Untitled Gerard/Brian Killjoys commentfic
Or more like, comment not!fic porn, originally found at turps33 's dreamwidth, as prompted by turlough . Gerard/Brian, Killjoysverse, rated NC17.
Brian dressed all in white suit and shirt and tie, Dracs in tow, tracking the killjoys from safehouse to roadhouse to deserted motel in the middle of nowhere. The others have split, Frank pulling a struggling Mikey into the Trans-Am on Gerard's orders, Ray in the drivers seat with his little girl in shotgun, crying, and Brian's got Gerard cornered, up against the wall both literally and metaphorically.
Each with their raygun up under each other's chin and struggling for dominance, and Gerard would laugh at how very poetic it all was, the student versus the teacher, Party Poison versus his fallen, amnesiac hero, if Brian didn't have his thigh between Gerard's, using all his weight to pin Gerard in place. And Gerard just bucks up harder, his gun slipping, running up along the tattoos that Korse & his cronies could laser off but never, ever remove, and that has Brian shuddering, sense & muscle memory overtaking the brainwashing, dropping his gun to fist in Gerard's hair, throwing his head back as Gerard bites at his throat. Gerard pushes at Brian's jacket, rumples his shirt further, loosens his tie, and Brian pops the button on Gerard's fly, frantic now, searching for something, illusive, his mind a tumble of 'no' and 'yes' and 'this is something I've done before'. Gerard gasps and curses, his lips against Brian's, teeth clashing as he grinds down on Brian's thigh, up into Brian's hand, spilling over the cuff of Brian's shirt.
Gerard slumps then, head down on Brian's chest, and Brian remembers this, remembers before: before Korse, before re-education. Remembers Gerard, and sweat, and dirt, and hours curled together, waiting for their turn on watch.
Later, much later, after Gerard's contacted the others, after they've dealt with the Dracs Brian had assigned to him, Brian takes a catalogue of his reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror. His once pristine suit jacket and pants are ruined, dusty grey where they should be white, ripped and rumpled, the cherry-red smudge across the front of his shirt a perfect match to Gerard's hair.
EDIT 18 JUNE 2011: So I'm cleaning this up during the great LJ overhaul of 2011, and stumble across some more not!fic further on down the comments over where I originally posted this. And apparently a googledoc? I have absolutely no memory of any of this. ::facepalms::
Brian dressed all in white suit and shirt and tie, Dracs in tow, tracking the killjoys from safehouse to roadhouse to deserted motel in the middle of nowhere. The others have split, Frank pulling a struggling Mikey into the Trans-Am on Gerard's orders, Ray in the drivers seat with his little girl in shotgun, crying, and Brian's got Gerard cornered, up against the wall both literally and metaphorically.
Each with their raygun up under each other's chin and struggling for dominance, and Gerard would laugh at how very poetic it all was, the student versus the teacher, Party Poison versus his fallen, amnesiac hero, if Brian didn't have his thigh between Gerard's, using all his weight to pin Gerard in place. And Gerard just bucks up harder, his gun slipping, running up along the tattoos that Korse & his cronies could laser off but never, ever remove, and that has Brian shuddering, sense & muscle memory overtaking the brainwashing, dropping his gun to fist in Gerard's hair, throwing his head back as Gerard bites at his throat. Gerard pushes at Brian's jacket, rumples his shirt further, loosens his tie, and Brian pops the button on Gerard's fly, frantic now, searching for something, illusive, his mind a tumble of 'no' and 'yes' and 'this is something I've done before'. Gerard gasps and curses, his lips against Brian's, teeth clashing as he grinds down on Brian's thigh, up into Brian's hand, spilling over the cuff of Brian's shirt.
Gerard slumps then, head down on Brian's chest, and Brian remembers this, remembers before: before Korse, before re-education. Remembers Gerard, and sweat, and dirt, and hours curled together, waiting for their turn on watch.
Later, much later, after Gerard's contacted the others, after they've dealt with the Dracs Brian had assigned to him, Brian takes a catalogue of his reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror. His once pristine suit jacket and pants are ruined, dusty grey where they should be white, ripped and rumpled, the cherry-red smudge across the front of his shirt a perfect match to Gerard's hair.
EDIT 18 JUNE 2011: So I'm cleaning this up during the great LJ overhaul of 2011, and stumble across some more not!fic further on down the comments over where I originally posted this. And apparently a googledoc? I have absolutely no memory of any of this. ::facepalms::