Dave blinked at the question; "What's it like to kiss someone with lips rings?" Of course, Frank only asked because his wife had had a phase where - when they were younger, of course - she seriously considered getting a lip piercing. Although Frank was glad she never did, he'd always wondered what kissing her would have been like; rumour had it that it was more fun to kiss someone with a piercing.

Dave half-smiled. "I don't know."

"I've... always wondered," Frank smiled, surprising even himself. "Mind if I...?"

Dave gasped; Frank's lips pressed against his own, feeling exploratively the metal rings in contrast with his soft flesh. Dave's hands pressed against the wall, and his body trembled, terrified, wondering if he should pull away or kiss back.

Frank found himself enjoying this - more than he thought he might - and put one strong hand on Dave's thin shoulder; he stopped shaking, and he finally kissed him back.

He wound his other strong arm around the slender-bodied young man, and their tongues joined in on the kiss. Dave's hands slowly moved up Frank's waist, feeling his hard muscles, and rested on his shoulders.

To Frank, Dave tasted like mouthwash - which was regularly supplied by Joan, because Dave was too anxious to go into a store - but all Dave could taste was vodka, a gagging, intoxicating taste, but he found it enjoyable as their kisses became harder and more passionate.

Frank tried not to think about the fact that he was kissing someone he told himself he'd never even talk to. But he wasn't finding this to be disagreeable, and let his fingers trail through Dave's hair. He broke off the kiss, and Dave opened his eyes, gazing carefully at him. He wasn't sure why he stopped, but he knew Dave wanted to go on - his hands were playing with the hem of Frank's shirt, and now he reached one hand up, pushed Frank's hair out of his eyes.

Frank swallowed hard, contemplating. Give in to his hormones or his reasoning?

Fuck reasoning.

And fuck starting off with soft kisses; Frank bit Dave's lip, as if daring him to join back in the game.

Shit, he kisses so much better than a girl... Dave pushed a thought of his ex-girlfriend out of his head, and concentrated on feeling Frank's body through his clothing. Girls always wanted relationships, and not just a good kiss. And this - this was more than a good kiss. These kisses belonged in book of their own, possibly with a mini-series or a short film dedicated to them. Anyone who saw homosexuality as a sin would've dropped to their knees and started praying long ago.

And any girl would've swooned, giggled and whispered wit her friends. But as for girls... When they did kiss, it was so delicate it could've broken your heart. Frank's kisses were powerful, demanding - and it was all that Dave wanted.

"I can feel your heartbeat," Dave broke the kiss and whispered, smiling.

Frank pulled one of Dave's hands over his chest and looked at him questioningly.

Peering out from under his tousled hair, Dave gave a grin. Pulling his hand out from under Frank's, he slid it down the chiseled body, letting it rest on his groin.

"Pervert," Frank grinned, stepping forward and pinning Dave's body between his own and the wall. "I love it."

Dave gasped out as Frank pushed their bodies so close it seemed they could melt together; rough hands ran over slender hips, tugged at the belt, pulling it off; the pants could barely stay on the thin body on their own. Dave assumed the only thing holding them up was Frank's hips.

Dave's hands slid under Frank's shirt, ran over his muscles, clawed at the shirt, begging him to take it off. Frank did so, willingly, and with a perverted, yet modest, smile on his face.

Dave felt he could collapse; Frank was more beautiful than he could've thought. Yes, he'd seen some beautiful muscular men in his time - although he'd never admit it - and yes, he knew Frank was muscular, but...

Dave couldn't decide whether to touch the man's stomach or chest first. Decisions, decisions...

Suddenly, Frank reached down, picked up the smaller man, and crossed the room, dropping him carefully on the bed. "You took too long to make up your mind."

He thought Frank's weight would have been suffocating, but it really wasn't. He just felt warm and good. God, he even moved gently - pulling Dave's shirt over his head, tugging both of their pairs of pants off, kissing him all over - as if he were with a woman.

Not that Dave minded. In fact, he liked being treated so delicately, especially by a man. It was new and exciting and he never wanted it to end.

"You know," Frank mumbled as he kissed his way down Dave's slim body. "The walls don't look it, but they're pretty thick... No one can hear you scream."

Dave trembled as Frank's lips trailed down his body. But this time, it wasn't trembling with fear - it was anticipation. Oh, God, he knew this could be one of the worst things he could do, but he wanted to indescribably bad.

He grinned. "You make sure you remember that, too," he gasped as Frank reached his waist, his fingers and lips feeling warm where they touched his skin.

Frank smiled darkly, licked his lips. "Is that so?"

Dave laughed, reaching down and playing his fingers into Frank's short hair. "Believe me."

All the emotion in the world seemed to be inside the two of them; happiness, passion, anger, sadness, jealously, loneliness, lust - everything they'd ever felt in their lives. And they seemed to never run out of emotions.

Of course, when they reached hatred, Frank nearly hurt Dave. He cried out once, and Frank realized what he'd done.

"No, no, no I'm sorry, are you all right?" He held Dave gently in his strong arms, whispering and kissing him, rubbing the teeth marks on the man's waist "It still hurt?" They took a few minutes to calm down; Dave started things up again with a kiss.

Then they didn't stop until they'd proven that the walls were, indeed, quite thick.

Dave stretched out, resting his head on Frank's bare chest. He sighed, inched closer.

Outside the blinds, dull moonlight filtered in, appearing in strips over the bed. Frank wished he could open the blinds all the way, but he didn't want to risk it. Instead, he focused his attention on the beautiful young man beside him.

"How you feeling?" he asked, pushing a curl of hair out of Dave's face.

He shrugged; now that everything was done and over with, he seemed to be getting nervous again. "F-fine... You?"

"Unbelievably happy," Frank admitted quietly. He wished this could have all happened with him still being a cold and deadly force, but if he hadn't lightened up, he doubted that he would've been able to make love to the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.

Dave smiled, and Frank kissed his slim shoulder. Slim, thin, slender, lithe, lean, slight, svelte... Dave was bordering on emaciated. Normally Frank would've tossed him a few steaks and chocolate bars and left it at that, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Dave's body. His skin was smooth, his body toned, and his colouring was somewhere between pale and coloured. He was a very enchanting sight to behold.

And to Dave, of course, Frank was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. Yes, he'd already happily oogled the muscles, drooled over the build of his body, and fallen in love with the voice... But what about the eyes? Hard and sharp, almost all-seeing, very decisive... But when Dave had cried out that one time in pain, the look in Frank's eyes changed; soft, caring, worried. Dave didn't need to feel loved, just so long as someone worried about him.

"Dave?"

"Hm?"

"Why Spacker?"

"What?"

"Why are you called Spacker Dave?"

"Uhh... It's a long and embarrassing story and I don't think you wanna be bored with the details?"

Frank smiled flirtatiously, lowered his voice to a very sexy level. "Nothing you do could bore me."

Dave chewed his lips, smiled. This is exactly what I want... Why would I need a woman if I have Frank Castle?

And so began the long and embarrassing tale of the origin of Spacker Dave - continuously interrupted for kisses and things that would make a nun cry.

Tired yet very content, Frank lay in bed for hours after, replaying every moment and touch of the previous evening. When he'd gone over it two and a half times, his mood suddenly changed. Why did he have to leave?... He could've slept here with me...

Wanting nothing more than to forget his troubles, he instinctively reached under his bed for a bottle - for his life-threatening poison. This time, it was tequila.

But just before it reached his lips, he paused, a thought forming in his mind. "You shouldn't leave someone when they're sick." Grinning, he knew he could wait for next time; he shoved the bottle back under the bed and curled around his pillow - it still smells like him - it seemed that there actually might be something in his empty life worth living for.

A/N: So, how was it? All nice and pervy-lovey for you? Hope someone likes it. - (And, yes, I know you don't dream if you're drunk, so let's say he wasn't actually drunk, just... drinking. :D) Um, I know Frank was kinda out of character, but people are really weird after they've been drinking and depressed for awhile, so... o.o It's slash! Who cares! ;)