(no subject)
Title: The Capture And Release of Drunk Ways
Pairing: Bert/Mikey/Gerard
Rating: nc17
Wordcount: 2427
Summary: Fucking both Ways on Warped is pretty great. Fucking them at the same time is way better.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author's Notes: So technically you didn't ask for a Christmas fic. But in our emails it seemed like you might like something like this, and it was an abandoned snippet I wanted to use. So...enjoy your unsolicited fic?
As long as Bert’s been fucking people, he’s always been interested in their exceptions list. He wants to know who the girls he’s been with would go dyke for, the guys he’s been with would go straight for. He wants to know what famous person they’d sneak behind their girlfriend or boyfriend’s back for, and he wants to know if they’ve ever wanted nothing more than to fuck their best friend. It never pisses him off to find out that he would be dropped in a split second for Ashton Kutcher, it would be retarded to ask and get mad at an answer.
Still, there’s different ways of going about it. Some people he’s been with feel guilty as shit when it turns out they would hook up with a celebrity no questions asked. So Bert has to ask them after they’ve fucked, that blissful few minutes after a orgasm. Others are better asked in a relationship twenty questions sort of thing, ‘who else would you screw?’ sandwiched between ‘sci fi or fantasy?’ and ‘top five best CDs ever created?’. With some people it’s easiest to just ask them when they’re fucked up, pot or alcohol or E making them pliant.
Gerard’s one of the last. Bert’s noticed he can get Gerard to do anything if they’re both drunk, a fact which he’s used mostly to lure him away from stupid card games and towards more sex. The day that Gerard picks elves and mana over an orgasm is the day Bert considers both his cock and rum a failure, and that day is probably the day he offs himself. If both sex and intoxicants don’t work anymore, all he’s got left is music, and he’s not sure that’ll be enough.
Gerard is laying with his head half in the bushes when Bert asks. He wisely has his head on Gerard’s stomach, not so much to avoid the twigs poking his scalp as to not breathe in Gerard’s burps. “So, you have an alternates list? People you’d fuck if you weren’t fucking me?”
He can’t really hear what Gerard tells the leaves, so he adds “Mikey’s on mine. Hope that doesn’t piss you off.” No need to tell him he and Mikey have hooked up a few times, it’ll only make things fucked up if Gerard doesn’t already know. Mikey sort of sleeps with everyone, but it’s not uncommon trait in musicians. Still, doesn’t mean Gerard knows, he’s probably got brother-blinders on.
“No’mm. He’s on mine too.”
That gets Bert’s attention. Seriously, aside from Quinn and Jepha, Gerard’s one of the best people he’s had drunk conversations with. Interesting shit always comes up. “What?”
“We got really smashed and jerked each other off in the van once. I don’t think he remembers though. Mikey always forgets shit. The first time he got drunk he forgot to wear his shoes home.” Bert is skeptical. Almost-sex with your brother, it’s not the kind of thing you forget. It’s fucking hot though.
“You think if we got him drunk he’d do it again?”
Even pissed out of his mind, Gerard’s got morals. He snorts, “yeah and let’s slip him a roofie too, right. That way he can’t say no. Brilliant, totally brilliant. Like, super shinypants brilliant.”
“Shut up doucheface. Alcohol reduces shame right? Fucking your brother has a fuck ton of shame attached, right? So if you get him drunk you can take that away. It’s not like he can’t say no, you’re just making it easier to say yes. Which is what he wants to say anyway. Probably.” Bert belated tags onto the end.
“It’d take alotta booze. I don’t think palm trees are trees. Do you? Because they don’t look like trees, trees have branches.”
Bert takes the subject change with the ease of a plastered man. He wants it though, he wants it and he wants to fucking watch. Or even better, be a part of it. Since he knows that Gerard’s down for it, he just has to convince Mikey. Gerard’s partially right, the alcohol is gonna help. But Bert knows a few things about Mikey that Gerard doesn’t. Primarily that Mikey is a kinky fucker, and totally capitalistic about it. He’ll do pretty much anything someone requests as long as there’s a pay off for him.
It’s really not surprising at all what happens when he gets Mikey alone. He asks something along the lines of do you want to have a threesome?, Mikey’s first response is something like and what do I get? instead of the more common with who or fuck off. Bert doesn’t remember it perfectly, he was a bit fucked on random pharmaceuticals. But he knows that after he agreed to let Mikey blindfold him next time Mikey seemed cool with it. He’s not sure he really gets the sexiness of it, but each motherfucker to their own. Why the fuck not let Mikey tie a scarf on his face, especially considering the Way brothers extravaganza he’s about to get?
A day or three later -it’s all sort of a blur, really- he and Quinn and Mikey and Gerard are sitting, drinking beer like water. Bert recognises the potential for a good afternoon, and tells Quinn to fuck off. Quinn pretends to be pissed, but Bert knows he knows the about to get shit done tone for what it is. He fucks off without making the kind of protest he could make if he meant it.
Even if Bert would have felt guilty for exiling him, which is unlikely, he doesn’t have the time for it. Only a minute or two passes before Gerard rolls onto his side -Bert can practically hear the slosh of alcohol in his stomach- to look at Mikey. It’s a fucking mess of a come on; not all that slurred, but completely nonsensical, with added rhyming words. Normally Bert would just listen and laugh but this time he decides to clarify.
“Threesome,” he announces loudly to the sky he’s staring at.
Either Bert’s method of attack was right and Mikey remembers the deal, or Gerard’s was and Mikey’s drunk enough to not care. Really, Bert couldn’t give less of a shit. He only cares that Mikey’s rising to his feet like a drunk baby gazelle and heading off in the direction of Bert’s bus. Which is probably a good idea, as far as location goes. Jepha and Brandon won’t be on it, and if Quinn is Bert can repeat the same tone and he’ll fuck off somewhere else. Frank and Otter and Ray wouldn’t be nearly as helpful. He gets up and helps Gerard, who’s got shitty ass balance when he’s drunk.
Bert likes to do things that others don’t do. And he does those things because he likes to tell stories and nothing is better than a story met by a gasp or a retch. So when he finds himself actually in a threesome with both Way brothers he knows he wants to be able to tell Jepha and Quinn and Brandon I ate Mikey’s ass as Gerard fucked mine. It was great fun for the whole family and then snicker because not only did he get to dirty a innocent saying it’s actually legitimately true. What he’s about to do slash will have done is fun for all members of the Way clan currently on tour. Jepha probably won’t be fazed, the kinky fucker, and Quinn will think he’s bullshitting. Brandon though, he’ll wince and shudder, and that’s exactly what Bert’s looking for.
So yeah, he’s got a plan for the future. But he’s aware enough of the present to put it on hold when Gerard staggers close enough to Mikey that he can kiss him. Watching Mikey and Gerard make out is retardedly hot. Bert is unusually thankful to be the most sober in the room. His vision is clear rather than blurry and doubled, he can see every time Mikey’s adam’s apple quivers in his throat, see the way Gerard’s fingers are clenching Mikey’s ass. Bert isn’t gonna interrupt to get his own. He’s made out with both of them before, will make out with both of them again. Now is about shit he can’t get normally.
Still though, he’s not a fucking saint, he doesn’t have a ridiculous amount of patience. His threshold for waiting is normally low. It gets lower still when Gerard’s somehow capable hands unzip Mikey’s jeans. They’re tight as fuck, even after wearing them a week straight they hardly sag at all. They start rutting against each other as they kiss and all Bert can think is what a fucking waste it would be if that’s all that happened. He has no choice but to break between them. He grabs Mikey by his hips, thin and sharp as razors, and pulls them as he drops to his knees. Mikey more or less falls on him, but it’s fine; it puts Mikey enough off balance that Bert can shove him backward until he’s awkwardly laying more on his shoulders than back. His jeans and permanently tied shoes come off in one swoop, pushed carelessly to the side so they don’t get in the way. Bert plans on dirtying up as much of the lounge floor as he can.
He doesn’t see Gerard come over, he’s too busy sucking Mikey’s perfect cock into his mouth. But Gerard presses his entire body against Bert’s back, breathing heavily tainted breath into his neck. Between the alcohol and the flush of horniness and the actual heat of whatever the fuck city they’re in, Gerard is boiling hot through Bert’s thrift store scavenged shirt. He can’t help but press himself back so the bulge of Gerard’s dick is against his ass. He’s about to take his hands off Mikey’s bucking hips for a second -he can handle choking on Mikey as long as he gets his cock out- when Gerard’s hands go for his belt. Everything that he lacks in gross motor is still pretty decent in fine motor, and Bert will be grateful for that until the end of tour.
Bert slides his mouth off Mikey around the same time that Gerard pushes a finger into his ass. He’s mildly impressed that Gerard remembers he carries those trial packets of lube that sex stores hand out with toy purchases in the pockets of every pair of jeans he has. Although, to not give credit where credit isn’t due, there’s probably not a single guy on tour that doesn’t have a few condoms in his pocket, just in case.
“Roll over, fuck,” he explains when Mikey doesn’t take the movement of his head as the obvious clue it is. Mikey follows the suggestion, crawling a foot or two forward so he doesn’t headbutt Bert with his ass. Bert grabs him by the hips again, wondering if he’s going to bruise, wondering if Mikey will even notice or if he’s used to having finger shaped bruises.
It’s fun, biting kisses onto Mikey’s ass as Gerard starts to fuck him. Mikey’s not trying to get away from the roughness. Sure there are little jerks when Bert bites, but nothing that means he’s actually trying to move away. Bert’s thankful for relative stillness. Each time Gerard drives deeper into him it makes him topple forward a bit, but he only falls into Mikey, who’s incredibly stable considering the situation.
Bert knows himself. He’s a man of habits. Some people might think his habits are fucked up and wrong, but there’s no denying that he has them. One is crashing after an orgasm. Pre-show sex has never worked for him. As soon as he comes he’s going to be out, faster than if someone hit him in the face with a lamp. If he wants to get Mikey off, it needs to be now.
He lets go of Mikey’s hips. Bert stabilises himself with one hand against the bus floor as the other goes to Mikey’s ass. For a second he’s, well- Nervous isn’t the right word. It’s just, it’s fucking Warped. God only knows the last time MCR found a fan with a house nearby to con a shower from. He sees Frank using a hose almost every day to wash off, but Mikey usually isn’t with him. Portapotties are not exactly bidets.
Still, the look on Brandon’s face will be worth it. He curls his fingers around the curve of Mikey’s ass cheek and pulls as wide as he can with one hand. It’s not as bad he thought it could be. His ass isn’t magically delicious marshmallows and sugar, it’s still sweaty skin. But it’s not horrible. There’s no dingleberries. Bert thinks that’s about the most he can fairly ask for.
It’s a blow to the ego when Mikey calls out Gerard’s name when he comes. Gerard’s not even touching him. But that makes it hotter somehow. Bert barely cares he’s clearly second fiddle, not when Mikey and Gerard are so nasty and fucked up. It’s great. It’s seriously great that Gerard is coming because Mikey screamed for him. He’s gonna jerk off about this for the rest of his life.
His band has an established clean up your own crap rule. It’s what makes their bus such a dank pit, everyone would rather bitch about everyone else’s filth than fix their own. To that end, if Bert shoots off on the floor Jepha’s gonna demand he wipe it up. He can get out of doing Mikey’s load because it’s Mikey’s, but if he doesn’t do his own everyone is going to give him shit for it. Better he come on Mikey’s back. Better for him at least. And Mikey’s Mikey, he probably won’t notice if it cakes on.
“So, like, don’t tell anyone about this, right?” They both stand at the same time, and Bert doesn’t watch their faces, so he’s not sure who mutters it. Probably Mikey, Gerard slurs more.
“Of course not.” Of course he will. He’ll tell everyone he can look in the face about this. But in the end it’ll be the same thing as telling no one, because no band member or roadie will believe him, no reporter will repeat the message, and fans already think what they want to think, no matter what he says. Maybe Quinn and Jepha will listen, but no one else, he knows it already. His band is awesome, everyone else sucks.