Bubblegum Bitch ♡ Smut Oneshots

Cradle of Sleep

Sleep played behind Frank's eyelids as he held onto the bed softness of a pillow beneath his head, giving comfort resorting to the sway of sleep falling upon his head. The wistfulness of unobtainable dreams painted darling mirages fluttering behind his eyelashes like the ghosts of summertime basking freely through the trees, running past the stones and the moss webbing across bark, flickering in and out of sight to the one who watched from afar. Frank's breath came evenly through his slightly parted lips falling open as he became a lax pile of bones and skin upon the king sized bed promising the comfort of rest, the softness of a thick duvet and silky sheets tucked around the mattress. The sound of the television was a murmur distantly speaking in the corners of his dreams, vividly keeping him at bay, drifting between sleep and reality so smoothly that he never wished to rise from this cradle.

Summertime played outside and the symphony of crickets accompanied the cool breeze seeping in from the open window. The gossamer curtains billowed and fluttered like the curls of white haired angels taking flight through the clear night sky. The moonlight poured inside and washed over the floorboards, spilling onto the edge of the bed and soaking into the warm glow of the single lamp resting on the bedside table. Frank was sheltered by the walls and floors of a vacation house he shared with his husband of four years, taking refuge in the hidden California location resting in luscious hills, study iron gates and walls built around them.

Frank didn't find any regrets in marrying a rich yet endearingly humble writer. Gerard's novels and comic books showcased the tip of the iceberg when it came to his colossal imagination and what a pure genius the man was. The limitations to his creativity and intelligence were seemingly endless and earned him a large influx of money throughout the years of building his career. Despite purchasing a vacation house and living in a luxurious home, little would understand how a man with so many riches dressed in a band shirts with tears and small stains, ripped up jeans and dirty white converse he was strangely attached to. He didn't use expensive hair products and only bought one expensive cologne at a time, making it last for the entire year. Gerard spent money on everyone except for himself; Frank included.

Frank wasn't phased by the tabloids and online rumors assuming he was a gold digger or a sugar baby. He fell in love with Gerard because his intelligence and soft physique, the obvious nerdiness he discovered underneath the intimidating title of a best selling author and comic book artist. The money was only a bonus, as much as Frank hated to admit benefited from it in any form; Gerard fell in love with Frank as quickly as the other fell for him and he promised a lifestyle of lavish items, beautiful dream homes, all of the luxury he could ever dream of, swearing it would all belong to Frank down to the last remaining penny. Frank didn't take advantage of his offers and always turned down whatever he could, but living with a stubborn man carrying a large sum of money was difficult, and Frank gave in on things like, for example, a vacation home buried in lush silence. Besides, Frank had a job of his own, a poet grazing the start of his career, jotting down wondrous thoughts accompanied by photographs he thought suited the aesthetic of his work's sound, posted onto a self-made website gaining the attention of those finding appreciation for the underground voices simmering in potential.

Sleeping in the king sized bed without an inch of clothing covering Frank's skin was like diving into a lake of silk. The expensive sheets against his nude skin would never become a sensation he'd get used to. Freshly showered, Frank's body temperature cooled to a pleasant degree and he soaked in the scent of summer wafting into the household, the sweet earthiness of dewy grass and the scent from the palm trees, the residue of warmth from the sunlight kissing the earth with heat. He curled into the bed and briefly surfaced from sleep, humming in satisfaction at the softness gliding across his skin. He bit his lip, shifting on his stomach, giving a soft moan at the sheets moving all across his front. Perhaps he liked it a bit too much, but he wasn't one to admit it out loud.