Comment fic round-up of DOOOOOOOOM! [2/2]
DOOOOOOOOM and rare-pairings.
Part one is here (here if you want to skip the incest).
(And in case you were wondering, nothing under the cut-tags is appropriate for minors. Or, you know, true.)
My Chemical Romance/Fueled by Ramen
10. Andy/Bob/Spencer, happy sex
for magdalyna
"This is a stupid climate," Spencer says, and it's muffled by two wool scarves and the collar of his parka.
Bob laughs and it comes out as a puff of steam in the freezing air.
"Yeah, but this is best time of year to go to the conservatory," Andy says, and Spencer makes a dubious noise.
"Oh," he says, when they walk inside, and Andy and Bob both grin at him, even though Andy's glasses steamed up immediately and he can't see anything.
The hot, humid air enfolds them, and it smells like earth and green growing things, and coming in from the cold is like stepping into a completely different world.
They wander through the greenhouse, admiring the strangeness of the plant kingdom. Fragments of the lead-grey Chicago sky are visible through the vegetation if they look up, and Andy's never been sure if that ruins the illusion of a different world or heightens it.
The Lincoln Park Zoo is maybe two hundred feet away, and even though Bob says it's the best free zoo in the country and Spencer's never been, they're not going, because in his secret heart of hearts, Andy hates zoos. He played it off like a joke when Bob suggested it last summer, because he knows how it sounds to say zoos break his heart, but they just looked at him, and Bob shrugged and said he'd take Spencer sometime when Andy wasn't in town. Sometimes he loves them kind of a ridiculous amount.
It's only four when they leave, but it's already getting dark, because, visiting the conservatory aside, Spencer is right, this is a stupid climate. But there's homemade vegan chili in the slow-cooker at home, and a six-pack of one the micro-brews Spencer's currently obsessed with.
(That's the other thing Bob and Spencer say they do without Andy: eat a fuckload of red meat. Andy's pretty sure they don't; they always taste more like vegans than carnivores.)
Bob cooked (it's a recipe from Frank), so Andy does the dishes. By which he means he loads the dishwasher. ("It's more environmentally correct than washing dishes by hand," he explained. "Also, you're a lazy bastard," Joe said, and Andy shrugged and nodded.)
When he comes back out to the living room, Spencer is in Bob's lap and they're making out, sweet and slow.
"Hey," he says mildly, and Spencer flips him off.
He sits down on the couch next to them, and Bob puts his hand on Andy's thigh, warm and solid, thumb sliding down to stroke the inside of his leg.
Bob and Spencer pull apart, and Bob rolls his head to the side to smile at Andy. Andy leans in and kisses him while Spencer sucks on Bob's neck.
They make out on the couch, trading kisses and touches like they have all the time in the world. (They have ten days. Andy doesn't think about that.)
Finally Spencer slides off their laps and says, "Okay, fuck, bedroom, let's go."
Spencer hooks his hands in Andy's waistband and kisses him, walking backwards and pulling him along. They almost crash into a wall, but Bob's there to catch Andy's hips and herd them safely into the bedroom.
Spencer just keeps walking backwards until he hits the bed and flops down on it, dragging Andy down on top of him. Bob is still standing, kicking off his slippers and peeling off his clothes while Andy and Spencer try to get each other naked.
Bob sits down on the bed, laughing at their fumbling, and he strokes a warm palm down Andy's back.
Andy sits up and gets his shirt off, pausing to kiss Bob, while Spencer unbuttons his own shirt.
Later in the week, they'll fuck, slow and careful and intense, but for now, this is what Andy wants, blowjobs and making out and laughter.
Spencer pops the buttons on Andy's fly and wraps his hand around Andy's cock. Bob straddles Spencer's legs behind Andy, sliding his arms around Andy's waist and adding his hand to Spencer's.
He kisses Andy's neck while they jerk him off, smooth and steady and not quite fast enough.
"Guys, please," he gasps out, and Bob kneels up, lifting him just enough for Spencer to squirm down and get his mouth on Andy's cock, warm and wet and perfect, and he's coming without any warning.
He slumps down bonelessly against Bob, lets Bob manhandle him onto his back on the bed. He stretches his arms above his head, enjoying the languid warmth in his muscles, as he watches Bob and Spencer kiss.
Bob nudges Spencer onto his back, his head resting on Andy's thigh. Andy reaches down and runs his fingers through Spencer's hair, making tiny circles on his scalp as Bob blows him.
Bob holds one hand out and Andy knows what he wants right away. He catches his hand and licks at his fingers. He feels Bob's tiny shiver as he sucks on his ring finger, rubbing his tongue piercing back and forth over the callused pad.
When he lets go of Bob's hand, Bob slides one slick finger inside Spencer, and Spencer arches up hard, mouth falling open, coming with a soundless gasp.
Andy keeps his hand on Spencer's head, gentling him through it.
Later, they'll have time to make Bob beg, but right now, Andy is content to roll onto his side and kiss Spencer around Bob's cock. They take turns, one swallowing Bob down while the other licks at his balls and the base of his cock, until Bob pulls hard on Andy's hair, and says, "Now, now," voice thin and tight.
Andy pulls off just enough for Bob to come on his face.
"Shit," Bob says reverently.
Spencer licks Bob's come off Andy's face, and Bob gives a tiny, shaky laugh. "Show-offs," he says and flops backwards onto the pillows.
Spencer kisses Andy, both of them still holding on to Bob's thighs, easy and unhurried.
They shift around a bit to get under the covers when they get cold, and somewhere in the middle of talking about whether they're going shoe shopping tomorrow, Andy falls asleep.
When he wakes up, Spencer is snoring in his ear, and Bob is gone.
Andy pulls on his robe and his jacket and his boots, and goes out to join Bob on the tiny balcony.
Bob blows out a stream of smoke and breath, and glances over at him. Andy sits down next to him and rests his head on Bob's shoulder.
He's been trying not to think about how, in ten days, Bob is going back on tour with his band, and how, a week after that, Spencer is going back to Vegas, and Andy is going to LA, and they're all going to be on the road for the foreseeable future.
Sometimes he's not sure if this will work. They're apart more than they're together, and they spend almost as much time as pairs as they do as a threesome. But they have this apartment to come back to, and they've mastered three-way conference call phone sex, and-
"The alternative is worse," Bob says quietly.
Andy likes that about him, the way they can talk these things out without saying anything.
Bob spends the most time on the road ("Because his band hates love," Brendon said sadly), but he seems the calmest and most confident about the relationship, and if that's not true, then Andy is glad that at least one of them can fake it.
Bob puts his cigarette out before Andy gets frostbite, and they go back inside, picking their way around the detritus of half a dozen drum-kits. They make out in front of the radiator for a little while, so they're not freezing when they get back into bed.
Spencer is curled on his side, one hand splayed out where Andy used to be, and he has a tiny frown on his face. It makes him look ridiculously young, even with the beard.
"Do you ever worry that we're, I don't know, too old for him?" Bob asks.
"No," Andy says, "but then, I've been hanging out with Pete for a really long time."
Bob snorts and bumps their shoulders together, and they climb into bed on either side of Spencer. Spencer's frown disappears as soon as he feels their warmth.
Andy curls himself around Spencer and reaches one hand out to touch Bob. Bob's right, he decides, as their breathing evens out. He can't imagine wanting anything else.
11. Gerard/Panic, die period slow period
for liketheroad
"Look," Ryan says with a tiny sigh. "It's not like we don't appreciate the shout-out, but it just seems a little petty. Also, I don't think anyone who has a period and an exclamation point in the title of the first two songs on his last album is really in the position to mock our artistic punctuation choices."
If Gerard has anything to say to that, it's muffled by Ryan's cock.
"But that's not what this is about." Ryan is kneeling over Gerard, fucking his mouth with tiny, controlled strokes. "We just want to show you how much potential that album title has. The French call orgasm the little death, you know. Of course you know." Ryan leans in a little conspiratorially. "You and I are both the kind of guys who know that."
Gerard makes a noise, and it might be indignation, or it might be agreement.
"So here's how it's going to work. You're going to suck me off while Jon fucks me. Brendon's going to blow you, but he won't let you come. He can get a little carried away, but don't worry, Spencer is going to keep him on task."
Gerard jerks hard against the restraints holding him spread-eagled on the bed.
"Yeah, Spencer's also going to rim you while he's there."
Gerard whines in the back of his throat.
"I know," Ryan says, petting his hair gently. "If you get me off before Jon comes, you can come in Brendon's mouth."
Jon sticks a couple of pillows under Gerard's head. Ryan shuffles around a bit so he's kneeling behind Gerard, like they're going to sixty-nine, and looks back over his shoulder at Jon.
Ryan's already slick and open, and Jon just slides in, no hesitation. They find a rhythm easily, Jon pushing into Ryan, pushing Ryan's dick into Gerard's mouth.
Gerard gets close a couple of times, but Spencer is always there, tugging Brendon's head back, wrapping his hand around the base of Gerard's cock and squeezing, so Gerard whines and bucks up into his grip, and sucks Ryan harder.
Ryan comes first, pulling out of Gerard's mouth to stripe his face and chest with come. Jon is a few ragged strokes behind, collapsing down over Ryan's back.
"Please," Gerard says, low and hoarse, and Ryan whispers in his ear, "Slowest death ever."
He looks over at Brendon and Spencer and nods, and that's when the door opens.
"Sorry," Mikey says, one hand over his eyes. "But we really need our lead singer back."
Brendon pulls off of Gerard's cock and asks, "How did you find us?"
"Pete turned on the GPS tracking in your phones. And I think you owe me for that piece of information."
Ryan exchanges a look with Spencer, then Spencer sighs and says, "The handcuff keys are in my bag."
"That's okay," Mikey says. "Worm brought bolt-cutters."
Worm holds the bolt-cutters up with the phlegmatic expression of a man who has spent many, many years touring with the Ways.
"So, you know..."
"Um," Gerard says faintly from the bed. "Could you give us fifteen minutes?"
12. Gerard Way/William Beckett, breath play and submission
for reciprocon
William Beckett is a rockstar. The term implies, he feels, a certain sophistication, a jaded attitude towards the chemical and sexual excesses of the so-called rock-and-roll lifestyle.
Which means he should be way more cool about Gerard fucking Way pressing him into the wall in AK-47's bathroom, eyes hot, cheeks flushed, mouth just a little open.
William's hand is still wrapped around Gerard's tie, and okay, maybe he should have been more careful about pulling on the neckwear of people he's not friends with, but he really could not have predicted this reaction.
"What do you want?" he asks, and at least his voice comes out low and husky, not squeaky.
Gerard smirks. "That's the wrong question."
William doesn't think about, just turns his hand a fraction, pulling Gerard's tie that much tighter.
Gerard's smirk slips.
"Fine," William says. "I want you to suck my cock."
He meets Gerard's eyes, staring him down, straightening up to show off every inch of his extra height.
Gerard stares back, until William tugs downward, careful and deliberate, on his tie.
Gerard drops to his knees, resting his hands on William's hips. He glances at the door, and William laughs without meaning to.
"Dude, I really don't mind if someone sees me getting blown by Gerard Way." It might damage his authority this situation, but it's completely true.
Gerard's smirk is back, not mean, just amused. He's worried he might have broken the mood, but then Gerard undoes the top button of his jeans, and hi, yes, the mood is back.
"Just so you know," Gerard says as he unzips William's fly. "I'm not going to say no unless I mean it."
"Okay," William says faintly.
Gerard leans in and licks the head of William's cock. He watches William's face, and now he's smirking with his goddamn eyes.
William is very conscious of the fact that he still has Gerard's tie wrapped around his hand, tighter now that Gerard is on his knees. He's not sure he's qualified for this. He keeps that hand loose, and grabs a fistful of Gerard's hair with his other hand instead, yanking his head back.
"Quit fucking around."
Gerard's mouth falls open and William uses the opportunity to push his cock into Gerard's mouth until he hits the back of Gerard's throat. Gerard makes a tiny noise, but doesn't struggle, and William takes that as permission to fuck his mouth with easy, shallow thrusts.
Gerard reaches up to touch William's wrist, sliding one thumb down until it brushes over the fabric of his tie.
William hesitates for a moment before he pulls a little harder. Gerard's eyes flutter, and he drops his hand to his own cock.
"No," Williams says, hoarse and sharp, surprising both of them.
Gerard moves his hand back to William's hip, not holding him back, just resting there while William uses his mouth. He seems softer now, not laughing, leaning into him, and his submission isn't perfect, isn't complete, but it's close enough for William.
William can't look away from Gerard's face, from his mouth wrapped around his cock, feeding the hot, slick tension in his belly, wrapping around his spine. He pulls Gerard's head back at the last minute to come on his face with an inarticulate groan.
Gerard looks startled, and lifts his hand as if to wipe his face off.
"No," William says again, and he has no idea where this is coming from. He lets go of Gerard and puts his foot on Gerard's shoulder, pushing him back almost gently onto the floor.
"Jerk yourself off," he says, pinning Gerard down with his boot.
Gerard does.
He's still got the warm glow of orgasm running through his veins, and this shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, but God.
Gerard comes fast, arching up and shuddering under him.
"Holy fuck," William whispers, and Gerard laughs.
Gerard's face is flushed and sleepy, and the smirk is back around his eyes. He wipes his hand off on his tie and digs out his cigarettes, not bothering to get up.
William slumps against the wall, afterglow and adrenaline starting to fade.
Gerard crosses his legs at the ankle and blows a stream of smoke at William. "You got potential, kid," he says.
"Oh," William says, tucking his hair behind his ears automatically. "Thank you."
He is a rockstar. He can take a compliment.
My Chemical Romance/The Used
13. Bert/Gerard/Jepha, cross-dressing
for klashfor
It's the kind of party where, about halfway through, people are leaving clothes in semi-public places. Which means it's the kind of party where, about halfway through, Bert ends up in a dress.
Jepha watches him laugh as Gerard twirls him. They disappear together a little while later.
Jepha walks in on them while he's trying to find an unoccupied bathroom. They're not fucking; Bert is sitting on the bed and Gerard is standing between his legs, carefully applying eyeliner to Bert's eyes.
Bert doesn't move his head, just slides his eyes sideways when Jepha open the door. He smiles and holds out a hand.
Jepha glances at Gerard, who doesn't look pissed. Then he closes the door behind him and locks it.
He leans back against the door, arms crossed over his chest as Gerard turns back to Bert. They're both fully clothed, but in some weird way it feels more intimate than sex.
Bert's face is turned up to Gerard and he's holding himself very still, eyes closed now as Gerard swipes shadow over the lids. Gerard has one hand on Bert's face, delicate and careful, and an intent, serious expression as he applies the make-up.
Finally he steps back and nods, then frowns. He looks at the pile of cosmetics next to Bert. "Hang on," he says, and goes into the bathroom.
Bert looks over at Jepha and makes grabby hands at him.
Jepha walks over and touches Bert's chin, turning his head a little to examine Gerard's work. "Looks good," he says and Bert beams at him. It does look good, dark and smoky, but not over the top.
He runs his thumb over the line of Bert's jaw. Bert came to the party with stubble you could polish diamonds on, but his skin is completely smooth now. Bert never puts this much work into dressing like a girl. Jepha wonders if Gerard shaved Bert's legs, too.
Bert tugs him down next to him on the bed so he can lean into Jepha's shoulder.
"He's so-" Bert says, and sighs, and looks up at Jepha with his painted eyes. "I want you to play, too."
Jepha makes a noncommittal sound and reaches around Bert to pick up the hairbrush. Bert always wants to share the things that make him happy. Jepha knows that Bert means it, drunk or sober, but he was never sure if Gerard did, so he's never taken Bert up on the offer.
He shifts around to sit behind Bert and starts pulling the brush through Bert's hair in sections, holding it by the roots so it doesn't hurt. Bert hums, and sits still.
Bert's hair could stand to be washed, but when he's done, it lies smooth and untangled around his face. Jepha's starting to wonder if Gerard got lost in the bathroom, but when he looks up, Gerard is watching them, face unreadable.
He meets Jepha's eyes, and it occurs to Jepha that Gerard is sober now. He lets his hand rest on Bert's hip and looks back, calm and steady.
Gerard comes over to stand between Bert's legs again, uncapping the lipstick. It's the kind you have to paint on, wet and shining, a dark, dark red, like wine or old blood.
When he's done, Bert turns halfway around so Jepha can see.
"Huh," Jepha says.
Bert looks beautiful. Not feminine-even in the dim light of the bedroom, you wouldn't mistake him for a girl-but the make-up emphasizes his eyes and his mouth, making them startling, striking.
Gerard tucks a strand of Bert's hair back behind his ear. "I kind of wanted to show you off," he says, "but..."
He leans in, but Bert pulls back and turns his head aside just a little. "You'll mess up my lipstick," he says with a shaky laugh, and Jepha can smell the alcohol on it. "You should kiss Jepha instead."
Jepha hasn't been drinking tonight.
Gerard's face is still for a second, then his lips quirk and he leans in to press his mouth against Jepha's.
Jepha's grip tightens on Bert's hip, and he opens his mouth. Gerard tastes like diet Coke and cigarettes.
The kiss is slow and deliberate, and he can feel Bert's breath catch.
Then Gerard hisses into his mouth, and breaks the kiss. Bert has his hand on Gerard's cock, gripping him through his jeans.
"I wanna mess up my lipstick on your cock," he says.
"Okay," Gerard says, and his eyes are just a little wide.
Jepha grins at him and tugs him onto the bed. They get him settled against the headboard, and Bert kneels between his legs. He tucks his hair behind his ears again, and looks up through his lashes at Gerard. Jepha almost laughs at the way that action makes him look more like a girl than the make-up and the dress combined, even though it's something he's seen Bert do a thousand times before.
He slides Gerard's dick into his mouth and Gerard lets out a shaky breath. Jepha kisses him, but Gerard seems kind of distracted. Which Jepha can sympathize with-he'd rather watch Bert suck his cock than be kissed, too.
He eases back, and Gerard's gaze drops immediately to Bert's face.
Jepha watches them for a minute longer, but he doesn't feel particularly necessary anymore. He shifts his weight, about to make a discreet exit, and Bert reaches out to grab his thigh.
"Okay," Jepha says softly, and wraps his own hand around Bert's ankle. His legs are shaved.
He slides his hand up Bert's calf, smooth skin under his palm all the way. He urges Bert to kneel up, so he can push the tight skirt up past his hips, so he can lean in and drag the underside of his tongue from Bert's tailbone to his balls.
Bert sucks in a breath around Gerard's cock and spreads his legs wider.
Jepha licks him slow and lazy. Even his ass is smooth and soft under his hands, and distantly, Jepha admires Gerard's attention to detail.
Gerard's breathing is fast and unsteady over the slick sounds of Bert and Jepha's mouths.
"Fuck, Bert," Gerard says hoarsely, and his hips jerk up.
Bert swallows, and it's actually audible, then pulls off of Gerard's cock, letting his head drop forward.
Jepha reaches a hand around to jerk Bert off, and after a minute, Gerard's hand joins him.
Bert moans, shoving his dick into their hands and pressing back against Jepha's mouth. He comes with a ragged, gasping sigh, and Jepha strokes the back of his thigh soothingly.
Bert flops down onto his side so he can look up at them.
He smiles, sleepy and satisfied, and reaches out to pet Jepha's cock through his jeans.
Jepha grimaces at the soft touch, and Gerard laughs.
"Here, let me," he says, pushing Jepha onto his back.
He gets Jepha's dick out of his jeans and into his mouth, and Jepha's eyes slide shut. Bert rolls over and drapes himself across Jepha's chest to kiss him, open-mouthed and easy. There's still a trace of lipstick on his mouth, sticky-sweet over the taste of Gerard's come.
Jepha tangles his fingers in Bert's hair and stops thinking about anything except their mouths. He breaks the kiss at the last minute to say, "Gerard, shit, I'm gonna-"
Gerard pulls off and jerks him the rest of the way through while Bert sucks on his neck.
Gerard wipes his hand off on the bedspread, and leans in to kiss the corner of Bert's mouth.
Bert turns his head, but keeps his arm draped possessively over Jepha's chest. They kiss, closed-mouth and almost chaste, and then Gerard curls himself around Bert's other side.
Jepha can hear the soft murmur of their conversation, sweet and happy-sounding, but he closes his eyes again and doesn't focus on it.
Right before sleep pulls him under, he feels Bert kiss his cheek. There's no lipstick at all left on his mouth.
14. Bert/Gerard/Ray, sticky-tape
for claireweasley
Ray is not drunk enough for this shit.
If he were more drunk, he'd have an excuse for not doing this. But as it is, he's the one whose hands are steady enough to cut Bert free from the couch while Gerard hovers anxiously in the background.
He is resolutely not asking why Bert is duct-taped naked to the couch, because Gerard isn't wearing pants, either, and really, Ray can connect the dots on his own.
"Hold still," Ray says as Bert squirms, pressing into Ray's thigh.
On the other hand, Ray may be too drunk for this shit.
He's been half-hard ever since he walked in and saw Bert stretched out on the sofa, bound wrists over his head emphasizing the lines of his compact, tattooed body. Now he feels hyper-aware of Bert as he leans over him.
When Ray finally gets him free, Bert scrambles up and jumps on him. Unprepared, Ray falls back on the couch and ends up with Bert in his lap.
Bert plants a wet, smacking kiss on Ray's mouth and grins at him.
Bert is tiny, but he seems to take up more space naked. Ray doesn't know where to put his hands.
Bert's smile fades as he looks at Ray, until he's left with a considering expression.
Then he turns his head to look at Gerard and say, "He's pretty. Can we keep him?"
Gerard is watching them with a tiny frown, but his expression clears as he takes the last couple of steps and kneels the couch next to them.
"You want to?" he says to Bert.
Bert gives him a smile, the one that Ray almost never sees, sweet and happy.
"Um," Ray says, and Bert slides forward another few inches, grinding their hips together, catching Ray's face between his palms and kissing him.
Ray's hands go to Bert's hips automatically. Bert is hard, and kisses enthusiastically, and Ray doesn't mean to open his mouth, but he does anyway.
He's conscious of Gerard watching them, and it's not as weird as he vaguely thinks it should be.
Then Gerard is undoing the buttons on Ray's jeans and pulling his dick out.
Gerard fumbles for a minute and then gets Ray's dick lined up with Bert's so he can wrap his hand around both of them. At the first rough stroke, Bert hisses against Ray's mouth, but he doesn't pull away.
Bert digs his hands into Ray's hair, the tape on his wrists brushing Ray's skin, and Ray slides his hands back to cup Bert's ass. They both rock their hips up, thrusting into Gerard's fist, kissing slow and deep and sloppy as he jerks them off.
Bert pulls his mouth away with a harsh breath, pressing his face against Ray's shoulder as he comes. Gerard catches Ray's eye, dark and intent, and rubs his thumb over the head of Ray's cock.
"Fuck," Ray says, and comes all over his hand.
Bert straightens up and flings himself at Gerard. Gerard goes over onto his back, laughing. Bert wiggles down to get his mouth on Gerard's cock, and Gerard stops laughing with a gasp, eyes fluttering shut.
Ray watches Bert suck Gerard off, and he's back to not knowing what to do with his hands. Then Gerard opens his eyes and looks straight at Ray.
Ray kneels on the floor next to the couch and bends down to kiss Gerard. He's soft and careful, until Gerard grips the back of his neck and opens his mouth.
Gerard is still kissing him when he comes.
Bert inches forward a bit to kiss Ray's shoulder. "So keeping him."
"Yeah," Gerard says against Ray's mouth. "Yeah."
15. Bob/Jepha, cross-dressing
for berserkide
Bob almost drops his beer when Jepha comes out of the back lounge. When Jepha said he was going as Marilyn Monroe for Halloween, Bob had believed him, but he hadn't thought Jepha was going to take it seriously.
Jepha's costume isn't a joke. The white dress actually fits him, flaring out at the knees, and he's shaved his legs. He's wearing a blonde wig and subtle, classy make-up. High heels, too. He's not a pretty girl, not like, say, the Ways would be, but he's striking, the kind of woman you'd look at twice, and wonder about.
Then Bert whoops and the rest of the techs clap and wolf-whistle, and Jepha grins and strikes a pose, and it's just Jepha in a dress.
The illusion comes and goes over the course of the party. One minute it's Jepha, laughing and fooling around, and then he'll turn his head or shift his hips, and it's some blonde woman with Jepha's tattoos. Bob can't stop looking.
Bert wanders off with Gerard, and Quinn leaves with a merch-girl a little after that. Branden leaves when the puking starts, so it's just Bob and Jepha on the way back to the bus.
Jepha stumbles when his heels sink into the grass, and Bob catches him, the whole of Jepha's body pressed against his side, the fabric of his dress soft and warm against Bob's knuckles. Bob feels his whole face flush at the contact.
"Fucking heels, man," Jepha says, laughing, and leans on Bob all the way back to the bus.
Jepha takes the wig off as soon as they're inside, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and sprawls out on the couch. He's chewed all his lipstick off, but his eyes are still lined and dark, and he doesn't look like a girl, but he doesn't exactly look like Jepha in a dress either. Jepha catches him staring.
"What?" he says, frowning just a little.
Bob takes two steps forward and drops to his knees between Jepha's spread legs.
He runs his palms up the insides of Jepha's thighs, pushing his skirts up. Jepha is very still under his hands.
"I have a dick, man," he says, but he doesn't push Bob away.
"I know," Bob says, and wraps his hand around it.
Jepha's breath comes out in a rush when Bob takes the head of his dick into his mouth. Bob sucks him off fast and sloppy, and he swallows when Jepha comes.
Jepha's eyes are huge and glassy, but he tugs Bob up towards him, shifting around to lie under him.
Bob yanks his zipper open, pushes his pants and boxers down, until he can grind his cock against Jepha's thigh, against the silky fabric. Jepha's watching his face, and he comes almost embarrassingly fast, all over Jepha's dress.
Jepha smirks. "Way to go, Clinton."
"Bite me, Monica," Bob says, and kisses Jepha, quick and soft.
When he pulls back, Jepha blinks at him, eyes wide, mouth forming a little o. Then he smiles, tiny and sweet, and kisses Bob back.
16. Brian/Jepha, a conversation about pegging
for secrethappiness
"I don't know," Brian says conversationally. "If that's what you want, why don't you just fuck a guy?"
"Because tits are pretty awesome, Schechter."
"So if I had tits, this would be better?" Brian asks and snaps his hips down hard and fast.
Jepha gasps and arches up underneath him.
"I mean, if my flat chest bothers you, we could always stop." Brian pulls out almost all the way and stops moving, like it isn't an empty threat.
"No, fuck, Brian," Jepha says, grabbing his shoulder. "You have beautiful tits, come on."
Brian grins and starts moving again, reaching down to stroke Jepha's cock.
"Not better," Jepha says breathlessly. "Different."
"Damn right, not better," Brian mutters, and Jepha is coming all over his hand.
Brian lets go of Jepha's cock to brace both hands on the bed, lets go of everything to just fuck him.
Jepha smooths his palm down Brian's back. "You should try it," he says, slow and lazy. "I bet Iero's girlfriend knows what she's doing."
Brian laughs, blind-sided by the image, and comes.
Afterwards, sprawled out bonelessly on the bed, Jepha says, "Branden wants me to remind you that you owe him twenty bucks."
Brian snorts. "That's what you're thinking about in the afterglow?"
"It's from that bet, last summer, with the-"
"Oh, yeah, shit."
"This has been a lot of fun," Jepha says after a minute.
Brian opens his mouth, and Jepha pinches his nipple. "I meant the tour, asshole."
Brian grins at him.
"I was worried you were going to take Bob and run, and we'd never see you again."
"Nah, man, you know we love you guys," Brian says, reaching out to tug, gentle and affectionate, on Jepha's earlobe.
"We should do this again next year."
"Yeah," Brian says, already running the dates in his head, "definitely," and Jepha smiles against his shoulder.
The Used
17. Bert/Dan, loud giggling and semi-public sex
for ix_tab
It's kind of hard to tea-bag someone in a bunk, but for Dan, Bert is willing to make the effort.
It helps that Bert is small and flexible; there are not many benefits to being 5'2, and he has to look on the bright side where he can.
The key is moving fast. You have to get your balls on the other person's face before they can wake up all the way from you getting in their bunk.
Dan makes a startled squawking noise and Bert crows triumphantly.
"Don't break the new drummer!" Jepha yells from the front lounge.
"He's tough, he can handle it," Bert shouts back.
He's bent over Dan with his hands braced on either side of Dan's waist. He bounces on his heels a little to get in a couple more smacks, and Dan tips his head back and licks his balls.
Which is not the response Bert usually gets.
He flails a little with surprise and almost falls out of the bed, but Dan catches him, hauling him back into the bunk.
Bert squirms around until they're facing each other, and not a couple of inches from sixty-nining.
Dan is laughing and he looks smug.
Bert pokes him in the rib cage. "Dude, that is not a normal response to tea-bagging."
"Well, fuck, come sit on my face again and I'll bite your balls."
Bert sighs happily and rests his chin on Dan's chest. "That's just what your mother said last night."
"Really?" Dan says. "Because the way she told it, you were begging her to sit on your face."
Bert makes an outraged sound and digs his fingers into Dan's side.
"Fucker," Dan gasps, trying to writhe away from Bert's grip.
Bert scrambles on top of him, sliding his hands under Dan's shirt, reaching for his armpits.
Dan is big enough to just shove him right out of the bunk, but he lets Bert tickle him, giggling like crazy.
Between the ball-licking and the rubbing up against Dan, Bert is pretty turned on right now.
He slides his hips back and grinds down against Dan.
Dan is hard, too, and Bert freezes just for a second, but Dan just reaches down and grabs Bert's dick, still laughing, like it's nothing, or maybe like it's something, but not any different than Bert holding him down and tickling him.
Dan's jerking him hard and fast and dry, and Bert whines in the back of his throat.
Dan giggles harder, but claps his other hand over Bert's mouth, which right, Quinn and Jepha are like ten feet away.
Bert bites him anyway, and rubs his ass against Dan's dick. Dan's laughter hitches and his mouth drops open a little.
Bert swipes his tongue across Dan's palm, then pulls his head back to say, "Come on, get me off, and I'll blow you."
Dan switches hands, using the one that Bert licked to stroke his dick, and cupping his balls with the other one.
Bert manages not to shout when he comes, but it's a close thing.
He flops down onto Dan's chest. "Gimme a minute," he mumbles to Dan's pecs.
"Nah, it's cool," Dan says in a breathy voice. He's got both hands on Bert's hips, rocking his dick up against Bert's crotch.
Bert snorts but wiggles his ass obligingly.
"Are you mocking, oh, fuck, my technique here?" Dan asks.
"No, no," Bert says in a long-suffering voice. "I'll just lie here, and you know, think of the band."
Dan laughs, and comes.
Bert props his chin up on his forearm and watches Dan's face.
Dan smiles at him, then tugs on Bert's hair.
Bert shifts upwards, and Dan kisses him, just a quick, sweet press of lips.
Bert blinks.
Dan's eyes are already closing.
"Hey, I want to cuddle, asshole," Bert says, but quietly.
"I was napping," Dan says sleepily, but he loops an arm around Bert's shoulders.
Bert is quiet for a long moment, lying on Dan's chest and listening to him breath.
Finally, he disentangles himself carefully and puts his pants back on.
Quinn's sprawled out on the couch, Sidekick open, head in Jepha's lap.
Bert sits down on Jepha's other side.
They both look at him.
"So I guess we're keeping him," Jepha says.
"We have to keep him now," Quinn says. "Drummers are like baby birds, their moms won't take them back once you fuck them."
Bert pulls Quinn's hair and rest his head on Jepha's shoulder, and they both look cautiously pleased.
He doesn't really like change, but.
"Yeah," he says, "this is going to work out."
18. Bert/Jepha, backstage sex
for yan_tan_tether
Jepha sucks Bert off backstage before they play.
Bert's the only guy Jepha knows who gets more amped after sex. Or maybe it's just the roar of the crowd that gets him going.
"Fuck, yes," Bert says, breathless and sharp.
He pushes against Jepha's grip, trying to thrust, and Jepha holds him back until Bert whines in the back of his throat and yanks on Jepha's hair. Then Jepha lets go, lets him fuck his mouth.
Bert comes in his mouth with a heavy, ragged gasp, and Jepha doesn't swallow.
Instead he pushes to his feet and kisses Bert's open, panting mouth.
Bert jerks his head back, surprised. "Motherfucker," he says, spitting his own come onto the floor, but he's laughing.
Jepha smirks at him.
"So, I'd blow you, but you know, my voice," Bert says, deadpan, and Jepha nods back seriously. They crack up a second later.
"C'mon," Jepha says, "Branden's gonna kill us."
Jepha likes to wait.
Playing a concert is the most physically intense thing he's ever done, better than a piercing, better than a tattoo, better than a lot of the sex he's had. The music and the crowd's energy gets under his skin, a giddy rush running through his veins. When he goes on hard, the taste of Bert's come still on his tongue, it's like some flip is switched and all that energy becomes sexual.
He loves it, but he's fucking desperate when they get offstage.
He hands his bass off to the techs, hugs Branden and Quinn and tries not rub up against them. Then Bert is finally dragging him off into some dark corner of the venue.
He pushes Jepha up against the wall, shoving his hand down Jepha's pants.
Jepha bucks up into his grip, and grits out, "Bert, come on, please, your mouth."
The look Bert gives him, every time-Jepha's always relieved when he drops to his knees, like Bert really would hold out one day.
Bert still has his hand on Jepha's cock. He doesn't play around with his piercing or anything, just goes down until his mouth hits his fingers.
Jepha doesn't need a lot of finesse or time before he's coming, his orgasm hitting like a tidal wave.
Bert spits and bounces to his feet while Jepha concentrates on keeping his knees locked.
Then Bert headbutts Jepha in the chest and runs off down the hall.
"I love you, too, asshole!" Jepha yells after him.
19. Bert/Quinn, with Bert being a little crazy
for neery
"Fucking cunt-ass whore of a motherfucker," Bert says and hurls the empty bottle of tequila across the parking lot to join the remains of his cellphone.
Jepha hands over the next bottle without comment.
Bert's voice is hoarse and broken from screaming, and his eyes are red-rimmed.
Quinn has never really liked Gerard, and, fine, a huge part of that is jealousy, but he would welcome him back with open fucking arms if it meant not seeing Bert like this.
But since hell is unlikely to freeze over anytime soon, Quinn is grimly happy to imagine a slow, painful death for Gerard instead. He wonders if he could turn Bob.
Bert pulls the bottle away from his mouth, slopping liquor all over himself. He sways on his feet, and Quinn grabs his elbow just as he lurches forward and vomits.
Branden's got his other shoulder and they hold him up until he's done puking. Bert spits a bunch of times and rinses his mouth out with tequila.
He scrubs his hand over his face, and they pretend his eyes are watering from puking.
"Fuck, I want-what's the number for Jake's guy?" Bert asks.
"No," Quinn says instinctively. Bert's been pretty good about the hard drugs lately, but Quinn's suddenly afraid that Bert will do something stupid just as a fuck you to Gerard.
Bert snarls at Quinn's no, and Quinn holds up another bottle.
"Why bother? We've got a shitload of booze right here."
Bert's expression eases a little. He takes the bottle, and Quinn wonders briefly if alcohol poisoning is really better than whatever they could get from Jake's guy.
Bert takes a couple of slugs from the bottle, but pretty soon he's leaning on Quinn, snuffling into his shoulder.
"Wanna lie down," he slurs.
"Okay," Quinn says, and turns him back towards the bus.
Quinn waves Jepha and Branden off, and they squeeze his shoulder when they leave.
Bert turns around at the top of the bus steps. He leans forward and Quinn puts out a hand to brace him, and then Bert is kissing him.
He tastes like vomit and tequila and Quinn kisses back automatically, like they're on stage, like this is something they do.
He catches himself right away, jerking his head back.
"No, hey," he says.
Bert's expression crumples, and he presses his face into Quinn's shoulder. Quinn wraps an arm around his waist and they stand like that for a long time, until Bert lets out a shaky laugh and says, "Still wanna lie down."
He's asleep as soon as he hits his bunk. Quinn leaves bottles of water and aspirin where Bert will find them, then sets about making a dent in the bottle of tequila.
When he wakes up in the morning, Bert is sucking his dick.
Quinn makes a strangled noise, and Bert hums in agreement.
"Bert, what the fuck?" Quinn grits out, tugging at Bert's hair, not quite hard enough to pull him off.
Bert looks up at him and smirks around his cock.
He sucks hard at the head, then pulls off with a wet pop. "You can't come in my mouth," he says in a gravelly voice. "I'm so hung-over, I'll puke if you come in my mouth. But you can totally come on my face."
Quinn is going to tell him that won't be a problem, but then Bert swallows him down again, sloppy and enthusiastic, and suddenly stopping seems like a worse idea than letting Bert do this.
His breath hitches, and just like that he's on the edge. "Bert," he says, and tugs on his hair again.
Bert pulls off and presses his thumb right behind Quinn's balls. Quinn comes hard, shooting all over Bert's face and chest.
Bert giggles and squirms his way up to wipe his face off on Quinn's t-shirt.
Quinn bats half-heartedly at his head, and Bert lunges up the last few inches to kiss him. He tastes like dick and toothpaste, and it makes something in Quinn's chest squeeze up tight to realize that Bert brushed his teeth to blow him.
"Bert," he says again, and he can't quite get the question out.
Bert's smile fades a little, but he doesn't look unhappy. "You know that expression, it's all over but the screaming?" He puts his head down on Quinn's shoulder. "That, last night, was the screaming."
"Oh," Quinn says, like that's any kind of explanation.
Bert drapes his arm possessively over Quinn's waist. "Go to sleep, fucker, I feel like shit."
"Okay," Quinn says.
He's almost asleep when he feels Bert whisper, "Love you," against his skin.
Part one is here (here if you want to skip the incest).
(And in case you were wondering, nothing under the cut-tags is appropriate for minors. Or, you know, true.)
My Chemical Romance/Fueled by Ramen
10. Andy/Bob/Spencer, happy sex
for magdalyna
"This is a stupid climate," Spencer says, and it's muffled by two wool scarves and the collar of his parka.
Bob laughs and it comes out as a puff of steam in the freezing air.
"Yeah, but this is best time of year to go to the conservatory," Andy says, and Spencer makes a dubious noise.
"Oh," he says, when they walk inside, and Andy and Bob both grin at him, even though Andy's glasses steamed up immediately and he can't see anything.
The hot, humid air enfolds them, and it smells like earth and green growing things, and coming in from the cold is like stepping into a completely different world.
They wander through the greenhouse, admiring the strangeness of the plant kingdom. Fragments of the lead-grey Chicago sky are visible through the vegetation if they look up, and Andy's never been sure if that ruins the illusion of a different world or heightens it.
The Lincoln Park Zoo is maybe two hundred feet away, and even though Bob says it's the best free zoo in the country and Spencer's never been, they're not going, because in his secret heart of hearts, Andy hates zoos. He played it off like a joke when Bob suggested it last summer, because he knows how it sounds to say zoos break his heart, but they just looked at him, and Bob shrugged and said he'd take Spencer sometime when Andy wasn't in town. Sometimes he loves them kind of a ridiculous amount.
It's only four when they leave, but it's already getting dark, because, visiting the conservatory aside, Spencer is right, this is a stupid climate. But there's homemade vegan chili in the slow-cooker at home, and a six-pack of one the micro-brews Spencer's currently obsessed with.
(That's the other thing Bob and Spencer say they do without Andy: eat a fuckload of red meat. Andy's pretty sure they don't; they always taste more like vegans than carnivores.)
Bob cooked (it's a recipe from Frank), so Andy does the dishes. By which he means he loads the dishwasher. ("It's more environmentally correct than washing dishes by hand," he explained. "Also, you're a lazy bastard," Joe said, and Andy shrugged and nodded.)
When he comes back out to the living room, Spencer is in Bob's lap and they're making out, sweet and slow.
"Hey," he says mildly, and Spencer flips him off.
He sits down on the couch next to them, and Bob puts his hand on Andy's thigh, warm and solid, thumb sliding down to stroke the inside of his leg.
Bob and Spencer pull apart, and Bob rolls his head to the side to smile at Andy. Andy leans in and kisses him while Spencer sucks on Bob's neck.
They make out on the couch, trading kisses and touches like they have all the time in the world. (They have ten days. Andy doesn't think about that.)
Finally Spencer slides off their laps and says, "Okay, fuck, bedroom, let's go."
Spencer hooks his hands in Andy's waistband and kisses him, walking backwards and pulling him along. They almost crash into a wall, but Bob's there to catch Andy's hips and herd them safely into the bedroom.
Spencer just keeps walking backwards until he hits the bed and flops down on it, dragging Andy down on top of him. Bob is still standing, kicking off his slippers and peeling off his clothes while Andy and Spencer try to get each other naked.
Bob sits down on the bed, laughing at their fumbling, and he strokes a warm palm down Andy's back.
Andy sits up and gets his shirt off, pausing to kiss Bob, while Spencer unbuttons his own shirt.
Later in the week, they'll fuck, slow and careful and intense, but for now, this is what Andy wants, blowjobs and making out and laughter.
Spencer pops the buttons on Andy's fly and wraps his hand around Andy's cock. Bob straddles Spencer's legs behind Andy, sliding his arms around Andy's waist and adding his hand to Spencer's.
He kisses Andy's neck while they jerk him off, smooth and steady and not quite fast enough.
"Guys, please," he gasps out, and Bob kneels up, lifting him just enough for Spencer to squirm down and get his mouth on Andy's cock, warm and wet and perfect, and he's coming without any warning.
He slumps down bonelessly against Bob, lets Bob manhandle him onto his back on the bed. He stretches his arms above his head, enjoying the languid warmth in his muscles, as he watches Bob and Spencer kiss.
Bob nudges Spencer onto his back, his head resting on Andy's thigh. Andy reaches down and runs his fingers through Spencer's hair, making tiny circles on his scalp as Bob blows him.
Bob holds one hand out and Andy knows what he wants right away. He catches his hand and licks at his fingers. He feels Bob's tiny shiver as he sucks on his ring finger, rubbing his tongue piercing back and forth over the callused pad.
When he lets go of Bob's hand, Bob slides one slick finger inside Spencer, and Spencer arches up hard, mouth falling open, coming with a soundless gasp.
Andy keeps his hand on Spencer's head, gentling him through it.
Later, they'll have time to make Bob beg, but right now, Andy is content to roll onto his side and kiss Spencer around Bob's cock. They take turns, one swallowing Bob down while the other licks at his balls and the base of his cock, until Bob pulls hard on Andy's hair, and says, "Now, now," voice thin and tight.
Andy pulls off just enough for Bob to come on his face.
"Shit," Bob says reverently.
Spencer licks Bob's come off Andy's face, and Bob gives a tiny, shaky laugh. "Show-offs," he says and flops backwards onto the pillows.
Spencer kisses Andy, both of them still holding on to Bob's thighs, easy and unhurried.
They shift around a bit to get under the covers when they get cold, and somewhere in the middle of talking about whether they're going shoe shopping tomorrow, Andy falls asleep.
When he wakes up, Spencer is snoring in his ear, and Bob is gone.
Andy pulls on his robe and his jacket and his boots, and goes out to join Bob on the tiny balcony.
Bob blows out a stream of smoke and breath, and glances over at him. Andy sits down next to him and rests his head on Bob's shoulder.
He's been trying not to think about how, in ten days, Bob is going back on tour with his band, and how, a week after that, Spencer is going back to Vegas, and Andy is going to LA, and they're all going to be on the road for the foreseeable future.
Sometimes he's not sure if this will work. They're apart more than they're together, and they spend almost as much time as pairs as they do as a threesome. But they have this apartment to come back to, and they've mastered three-way conference call phone sex, and-
"The alternative is worse," Bob says quietly.
Andy likes that about him, the way they can talk these things out without saying anything.
Bob spends the most time on the road ("Because his band hates love," Brendon said sadly), but he seems the calmest and most confident about the relationship, and if that's not true, then Andy is glad that at least one of them can fake it.
Bob puts his cigarette out before Andy gets frostbite, and they go back inside, picking their way around the detritus of half a dozen drum-kits. They make out in front of the radiator for a little while, so they're not freezing when they get back into bed.
Spencer is curled on his side, one hand splayed out where Andy used to be, and he has a tiny frown on his face. It makes him look ridiculously young, even with the beard.
"Do you ever worry that we're, I don't know, too old for him?" Bob asks.
"No," Andy says, "but then, I've been hanging out with Pete for a really long time."
Bob snorts and bumps their shoulders together, and they climb into bed on either side of Spencer. Spencer's frown disappears as soon as he feels their warmth.
Andy curls himself around Spencer and reaches one hand out to touch Bob. Bob's right, he decides, as their breathing evens out. He can't imagine wanting anything else.
11. Gerard/Panic, die period slow period
for liketheroad
"Look," Ryan says with a tiny sigh. "It's not like we don't appreciate the shout-out, but it just seems a little petty. Also, I don't think anyone who has a period and an exclamation point in the title of the first two songs on his last album is really in the position to mock our artistic punctuation choices."
If Gerard has anything to say to that, it's muffled by Ryan's cock.
"But that's not what this is about." Ryan is kneeling over Gerard, fucking his mouth with tiny, controlled strokes. "We just want to show you how much potential that album title has. The French call orgasm the little death, you know. Of course you know." Ryan leans in a little conspiratorially. "You and I are both the kind of guys who know that."
Gerard makes a noise, and it might be indignation, or it might be agreement.
"So here's how it's going to work. You're going to suck me off while Jon fucks me. Brendon's going to blow you, but he won't let you come. He can get a little carried away, but don't worry, Spencer is going to keep him on task."
Gerard jerks hard against the restraints holding him spread-eagled on the bed.
"Yeah, Spencer's also going to rim you while he's there."
Gerard whines in the back of his throat.
"I know," Ryan says, petting his hair gently. "If you get me off before Jon comes, you can come in Brendon's mouth."
Jon sticks a couple of pillows under Gerard's head. Ryan shuffles around a bit so he's kneeling behind Gerard, like they're going to sixty-nine, and looks back over his shoulder at Jon.
Ryan's already slick and open, and Jon just slides in, no hesitation. They find a rhythm easily, Jon pushing into Ryan, pushing Ryan's dick into Gerard's mouth.
Gerard gets close a couple of times, but Spencer is always there, tugging Brendon's head back, wrapping his hand around the base of Gerard's cock and squeezing, so Gerard whines and bucks up into his grip, and sucks Ryan harder.
Ryan comes first, pulling out of Gerard's mouth to stripe his face and chest with come. Jon is a few ragged strokes behind, collapsing down over Ryan's back.
"Please," Gerard says, low and hoarse, and Ryan whispers in his ear, "Slowest death ever."
He looks over at Brendon and Spencer and nods, and that's when the door opens.
"Sorry," Mikey says, one hand over his eyes. "But we really need our lead singer back."
Brendon pulls off of Gerard's cock and asks, "How did you find us?"
"Pete turned on the GPS tracking in your phones. And I think you owe me for that piece of information."
Ryan exchanges a look with Spencer, then Spencer sighs and says, "The handcuff keys are in my bag."
"That's okay," Mikey says. "Worm brought bolt-cutters."
Worm holds the bolt-cutters up with the phlegmatic expression of a man who has spent many, many years touring with the Ways.
"So, you know..."
"Um," Gerard says faintly from the bed. "Could you give us fifteen minutes?"
12. Gerard Way/William Beckett, breath play and submission
for reciprocon
William Beckett is a rockstar. The term implies, he feels, a certain sophistication, a jaded attitude towards the chemical and sexual excesses of the so-called rock-and-roll lifestyle.
Which means he should be way more cool about Gerard fucking Way pressing him into the wall in AK-47's bathroom, eyes hot, cheeks flushed, mouth just a little open.
William's hand is still wrapped around Gerard's tie, and okay, maybe he should have been more careful about pulling on the neckwear of people he's not friends with, but he really could not have predicted this reaction.
"What do you want?" he asks, and at least his voice comes out low and husky, not squeaky.
Gerard smirks. "That's the wrong question."
William doesn't think about, just turns his hand a fraction, pulling Gerard's tie that much tighter.
Gerard's smirk slips.
"Fine," William says. "I want you to suck my cock."
He meets Gerard's eyes, staring him down, straightening up to show off every inch of his extra height.
Gerard stares back, until William tugs downward, careful and deliberate, on his tie.
Gerard drops to his knees, resting his hands on William's hips. He glances at the door, and William laughs without meaning to.
"Dude, I really don't mind if someone sees me getting blown by Gerard Way." It might damage his authority this situation, but it's completely true.
Gerard's smirk is back, not mean, just amused. He's worried he might have broken the mood, but then Gerard undoes the top button of his jeans, and hi, yes, the mood is back.
"Just so you know," Gerard says as he unzips William's fly. "I'm not going to say no unless I mean it."
"Okay," William says faintly.
Gerard leans in and licks the head of William's cock. He watches William's face, and now he's smirking with his goddamn eyes.
William is very conscious of the fact that he still has Gerard's tie wrapped around his hand, tighter now that Gerard is on his knees. He's not sure he's qualified for this. He keeps that hand loose, and grabs a fistful of Gerard's hair with his other hand instead, yanking his head back.
"Quit fucking around."
Gerard's mouth falls open and William uses the opportunity to push his cock into Gerard's mouth until he hits the back of Gerard's throat. Gerard makes a tiny noise, but doesn't struggle, and William takes that as permission to fuck his mouth with easy, shallow thrusts.
Gerard reaches up to touch William's wrist, sliding one thumb down until it brushes over the fabric of his tie.
William hesitates for a moment before he pulls a little harder. Gerard's eyes flutter, and he drops his hand to his own cock.
"No," Williams says, hoarse and sharp, surprising both of them.
Gerard moves his hand back to William's hip, not holding him back, just resting there while William uses his mouth. He seems softer now, not laughing, leaning into him, and his submission isn't perfect, isn't complete, but it's close enough for William.
William can't look away from Gerard's face, from his mouth wrapped around his cock, feeding the hot, slick tension in his belly, wrapping around his spine. He pulls Gerard's head back at the last minute to come on his face with an inarticulate groan.
Gerard looks startled, and lifts his hand as if to wipe his face off.
"No," William says again, and he has no idea where this is coming from. He lets go of Gerard and puts his foot on Gerard's shoulder, pushing him back almost gently onto the floor.
"Jerk yourself off," he says, pinning Gerard down with his boot.
Gerard does.
He's still got the warm glow of orgasm running through his veins, and this shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, but God.
Gerard comes fast, arching up and shuddering under him.
"Holy fuck," William whispers, and Gerard laughs.
Gerard's face is flushed and sleepy, and the smirk is back around his eyes. He wipes his hand off on his tie and digs out his cigarettes, not bothering to get up.
William slumps against the wall, afterglow and adrenaline starting to fade.
Gerard crosses his legs at the ankle and blows a stream of smoke at William. "You got potential, kid," he says.
"Oh," William says, tucking his hair behind his ears automatically. "Thank you."
He is a rockstar. He can take a compliment.
My Chemical Romance/The Used
13. Bert/Gerard/Jepha, cross-dressing
for klashfor
It's the kind of party where, about halfway through, people are leaving clothes in semi-public places. Which means it's the kind of party where, about halfway through, Bert ends up in a dress.
Jepha watches him laugh as Gerard twirls him. They disappear together a little while later.
Jepha walks in on them while he's trying to find an unoccupied bathroom. They're not fucking; Bert is sitting on the bed and Gerard is standing between his legs, carefully applying eyeliner to Bert's eyes.
Bert doesn't move his head, just slides his eyes sideways when Jepha open the door. He smiles and holds out a hand.
Jepha glances at Gerard, who doesn't look pissed. Then he closes the door behind him and locks it.
He leans back against the door, arms crossed over his chest as Gerard turns back to Bert. They're both fully clothed, but in some weird way it feels more intimate than sex.
Bert's face is turned up to Gerard and he's holding himself very still, eyes closed now as Gerard swipes shadow over the lids. Gerard has one hand on Bert's face, delicate and careful, and an intent, serious expression as he applies the make-up.
Finally he steps back and nods, then frowns. He looks at the pile of cosmetics next to Bert. "Hang on," he says, and goes into the bathroom.
Bert looks over at Jepha and makes grabby hands at him.
Jepha walks over and touches Bert's chin, turning his head a little to examine Gerard's work. "Looks good," he says and Bert beams at him. It does look good, dark and smoky, but not over the top.
He runs his thumb over the line of Bert's jaw. Bert came to the party with stubble you could polish diamonds on, but his skin is completely smooth now. Bert never puts this much work into dressing like a girl. Jepha wonders if Gerard shaved Bert's legs, too.
Bert tugs him down next to him on the bed so he can lean into Jepha's shoulder.
"He's so-" Bert says, and sighs, and looks up at Jepha with his painted eyes. "I want you to play, too."
Jepha makes a noncommittal sound and reaches around Bert to pick up the hairbrush. Bert always wants to share the things that make him happy. Jepha knows that Bert means it, drunk or sober, but he was never sure if Gerard did, so he's never taken Bert up on the offer.
He shifts around to sit behind Bert and starts pulling the brush through Bert's hair in sections, holding it by the roots so it doesn't hurt. Bert hums, and sits still.
Bert's hair could stand to be washed, but when he's done, it lies smooth and untangled around his face. Jepha's starting to wonder if Gerard got lost in the bathroom, but when he looks up, Gerard is watching them, face unreadable.
He meets Jepha's eyes, and it occurs to Jepha that Gerard is sober now. He lets his hand rest on Bert's hip and looks back, calm and steady.
Gerard comes over to stand between Bert's legs again, uncapping the lipstick. It's the kind you have to paint on, wet and shining, a dark, dark red, like wine or old blood.
When he's done, Bert turns halfway around so Jepha can see.
"Huh," Jepha says.
Bert looks beautiful. Not feminine-even in the dim light of the bedroom, you wouldn't mistake him for a girl-but the make-up emphasizes his eyes and his mouth, making them startling, striking.
Gerard tucks a strand of Bert's hair back behind his ear. "I kind of wanted to show you off," he says, "but..."
He leans in, but Bert pulls back and turns his head aside just a little. "You'll mess up my lipstick," he says with a shaky laugh, and Jepha can smell the alcohol on it. "You should kiss Jepha instead."
Jepha hasn't been drinking tonight.
Gerard's face is still for a second, then his lips quirk and he leans in to press his mouth against Jepha's.
Jepha's grip tightens on Bert's hip, and he opens his mouth. Gerard tastes like diet Coke and cigarettes.
The kiss is slow and deliberate, and he can feel Bert's breath catch.
Then Gerard hisses into his mouth, and breaks the kiss. Bert has his hand on Gerard's cock, gripping him through his jeans.
"I wanna mess up my lipstick on your cock," he says.
"Okay," Gerard says, and his eyes are just a little wide.
Jepha grins at him and tugs him onto the bed. They get him settled against the headboard, and Bert kneels between his legs. He tucks his hair behind his ears again, and looks up through his lashes at Gerard. Jepha almost laughs at the way that action makes him look more like a girl than the make-up and the dress combined, even though it's something he's seen Bert do a thousand times before.
He slides Gerard's dick into his mouth and Gerard lets out a shaky breath. Jepha kisses him, but Gerard seems kind of distracted. Which Jepha can sympathize with-he'd rather watch Bert suck his cock than be kissed, too.
He eases back, and Gerard's gaze drops immediately to Bert's face.
Jepha watches them for a minute longer, but he doesn't feel particularly necessary anymore. He shifts his weight, about to make a discreet exit, and Bert reaches out to grab his thigh.
"Okay," Jepha says softly, and wraps his own hand around Bert's ankle. His legs are shaved.
He slides his hand up Bert's calf, smooth skin under his palm all the way. He urges Bert to kneel up, so he can push the tight skirt up past his hips, so he can lean in and drag the underside of his tongue from Bert's tailbone to his balls.
Bert sucks in a breath around Gerard's cock and spreads his legs wider.
Jepha licks him slow and lazy. Even his ass is smooth and soft under his hands, and distantly, Jepha admires Gerard's attention to detail.
Gerard's breathing is fast and unsteady over the slick sounds of Bert and Jepha's mouths.
"Fuck, Bert," Gerard says hoarsely, and his hips jerk up.
Bert swallows, and it's actually audible, then pulls off of Gerard's cock, letting his head drop forward.
Jepha reaches a hand around to jerk Bert off, and after a minute, Gerard's hand joins him.
Bert moans, shoving his dick into their hands and pressing back against Jepha's mouth. He comes with a ragged, gasping sigh, and Jepha strokes the back of his thigh soothingly.
Bert flops down onto his side so he can look up at them.
He smiles, sleepy and satisfied, and reaches out to pet Jepha's cock through his jeans.
Jepha grimaces at the soft touch, and Gerard laughs.
"Here, let me," he says, pushing Jepha onto his back.
He gets Jepha's dick out of his jeans and into his mouth, and Jepha's eyes slide shut. Bert rolls over and drapes himself across Jepha's chest to kiss him, open-mouthed and easy. There's still a trace of lipstick on his mouth, sticky-sweet over the taste of Gerard's come.
Jepha tangles his fingers in Bert's hair and stops thinking about anything except their mouths. He breaks the kiss at the last minute to say, "Gerard, shit, I'm gonna-"
Gerard pulls off and jerks him the rest of the way through while Bert sucks on his neck.
Gerard wipes his hand off on the bedspread, and leans in to kiss the corner of Bert's mouth.
Bert turns his head, but keeps his arm draped possessively over Jepha's chest. They kiss, closed-mouth and almost chaste, and then Gerard curls himself around Bert's other side.
Jepha can hear the soft murmur of their conversation, sweet and happy-sounding, but he closes his eyes again and doesn't focus on it.
Right before sleep pulls him under, he feels Bert kiss his cheek. There's no lipstick at all left on his mouth.
14. Bert/Gerard/Ray, sticky-tape
for claireweasley
Ray is not drunk enough for this shit.
If he were more drunk, he'd have an excuse for not doing this. But as it is, he's the one whose hands are steady enough to cut Bert free from the couch while Gerard hovers anxiously in the background.
He is resolutely not asking why Bert is duct-taped naked to the couch, because Gerard isn't wearing pants, either, and really, Ray can connect the dots on his own.
"Hold still," Ray says as Bert squirms, pressing into Ray's thigh.
On the other hand, Ray may be too drunk for this shit.
He's been half-hard ever since he walked in and saw Bert stretched out on the sofa, bound wrists over his head emphasizing the lines of his compact, tattooed body. Now he feels hyper-aware of Bert as he leans over him.
When Ray finally gets him free, Bert scrambles up and jumps on him. Unprepared, Ray falls back on the couch and ends up with Bert in his lap.
Bert plants a wet, smacking kiss on Ray's mouth and grins at him.
Bert is tiny, but he seems to take up more space naked. Ray doesn't know where to put his hands.
Bert's smile fades as he looks at Ray, until he's left with a considering expression.
Then he turns his head to look at Gerard and say, "He's pretty. Can we keep him?"
Gerard is watching them with a tiny frown, but his expression clears as he takes the last couple of steps and kneels the couch next to them.
"You want to?" he says to Bert.
Bert gives him a smile, the one that Ray almost never sees, sweet and happy.
"Um," Ray says, and Bert slides forward another few inches, grinding their hips together, catching Ray's face between his palms and kissing him.
Ray's hands go to Bert's hips automatically. Bert is hard, and kisses enthusiastically, and Ray doesn't mean to open his mouth, but he does anyway.
He's conscious of Gerard watching them, and it's not as weird as he vaguely thinks it should be.
Then Gerard is undoing the buttons on Ray's jeans and pulling his dick out.
Gerard fumbles for a minute and then gets Ray's dick lined up with Bert's so he can wrap his hand around both of them. At the first rough stroke, Bert hisses against Ray's mouth, but he doesn't pull away.
Bert digs his hands into Ray's hair, the tape on his wrists brushing Ray's skin, and Ray slides his hands back to cup Bert's ass. They both rock their hips up, thrusting into Gerard's fist, kissing slow and deep and sloppy as he jerks them off.
Bert pulls his mouth away with a harsh breath, pressing his face against Ray's shoulder as he comes. Gerard catches Ray's eye, dark and intent, and rubs his thumb over the head of Ray's cock.
"Fuck," Ray says, and comes all over his hand.
Bert straightens up and flings himself at Gerard. Gerard goes over onto his back, laughing. Bert wiggles down to get his mouth on Gerard's cock, and Gerard stops laughing with a gasp, eyes fluttering shut.
Ray watches Bert suck Gerard off, and he's back to not knowing what to do with his hands. Then Gerard opens his eyes and looks straight at Ray.
Ray kneels on the floor next to the couch and bends down to kiss Gerard. He's soft and careful, until Gerard grips the back of his neck and opens his mouth.
Gerard is still kissing him when he comes.
Bert inches forward a bit to kiss Ray's shoulder. "So keeping him."
"Yeah," Gerard says against Ray's mouth. "Yeah."
15. Bob/Jepha, cross-dressing
for berserkide
Bob almost drops his beer when Jepha comes out of the back lounge. When Jepha said he was going as Marilyn Monroe for Halloween, Bob had believed him, but he hadn't thought Jepha was going to take it seriously.
Jepha's costume isn't a joke. The white dress actually fits him, flaring out at the knees, and he's shaved his legs. He's wearing a blonde wig and subtle, classy make-up. High heels, too. He's not a pretty girl, not like, say, the Ways would be, but he's striking, the kind of woman you'd look at twice, and wonder about.
Then Bert whoops and the rest of the techs clap and wolf-whistle, and Jepha grins and strikes a pose, and it's just Jepha in a dress.
The illusion comes and goes over the course of the party. One minute it's Jepha, laughing and fooling around, and then he'll turn his head or shift his hips, and it's some blonde woman with Jepha's tattoos. Bob can't stop looking.
Bert wanders off with Gerard, and Quinn leaves with a merch-girl a little after that. Branden leaves when the puking starts, so it's just Bob and Jepha on the way back to the bus.
Jepha stumbles when his heels sink into the grass, and Bob catches him, the whole of Jepha's body pressed against his side, the fabric of his dress soft and warm against Bob's knuckles. Bob feels his whole face flush at the contact.
"Fucking heels, man," Jepha says, laughing, and leans on Bob all the way back to the bus.
Jepha takes the wig off as soon as they're inside, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and sprawls out on the couch. He's chewed all his lipstick off, but his eyes are still lined and dark, and he doesn't look like a girl, but he doesn't exactly look like Jepha in a dress either. Jepha catches him staring.
"What?" he says, frowning just a little.
Bob takes two steps forward and drops to his knees between Jepha's spread legs.
He runs his palms up the insides of Jepha's thighs, pushing his skirts up. Jepha is very still under his hands.
"I have a dick, man," he says, but he doesn't push Bob away.
"I know," Bob says, and wraps his hand around it.
Jepha's breath comes out in a rush when Bob takes the head of his dick into his mouth. Bob sucks him off fast and sloppy, and he swallows when Jepha comes.
Jepha's eyes are huge and glassy, but he tugs Bob up towards him, shifting around to lie under him.
Bob yanks his zipper open, pushes his pants and boxers down, until he can grind his cock against Jepha's thigh, against the silky fabric. Jepha's watching his face, and he comes almost embarrassingly fast, all over Jepha's dress.
Jepha smirks. "Way to go, Clinton."
"Bite me, Monica," Bob says, and kisses Jepha, quick and soft.
When he pulls back, Jepha blinks at him, eyes wide, mouth forming a little o. Then he smiles, tiny and sweet, and kisses Bob back.
16. Brian/Jepha, a conversation about pegging
for secrethappiness
"I don't know," Brian says conversationally. "If that's what you want, why don't you just fuck a guy?"
"Because tits are pretty awesome, Schechter."
"So if I had tits, this would be better?" Brian asks and snaps his hips down hard and fast.
Jepha gasps and arches up underneath him.
"I mean, if my flat chest bothers you, we could always stop." Brian pulls out almost all the way and stops moving, like it isn't an empty threat.
"No, fuck, Brian," Jepha says, grabbing his shoulder. "You have beautiful tits, come on."
Brian grins and starts moving again, reaching down to stroke Jepha's cock.
"Not better," Jepha says breathlessly. "Different."
"Damn right, not better," Brian mutters, and Jepha is coming all over his hand.
Brian lets go of Jepha's cock to brace both hands on the bed, lets go of everything to just fuck him.
Jepha smooths his palm down Brian's back. "You should try it," he says, slow and lazy. "I bet Iero's girlfriend knows what she's doing."
Brian laughs, blind-sided by the image, and comes.
Afterwards, sprawled out bonelessly on the bed, Jepha says, "Branden wants me to remind you that you owe him twenty bucks."
Brian snorts. "That's what you're thinking about in the afterglow?"
"It's from that bet, last summer, with the-"
"Oh, yeah, shit."
"This has been a lot of fun," Jepha says after a minute.
Brian opens his mouth, and Jepha pinches his nipple. "I meant the tour, asshole."
Brian grins at him.
"I was worried you were going to take Bob and run, and we'd never see you again."
"Nah, man, you know we love you guys," Brian says, reaching out to tug, gentle and affectionate, on Jepha's earlobe.
"We should do this again next year."
"Yeah," Brian says, already running the dates in his head, "definitely," and Jepha smiles against his shoulder.
The Used
17. Bert/Dan, loud giggling and semi-public sex
for ix_tab
It's kind of hard to tea-bag someone in a bunk, but for Dan, Bert is willing to make the effort.
It helps that Bert is small and flexible; there are not many benefits to being 5'2, and he has to look on the bright side where he can.
The key is moving fast. You have to get your balls on the other person's face before they can wake up all the way from you getting in their bunk.
Dan makes a startled squawking noise and Bert crows triumphantly.
"Don't break the new drummer!" Jepha yells from the front lounge.
"He's tough, he can handle it," Bert shouts back.
He's bent over Dan with his hands braced on either side of Dan's waist. He bounces on his heels a little to get in a couple more smacks, and Dan tips his head back and licks his balls.
Which is not the response Bert usually gets.
He flails a little with surprise and almost falls out of the bed, but Dan catches him, hauling him back into the bunk.
Bert squirms around until they're facing each other, and not a couple of inches from sixty-nining.
Dan is laughing and he looks smug.
Bert pokes him in the rib cage. "Dude, that is not a normal response to tea-bagging."
"Well, fuck, come sit on my face again and I'll bite your balls."
Bert sighs happily and rests his chin on Dan's chest. "That's just what your mother said last night."
"Really?" Dan says. "Because the way she told it, you were begging her to sit on your face."
Bert makes an outraged sound and digs his fingers into Dan's side.
"Fucker," Dan gasps, trying to writhe away from Bert's grip.
Bert scrambles on top of him, sliding his hands under Dan's shirt, reaching for his armpits.
Dan is big enough to just shove him right out of the bunk, but he lets Bert tickle him, giggling like crazy.
Between the ball-licking and the rubbing up against Dan, Bert is pretty turned on right now.
He slides his hips back and grinds down against Dan.
Dan is hard, too, and Bert freezes just for a second, but Dan just reaches down and grabs Bert's dick, still laughing, like it's nothing, or maybe like it's something, but not any different than Bert holding him down and tickling him.
Dan's jerking him hard and fast and dry, and Bert whines in the back of his throat.
Dan giggles harder, but claps his other hand over Bert's mouth, which right, Quinn and Jepha are like ten feet away.
Bert bites him anyway, and rubs his ass against Dan's dick. Dan's laughter hitches and his mouth drops open a little.
Bert swipes his tongue across Dan's palm, then pulls his head back to say, "Come on, get me off, and I'll blow you."
Dan switches hands, using the one that Bert licked to stroke his dick, and cupping his balls with the other one.
Bert manages not to shout when he comes, but it's a close thing.
He flops down onto Dan's chest. "Gimme a minute," he mumbles to Dan's pecs.
"Nah, it's cool," Dan says in a breathy voice. He's got both hands on Bert's hips, rocking his dick up against Bert's crotch.
Bert snorts but wiggles his ass obligingly.
"Are you mocking, oh, fuck, my technique here?" Dan asks.
"No, no," Bert says in a long-suffering voice. "I'll just lie here, and you know, think of the band."
Dan laughs, and comes.
Bert props his chin up on his forearm and watches Dan's face.
Dan smiles at him, then tugs on Bert's hair.
Bert shifts upwards, and Dan kisses him, just a quick, sweet press of lips.
Bert blinks.
Dan's eyes are already closing.
"Hey, I want to cuddle, asshole," Bert says, but quietly.
"I was napping," Dan says sleepily, but he loops an arm around Bert's shoulders.
Bert is quiet for a long moment, lying on Dan's chest and listening to him breath.
Finally, he disentangles himself carefully and puts his pants back on.
Quinn's sprawled out on the couch, Sidekick open, head in Jepha's lap.
Bert sits down on Jepha's other side.
They both look at him.
"So I guess we're keeping him," Jepha says.
"We have to keep him now," Quinn says. "Drummers are like baby birds, their moms won't take them back once you fuck them."
Bert pulls Quinn's hair and rest his head on Jepha's shoulder, and they both look cautiously pleased.
He doesn't really like change, but.
"Yeah," he says, "this is going to work out."
18. Bert/Jepha, backstage sex
for yan_tan_tether
Jepha sucks Bert off backstage before they play.
Bert's the only guy Jepha knows who gets more amped after sex. Or maybe it's just the roar of the crowd that gets him going.
"Fuck, yes," Bert says, breathless and sharp.
He pushes against Jepha's grip, trying to thrust, and Jepha holds him back until Bert whines in the back of his throat and yanks on Jepha's hair. Then Jepha lets go, lets him fuck his mouth.
Bert comes in his mouth with a heavy, ragged gasp, and Jepha doesn't swallow.
Instead he pushes to his feet and kisses Bert's open, panting mouth.
Bert jerks his head back, surprised. "Motherfucker," he says, spitting his own come onto the floor, but he's laughing.
Jepha smirks at him.
"So, I'd blow you, but you know, my voice," Bert says, deadpan, and Jepha nods back seriously. They crack up a second later.
"C'mon," Jepha says, "Branden's gonna kill us."
Jepha likes to wait.
Playing a concert is the most physically intense thing he's ever done, better than a piercing, better than a tattoo, better than a lot of the sex he's had. The music and the crowd's energy gets under his skin, a giddy rush running through his veins. When he goes on hard, the taste of Bert's come still on his tongue, it's like some flip is switched and all that energy becomes sexual.
He loves it, but he's fucking desperate when they get offstage.
He hands his bass off to the techs, hugs Branden and Quinn and tries not rub up against them. Then Bert is finally dragging him off into some dark corner of the venue.
He pushes Jepha up against the wall, shoving his hand down Jepha's pants.
Jepha bucks up into his grip, and grits out, "Bert, come on, please, your mouth."
The look Bert gives him, every time-Jepha's always relieved when he drops to his knees, like Bert really would hold out one day.
Bert still has his hand on Jepha's cock. He doesn't play around with his piercing or anything, just goes down until his mouth hits his fingers.
Jepha doesn't need a lot of finesse or time before he's coming, his orgasm hitting like a tidal wave.
Bert spits and bounces to his feet while Jepha concentrates on keeping his knees locked.
Then Bert headbutts Jepha in the chest and runs off down the hall.
"I love you, too, asshole!" Jepha yells after him.
19. Bert/Quinn, with Bert being a little crazy
for neery
"Fucking cunt-ass whore of a motherfucker," Bert says and hurls the empty bottle of tequila across the parking lot to join the remains of his cellphone.
Jepha hands over the next bottle without comment.
Bert's voice is hoarse and broken from screaming, and his eyes are red-rimmed.
Quinn has never really liked Gerard, and, fine, a huge part of that is jealousy, but he would welcome him back with open fucking arms if it meant not seeing Bert like this.
But since hell is unlikely to freeze over anytime soon, Quinn is grimly happy to imagine a slow, painful death for Gerard instead. He wonders if he could turn Bob.
Bert pulls the bottle away from his mouth, slopping liquor all over himself. He sways on his feet, and Quinn grabs his elbow just as he lurches forward and vomits.
Branden's got his other shoulder and they hold him up until he's done puking. Bert spits a bunch of times and rinses his mouth out with tequila.
He scrubs his hand over his face, and they pretend his eyes are watering from puking.
"Fuck, I want-what's the number for Jake's guy?" Bert asks.
"No," Quinn says instinctively. Bert's been pretty good about the hard drugs lately, but Quinn's suddenly afraid that Bert will do something stupid just as a fuck you to Gerard.
Bert snarls at Quinn's no, and Quinn holds up another bottle.
"Why bother? We've got a shitload of booze right here."
Bert's expression eases a little. He takes the bottle, and Quinn wonders briefly if alcohol poisoning is really better than whatever they could get from Jake's guy.
Bert takes a couple of slugs from the bottle, but pretty soon he's leaning on Quinn, snuffling into his shoulder.
"Wanna lie down," he slurs.
"Okay," Quinn says, and turns him back towards the bus.
Quinn waves Jepha and Branden off, and they squeeze his shoulder when they leave.
Bert turns around at the top of the bus steps. He leans forward and Quinn puts out a hand to brace him, and then Bert is kissing him.
He tastes like vomit and tequila and Quinn kisses back automatically, like they're on stage, like this is something they do.
He catches himself right away, jerking his head back.
"No, hey," he says.
Bert's expression crumples, and he presses his face into Quinn's shoulder. Quinn wraps an arm around his waist and they stand like that for a long time, until Bert lets out a shaky laugh and says, "Still wanna lie down."
He's asleep as soon as he hits his bunk. Quinn leaves bottles of water and aspirin where Bert will find them, then sets about making a dent in the bottle of tequila.
When he wakes up in the morning, Bert is sucking his dick.
Quinn makes a strangled noise, and Bert hums in agreement.
"Bert, what the fuck?" Quinn grits out, tugging at Bert's hair, not quite hard enough to pull him off.
Bert looks up at him and smirks around his cock.
He sucks hard at the head, then pulls off with a wet pop. "You can't come in my mouth," he says in a gravelly voice. "I'm so hung-over, I'll puke if you come in my mouth. But you can totally come on my face."
Quinn is going to tell him that won't be a problem, but then Bert swallows him down again, sloppy and enthusiastic, and suddenly stopping seems like a worse idea than letting Bert do this.
His breath hitches, and just like that he's on the edge. "Bert," he says, and tugs on his hair again.
Bert pulls off and presses his thumb right behind Quinn's balls. Quinn comes hard, shooting all over Bert's face and chest.
Bert giggles and squirms his way up to wipe his face off on Quinn's t-shirt.
Quinn bats half-heartedly at his head, and Bert lunges up the last few inches to kiss him. He tastes like dick and toothpaste, and it makes something in Quinn's chest squeeze up tight to realize that Bert brushed his teeth to blow him.
"Bert," he says again, and he can't quite get the question out.
Bert's smile fades a little, but he doesn't look unhappy. "You know that expression, it's all over but the screaming?" He puts his head down on Quinn's shoulder. "That, last night, was the screaming."
"Oh," Quinn says, like that's any kind of explanation.
Bert drapes his arm possessively over Quinn's waist. "Go to sleep, fucker, I feel like shit."
"Okay," Quinn says.
He's almost asleep when he feels Bert whisper, "Love you," against his skin.