MCR RPS: go and show him his fault (Gerard/Mikey, NC-17)
PART ONE
The rectory is right across from the church, of course, but it still feels like years to get there when Gerard is like this. He doesn't let himself get like this, because his mind completely goes and all he has is his hormones controlling him. His hormones don't usually make the good decisions. But they're there, and he's dragging Mikey up the stairs into his bedroom before he even is really aware that they've made it in the door.
Mikey's only been in the rectory twice before, the first time when Gerard first moved in and Mama bustled him over with a plant and a frilly scented candle to make Gee feel "at home." The second time, he'd come to pick Gerard up for a family dinner. Both times he waited as close to the door as possible, not going in any further than he had to. Now he's practically charging up the stairs, following Gerard and praying (sorry, Lord) that they would get to Gerard's bedroom soon.
They do, and Gerard pretty much tugs them both in the door and then closes it behind them with a bang. And then they're there, they're alone in Gerard's bedroom, and Gerard just looks down at himself, still in his collar, awkward, and then back at Mikey. "What do we do?" he asks, trying not to look too eager. "I don't really. I've never gotten the chance to do this with someone."
"What do." Mikey is pretty much just doing his best not to drool all over himself, because Gerard is standing there flushed, eyes bright, in his fucking collar. "It depends on what you want? I mean, how far do you want to go?" It's a totally high school question but, as Mikey figures it, Gerard is still in a high school level relationship wise, and it's not like he's going to get called on it.
"I don't know," Gerard says, awkward. "You've done pretty much everything, yeah?" He wants to, as much as it shames him to even think it, and he knows he's going to have to confess this as soon as he can, but he wants Mikey to fuck him. He's wanted that since he was sixteen, lying awake staring at the ceiling trying to pretend he wasn't thinking about his thirteen year old brother. It was beyond creepy back then, not that it's much better now.
"Uh, yeah." With Gerard looking at him, all innocent, Mikey feels pretty slutty. He definitely knows what he's doing, and though that's a good thing in this situation (he can't imagine trying to coordinate something with a virgin and a priest), he still feels oddly embarrassed. He forces himself to smile, tucking his thumb in his waistband. "So, you tell me? And we can do it."
"So." Gerard sucks in a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. "Can we try everything? Would that be okay?" Mikey went into some pretty explicit detail in the confessional but there's no guarantee he wants to actually do all of that in reality, and Gerard doesn't want to push him while he himself is already on-edge enough about the thought of really doing this.
"Yeah." It comes out as more of a sigh, because somewhere under it all Mikey was afraid (is still afraid) that Gerard is going to decide he just wants to make out, or doesn't want to do anything at all. And then Mikey is going to combust and die, and Gerard's going to have to explain to the parish why there are little shreds of Way all over his bedroom. He moves closer, getting more into Gerard's personal space, slowly like he's trying not to spook a skittish animal.
Gerard smiles, nervous, and scoots his way over to Mikey a little more, close enough to kiss him. He doesn't want to make the first move, but the waiting is killing him, so--"Can I?" He leans forward, well into Mikey's space, close enough that he can feel Mikey's breath on his face. "Um. Kiss you, I mean."
Mikey lets out a long breath and half smiles, sloppy lazy and so desperate. "Please." He rests a hand on Gerard's side--nothing untoward, just his palm flat under Gerard's ribs--and leans in the rest of the way, searching for contact and then, yes. He's kissing Gerard, like he's wanted to since was about fourteen, finally kissing him, wet and warm and nice and right.
Gerard's heart very nearly beats out of his chest, but he presses forward anyway, reaching up to run a hand through Mikey's hair and hold him there, half-afraid he'll change his mind and leave Gerard like this, hard and aching in the middle of his bedroom. He's only ever kissed one person, and he's not very good, clumsy and pressing too lightly, but he has no way of knowing that.
Mikey makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, because Gerard is sort of a bad kisser, and it's perfect. It's just how he imagined it, being able to stroke his other hand along Gerard's jawline, cup his cheek and steady him. He kisses him firmly, being an example, and mouths at Gerard's lower lip, not trying for tongue just yet but hopefully introducing the idea.
Gerard frowns just a little, unsure, but he opens his mouth just a little under Mikey's. He doesn't know if this is the right thing to do or not, so he's just going to have to find out, trying to kiss harder, make it better.
Mikey makes another sound, more definite, encouraging. He kisses Gerard lazily, just parted lips warm against each other. After a while, he's pretty sure Gerard is acclimated and won't be thrown into shock and start saying rosaries if Mikey tries to go further--he runs his tongue over Gerard's lower lip, feeling the indent where he'd been biting it earlier.
Gerard's eyes widen further, and his mind is going ohshit what but he opens his mouth under Mikey's further, wanting to feel that again. It's strange but he can't deny he likes the feel of it, that it goes through him like a shock, that it makes him want to just hold onto Mikey and make the both of them stay like this all day.
With Gerard's unspoken permission, Mikey goes further, hand curling a little tighter around Gerard's waist, tongue tracing over Gerard's lips and delicately delving into Gerard's mouth. Hopefully it's not too terrifying and Gerard won't bite it off or something, because as fond as he is of blood, that's really not the sexy kind.
Gerard squeaks. He can't help it, Mikey's tongue is in his mouth and it feels gross but simultaneously really, really hot, and he's sort of embarrassed for reacting this easily--he's not that young anymore, and he's not thirty yet but he's getting there. Making out shouldn't be doing this to him. But it is, and he presses forward, pulling Mikey into him and responding in kind, tongue sliding against Mikey's.
Mikey groans into Gerard's mouth, and he hasn't enjoyed kissing this much since he was fifteen and it was still novel, but it's Gerard, so it makes sense that it's different--better than anything from before. He's thrilled to be pressed closer to Gerard, and he squeezes Gerard's side before sliding his hand to wrap around his back, locking them together.
They're pressed up against each other as they're kissing, and Gerard can feel Mikey, feel how hard he is pressed up against Gerard's hip. He grinds forward, just a little, trying to get them closer together, hand slipping as it tries to get a better grip on Mikey's back so he can pull Mikey into him, so he settles for rocking forward himself, instead.
Just that quickly, kissing is totally overrated. Mikey swivels his hips, rubbing against the solid press of Gerard's hip and trying to work a thigh properly between Gerard's legs without either of them backing down or letting go in any way. His hand clenches against Gerard's back, getting him a handful of rather rough polyester (someone had to get better quality clothes for the men of the cloth, seriously)
Gerard groans at the feel of Mikey against him, too-loud but it doesn't matter, they're the only ones in the rectory. No one else is around to hear. He tries to press closer, even, when there's already no space between their bodies, half-wishing they weren't dressed (but then, he's not going to lie to himself and say he doesn't think Mikey gets a kick out of him still being in the collar as they do this)
"Hey." Mikey pulls back a little, much as he hates to, mouth free though his hips still work against Gerard, almost as if of their own volition. "You wanted to, uh, try everything, right?" Because fun as frottage is, in a teenage way, there are other things that are way more awesome that he would love to show Gerard.
"Yeah. If that's okay," Gerard says, too-fast, grinding back against Mikey again just to have the feel of it. "What do you want to do?" There are already parts of his mind insisting bad bad wrong going to hell but he can't listen to them now, he's too far gone for that. It'll hit him, he knows that. But he doesn't think it'll happen just yet.
"Anything," Mikey replies truthfully without really considering it. He doesn't have to consider, doesn't have to gauge and plan and portion out what parts of him are on the counter, because it's Gerard. Gerard can have anything Mikey has, it's just how it works. And it isn't like Gerard is going to come up with something that's going to shock Mikey--he's a priest, it's not like he gets out much, and definitely not in the crowds that Mikey runs with.
Gerard has to pull back, away from Mikey, and let himself consider for a long moment if what he's about to ask is really what he wants to do. He's--he's thought about it, yeah, but Mikey's offering anything and he wants to accept. "I don't think we really have anything here," he admits, staring down at his feet. "But if we could figure out a way, um."
Anything. Gerard is worried because he doesn't have anything, which means. Which means. "You want." It's almost too good to be true, hell, it is too good to be true, after how long Mikey has been fantasizing about this. He blinks at Gerard, trying to look cautious instead of outright disbelieving. "You want like, actual fucking?"
Gerard chokes on air and has to take a moment before he can actually speak. "I. Yeah, I do." He goes red, across his cheeks, expression ashamed (at himself, not at Mikey). "I've kind of wanted to since I was, like. Sixteen. If that's okay."
"Oh. Um, yeah." Mikey finds himself flushing too, mainly from the look on Gerard's face--he's never met anyone who wears shame quite as gorgeously as his brother does, the collar just perfecting the look. It's like some kinky fantasy, but it's all real. "You want to fuck me?"
Gerard's thought about that. It's definitely a fond fantasy, but not the one he really wants, at this point. He shakes his head, letting himself look up and meet Mikey's eyes, want too-obvious in them. "You could. You could do it to me?" He can't actually say it, that's as close as he can come to admitting what he wants out loud.
"Oh." Mikey feels dumb, repeating himself, but he just has to keep staring into Gerard's eyes and he's broken all over again. "Then, um, we're definitely going to need stuff." And it's embarrassing, he's pretty ashamed of himself though in a way he's saved the day--Mikey fishes two packets of lube out of his back pocket and presents them shyly to Gerard. "Uh, ta-da?"
Gerard chokes again. "You--Mikey, did you come here expecting something to happen? Jesus Christ." There's not much more he can do in the department of wrong today that's worse than what he wants, a little taking the Lord's name in vain is minor in comparison. "So, wait. Are, you, um." Mikey's saved the day on one half, but. "Clean? If you don't have, you know."
"I was. Um. Hoping, maybe?" Wishful thinking is more like it, but Mikey doesn't really care now that he's in Gerard's bedroom offering him lube. Mikey thinks back to the last time he was tested, who he's been with since and... "Hold on." And he's praying again--God is going to fry his ass, seriously--when he digs his wallet out of his jeans and goes pawing through, because the entire universe is laughing at him if he can't find a condom in there.
Thankfully, the entire universe is not.
"Got one." And Gerard can breathe again, because he's to the point where he's willing to do this with his little brother, yeah (oh God, his little brother) but he doesn't want to have any unpleasant souvenirs from the experience.
Mikey pulls Gerard close, three all important packets clutched tight in his hands, and kisses him again before pulling away, grinning and breathless. "You sure you're up for this?" Because if he gets his fingers up Gerard's ass, and then Gerard has a crisis of faith, that's going to pretty much be the death of him.
Gerard is silent for a moment, just thinking. He's been having a crisis of faith the whole time, but low-grade enough that he can push it out of his mind until later, at least. "I'm okay," he says finally. He's not, but it doesn't matter, he can deal with that later, with the inevitable on-his-knees begging for forgiveness and crying in the confessional. And it's going to happen again, he knows that, too.
"Cool. On the bed, then?" Because maybe now Mikey is more used to fucking in bathroom stalls or up against whatever wall space you can find, but Gerard has a nice bed right there and Gerard deserves a bed for this. He bumps at Gerard's hips lightly with his own, urging him over to the bed.
Gerard goes, cautious, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Should I lay down?" He's still in all of his clothes, still in the collar, and he doesn't know if Mikey wants him to get naked or not, or if that comes before he lays down or after.
"It'll probably be easier for you strip now." As much fondness as Mikey has for the collar, he knows that there's no way it can beat the sheer power of Gerard naked. All that pale skin--Mikey shudders a little and reaches over to trace his hands over Gerard's waist. "I can help."
"If. That would be good." Gerard doesn't want to do this with these clothes on, another uncomfortable reminder of everything he's breaking by agreeing to do this with Mikey. And shit, it's like he doesn't even care about the things he vowed he'd do. "Do you want me to get yours?"
"We'll do you first," Mikey offers in a low almost-purr, sliding his fingertips along the inside of Gerard's waistband to thumb at his belt buckle (standard black, just like the entirety of his outfit). He doesn't open it yet, waits to see if Gerard is going to jerk away, or douse him in holy water, or do whatever lapsing priests do. He hopes that getting Gerard naked will move things along--he has plenty of practice taking his own clothes off.
Gerard doesn't move away, even though part of him is still screaming at him to do it. He reaches down and puts his hand over Mikey's, a clear indication to keep going, because if he stops now he's not going to be able to work up enough courage (or lack of inhibition) to do it again.
Mikey grins, and works at Gerard's belt. It's stiff and hard to work open, must be new (or God trying to help Gerard keep it in his pants which, fuck off God, mind Your own business, seriously), but Mikey perseveres, emboldened by the warmth of Gerard's hand on his. Belt open, Mikey pops the button on Gerard's slacks and then pauses, reaching up to touch his collar. "We should probably get you out of the shirt."
"Yeah, probably," Gerard says, and he's still speaking too fast, he knows that, and his voice is higher than he'd like. He sounds kind of squeaky, actually. "Hurry up?" He needs to be able to *do* this already, to actually touch Mikey, as twisted as that is, but he's been waiting for this for years and by now he is definitely at his limit.
"Sure." Mikey does hurry up, but he's still not moving hugely fast--he doesn't want to rush this, it's--for lack of a better and less disgustingly Hallmark word--special. Still, he unbuttons Gerard's shirt quick and easy, and leans in to press a soft kiss against his collar before pushing at the shirt, over Gerard's shoulders to expose the soft pale of his torso. He makes an appreciative sound, biting his lip.
Gerard makes an appreciative sound of his own, shuddering at the feel of Mikey's lips against his skin, something he hasn't let himself think about--about what it would actually feel like, for real. And now he is, Mikey is above him, undressing him, God, and he reaches to help Mikey with the shirt, pull his arms out of it and toss it aside.
"Mmm." Mikey kisses Gerard's shoulder and rests a hand against his side, savoring the feel of hot skin and flesh and Gerard. "Nice." He nibbles his way across Gerard's collarbone, and tucks one of his hands into Gerard's pants to grab at his thigh and squeeze gently.
Gerard arches up even with that touch, light and pretty much nothing but it's *Mikey*, and that's what makes the difference. "Shouldn't I get--" Mikey is still totally dressed and yeah, Gerard only has his shirt off but it's still unequal. "Want me to get yours?"
"Not yet," Mikey mumbles, more intent on kissing Gerard's neck, hand wandering over his chest and back and belly to get a lay of the land, just feel everything in case he won't be able to again. His grip tenses, thumb pressing into Gerard's inner thigh (hopefully it won't bruise, but it's not like anyone else would have an opportunity to see it) "'M enjoying myself."
Gerard lets out a faint noise, eyes sliding shut at the feel of Mikey's lips against his neck, hot against his skin. "Keep enjoying then," because the last thing he wants is Mikey to stop, right now. "So, later then?" He wants to get Mikey naked so badly it almost kind of hurts.
Mikey grins against Gerard's skin. "Not much later, I fucking promise, Gee, okay?" He's sort of dying having Gerard's bare skin in front of him, tantalizing him in a way it hasn't since Gerard still lived at home and wandered out of the bathroom in ratty old boxers with holes in them every day except this time. This time, Mikey can look without hiding and blushing behind a comic, and he can touch. He traces a finger over the red line where Gerard's pants had cut into his belly and nuzzles into Gerard's neck.
Gerard arches up, against Mikey's fingers tracing along the red lines, so close to dipping under his waistband he kind of wants to die on the spot. He wants to reach down, undo his pants and get them off, already, just to tempt Mikey into touching more, there. He kind of likes that idea, actually, and he reaches down, fingers brushing against Mikey's to do it.
And if Gerard is willing to make a move for it, Mikey is certainly not going to refuse him. "Hey, I'm going." He undoes Gerard's pants and moves to slide them off his hips, but. "You take care of those, okay?" He pulls his t-shirt up over his head, stretching his arms and back out (you should always stretch before vigorous activity), but he doesn't remove his jeans. He's sort of hoping Gerard will want to do it for him.
Gerard slides his pants down, quick enough to make his legs hurt, and just looks. Mikey is above him, half-naked, he himself is in nothing but his underwear, and they're going to--Mikey's actually going to do that to him. He said he was, but. "Hey, um." Gerard isn't really into being this forward, but at this point he is beyond sick of waiting, and he reaches forward to undo the buttons of Mikey’s jeans.
Mikey makes a needy sound that isn't as soft as he'd like to imagine it is, tilting his hips closer to Gerard, encouraging (hopefully not scaring him off). "Hey, yeah." And Gerard is in his underwear, which is far more awesome than it should be, and his ears are sort of rushing with all the excitement.
"You're gonna have to help me get these off," Gerard says, unzipping them and trying to tug them off, and he's doing it fast enough that he's probably going to snag something on Mikey and accidentally hurt him. He doesn't want to, yeah, but right now reasonable things are definitely not in his brain.
Mikey reaches down to help Gerard, shimmies out of his jeans as quick as he can and kicks them somewhere in the vicinity of the foot of Gerard's bed. And now they're both in just their underwear, on the bed, in Gerard's (rectory) bedroom, looking at each other. Neat. "Do you." Mikey's tracing his fingers soft over the inside of Gerard's thigh before he thinks about it. "You want to kiss more? Or like. Just go for it?"
"Can we just go for it?" Gerard asks, hesitant again. He wants to, because he's afraid if he waits long enough he's going to get cold feet, remember all the hundreds of reasons why this is a bad, bad idea, and just. He can't do that to Mikey, so he has to hurry the both of them up before it happens.
"Yeah, that's. Let's do that." Most of his sensible parts are recommending he fuck Gerard now before he changes his mind, but Mikey still grabs Gerard by the shoulders to pull him in for a last kiss before coaxing him down onto his back. It would be easier the other way, of course, but he gets the feeling that Gerard is going to be a mushy romantic about it and want to be face to face.
Gerard does, of course, he wants to see Mikey when they do this, watch him, and he's had years of trying not to fantasize about it (and failing) to know exactly how he wants this to go. He wants to ask if it's okay, but Mikey is the one who knows what he's doing here, if Mikey wants him like this he'll go like this.
Mikey runs his finger under the fabric on one of Gerard's legs. "So, uh. Getting rid of these, yeah?" Because priest or no, there really isn't a good way to fuck through boxer shorts. He tugs gently--his own can wait, he's still got to prep Gerard, which he has the feeling may take a while--not wanting to strip away Gerard's last piece of fabric defense without giving him a chance to fight.
Gerard takes a deep breath, calming himself before he actually commits to doing this for real. He can do this. He's not going to freak out, and he's not going to back out of this. He wants this, fuck, he wants this way too much. "Yeah." That's all he can say, and every breath he's taking comes out way, way too shuddery for his own good.
Mikey grins and pulls more definitely, helping Gerard shed his boxers and seeing him really naked, spread pale and dark and flushed--it takes Mikey a few extra moments to breathe. He traces his fingers over Gerard's hipbones, the soft parts of his belly, around his prize but not quite touching. Not yet, he's waited just like Gerard has, and he deserves to have his fun in his own way.
Gerard pushes up into the touch of Mikey's fingers on his hips, on his belly, and god, he's naked. He's naked in front of his brother and--well, he still has one thing, the cross around his neck, just something he wears often enough (every day, really) that it's become a part of him. He doesn't notice it, though Mikey probably does.
Mikey definitely does. It's almost better than the collar in a way--a symbol, a definite yet simple symbol of everything Gerard has become, everything that he's losing now. Mikey knows he should ignore it, but it's so tempting, that he slides his hands to rest at the crease of Gerard's thighs, supporting himself when he leans forward to catch the crucifix on his tongue, sucking on it gently.
Gerard looks down and half-chokes, because he didn't even remember he had it on, and now Mikey's sucking on it, every time Gerard feels it against his skin when he's giving absolution, saying Mass, anything, he's going to remember that his brother's tongue was on it. He shudders at the thought, half-pleased, even.
Mikey makes a "nnnh" sound, loving the feel of skin-warmed metal on his tongue, and it tastes slightly salty and like Gerard's skin. He pulls back until the chain is pulled taut, the cross itself caught between his teeth, and grins at Gerard, like a dog with bone, so clearly proud of what he's done.
Gerard kind of wants to see Mikey looking like that forever, pressed into him with the cross necklace in his mouth, grinning. And he's almost totally naked, which only adds to the picture. He can't breathe, looking at that. "Mikey, you--" He doesn't even know what he wants to say, and Mikey at this point is just flaunting everything that's wrong with what they're doing. He can't even say he minds.
Mikey can't speak with the cross still in his mouth, so he lets it slip out of his mouth--it catches on his lip briefly before falling back against Gerard's bare chest. "Yeah," he says, a not-response for Gerard's not-statement, and he scoots closer to kiss him again, still holding tight at Gerard's hips to support himself.
Gerard leans up, hand coming up to cup the side of Mikey's face as he draws him in, overeager still but he's allowed, he's naked with Mikey who mostly is too. He lets himself relax into it, calm his thoughts until they're just buzzing in the background, entirely focused on the way his tongue slides against Mikey's.
Mikey strokes his thumb over Gerard's hip, pressing in a little while he presses definitely forward against Gerard's mouth. He loves how touchy Gerard is being--they've both waited so long, and they deserve to enjoy each other--and if he wasn't using his hands to hold himself up against Gerard, he would definitely work a hand through Gerard's hair (it seems cleaner than it ever was before, perhaps some kind of priest shower regulation)
Gerard tries to pull Mikey in further, far enough that there's probably danger of Mikey toppling and ending up on top of him--then again, that's what he wants, at this point. "Mikey," he finally gasps out, pulling away. "Can we just." He's finding himself kind of ridiculously fond of kissing, but his body is starting to remind him that kissing isn't going to be the only thing he needs to do.
"Yeah, yeah sure," Mikey mumbles, pecking Gerard's lips once more before pulling back. He gropes around in the only slightly mussed covers to retrieve one of his packets of lube, kneading it between his hands to warm it up--it's already pretty warm from being in his pocket, but cool lube is nobody's friend. "You're going to like this, I think."
"Hope so," Gerard says, eyes on the packet of lube, and he knows how this goes in theory (and he's done it to himself, a few times, and always felt dirty doing it) but it's Mikey, and that's what makes the difference in everything. "Am I okay like this?" On his back, and that's where he wants to stay but it's not like he knows how this actually goes, he's not going to go protesting if Mikey wants to go with something else.
"Yeah, that's fine." Mikey tears the packet open with his teeth and squeezes some out over his fingers. He makes sure they're coated properly--Gerard is going to need as much slickness as Mikey can offer, he's sure--and he squeezes at Gerard's thigh with his other, unlubed hand. "All set?"
Gerard sucks in a quick breath, eyes darting downwards to Mikey's hand on his thigh and then to Mikey's other hand, slicked up, and--this should bother him, it should, he knows it should, but no matter what he does he can't actually get himself to. It doesn't matter now, though, they've got better things to be doing than panicking.
"I'll go slow, don't worry," Mikey speaks as soothingly as possible, and he rubs his slick fingers gently over Gerard's balls before moving his hand back to start to slowly work a finger into Gerard--he tries to be careful, but Gerard is tight, obviously tense, and he does have to work a little. "Hey, relax, okay?"
"Trying," Gerard says, trying not to push back against it even as part of his body wants to protest the feeling. It's strange, it's Mikey, but he wants Mikey to keep going, and so he tries to force his body to relax to make it easier. He doesn't want Mikey to go slow, though, not really.
“You can do it," Mikey murmurs. He rests his palm flat on Gerard's belly, working his finger in and making soft encouraging sounds--it's partially for Gerard's benefit, but he can feel Gerard and he can help but imagine that, if Gerard is like this around his fingers, what he's going to be like when they do it for real.
Gerard hates feeling like a baby here, but what can he do, except push downwards against Mikey's finger, hand clenching in the sheets like it'll help him want this less by distracting him, and he chokes out "Come on, Mikey, I'm not gonna break." Part of him wants to grab his cross for reassurance but right now... right now he doesn't want to think about what having it means.
"I just want you to like it," Mikey insists, because if after so long Gerard finally agrees and then Mikey messes it up, makes it hurt, or just isn't good enough--he'd murder himself. He pets soothingly at Gerard's side, though he also presses experimentally with a second finger. "Think you can take another?"
"Yeah, yeah, c'mon." Gerard can, he knows he can, even if he hasn't done this to himself in years he knows how it's supposed to go, and he pushes back against the second finger too, trying to urge Mikey on, and-- "I've, um. I've done this to myself before, so it's not like." It's shameful enough to admit that, he can't even manage the rest without a deep breath. "It's not like you need to worry, baby brother."
Mikey groans at the revelation, fingers crooking inside Gerard. "Oh fuck." The idea of Gerard, blushing bright red of course, shyly reaching down and down and in is more than enough to make Mikey want it about a thousand times more. He looks up, eyes blown dark, to grin at Gerard. "Did you. Is that how you spent the nights at the seminary, big brother? Fingering yourself in the dark?"
"Not at the seminary," Gerard says, looking a bit scandalized, arching up as Mikey crooks his fingers inside him. But then he looks away, bites his lip a little, and after a long pause finally admits. "... once or twice. But I had a roommate so I really couldn't." It's embarrassing enough to admit to himself that he's done it, much less to Mikey.
"Mmm." Mikey works his fingers in deeper, humming a little under his breath. "What was your roommate like? Pretty like you?" He curls his fingers again, reaching and searching for the right spot as his voice goes low and rough. "Did you watch him like you used to watch me?"
"No--unh," Gerard's eyes slip shut at the feel of Mikey's fingers inside him, breathing rough as Mikey's fingers move, press and there, and he lets out a rough cry before he can muffle it. "I, nnh. I didn't watch anyone there. It was always just you."
"Good." Mikey smiles a little and works in a third finger, and abandons rubbing Gerard's side in favor of pressing the heel of his hand against himself through his boxers. "I know you're good at single-minded devotion." I am the Lord, your God. You shall have no other Gods before Me.
"Yeah," Gerard says, voice rough, staring at Mikey and the movement of his hand. "'S my job, you know." And it is, it's so, so twisted that he's doing this. It's starting to hit him but he shoves it down, like it's bile in his throat and he can't back out now, he doesn't want to back out now, but he doesn't know what's going to happen when this is over.
"You're very good at it." Mikey is about to explode, he can feel heat rolling low inside him, aching, and he gropes around for the condom and other packet of lube. He holds them up, flushed and still slightly embarrassed, fingers still moving and curling inside Gerard. "You ready?"
"Yeah." Gerard's tone is nothing if not pleading. "Yeah, Mikey, Mikey come on." He lowers his head as he says it, like it's praying, because he can't meet Mikey's eyes with how much he wants to do this. He can't. It's too much. "Come on, please."
“You want to--" Mikey bites his lip, because pushing isn't going to get him anywhere, but he really just. There's no harm in asking, right? He half holds the condom out under Gerard's nose so he can see with his head bent, foil corner almost poking Gerard's chest. "Can you put it on me?"
"I don't think I'll do it right?" Gerard says, but he takes it anyway, unwrapping it and reaching forward to try to slip it on. He has to fumble for a second, has to fight to remember how to breathe as he rolls it on, really touching Mikey for the first time. "Is that--"
Mikey can barely keep his eyes open, whining high in the back of his throat because Gerard is actually touching him. "Yeah." He looks down and fists over himself once, making sure it is on properly, and Gerard's done a fine job. He grins, sneaking forward to kiss Gerard's nose lightly. "Nice, you've got a God-given talent."
"Shut up," Gerard says weakly, still trying to not think about the fact that he isn't a teenager trying to pretend he's not looking at his brother anymore, he's a priest and this is the last thing he should be doing. "Just. Come on, okay? I need you to."
"Yeah, okay." Mikey tears open the other lube packet--he has to use his teeth again, fingers too slippery to gain purchase--and fists his cock again, coating himself until he thinks he's got an acceptable slickness. He moves forward between Gerard's legs and taps at his hip, trying to angle him. "Up a little bit?"
Gerard nods and tries to do it, clumsily lifting his hips as much as he can in the hopes that it actually works out, afraid to ask if he's doing it okay again because he's been doing that the entire time. So he just tries to smile a little, and relaxes, forcing himself not to think about the way his heart is pounding because Mikey's going to actually do it, for real.
Mikey squeezes Gerard's hip encouragingly and uses his other hand to line himself up. His instincts battle once the head of his cock gets in--to slam his hips the rest of the way and to just stop before he dies--but he knows that neither of them are best for Gerard, and he does his best to move in steadily and carefully.
Gerard's breath is just gone, and he feels like he's going to die, be burned alive from this. He clutches at Mikey's back, fingers gripping tight on bare skin, scrabbling to keep a hold there since his hands are sweating. "God oh God oh God," he manages, not even caring how twisted that is.
"Shhh," Mikey stops only when he's all the way in, hips locked to Gerard's, noses almost poking together. "You're okay." Mikey's not though--he's on fire, and has a more than passing fear that the instant he moves, he'll come. That would be no good--no fun for him, and certainly not for Gerard who might never let him touch him again.
"I oh fuck oh--" and Gerard can't stop talking, can't get his mouth to shut long enough to even get in a proper breath. He's panicking, he's pretty sure, because either Mikey needs to do something or he's going to freak out too much to be able to do this. "Move. Please. I." He can't do this, it's too much, and Mikey hasn't even done anything yet.
"It's okay," Mikey whispers again, bringing his other hand up to cup Gerard's cheek, hoping to steady him as he starts to carefully pull back, the slick hot drag of muscle and skin forcing him to tense up his stomach, muscles clenched in his best attempt to moderate himself.
Gerard's eyes are squeezed shut against the sheer feeling of it, overwhelming and hot and it hurts, it does, but it feels good enough to terrify him. He clutches Mikey closer, arms wrapped around him like a hug, whispering, "I missed you." It's the closest to hugging they've done, since he saw Mikey again, even if it's wrong and twisted because it's not a hug, Mikey is inside him.
Mikey groans and he wishes his arms were free so he could hug Gerard back, but all he can do is stroke his fingers over Gerard's cheek and thrust slowly back in, letting out a harsh "oof" of breath and dropping his forehead to the curve of Gerard's shoulder, sticky with sweat, because he just needs a second to get over all the intensity. "I missed you so fucking much."
"Yeah, fuckunh I did too, Mikey, I did too." There's practically no space between them at all anymore, they're pressed together and connected and Gerard for all that he thinks what they're doing is wrong thinks it's amazing, too. And Mikey is gorgeous, like this.
"I'm so happy you're here." Mikey kisses Gerard's shoulder, since he's there, and labors to lift himself again, smile down at Gerard when he thrusts in again, a little faster but still smooth--this is going to be good for Gerard if it kills him to do it.
Gerard chokes out another noise, arching up, clinging closer to Mikey, and he can't manage any words but his eyes are doing that for him, desperate and lust-blown. It's too much, and he never wants it to stop. "Nnh, yeah," he finally manages. "'m too."
Mikey inhales, shuddering, and rolls his hips back, pausing again while pressed all the day inside and savoring the feel of Gerard pressing hard into his stomach and the way sweat glistens on his forehead and his pinked cheeks. "So fucking beautiful, fuck."
"Nah, that's you," Gerard manages, half-smiling, fighting to keep his breathing even remotely steady. "You're the beautiful one, I just." He looks down at himself, at Mikey pressed into him, at the cross still on his chest. "I'm just the weird one."
"You're not." If Mikey pressed closer all the way, chest to chest, he would be able to feel the metal of the cross heated by their skin. He exhales hard through his nose and smiles a little when he works his hips a little, not quite thrusting. "Well, you are. But also fucking gorgeous."
"No, and... fuck, come on, gonna make me beg?" Gerard's breath hisses through his teeth and he pushes back against Mikey, trying to urge him on already, because there's only so much of this he can take.
"I'm trying to be considerate of your virgin ass," Mikey grins, thrusting in more definitely, because if Gerard's going to ask, Mikey isn't about to deny him anything. He licks his lips, suddenly dry, and catches the saltsweat from his upper lip, swallowing hard and looking down at Gerard spread below him like everything he's ever imagined.
It hits Gerard, then, holy shit I'm busy losing my virginity here but he can't very well stop now, and he stares up at Mikey, red-flushed and sweating, hair in his eyes and clinging to his forehead, and it's amazing. "Don't bother," he says, trying to keep the tone light, but his voice comes out rougher than he's ever remembered it.
"Fine," Mikey scratches out, trying to swallow again to clear his throat, picking up a regular rhythm and feeling his stomach twist to slick sound of them moving together. "I'll just pound it, if that's what you want."
"Be my guest," Gerard chokes out, arching desperately, starting to lose his grip on Mikey's back, having to dig in with his nails a little to keep a hold there and not slip. "God oh God, fuck"
"Uhn." Mikey had been afraid to ask Gerard to use his nails, didn't want to reach too far afield when he was happy to get what he could, but god. His hips jerk hard in response, rocking him into Gerard faster than he had before and he hopes Gerard wasn't kidding about pounding into him, because Mikey's about an inch away from it and slipping.
Gerard lets out a strangled moan, nails digging in harder, slipping to drag down Mikey's back. "Sorry," he manages, weak, trying to grab on and hold on again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," and his mind keeps up the steady stream of God oh God like it'll make what they're doing less sinful somehow.
“No, fuck, do it, please," Mikey hisses, thrusting in deep and needy. He shifts his weight as best he can so he can fit a hand between them, fingertips stroking calloused over Gerard's cock, unable to get a good grip without moving away.
Gerard presses up into the touch, hissing out a noise through his teeth. "You--fuck. You want me to?" He's hesitant about it, but he does it anyway, raking his nails down Mikey's back, hard, not enough to draw blood but enough that he knows it'll hurt.
"Nngh," Mikey bites his own lip, rubbing at what of Gerard he can reach. "Yeah, fuck, please. I like that." It's an admission that would be more embarrassing were he not currently inside Gerard, and he really doesn't have room in his head to worry about much besides working his hips in and savoring the tightness around him and the look on Gerard's face.
"What else?" Gerard gasps out, pressing his nails in a little harder. "Do you like, I mean." He wants to make this good for Mikey, even though he has no idea if he's doing it right in the first place. He wants Mikey to remember this being as good as he does, because he's not sure he'll be able to handle it happening again.
"Um." Mikey struggles to find the breath, arching under Gerard's nails sharp in his back. "Pretty much anything that." He groans, low and loud, eyes fluttering shut until he can gain control of himself again. "Anything that hurts. I like it." He isn't sure what Gerard's reaction will be, to his masochistic littler brother. "But if you. You don't have to."
"I want to," Gerard says easily, and thinks for a moment, trying to get his thoughts to focus even as Mikey is groaning like that, loud and unashamed of himself. It comes to him then, and he slides a hand up into Mikey's hair, tight, tugging a little with the other still gripped on his back.
Mikey's chest goes tight, and he moans, and he really hopes no one is going to come into the rectory looking for Father Way--it wouldn't take much imagination to know what's going up in the pastor's bedroom. He lets up a little so that he can get to Gerard's cock, fisting firmly down over him. "What about you? Any, um, requests?"
“I don't even know, just. Anything." Gerard's never let himself think about this kind of thing in specifics, mind trying to filter through the chaos to find something. And with Mikey's hand on his cock, it's even harder to remember what he wants. "You could--" Truth to be told, he's got some of the same leanings as Mikey. "--hurt me, too."
"I. Like." Mikey's hand pauses briefly on Gerard's cock. He reaches up to squeeze at Gerard's shoulder, then slides it carefully over to where his neck starts. He squeezes again, carefully, voice low and rough, still not working at Gerard--he doesn't want to distract him. "Is that okay?"
"I." Gerard can't even think anymore, all rational thoughts have gone out of his head with Mikey doing that, hand around his neck and all he would have to do would be to press down, squeeze a little, and just. It would be too much. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be amazing."
"Okay." Mikey twists his hand on Gerard's cock, and takes a firmer grip on Gerard's neck, fingers digging in. He rocks in, and it's kind of tough to coordinate all this in his head, and he maybe squeezes a little harder on Gerard's neck in his concentration.
Gerard gasps for air but can't get any, eyes squeezing shut, teeth gritted against the sensation, and he mouths more because he can't get the words to come out. It's perfect like this, better than, and he's going to have handprints around his neck he'll have to figure out how to cover up because they're going to extend past his collar, for sure. Even if they are light, they’ll be there.
Mikey's brain tells him to let up, give Gerard room to breathe because this really isn't first-time material. But his hand clenches just that little bit more when he thrusts hard and deep, his own breath ragged. He thinks he's done admirably, but he can't last much longer, no matter how much he may want to for Gerard's sake.
It certainly doesn't bother Gerard any, and all Mikey has to do is squeeze tighter, thrust again, and he's coming, just like that, so sudden it surprises even him. "Fuck," he manages, Mikey's hand still tight around his throat, and has the presence of mind to tighten his hand in Mikey's hair, pull a little.
Mikey chokes out a last desperate noise that sounds an awful lot like "Gerard" and stutters his hips in once more before coming, falling against Gerard's chest, eyes shut and panting, hand still closed around Gerard's throat.
Gerard just lays there, breathing hard, and the panic is already starting to set in. He--ohgod. He just slept with his little brother. With Mikey. What was he even thinking? Fuck, he thinks weakly, staring up at the ceiling with horrified eyes. Fuck, oh fuck.
"That was incredible," Mikey mumbles against Gerard's chest. Smiling, satisfied and lazy, he manages to pick his head up, hoping to share a grin with Gerard. Instead, he finds him looking horrified and faintly sick, and his own stomach drops. "Gee."
"Sorry," Gerard whispers, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Oh God." He almost feels like he's going to throw up. He might, even. He'd managed to put what they were doing out of his mind while they were doing it but now? Now he has to face it, for real.
"Gee, don't, please." Mikey pulls out and rolls away--being plastered against Gerard's front probably isn't going to help him keep from panicking. He grabs Gerard's hand, squeezing it because Gerard won't look at him, just stares at the ceiling. "Don't fucking do this."
"Sorry," Gerard says again, looking down now at his cross. "Shit. Shit, Mikey, we're going to burn and it's going to be my fault and I'm so so sorry." His voice is getting shaky again, with the effort of not just huddling into a ball and trying to make himself disappear.
"I don't care." Mikey doesn't say I don't believe that because he really doesn't need to add more stress onto Gerard right now, and challenging the beliefs he's wrapped around himself like armor is definitely not going to get him any closer. He runs his fingers over the back of Gerard's hand, desperate to touch and soothe. "I don't care, Gee, fuck, I just want us."
"I know," Gerard says, trying to keep his eyes from watering. "I do too. I do too, and it's wrong and sick and sinful and I can't stop myself from wanting you." He knows it's going to happen again, that he knows absolutely. Any time Mikey asks, he's going to eventually give in. But he can't make it into a something, not when he knows he'll have a crisis of faith every time he gives in.
Mikey shakes his head, squeezing Gerard's hang tighter. "Don't do this to yourself, Gee, c'mon. It's okay." He knew that this would be tough for Gerard, but he'd thought that once Gerard got over the actual having sex part, he would be okay. Obviously not. "You're okay. I promise."
"I'm--" Gerard hesitates, trying to calm himself down. "I'm not okay. I'm sorry. I was trying to keep myself from freaking out about it sooner so I wouldn't leave you hanging." He looks off to the side, ashamed. He still can't meet Mikey's eyes. "I wanted to, but I--"
"Gee." Mikey wants to hug him and kiss him and just hold him, but he knows that any of that is just going to make it worse. He looks down at his lap, bites his lip. "You. You want me to go?"
"I don't know," Gerard says finally, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "I don't know. I should. I should be the one going." He finally looks at Mikey, eyes dark. "I don't hate you, though. I can't hate you. I just need to make this better somehow." He needs to confess.
"I don't hate you either. I. I can leave." Because Gerard obviously doesn't want him here anymore. Mikey doesn't wait for an answer before practically falling out of bed, trying to find his clothes. He gets his jeans on before remembering to look under the bed for his boxers but whatever, he doesn't need them. He just has to get out of here--he can't have Gerard looking at him like that, broken.
"You don't have to," Gerard says helplessly, staring at the ground. The only real coherent thought he has is what the fuck was I thinking? because there was no reason he should have given in to it in the first place, no reason he should have said anything that would have let this go further than it did. He feels like he's going to be--he's going to be sick, and he staggers out of bed and into the bathroom.
Gerard. Mikey stares after him because out of all his (oftentimes ill-advised) hook-ups, he doesn't think he's ever actually made someone physically ill before. There's a fun story to add to his conquests. He doesn't want to be here when Gerard comes back to the bedroom, looking pale and sweaty and wiping his mouth, so he pulls on his shirt and just. Just goes.
Gerard makes his way out of the bathroom and finds Mikey gone. Instead, he just stares at the sheets, trying to figure out a way to clean them without anyone noticing. He doesn't know why it's hit him like this, why it did now, after they'd done everything, even with part of him in the back of his mind talking about doing it for Mikey. Mikey wanted it, almost as much as Gerard did if not more.
They both wanted it, they were both happy to get it--but it still makes him feel like he's going to die, remembering what he did. How could he be so sick, to want his little brother, to imagine that it could possibly be okay for him to act on those desires? God gives all men challenges, and he's failed his utterly. He needs to confess, badly.
He changes into his regular clothes, not wanting the reminder the other brings him. He can't go to the church he himself is a priest at, the other Father knows him well enough to be able to recognize his voice and he can't have that, he doesn't want the priest to know. It's the worst thing he can think of.
There's another church, on the opposite side of town. He's never been there before--perfect. He knows that this is wrong, that if he truly wanted forgiveness for his sins he wouldn't be ashamed to admit them in front of the other Father, but he's obviously deeply wrong--no surprise that he's failed in so many other ways.
He doesn't need the other father knowing his sins to add to the mix. And part of him, still, knows that to be truly forgiven he has to have the intent to not do it again. He can't say he has that. If Mikey asks again, then, well. He doesn't know that he'll turn Mikey down. He hopes so. But for now, he has to be cleansed of it, or he's not going to be able to look himself in the eye.
The entire drive is treacherous--his hands shake almost too hard for him to steer properly, and he has to wipe furiously at his eyes more than once--but he makes it there alive and relatively quickly. The church is mostly empty when he gets there, smaller than his parish and less well-kept.
He has to confess. He keeps repeating that in his mind even as he makes his way further into the church, even as he opens the door to the confessional, staring at the wood of the wall and the screen. Most of him is on autopilot as he speaks, at least at the beginning, but when it comes to confessing--he's not sure he can even do it.
Gone through all the motions, he pauses. The priest on the other side of the screen sounds painfully calm. "Go ahead, my child." Gerard wants to scream that he isn't his child, he's his brother in the cloth. He wants to make himself a martyr, feel spikes in his side or weight crushing him down--the whole world needs to know that he's a sinner, a filthy sinner who must make penance for what he's done. But before any of that, he has to confess. He swallows hard. "I. I've done a terrible thing, Father."
The priest says, very soft, "Yes?" and Gerard gathers the courage to speak. "I--have lain with someone I shouldn't have. I gave into temptation." He can almost hear the father's frown, because both of them know there's something Gerard isn't telling. "... it was. It was my brother, Father."
"Your--" he can hear the shock, disgust in the priest's voice (shock that shouldn't be there, they were trained against that--the sinner must not be accused or condemned, but led. Hate the sin, love the sinner) before the man coughs and speaks again, voice soft and calm like before. "Why would you do something like that, child?"
"I wasn't meaning to," Gerard says quietly, staring at the ground even though he knows he can't see the priest's eyes. "I've wanted him for. For a long time, and I know it's wrong, but then he tells me he does too, practically begs me to forget that it's sinful so that we can be happy--I couldn't say no to him. I didn't want to." He hangs his head, waiting for the half-hidden disgust in the priest's voice again.
The priest makes a faint sound and Gerard hopes that he doesn't end up throwing up too. "But we must not give into these temptations. The Lord never offers us a challenge we're not strong enough to face--He believes in you. You can resist this, be stronger than it."
"I hope so," Gerard says, too-quiet for the priest to hear, and then, "I won't do it again, and I want forgiveness for--for what I've done. I don't want to give in to the temptation again, I want to be forgiven, I want--" He shudders. "Please."
"Think about what you've done," the priest says, obviously trying to be soothing even while Gerard can hear the tightness in his voice. "You have to focus on what has kept you strong, let you resist temptation. You need to let the Lord's strength work through you."
Gerard closes his eyes, lets himself think. It's--the thing that's kept him from Mikey was becoming a priest. And even that. That was why he did it, not because of his convictions or because he believed it was a calling, but because he was running away from his little brother. "I will," he says, taking a deep breath, but he doesn't know what to do.
"Say your rosary," the priest says, "and may the Lord guide you." Gerard ducks his head and crosses himself, because his head swims. He's a fraud. In all his protests, as much as he claims to love the Lord, he's been betraying God all along, bearing his name for all the wrong reasons.
The air of the church suddenly feels unbearably stuffy, suffocating even, and Gerard needs to get out, needs the fresh air to clear his head and figure out what the hell he's doing with himself. It's not even a crisis of faith. He still believes, he just. He doesn't know if he can do this anymore.
He strides out of the church, the heavy echo of his feet on the tile following him all the way to the door. He squints in the gray afternoon light, and sees a figure sitting on the steps, off to the side next to a stone statue of Mary. He walks over, slow and careful, and sits down next to Mikey.
Mikey looks over at him and doesn't say anything, just smiles weakly, resting his head on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard looks down at his cross, closes his eyes and pictures the inside of the confessional--but it doesn't matter, Mikey's here now. He has to make a decision at some point, but for now-- "Hey, bro," he murmurs, and wraps an arm around Mikey's shoulders.
The rectory is right across from the church, of course, but it still feels like years to get there when Gerard is like this. He doesn't let himself get like this, because his mind completely goes and all he has is his hormones controlling him. His hormones don't usually make the good decisions. But they're there, and he's dragging Mikey up the stairs into his bedroom before he even is really aware that they've made it in the door.
Mikey's only been in the rectory twice before, the first time when Gerard first moved in and Mama bustled him over with a plant and a frilly scented candle to make Gee feel "at home." The second time, he'd come to pick Gerard up for a family dinner. Both times he waited as close to the door as possible, not going in any further than he had to. Now he's practically charging up the stairs, following Gerard and praying (sorry, Lord) that they would get to Gerard's bedroom soon.
They do, and Gerard pretty much tugs them both in the door and then closes it behind them with a bang. And then they're there, they're alone in Gerard's bedroom, and Gerard just looks down at himself, still in his collar, awkward, and then back at Mikey. "What do we do?" he asks, trying not to look too eager. "I don't really. I've never gotten the chance to do this with someone."
"What do." Mikey is pretty much just doing his best not to drool all over himself, because Gerard is standing there flushed, eyes bright, in his fucking collar. "It depends on what you want? I mean, how far do you want to go?" It's a totally high school question but, as Mikey figures it, Gerard is still in a high school level relationship wise, and it's not like he's going to get called on it.
"I don't know," Gerard says, awkward. "You've done pretty much everything, yeah?" He wants to, as much as it shames him to even think it, and he knows he's going to have to confess this as soon as he can, but he wants Mikey to fuck him. He's wanted that since he was sixteen, lying awake staring at the ceiling trying to pretend he wasn't thinking about his thirteen year old brother. It was beyond creepy back then, not that it's much better now.
"Uh, yeah." With Gerard looking at him, all innocent, Mikey feels pretty slutty. He definitely knows what he's doing, and though that's a good thing in this situation (he can't imagine trying to coordinate something with a virgin and a priest), he still feels oddly embarrassed. He forces himself to smile, tucking his thumb in his waistband. "So, you tell me? And we can do it."
"So." Gerard sucks in a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. "Can we try everything? Would that be okay?" Mikey went into some pretty explicit detail in the confessional but there's no guarantee he wants to actually do all of that in reality, and Gerard doesn't want to push him while he himself is already on-edge enough about the thought of really doing this.
"Yeah." It comes out as more of a sigh, because somewhere under it all Mikey was afraid (is still afraid) that Gerard is going to decide he just wants to make out, or doesn't want to do anything at all. And then Mikey is going to combust and die, and Gerard's going to have to explain to the parish why there are little shreds of Way all over his bedroom. He moves closer, getting more into Gerard's personal space, slowly like he's trying not to spook a skittish animal.
Gerard smiles, nervous, and scoots his way over to Mikey a little more, close enough to kiss him. He doesn't want to make the first move, but the waiting is killing him, so--"Can I?" He leans forward, well into Mikey's space, close enough that he can feel Mikey's breath on his face. "Um. Kiss you, I mean."
Mikey lets out a long breath and half smiles, sloppy lazy and so desperate. "Please." He rests a hand on Gerard's side--nothing untoward, just his palm flat under Gerard's ribs--and leans in the rest of the way, searching for contact and then, yes. He's kissing Gerard, like he's wanted to since was about fourteen, finally kissing him, wet and warm and nice and right.
Gerard's heart very nearly beats out of his chest, but he presses forward anyway, reaching up to run a hand through Mikey's hair and hold him there, half-afraid he'll change his mind and leave Gerard like this, hard and aching in the middle of his bedroom. He's only ever kissed one person, and he's not very good, clumsy and pressing too lightly, but he has no way of knowing that.
Mikey makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, because Gerard is sort of a bad kisser, and it's perfect. It's just how he imagined it, being able to stroke his other hand along Gerard's jawline, cup his cheek and steady him. He kisses him firmly, being an example, and mouths at Gerard's lower lip, not trying for tongue just yet but hopefully introducing the idea.
Gerard frowns just a little, unsure, but he opens his mouth just a little under Mikey's. He doesn't know if this is the right thing to do or not, so he's just going to have to find out, trying to kiss harder, make it better.
Mikey makes another sound, more definite, encouraging. He kisses Gerard lazily, just parted lips warm against each other. After a while, he's pretty sure Gerard is acclimated and won't be thrown into shock and start saying rosaries if Mikey tries to go further--he runs his tongue over Gerard's lower lip, feeling the indent where he'd been biting it earlier.
Gerard's eyes widen further, and his mind is going ohshit what but he opens his mouth under Mikey's further, wanting to feel that again. It's strange but he can't deny he likes the feel of it, that it goes through him like a shock, that it makes him want to just hold onto Mikey and make the both of them stay like this all day.
With Gerard's unspoken permission, Mikey goes further, hand curling a little tighter around Gerard's waist, tongue tracing over Gerard's lips and delicately delving into Gerard's mouth. Hopefully it's not too terrifying and Gerard won't bite it off or something, because as fond as he is of blood, that's really not the sexy kind.
Gerard squeaks. He can't help it, Mikey's tongue is in his mouth and it feels gross but simultaneously really, really hot, and he's sort of embarrassed for reacting this easily--he's not that young anymore, and he's not thirty yet but he's getting there. Making out shouldn't be doing this to him. But it is, and he presses forward, pulling Mikey into him and responding in kind, tongue sliding against Mikey's.
Mikey groans into Gerard's mouth, and he hasn't enjoyed kissing this much since he was fifteen and it was still novel, but it's Gerard, so it makes sense that it's different--better than anything from before. He's thrilled to be pressed closer to Gerard, and he squeezes Gerard's side before sliding his hand to wrap around his back, locking them together.
They're pressed up against each other as they're kissing, and Gerard can feel Mikey, feel how hard he is pressed up against Gerard's hip. He grinds forward, just a little, trying to get them closer together, hand slipping as it tries to get a better grip on Mikey's back so he can pull Mikey into him, so he settles for rocking forward himself, instead.
Just that quickly, kissing is totally overrated. Mikey swivels his hips, rubbing against the solid press of Gerard's hip and trying to work a thigh properly between Gerard's legs without either of them backing down or letting go in any way. His hand clenches against Gerard's back, getting him a handful of rather rough polyester (someone had to get better quality clothes for the men of the cloth, seriously)
Gerard groans at the feel of Mikey against him, too-loud but it doesn't matter, they're the only ones in the rectory. No one else is around to hear. He tries to press closer, even, when there's already no space between their bodies, half-wishing they weren't dressed (but then, he's not going to lie to himself and say he doesn't think Mikey gets a kick out of him still being in the collar as they do this)
"Hey." Mikey pulls back a little, much as he hates to, mouth free though his hips still work against Gerard, almost as if of their own volition. "You wanted to, uh, try everything, right?" Because fun as frottage is, in a teenage way, there are other things that are way more awesome that he would love to show Gerard.
"Yeah. If that's okay," Gerard says, too-fast, grinding back against Mikey again just to have the feel of it. "What do you want to do?" There are already parts of his mind insisting bad bad wrong going to hell but he can't listen to them now, he's too far gone for that. It'll hit him, he knows that. But he doesn't think it'll happen just yet.
"Anything," Mikey replies truthfully without really considering it. He doesn't have to consider, doesn't have to gauge and plan and portion out what parts of him are on the counter, because it's Gerard. Gerard can have anything Mikey has, it's just how it works. And it isn't like Gerard is going to come up with something that's going to shock Mikey--he's a priest, it's not like he gets out much, and definitely not in the crowds that Mikey runs with.
Gerard has to pull back, away from Mikey, and let himself consider for a long moment if what he's about to ask is really what he wants to do. He's--he's thought about it, yeah, but Mikey's offering anything and he wants to accept. "I don't think we really have anything here," he admits, staring down at his feet. "But if we could figure out a way, um."
Anything. Gerard is worried because he doesn't have anything, which means. Which means. "You want." It's almost too good to be true, hell, it is too good to be true, after how long Mikey has been fantasizing about this. He blinks at Gerard, trying to look cautious instead of outright disbelieving. "You want like, actual fucking?"
Gerard chokes on air and has to take a moment before he can actually speak. "I. Yeah, I do." He goes red, across his cheeks, expression ashamed (at himself, not at Mikey). "I've kind of wanted to since I was, like. Sixteen. If that's okay."
"Oh. Um, yeah." Mikey finds himself flushing too, mainly from the look on Gerard's face--he's never met anyone who wears shame quite as gorgeously as his brother does, the collar just perfecting the look. It's like some kinky fantasy, but it's all real. "You want to fuck me?"
Gerard's thought about that. It's definitely a fond fantasy, but not the one he really wants, at this point. He shakes his head, letting himself look up and meet Mikey's eyes, want too-obvious in them. "You could. You could do it to me?" He can't actually say it, that's as close as he can come to admitting what he wants out loud.
"Oh." Mikey feels dumb, repeating himself, but he just has to keep staring into Gerard's eyes and he's broken all over again. "Then, um, we're definitely going to need stuff." And it's embarrassing, he's pretty ashamed of himself though in a way he's saved the day--Mikey fishes two packets of lube out of his back pocket and presents them shyly to Gerard. "Uh, ta-da?"
Gerard chokes again. "You--Mikey, did you come here expecting something to happen? Jesus Christ." There's not much more he can do in the department of wrong today that's worse than what he wants, a little taking the Lord's name in vain is minor in comparison. "So, wait. Are, you, um." Mikey's saved the day on one half, but. "Clean? If you don't have, you know."
"I was. Um. Hoping, maybe?" Wishful thinking is more like it, but Mikey doesn't really care now that he's in Gerard's bedroom offering him lube. Mikey thinks back to the last time he was tested, who he's been with since and... "Hold on." And he's praying again--God is going to fry his ass, seriously--when he digs his wallet out of his jeans and goes pawing through, because the entire universe is laughing at him if he can't find a condom in there.
Thankfully, the entire universe is not.
"Got one." And Gerard can breathe again, because he's to the point where he's willing to do this with his little brother, yeah (oh God, his little brother) but he doesn't want to have any unpleasant souvenirs from the experience.
Mikey pulls Gerard close, three all important packets clutched tight in his hands, and kisses him again before pulling away, grinning and breathless. "You sure you're up for this?" Because if he gets his fingers up Gerard's ass, and then Gerard has a crisis of faith, that's going to pretty much be the death of him.
Gerard is silent for a moment, just thinking. He's been having a crisis of faith the whole time, but low-grade enough that he can push it out of his mind until later, at least. "I'm okay," he says finally. He's not, but it doesn't matter, he can deal with that later, with the inevitable on-his-knees begging for forgiveness and crying in the confessional. And it's going to happen again, he knows that, too.
"Cool. On the bed, then?" Because maybe now Mikey is more used to fucking in bathroom stalls or up against whatever wall space you can find, but Gerard has a nice bed right there and Gerard deserves a bed for this. He bumps at Gerard's hips lightly with his own, urging him over to the bed.
Gerard goes, cautious, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Should I lay down?" He's still in all of his clothes, still in the collar, and he doesn't know if Mikey wants him to get naked or not, or if that comes before he lays down or after.
"It'll probably be easier for you strip now." As much fondness as Mikey has for the collar, he knows that there's no way it can beat the sheer power of Gerard naked. All that pale skin--Mikey shudders a little and reaches over to trace his hands over Gerard's waist. "I can help."
"If. That would be good." Gerard doesn't want to do this with these clothes on, another uncomfortable reminder of everything he's breaking by agreeing to do this with Mikey. And shit, it's like he doesn't even care about the things he vowed he'd do. "Do you want me to get yours?"
"We'll do you first," Mikey offers in a low almost-purr, sliding his fingertips along the inside of Gerard's waistband to thumb at his belt buckle (standard black, just like the entirety of his outfit). He doesn't open it yet, waits to see if Gerard is going to jerk away, or douse him in holy water, or do whatever lapsing priests do. He hopes that getting Gerard naked will move things along--he has plenty of practice taking his own clothes off.
Gerard doesn't move away, even though part of him is still screaming at him to do it. He reaches down and puts his hand over Mikey's, a clear indication to keep going, because if he stops now he's not going to be able to work up enough courage (or lack of inhibition) to do it again.
Mikey grins, and works at Gerard's belt. It's stiff and hard to work open, must be new (or God trying to help Gerard keep it in his pants which, fuck off God, mind Your own business, seriously), but Mikey perseveres, emboldened by the warmth of Gerard's hand on his. Belt open, Mikey pops the button on Gerard's slacks and then pauses, reaching up to touch his collar. "We should probably get you out of the shirt."
"Yeah, probably," Gerard says, and he's still speaking too fast, he knows that, and his voice is higher than he'd like. He sounds kind of squeaky, actually. "Hurry up?" He needs to be able to *do* this already, to actually touch Mikey, as twisted as that is, but he's been waiting for this for years and by now he is definitely at his limit.
"Sure." Mikey does hurry up, but he's still not moving hugely fast--he doesn't want to rush this, it's--for lack of a better and less disgustingly Hallmark word--special. Still, he unbuttons Gerard's shirt quick and easy, and leans in to press a soft kiss against his collar before pushing at the shirt, over Gerard's shoulders to expose the soft pale of his torso. He makes an appreciative sound, biting his lip.
Gerard makes an appreciative sound of his own, shuddering at the feel of Mikey's lips against his skin, something he hasn't let himself think about--about what it would actually feel like, for real. And now he is, Mikey is above him, undressing him, God, and he reaches to help Mikey with the shirt, pull his arms out of it and toss it aside.
"Mmm." Mikey kisses Gerard's shoulder and rests a hand against his side, savoring the feel of hot skin and flesh and Gerard. "Nice." He nibbles his way across Gerard's collarbone, and tucks one of his hands into Gerard's pants to grab at his thigh and squeeze gently.
Gerard arches up even with that touch, light and pretty much nothing but it's *Mikey*, and that's what makes the difference. "Shouldn't I get--" Mikey is still totally dressed and yeah, Gerard only has his shirt off but it's still unequal. "Want me to get yours?"
"Not yet," Mikey mumbles, more intent on kissing Gerard's neck, hand wandering over his chest and back and belly to get a lay of the land, just feel everything in case he won't be able to again. His grip tenses, thumb pressing into Gerard's inner thigh (hopefully it won't bruise, but it's not like anyone else would have an opportunity to see it) "'M enjoying myself."
Gerard lets out a faint noise, eyes sliding shut at the feel of Mikey's lips against his neck, hot against his skin. "Keep enjoying then," because the last thing he wants is Mikey to stop, right now. "So, later then?" He wants to get Mikey naked so badly it almost kind of hurts.
Mikey grins against Gerard's skin. "Not much later, I fucking promise, Gee, okay?" He's sort of dying having Gerard's bare skin in front of him, tantalizing him in a way it hasn't since Gerard still lived at home and wandered out of the bathroom in ratty old boxers with holes in them every day except this time. This time, Mikey can look without hiding and blushing behind a comic, and he can touch. He traces a finger over the red line where Gerard's pants had cut into his belly and nuzzles into Gerard's neck.
Gerard arches up, against Mikey's fingers tracing along the red lines, so close to dipping under his waistband he kind of wants to die on the spot. He wants to reach down, undo his pants and get them off, already, just to tempt Mikey into touching more, there. He kind of likes that idea, actually, and he reaches down, fingers brushing against Mikey's to do it.
And if Gerard is willing to make a move for it, Mikey is certainly not going to refuse him. "Hey, I'm going." He undoes Gerard's pants and moves to slide them off his hips, but. "You take care of those, okay?" He pulls his t-shirt up over his head, stretching his arms and back out (you should always stretch before vigorous activity), but he doesn't remove his jeans. He's sort of hoping Gerard will want to do it for him.
Gerard slides his pants down, quick enough to make his legs hurt, and just looks. Mikey is above him, half-naked, he himself is in nothing but his underwear, and they're going to--Mikey's actually going to do that to him. He said he was, but. "Hey, um." Gerard isn't really into being this forward, but at this point he is beyond sick of waiting, and he reaches forward to undo the buttons of Mikey’s jeans.
Mikey makes a needy sound that isn't as soft as he'd like to imagine it is, tilting his hips closer to Gerard, encouraging (hopefully not scaring him off). "Hey, yeah." And Gerard is in his underwear, which is far more awesome than it should be, and his ears are sort of rushing with all the excitement.
"You're gonna have to help me get these off," Gerard says, unzipping them and trying to tug them off, and he's doing it fast enough that he's probably going to snag something on Mikey and accidentally hurt him. He doesn't want to, yeah, but right now reasonable things are definitely not in his brain.
Mikey reaches down to help Gerard, shimmies out of his jeans as quick as he can and kicks them somewhere in the vicinity of the foot of Gerard's bed. And now they're both in just their underwear, on the bed, in Gerard's (rectory) bedroom, looking at each other. Neat. "Do you." Mikey's tracing his fingers soft over the inside of Gerard's thigh before he thinks about it. "You want to kiss more? Or like. Just go for it?"
"Can we just go for it?" Gerard asks, hesitant again. He wants to, because he's afraid if he waits long enough he's going to get cold feet, remember all the hundreds of reasons why this is a bad, bad idea, and just. He can't do that to Mikey, so he has to hurry the both of them up before it happens.
"Yeah, that's. Let's do that." Most of his sensible parts are recommending he fuck Gerard now before he changes his mind, but Mikey still grabs Gerard by the shoulders to pull him in for a last kiss before coaxing him down onto his back. It would be easier the other way, of course, but he gets the feeling that Gerard is going to be a mushy romantic about it and want to be face to face.
Gerard does, of course, he wants to see Mikey when they do this, watch him, and he's had years of trying not to fantasize about it (and failing) to know exactly how he wants this to go. He wants to ask if it's okay, but Mikey is the one who knows what he's doing here, if Mikey wants him like this he'll go like this.
Mikey runs his finger under the fabric on one of Gerard's legs. "So, uh. Getting rid of these, yeah?" Because priest or no, there really isn't a good way to fuck through boxer shorts. He tugs gently--his own can wait, he's still got to prep Gerard, which he has the feeling may take a while--not wanting to strip away Gerard's last piece of fabric defense without giving him a chance to fight.
Gerard takes a deep breath, calming himself before he actually commits to doing this for real. He can do this. He's not going to freak out, and he's not going to back out of this. He wants this, fuck, he wants this way too much. "Yeah." That's all he can say, and every breath he's taking comes out way, way too shuddery for his own good.
Mikey grins and pulls more definitely, helping Gerard shed his boxers and seeing him really naked, spread pale and dark and flushed--it takes Mikey a few extra moments to breathe. He traces his fingers over Gerard's hipbones, the soft parts of his belly, around his prize but not quite touching. Not yet, he's waited just like Gerard has, and he deserves to have his fun in his own way.
Gerard pushes up into the touch of Mikey's fingers on his hips, on his belly, and god, he's naked. He's naked in front of his brother and--well, he still has one thing, the cross around his neck, just something he wears often enough (every day, really) that it's become a part of him. He doesn't notice it, though Mikey probably does.
Mikey definitely does. It's almost better than the collar in a way--a symbol, a definite yet simple symbol of everything Gerard has become, everything that he's losing now. Mikey knows he should ignore it, but it's so tempting, that he slides his hands to rest at the crease of Gerard's thighs, supporting himself when he leans forward to catch the crucifix on his tongue, sucking on it gently.
Gerard looks down and half-chokes, because he didn't even remember he had it on, and now Mikey's sucking on it, every time Gerard feels it against his skin when he's giving absolution, saying Mass, anything, he's going to remember that his brother's tongue was on it. He shudders at the thought, half-pleased, even.
Mikey makes a "nnnh" sound, loving the feel of skin-warmed metal on his tongue, and it tastes slightly salty and like Gerard's skin. He pulls back until the chain is pulled taut, the cross itself caught between his teeth, and grins at Gerard, like a dog with bone, so clearly proud of what he's done.
Gerard kind of wants to see Mikey looking like that forever, pressed into him with the cross necklace in his mouth, grinning. And he's almost totally naked, which only adds to the picture. He can't breathe, looking at that. "Mikey, you--" He doesn't even know what he wants to say, and Mikey at this point is just flaunting everything that's wrong with what they're doing. He can't even say he minds.
Mikey can't speak with the cross still in his mouth, so he lets it slip out of his mouth--it catches on his lip briefly before falling back against Gerard's bare chest. "Yeah," he says, a not-response for Gerard's not-statement, and he scoots closer to kiss him again, still holding tight at Gerard's hips to support himself.
Gerard leans up, hand coming up to cup the side of Mikey's face as he draws him in, overeager still but he's allowed, he's naked with Mikey who mostly is too. He lets himself relax into it, calm his thoughts until they're just buzzing in the background, entirely focused on the way his tongue slides against Mikey's.
Mikey strokes his thumb over Gerard's hip, pressing in a little while he presses definitely forward against Gerard's mouth. He loves how touchy Gerard is being--they've both waited so long, and they deserve to enjoy each other--and if he wasn't using his hands to hold himself up against Gerard, he would definitely work a hand through Gerard's hair (it seems cleaner than it ever was before, perhaps some kind of priest shower regulation)
Gerard tries to pull Mikey in further, far enough that there's probably danger of Mikey toppling and ending up on top of him--then again, that's what he wants, at this point. "Mikey," he finally gasps out, pulling away. "Can we just." He's finding himself kind of ridiculously fond of kissing, but his body is starting to remind him that kissing isn't going to be the only thing he needs to do.
"Yeah, yeah sure," Mikey mumbles, pecking Gerard's lips once more before pulling back. He gropes around in the only slightly mussed covers to retrieve one of his packets of lube, kneading it between his hands to warm it up--it's already pretty warm from being in his pocket, but cool lube is nobody's friend. "You're going to like this, I think."
"Hope so," Gerard says, eyes on the packet of lube, and he knows how this goes in theory (and he's done it to himself, a few times, and always felt dirty doing it) but it's Mikey, and that's what makes the difference in everything. "Am I okay like this?" On his back, and that's where he wants to stay but it's not like he knows how this actually goes, he's not going to go protesting if Mikey wants to go with something else.
"Yeah, that's fine." Mikey tears the packet open with his teeth and squeezes some out over his fingers. He makes sure they're coated properly--Gerard is going to need as much slickness as Mikey can offer, he's sure--and he squeezes at Gerard's thigh with his other, unlubed hand. "All set?"
Gerard sucks in a quick breath, eyes darting downwards to Mikey's hand on his thigh and then to Mikey's other hand, slicked up, and--this should bother him, it should, he knows it should, but no matter what he does he can't actually get himself to. It doesn't matter now, though, they've got better things to be doing than panicking.
"I'll go slow, don't worry," Mikey speaks as soothingly as possible, and he rubs his slick fingers gently over Gerard's balls before moving his hand back to start to slowly work a finger into Gerard--he tries to be careful, but Gerard is tight, obviously tense, and he does have to work a little. "Hey, relax, okay?"
"Trying," Gerard says, trying not to push back against it even as part of his body wants to protest the feeling. It's strange, it's Mikey, but he wants Mikey to keep going, and so he tries to force his body to relax to make it easier. He doesn't want Mikey to go slow, though, not really.
“You can do it," Mikey murmurs. He rests his palm flat on Gerard's belly, working his finger in and making soft encouraging sounds--it's partially for Gerard's benefit, but he can feel Gerard and he can help but imagine that, if Gerard is like this around his fingers, what he's going to be like when they do it for real.
Gerard hates feeling like a baby here, but what can he do, except push downwards against Mikey's finger, hand clenching in the sheets like it'll help him want this less by distracting him, and he chokes out "Come on, Mikey, I'm not gonna break." Part of him wants to grab his cross for reassurance but right now... right now he doesn't want to think about what having it means.
"I just want you to like it," Mikey insists, because if after so long Gerard finally agrees and then Mikey messes it up, makes it hurt, or just isn't good enough--he'd murder himself. He pets soothingly at Gerard's side, though he also presses experimentally with a second finger. "Think you can take another?"
"Yeah, yeah, c'mon." Gerard can, he knows he can, even if he hasn't done this to himself in years he knows how it's supposed to go, and he pushes back against the second finger too, trying to urge Mikey on, and-- "I've, um. I've done this to myself before, so it's not like." It's shameful enough to admit that, he can't even manage the rest without a deep breath. "It's not like you need to worry, baby brother."
Mikey groans at the revelation, fingers crooking inside Gerard. "Oh fuck." The idea of Gerard, blushing bright red of course, shyly reaching down and down and in is more than enough to make Mikey want it about a thousand times more. He looks up, eyes blown dark, to grin at Gerard. "Did you. Is that how you spent the nights at the seminary, big brother? Fingering yourself in the dark?"
"Not at the seminary," Gerard says, looking a bit scandalized, arching up as Mikey crooks his fingers inside him. But then he looks away, bites his lip a little, and after a long pause finally admits. "... once or twice. But I had a roommate so I really couldn't." It's embarrassing enough to admit to himself that he's done it, much less to Mikey.
"Mmm." Mikey works his fingers in deeper, humming a little under his breath. "What was your roommate like? Pretty like you?" He curls his fingers again, reaching and searching for the right spot as his voice goes low and rough. "Did you watch him like you used to watch me?"
"No--unh," Gerard's eyes slip shut at the feel of Mikey's fingers inside him, breathing rough as Mikey's fingers move, press and there, and he lets out a rough cry before he can muffle it. "I, nnh. I didn't watch anyone there. It was always just you."
"Good." Mikey smiles a little and works in a third finger, and abandons rubbing Gerard's side in favor of pressing the heel of his hand against himself through his boxers. "I know you're good at single-minded devotion." I am the Lord, your God. You shall have no other Gods before Me.
"Yeah," Gerard says, voice rough, staring at Mikey and the movement of his hand. "'S my job, you know." And it is, it's so, so twisted that he's doing this. It's starting to hit him but he shoves it down, like it's bile in his throat and he can't back out now, he doesn't want to back out now, but he doesn't know what's going to happen when this is over.
"You're very good at it." Mikey is about to explode, he can feel heat rolling low inside him, aching, and he gropes around for the condom and other packet of lube. He holds them up, flushed and still slightly embarrassed, fingers still moving and curling inside Gerard. "You ready?"
"Yeah." Gerard's tone is nothing if not pleading. "Yeah, Mikey, Mikey come on." He lowers his head as he says it, like it's praying, because he can't meet Mikey's eyes with how much he wants to do this. He can't. It's too much. "Come on, please."
“You want to--" Mikey bites his lip, because pushing isn't going to get him anywhere, but he really just. There's no harm in asking, right? He half holds the condom out under Gerard's nose so he can see with his head bent, foil corner almost poking Gerard's chest. "Can you put it on me?"
"I don't think I'll do it right?" Gerard says, but he takes it anyway, unwrapping it and reaching forward to try to slip it on. He has to fumble for a second, has to fight to remember how to breathe as he rolls it on, really touching Mikey for the first time. "Is that--"
Mikey can barely keep his eyes open, whining high in the back of his throat because Gerard is actually touching him. "Yeah." He looks down and fists over himself once, making sure it is on properly, and Gerard's done a fine job. He grins, sneaking forward to kiss Gerard's nose lightly. "Nice, you've got a God-given talent."
"Shut up," Gerard says weakly, still trying to not think about the fact that he isn't a teenager trying to pretend he's not looking at his brother anymore, he's a priest and this is the last thing he should be doing. "Just. Come on, okay? I need you to."
"Yeah, okay." Mikey tears open the other lube packet--he has to use his teeth again, fingers too slippery to gain purchase--and fists his cock again, coating himself until he thinks he's got an acceptable slickness. He moves forward between Gerard's legs and taps at his hip, trying to angle him. "Up a little bit?"
Gerard nods and tries to do it, clumsily lifting his hips as much as he can in the hopes that it actually works out, afraid to ask if he's doing it okay again because he's been doing that the entire time. So he just tries to smile a little, and relaxes, forcing himself not to think about the way his heart is pounding because Mikey's going to actually do it, for real.
Mikey squeezes Gerard's hip encouragingly and uses his other hand to line himself up. His instincts battle once the head of his cock gets in--to slam his hips the rest of the way and to just stop before he dies--but he knows that neither of them are best for Gerard, and he does his best to move in steadily and carefully.
Gerard's breath is just gone, and he feels like he's going to die, be burned alive from this. He clutches at Mikey's back, fingers gripping tight on bare skin, scrabbling to keep a hold there since his hands are sweating. "God oh God oh God," he manages, not even caring how twisted that is.
"Shhh," Mikey stops only when he's all the way in, hips locked to Gerard's, noses almost poking together. "You're okay." Mikey's not though--he's on fire, and has a more than passing fear that the instant he moves, he'll come. That would be no good--no fun for him, and certainly not for Gerard who might never let him touch him again.
"I oh fuck oh--" and Gerard can't stop talking, can't get his mouth to shut long enough to even get in a proper breath. He's panicking, he's pretty sure, because either Mikey needs to do something or he's going to freak out too much to be able to do this. "Move. Please. I." He can't do this, it's too much, and Mikey hasn't even done anything yet.
"It's okay," Mikey whispers again, bringing his other hand up to cup Gerard's cheek, hoping to steady him as he starts to carefully pull back, the slick hot drag of muscle and skin forcing him to tense up his stomach, muscles clenched in his best attempt to moderate himself.
Gerard's eyes are squeezed shut against the sheer feeling of it, overwhelming and hot and it hurts, it does, but it feels good enough to terrify him. He clutches Mikey closer, arms wrapped around him like a hug, whispering, "I missed you." It's the closest to hugging they've done, since he saw Mikey again, even if it's wrong and twisted because it's not a hug, Mikey is inside him.
Mikey groans and he wishes his arms were free so he could hug Gerard back, but all he can do is stroke his fingers over Gerard's cheek and thrust slowly back in, letting out a harsh "oof" of breath and dropping his forehead to the curve of Gerard's shoulder, sticky with sweat, because he just needs a second to get over all the intensity. "I missed you so fucking much."
"Yeah, fuckunh I did too, Mikey, I did too." There's practically no space between them at all anymore, they're pressed together and connected and Gerard for all that he thinks what they're doing is wrong thinks it's amazing, too. And Mikey is gorgeous, like this.
"I'm so happy you're here." Mikey kisses Gerard's shoulder, since he's there, and labors to lift himself again, smile down at Gerard when he thrusts in again, a little faster but still smooth--this is going to be good for Gerard if it kills him to do it.
Gerard chokes out another noise, arching up, clinging closer to Mikey, and he can't manage any words but his eyes are doing that for him, desperate and lust-blown. It's too much, and he never wants it to stop. "Nnh, yeah," he finally manages. "'m too."
Mikey inhales, shuddering, and rolls his hips back, pausing again while pressed all the day inside and savoring the feel of Gerard pressing hard into his stomach and the way sweat glistens on his forehead and his pinked cheeks. "So fucking beautiful, fuck."
"Nah, that's you," Gerard manages, half-smiling, fighting to keep his breathing even remotely steady. "You're the beautiful one, I just." He looks down at himself, at Mikey pressed into him, at the cross still on his chest. "I'm just the weird one."
"You're not." If Mikey pressed closer all the way, chest to chest, he would be able to feel the metal of the cross heated by their skin. He exhales hard through his nose and smiles a little when he works his hips a little, not quite thrusting. "Well, you are. But also fucking gorgeous."
"No, and... fuck, come on, gonna make me beg?" Gerard's breath hisses through his teeth and he pushes back against Mikey, trying to urge him on already, because there's only so much of this he can take.
"I'm trying to be considerate of your virgin ass," Mikey grins, thrusting in more definitely, because if Gerard's going to ask, Mikey isn't about to deny him anything. He licks his lips, suddenly dry, and catches the saltsweat from his upper lip, swallowing hard and looking down at Gerard spread below him like everything he's ever imagined.
It hits Gerard, then, holy shit I'm busy losing my virginity here but he can't very well stop now, and he stares up at Mikey, red-flushed and sweating, hair in his eyes and clinging to his forehead, and it's amazing. "Don't bother," he says, trying to keep the tone light, but his voice comes out rougher than he's ever remembered it.
"Fine," Mikey scratches out, trying to swallow again to clear his throat, picking up a regular rhythm and feeling his stomach twist to slick sound of them moving together. "I'll just pound it, if that's what you want."
"Be my guest," Gerard chokes out, arching desperately, starting to lose his grip on Mikey's back, having to dig in with his nails a little to keep a hold there and not slip. "God oh God, fuck"
"Uhn." Mikey had been afraid to ask Gerard to use his nails, didn't want to reach too far afield when he was happy to get what he could, but god. His hips jerk hard in response, rocking him into Gerard faster than he had before and he hopes Gerard wasn't kidding about pounding into him, because Mikey's about an inch away from it and slipping.
Gerard lets out a strangled moan, nails digging in harder, slipping to drag down Mikey's back. "Sorry," he manages, weak, trying to grab on and hold on again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," and his mind keeps up the steady stream of God oh God like it'll make what they're doing less sinful somehow.
“No, fuck, do it, please," Mikey hisses, thrusting in deep and needy. He shifts his weight as best he can so he can fit a hand between them, fingertips stroking calloused over Gerard's cock, unable to get a good grip without moving away.
Gerard presses up into the touch, hissing out a noise through his teeth. "You--fuck. You want me to?" He's hesitant about it, but he does it anyway, raking his nails down Mikey's back, hard, not enough to draw blood but enough that he knows it'll hurt.
"Nngh," Mikey bites his own lip, rubbing at what of Gerard he can reach. "Yeah, fuck, please. I like that." It's an admission that would be more embarrassing were he not currently inside Gerard, and he really doesn't have room in his head to worry about much besides working his hips in and savoring the tightness around him and the look on Gerard's face.
"What else?" Gerard gasps out, pressing his nails in a little harder. "Do you like, I mean." He wants to make this good for Mikey, even though he has no idea if he's doing it right in the first place. He wants Mikey to remember this being as good as he does, because he's not sure he'll be able to handle it happening again.
"Um." Mikey struggles to find the breath, arching under Gerard's nails sharp in his back. "Pretty much anything that." He groans, low and loud, eyes fluttering shut until he can gain control of himself again. "Anything that hurts. I like it." He isn't sure what Gerard's reaction will be, to his masochistic littler brother. "But if you. You don't have to."
"I want to," Gerard says easily, and thinks for a moment, trying to get his thoughts to focus even as Mikey is groaning like that, loud and unashamed of himself. It comes to him then, and he slides a hand up into Mikey's hair, tight, tugging a little with the other still gripped on his back.
Mikey's chest goes tight, and he moans, and he really hopes no one is going to come into the rectory looking for Father Way--it wouldn't take much imagination to know what's going up in the pastor's bedroom. He lets up a little so that he can get to Gerard's cock, fisting firmly down over him. "What about you? Any, um, requests?"
“I don't even know, just. Anything." Gerard's never let himself think about this kind of thing in specifics, mind trying to filter through the chaos to find something. And with Mikey's hand on his cock, it's even harder to remember what he wants. "You could--" Truth to be told, he's got some of the same leanings as Mikey. "--hurt me, too."
"I. Like." Mikey's hand pauses briefly on Gerard's cock. He reaches up to squeeze at Gerard's shoulder, then slides it carefully over to where his neck starts. He squeezes again, carefully, voice low and rough, still not working at Gerard--he doesn't want to distract him. "Is that okay?"
"I." Gerard can't even think anymore, all rational thoughts have gone out of his head with Mikey doing that, hand around his neck and all he would have to do would be to press down, squeeze a little, and just. It would be too much. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be amazing."
"Okay." Mikey twists his hand on Gerard's cock, and takes a firmer grip on Gerard's neck, fingers digging in. He rocks in, and it's kind of tough to coordinate all this in his head, and he maybe squeezes a little harder on Gerard's neck in his concentration.
Gerard gasps for air but can't get any, eyes squeezing shut, teeth gritted against the sensation, and he mouths more because he can't get the words to come out. It's perfect like this, better than, and he's going to have handprints around his neck he'll have to figure out how to cover up because they're going to extend past his collar, for sure. Even if they are light, they’ll be there.
Mikey's brain tells him to let up, give Gerard room to breathe because this really isn't first-time material. But his hand clenches just that little bit more when he thrusts hard and deep, his own breath ragged. He thinks he's done admirably, but he can't last much longer, no matter how much he may want to for Gerard's sake.
It certainly doesn't bother Gerard any, and all Mikey has to do is squeeze tighter, thrust again, and he's coming, just like that, so sudden it surprises even him. "Fuck," he manages, Mikey's hand still tight around his throat, and has the presence of mind to tighten his hand in Mikey's hair, pull a little.
Mikey chokes out a last desperate noise that sounds an awful lot like "Gerard" and stutters his hips in once more before coming, falling against Gerard's chest, eyes shut and panting, hand still closed around Gerard's throat.
Gerard just lays there, breathing hard, and the panic is already starting to set in. He--ohgod. He just slept with his little brother. With Mikey. What was he even thinking? Fuck, he thinks weakly, staring up at the ceiling with horrified eyes. Fuck, oh fuck.
"That was incredible," Mikey mumbles against Gerard's chest. Smiling, satisfied and lazy, he manages to pick his head up, hoping to share a grin with Gerard. Instead, he finds him looking horrified and faintly sick, and his own stomach drops. "Gee."
"Sorry," Gerard whispers, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Oh God." He almost feels like he's going to throw up. He might, even. He'd managed to put what they were doing out of his mind while they were doing it but now? Now he has to face it, for real.
"Gee, don't, please." Mikey pulls out and rolls away--being plastered against Gerard's front probably isn't going to help him keep from panicking. He grabs Gerard's hand, squeezing it because Gerard won't look at him, just stares at the ceiling. "Don't fucking do this."
"Sorry," Gerard says again, looking down now at his cross. "Shit. Shit, Mikey, we're going to burn and it's going to be my fault and I'm so so sorry." His voice is getting shaky again, with the effort of not just huddling into a ball and trying to make himself disappear.
"I don't care." Mikey doesn't say I don't believe that because he really doesn't need to add more stress onto Gerard right now, and challenging the beliefs he's wrapped around himself like armor is definitely not going to get him any closer. He runs his fingers over the back of Gerard's hand, desperate to touch and soothe. "I don't care, Gee, fuck, I just want us."
"I know," Gerard says, trying to keep his eyes from watering. "I do too. I do too, and it's wrong and sick and sinful and I can't stop myself from wanting you." He knows it's going to happen again, that he knows absolutely. Any time Mikey asks, he's going to eventually give in. But he can't make it into a something, not when he knows he'll have a crisis of faith every time he gives in.
Mikey shakes his head, squeezing Gerard's hang tighter. "Don't do this to yourself, Gee, c'mon. It's okay." He knew that this would be tough for Gerard, but he'd thought that once Gerard got over the actual having sex part, he would be okay. Obviously not. "You're okay. I promise."
"I'm--" Gerard hesitates, trying to calm himself down. "I'm not okay. I'm sorry. I was trying to keep myself from freaking out about it sooner so I wouldn't leave you hanging." He looks off to the side, ashamed. He still can't meet Mikey's eyes. "I wanted to, but I--"
"Gee." Mikey wants to hug him and kiss him and just hold him, but he knows that any of that is just going to make it worse. He looks down at his lap, bites his lip. "You. You want me to go?"
"I don't know," Gerard says finally, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "I don't know. I should. I should be the one going." He finally looks at Mikey, eyes dark. "I don't hate you, though. I can't hate you. I just need to make this better somehow." He needs to confess.
"I don't hate you either. I. I can leave." Because Gerard obviously doesn't want him here anymore. Mikey doesn't wait for an answer before practically falling out of bed, trying to find his clothes. He gets his jeans on before remembering to look under the bed for his boxers but whatever, he doesn't need them. He just has to get out of here--he can't have Gerard looking at him like that, broken.
"You don't have to," Gerard says helplessly, staring at the ground. The only real coherent thought he has is what the fuck was I thinking? because there was no reason he should have given in to it in the first place, no reason he should have said anything that would have let this go further than it did. He feels like he's going to be--he's going to be sick, and he staggers out of bed and into the bathroom.
Gerard. Mikey stares after him because out of all his (oftentimes ill-advised) hook-ups, he doesn't think he's ever actually made someone physically ill before. There's a fun story to add to his conquests. He doesn't want to be here when Gerard comes back to the bedroom, looking pale and sweaty and wiping his mouth, so he pulls on his shirt and just. Just goes.
Gerard makes his way out of the bathroom and finds Mikey gone. Instead, he just stares at the sheets, trying to figure out a way to clean them without anyone noticing. He doesn't know why it's hit him like this, why it did now, after they'd done everything, even with part of him in the back of his mind talking about doing it for Mikey. Mikey wanted it, almost as much as Gerard did if not more.
They both wanted it, they were both happy to get it--but it still makes him feel like he's going to die, remembering what he did. How could he be so sick, to want his little brother, to imagine that it could possibly be okay for him to act on those desires? God gives all men challenges, and he's failed his utterly. He needs to confess, badly.
He changes into his regular clothes, not wanting the reminder the other brings him. He can't go to the church he himself is a priest at, the other Father knows him well enough to be able to recognize his voice and he can't have that, he doesn't want the priest to know. It's the worst thing he can think of.
There's another church, on the opposite side of town. He's never been there before--perfect. He knows that this is wrong, that if he truly wanted forgiveness for his sins he wouldn't be ashamed to admit them in front of the other Father, but he's obviously deeply wrong--no surprise that he's failed in so many other ways.
He doesn't need the other father knowing his sins to add to the mix. And part of him, still, knows that to be truly forgiven he has to have the intent to not do it again. He can't say he has that. If Mikey asks again, then, well. He doesn't know that he'll turn Mikey down. He hopes so. But for now, he has to be cleansed of it, or he's not going to be able to look himself in the eye.
The entire drive is treacherous--his hands shake almost too hard for him to steer properly, and he has to wipe furiously at his eyes more than once--but he makes it there alive and relatively quickly. The church is mostly empty when he gets there, smaller than his parish and less well-kept.
He has to confess. He keeps repeating that in his mind even as he makes his way further into the church, even as he opens the door to the confessional, staring at the wood of the wall and the screen. Most of him is on autopilot as he speaks, at least at the beginning, but when it comes to confessing--he's not sure he can even do it.
Gone through all the motions, he pauses. The priest on the other side of the screen sounds painfully calm. "Go ahead, my child." Gerard wants to scream that he isn't his child, he's his brother in the cloth. He wants to make himself a martyr, feel spikes in his side or weight crushing him down--the whole world needs to know that he's a sinner, a filthy sinner who must make penance for what he's done. But before any of that, he has to confess. He swallows hard. "I. I've done a terrible thing, Father."
The priest says, very soft, "Yes?" and Gerard gathers the courage to speak. "I--have lain with someone I shouldn't have. I gave into temptation." He can almost hear the father's frown, because both of them know there's something Gerard isn't telling. "... it was. It was my brother, Father."
"Your--" he can hear the shock, disgust in the priest's voice (shock that shouldn't be there, they were trained against that--the sinner must not be accused or condemned, but led. Hate the sin, love the sinner) before the man coughs and speaks again, voice soft and calm like before. "Why would you do something like that, child?"
"I wasn't meaning to," Gerard says quietly, staring at the ground even though he knows he can't see the priest's eyes. "I've wanted him for. For a long time, and I know it's wrong, but then he tells me he does too, practically begs me to forget that it's sinful so that we can be happy--I couldn't say no to him. I didn't want to." He hangs his head, waiting for the half-hidden disgust in the priest's voice again.
The priest makes a faint sound and Gerard hopes that he doesn't end up throwing up too. "But we must not give into these temptations. The Lord never offers us a challenge we're not strong enough to face--He believes in you. You can resist this, be stronger than it."
"I hope so," Gerard says, too-quiet for the priest to hear, and then, "I won't do it again, and I want forgiveness for--for what I've done. I don't want to give in to the temptation again, I want to be forgiven, I want--" He shudders. "Please."
"Think about what you've done," the priest says, obviously trying to be soothing even while Gerard can hear the tightness in his voice. "You have to focus on what has kept you strong, let you resist temptation. You need to let the Lord's strength work through you."
Gerard closes his eyes, lets himself think. It's--the thing that's kept him from Mikey was becoming a priest. And even that. That was why he did it, not because of his convictions or because he believed it was a calling, but because he was running away from his little brother. "I will," he says, taking a deep breath, but he doesn't know what to do.
"Say your rosary," the priest says, "and may the Lord guide you." Gerard ducks his head and crosses himself, because his head swims. He's a fraud. In all his protests, as much as he claims to love the Lord, he's been betraying God all along, bearing his name for all the wrong reasons.
The air of the church suddenly feels unbearably stuffy, suffocating even, and Gerard needs to get out, needs the fresh air to clear his head and figure out what the hell he's doing with himself. It's not even a crisis of faith. He still believes, he just. He doesn't know if he can do this anymore.
He strides out of the church, the heavy echo of his feet on the tile following him all the way to the door. He squints in the gray afternoon light, and sees a figure sitting on the steps, off to the side next to a stone statue of Mary. He walks over, slow and careful, and sits down next to Mikey.
Mikey looks over at him and doesn't say anything, just smiles weakly, resting his head on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard looks down at his cross, closes his eyes and pictures the inside of the confessional--but it doesn't matter, Mikey's here now. He has to make a decision at some point, but for now-- "Hey, bro," he murmurs, and wraps an arm around Mikey's shoulders.