If it's love...
Title: If it's love, make it hurt.
Author: missmoody
Pairing: Gerbert McWay
Rating: um, maybe R? sexual situations/references.
Summary:you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to impress me,
I waste all my time just thinking of you.
Disclaimer: errr.. not real.
Author Notes: Based on Moshi Moshi by Brand New. This is my first slash AND first fic. be nice yeah?
Dedication: This is a birthday present for bleed_heroin Coz she's the Gerard to my Bert.
I think I’m crazy baby
I let you off the hook too easily
If you were a telephone you'd still be off the hook.
This is my last leg, been awake for days,
in a minute I'll die of starvation
If I kiss your neck, would you slit my throat?
“But this is my birthday Gee, please be there?” a naked Bert picked at the corner of the duvet, looking up from the bed through thick lashes at his lover.
“You know I can’t Bert. I’ve got lunch with some execs and then a meeting at seven with a big shot record producer. I’ll be there the next day though, and you’ve kept me in this room for the last eight days anyway.” Gerard ran the eyeliner pencil around his left eye and grinned slyly at Bert through the mirror.
The last week had been a violent mixture of sheets and sweat, of teeth and tongue and lips, limbs tangling and breath entwining. Both men fighting for control and simultaneously caving in to something stronger than drugs and more heartfelt than any good Disney movie. Neither of them had eaten much more than days-old pizza, and neither had left the room for anything at all. Their band mates had cottoned on when Bert had arrived late last Sunday night, belt unbuckled and panting for breath with Gerard hot on his heels, much in the same state. Gerard had the decency to look embarrassed, but the two had swiftly disappeared into Bert’s room, the harsh click of the lock frightening the rest of the bands out of the living area.
Bert continued to watch Gerard as he layered on foundation and eyeliner like there was no tomorrow. He wondered what ran through Gerard’s mind while he prettied himself up. Everyone knew they were together, and everyone knew Gerard could look like Peter Postlethwaite and Bert wouldn’t care, yet Gerard still felt this overwhelming need to look good for other people.
Are you thinking of me when you're putting on your make-up darling'?
Dying your hair like you do?
Well, you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to impress me,
I waste all my time just thinking of you.
The last week had been everything Bert had ever wanted. An entire week alone with the man he loved more than he could ever remember even loving an animal or a teddy bear. He’d never had anyone as good as Gerard. His lips fit into Gerard’s like it was home, and when Gerard was nestled fully between Bert’s cheeks, there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.
When he was by himself, the smallest thought of Gerard gave Bert an internal ache; a desperate longing to see his lover. To touch him, kiss him, take him to bed and share his love. He’d felt like it from the moment they’d first laid eyes on each other. Gerard had been exactly what Bert was searching for. He was caring, sensual and had a beautiful mind. He had no idea how perfect he was, and Bert felt it was up to him to prove it. He’d known it would be bad for him, that he would fall in deeper than anyone else had ever fallen into anything. At this moment Bert had thought of the moment when the man in George of the jungle fell into the elephant dung and giggled. A high pitched girlish giggle, and with one glance at the other mans face, Bert knew he’d done it. Gerard would fall for Bert just as hard and together they’d feel real again.
I'm not imagining how you give me the shivers,
standing up to your waist in your river.
But you’re still pretty, I am still choked up,
it's probably just the same.
The more I hang around you,
the more hang ups I get.
Gerard turned around slowly, gazing down at his lover.
“Do I… do I look nice?” he asked, his eyes now fixed on some fascinating stain on the carpet. Bert rose from the bed, still fully naked, his erection throbbing with need at the sight of the man before him.
“You always look nice. You don’t need this shit, Gee. You’re perfect without it. I love you and no amount of make up is gonna change that.” Bert took the older mans face in his hands, forcing hazel and blue to meet.
“I just… I can’t not look good Bert. Do you understand? I can’t look bad for people. It’s not just you that needs to see me you know, there are God knows how many people out there who are expecting me to look presentable. We can’t all be as filthy as you.” Gerard stepped out of Bert’s embrace and left the room. He had never once told Bert he loved him back.
It was like this every time. They’d spend a night together and then Gerard would doll himself up and leave Bert with nothing more than a night full of memories, and more often than not, a raging hard-on. It was the age old story. Bert was so in love, he’d allow Gerard to do anything, and Gerard was so in love he felt overwhelmed, and tried to hide it.
All Bert could do was take care of what Gerard started and rarely finished, grab some food and crawl back into bed, ready for his love to return and use him. Again.
I know that you're an angel,
but you could never stay true.
Hey Angel, I think your halo has a screw loose
Cause you drop me like a brick off the rooftop of your high school.
Could I watch the next time you're applying your eyeliner,
I waste all my time just thinking of you.
*****
So, I use really long sentences, and I hate the ending. Comments? ConCrit Is Love.
Author: missmoody
Pairing: Gerbert McWay
Rating: um, maybe R? sexual situations/references.
Summary:you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to impress me,
I waste all my time just thinking of you.
Disclaimer: errr.. not real.
Author Notes: Based on Moshi Moshi by Brand New. This is my first slash AND first fic. be nice yeah?
Dedication: This is a birthday present for bleed_heroin Coz she's the Gerard to my Bert.
I think I’m crazy baby
I let you off the hook too easily
If you were a telephone you'd still be off the hook.
This is my last leg, been awake for days,
in a minute I'll die of starvation
If I kiss your neck, would you slit my throat?
“But this is my birthday Gee, please be there?” a naked Bert picked at the corner of the duvet, looking up from the bed through thick lashes at his lover.
“You know I can’t Bert. I’ve got lunch with some execs and then a meeting at seven with a big shot record producer. I’ll be there the next day though, and you’ve kept me in this room for the last eight days anyway.” Gerard ran the eyeliner pencil around his left eye and grinned slyly at Bert through the mirror.
The last week had been a violent mixture of sheets and sweat, of teeth and tongue and lips, limbs tangling and breath entwining. Both men fighting for control and simultaneously caving in to something stronger than drugs and more heartfelt than any good Disney movie. Neither of them had eaten much more than days-old pizza, and neither had left the room for anything at all. Their band mates had cottoned on when Bert had arrived late last Sunday night, belt unbuckled and panting for breath with Gerard hot on his heels, much in the same state. Gerard had the decency to look embarrassed, but the two had swiftly disappeared into Bert’s room, the harsh click of the lock frightening the rest of the bands out of the living area.
Bert continued to watch Gerard as he layered on foundation and eyeliner like there was no tomorrow. He wondered what ran through Gerard’s mind while he prettied himself up. Everyone knew they were together, and everyone knew Gerard could look like Peter Postlethwaite and Bert wouldn’t care, yet Gerard still felt this overwhelming need to look good for other people.
Are you thinking of me when you're putting on your make-up darling'?
Dying your hair like you do?
Well, you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to impress me,
I waste all my time just thinking of you.
The last week had been everything Bert had ever wanted. An entire week alone with the man he loved more than he could ever remember even loving an animal or a teddy bear. He’d never had anyone as good as Gerard. His lips fit into Gerard’s like it was home, and when Gerard was nestled fully between Bert’s cheeks, there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.
When he was by himself, the smallest thought of Gerard gave Bert an internal ache; a desperate longing to see his lover. To touch him, kiss him, take him to bed and share his love. He’d felt like it from the moment they’d first laid eyes on each other. Gerard had been exactly what Bert was searching for. He was caring, sensual and had a beautiful mind. He had no idea how perfect he was, and Bert felt it was up to him to prove it. He’d known it would be bad for him, that he would fall in deeper than anyone else had ever fallen into anything. At this moment Bert had thought of the moment when the man in George of the jungle fell into the elephant dung and giggled. A high pitched girlish giggle, and with one glance at the other mans face, Bert knew he’d done it. Gerard would fall for Bert just as hard and together they’d feel real again.
I'm not imagining how you give me the shivers,
standing up to your waist in your river.
But you’re still pretty, I am still choked up,
it's probably just the same.
The more I hang around you,
the more hang ups I get.
Gerard turned around slowly, gazing down at his lover.
“Do I… do I look nice?” he asked, his eyes now fixed on some fascinating stain on the carpet. Bert rose from the bed, still fully naked, his erection throbbing with need at the sight of the man before him.
“You always look nice. You don’t need this shit, Gee. You’re perfect without it. I love you and no amount of make up is gonna change that.” Bert took the older mans face in his hands, forcing hazel and blue to meet.
“I just… I can’t not look good Bert. Do you understand? I can’t look bad for people. It’s not just you that needs to see me you know, there are God knows how many people out there who are expecting me to look presentable. We can’t all be as filthy as you.” Gerard stepped out of Bert’s embrace and left the room. He had never once told Bert he loved him back.
It was like this every time. They’d spend a night together and then Gerard would doll himself up and leave Bert with nothing more than a night full of memories, and more often than not, a raging hard-on. It was the age old story. Bert was so in love, he’d allow Gerard to do anything, and Gerard was so in love he felt overwhelmed, and tried to hide it.
All Bert could do was take care of what Gerard started and rarely finished, grab some food and crawl back into bed, ready for his love to return and use him. Again.
I know that you're an angel,
but you could never stay true.
Hey Angel, I think your halo has a screw loose
Cause you drop me like a brick off the rooftop of your high school.
Could I watch the next time you're applying your eyeliner,
I waste all my time just thinking of you.
*****
So, I use really long sentences, and I hate the ending. Comments? ConCrit Is Love.