their douchebag faces, and Gerard's calmed him down in minutes. That's some awesome anger management technique right there.
The coffee's almost done when he gets back to the kitchen. Rooting through the cupboard again, he hauls out two mugs, spacing them out evenly on the counter and placing the blood between them. He stares at the bag for a minute, then picks it back up again, poking at the seals. [...] The sight of blood doesn't exactly bother him - he's banged himself up worse walking down the fucking street than most people who come out of fender benders - and it isn't like he has to whip up a slab of poor, helpless cow to feed Gerard. It's just, Gerard eats people. And even if it's Gerard, vague, flaily Gerard, who shoos spiders outside for Frank instead of murdering the disgusting little bastards like they deserve, it's kinda creepy.
"Ugh," Frank says, under his breath, and turns away from the microwave to butcher his perfectly good cup of coffee with a pound of sugar and half a carton of milk. When the microwave beeps, he sucks his spoon clean to give the blood a quick stir. Then he pokes it with his finger to make sure it's warm all the way through, and not, like, boiling. It's a lot thinner than movie blood. He gives it a sniff, but it doesn't have that same metallic tang like his does. Probably whatever is put in it to keep it from clotting.
"Soup's up!" Frank calls, rinsing his finger in the sink and grabbing up both mugs. "You back from the door?"
"All good," Gerard calls, sounding way more present than he had ten minutes ago. Frank gets like that too, when he's really fucking starving. Zoned out to the max, but mention food, and he is on.
Bumping open the door with his foot, Frank says, "Watch it, okay, I don't wanna spill," and Gerard says, "Okay, Frankie," kinda eager and excited. Frank grins. It's almost, almost, like he got to cook for Gerard, and Gerard's all pumped up to try it. Sure, it's nuked blood, but whatever. All the grossness is totally worth it.
Black Market Blood (on AO3) or here (on DW)
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