Fic: The Blue Room
Fandom: My Chemical Romance with bonus Fall Out Boy
Title: The Blue Room
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, allusions to Pete/Mikey
Rating: R/NC-17.
Length: 2.6k
Warnings: Sex. Voyeurism.
Disclaimer: All of my own invention.
Summary: Pete accidentally watches Frank and Gerard fucking. The watching stops being accidental.
Author’s Notes: Written for the prompt Frank/Gerard - voyeurism - someone is watching them over at bandomkinkmeme (which is the best thing to happen to bandom since I've been here. Holy hell my f-list is full of porn - yay!). Noteable also that this is my first time writing Mr Wentz
Fantastically awesome cover art by b_dsaint
The Blue Room
"I don't think this is a good idea." The voice is barely a whisper.
"Shhh. Don't be a pussy." The other voice is a little louder but still in hushed tones.
Rustling of fabric. Scrape of cloth against cloth. Wet sucking noise. Okay that's kissing. Whoever the whisperers are they are kissing now and Pete is definitely awake.
The rough corded upholstery of the couch is pressing in the side of his face. He can feel Mikey warm at his back, snoring softly into the cushions. He peels his eyes open slowly, not seeing much but blotches and fuzz at first. He wills his eyes to adjust, scanning the darkened room for the source of the kissing. There's more cloth rustling and he can hear the sharp pull of nasal breathing. The wet sounds are more enthusiastic. There is definitely tongue involved now.
Something warm uncurls in Pete's stomach, but he ignores it. He's being nosy and a gossip, but not a perve. He just wants to know who's making out in the middle of the lounge room. Once he's satisfied his curiosity he'll go back to sleep.
His eyes are starting to adjust. The only light in the room is coming from the TV, which is displaying a menu screen for whatever the last movie they watched was. Something with blood and screaming, but it wasn't enough to keep them all awake. If he listens carefully he can hear the menu music looping.
He takes a survey of the room. Ray's asleep on the other couch, his hair easy to pick even in the dim light. Those are Bob's feet he can see sticking out from behind Ray's couch. Mikey's behind him sharing this couch. That leaves...
He can see them.
Frank and Gerard. His brain finally makes sense of the shapes and shadows on the living room floor just across from him, putting the pieces together to form a picture. Frank's on top of Gerard, their mouths locked. Gerard's hands are trapped in Frank's hair. If Pete squints he can see the crease of Gerard's closed eyes. One of Frank's hands is up under Gerard's shirt, moving slowly. Their hips are pressed firmly together, Gerard's legs apart, Frank between them.
Well shit, Pete thinks. I guess they like making out offstage too.
So now he knows the source of the noise he can go back to sleep, right? Except he isn't. His eyes wont close. They're locked to the picture in front of him. A picture that, he has to admit, is pretty fucking sexy.
Frank's broken the kiss now, tonguing his way down the curve of Gerard's neck. Gerard's got his head thrown back, face pure ecstacy as Frank starts sucking at the hollow of his neck.
"Frank..." Gerard's voice is frail, still a whisper. "We should stop." He doesn't sound like he wants to stop, in Pete's opinion (not that his opinion counts for anything in this case since he really should just stop fucking looking right about now.) "Someone will see." Gerard gasps out, a little hitch in his breath that makes Pete look lower, seeing that Frank's got a hand somewhere in the vicinity of Gerard's crotch and by the sound of it, he's doing something Gerard really really likes.
Frank crawls up Gerard's body again, leaving his hand where it is, getting it trapped between them.
"No one's gonna see." He assures Gerard in low whisper, kissing him again, "They're all asleep."
Gerard glances around at this and Pete has to fight the urge curl up and hide, staying completely still instead. Unnoticeable. The light of the TV isn't enough to illuminate him and he's thankful when Gerard's gaze skips quickly past him, to Ray, to Bob and back to Frank. Frank's grinning like he knows a secret. Pete can see his arm moving between them. Gerard's head falls back little, mouth slackening. His fingers spasm in Frank's hair, he's fighting to keep his head up.
"They might wake up." Gerard's voice is a desperate whisper and Pete can hear it, hear in his voice how turned on he is, what Frank's doing to him, how much he wants it. It sets off an answering blush of warmth in Pete, crawling down his neck, over his chest, arrowing to his crotch. He is not doing this. He is not.
"You'll just have to be quiet then, wont you?" Frank teases, before covering Gerard's mouth with his and then they are done talking. There's only the wet slurp of kisses and the rub of fabric and the hiss of breathing. Pete's jeans are too tight and it's taking real effort for him to control his own breathing. He feels the firm press of his own hand on his crotch and he's forced to acknowledge that he is turned on. Really fucking turned on. By Mikey's brother making out with his rhythm guitarist. And this is sick, Pete realises. He's sick. And perverted.
But it's too late now. He's in it to his neck and he can't stop. He's past the point of making a noise, pretending to wake up. Past the point where he'd successfully be able to go back to sleep. No, apparently he's going to do this. He's going to watch them.
Having sorted that out in his mind, however dissatisfactorily, his eyes devour the scene in front of him. Frank's raising up off Gerard now, making space between them for his hands. Flick and click of a buckle undoing and the sound of Gerard's zipper coming down is way too loud in the quiet room. Pete doesn't realise he's holding his breath until the zipper is open and he breathes again. Gerard's gone boneless, arched back on the floor. Frank pushes Gerard's shirt up, exposing white skin that he immediately locks his mouth on, tonguing at Gerard's hip as he tugs Gerard's pants down.
When Gerard's cock springs free Pete nearly gasps. He can't see much in the dim light, but fuck, that's definitely Gerard's cock and he's definitely hard. Frank's fingers lock around the base and Gerard bucks up into his hand. Gerard is naked from chest to knee now and Pete's eyes are eating up all that white skin. He doesn't want to think about it, but his brain is charging ahead without him, making mental comparisons between the Way brothers, very much against Pete's will. Gerard's body is rounder, softer looking than Mikey's. Mikey's all sharp angles and long lines, which Pete loves, but Gerard. Gerard's different. No less beautiful, Pete realises belatedly, somehow slightly more feminine.
He has to stop this line of thought so he switches his focus to Frank. Frank who's licking all over Gerard's belly and gripping Gerard's cock and somehow smiling devilishly the entire time. Pete's cock decides to remind him how much it would like to be included in all this, but all Pete can do is press his legs together, trapping his hand between his thighs, palm hard against his fly. It's definitely not enough.
Frank glances up at Gerard, wicked smile still on his lips, then he leans down and takes Gerard's cock into his mouth. Gerard's hand flies to own mouth, slapping over it and Pete can hear the tiniest snatches of choked moans still leaking out. Apparently Gerard isn't good at being quiet. Frank's head is moving, slowly up and down. He's still got one hand on the base of Gerard's cock, working him with mouth and hand together. He moves with confidence. He's done this before.
Pete's cock is aching. He knows he's probably leaking precome inside his pants, all over his underwear. Gerard is writhing on the floor in front of Frank, at his mercy completely. Frank pulls off Gerard's cock, making Gerard look at him, just in time to see Frank pushing two fingers into his own mouth, licking and slurping at them. He removes the fingers and reattaches his mouth to Gerard's dick, then Gerard is back to squirming and covering his mouth, eyes squinched shut, face a mask of agonised pleasure.
Pete's watching Frank's other hand now. The one that's not gripping Gerard's cock. It's dipping between Gerard's legs, arrowing towards his ass. He's still sucking and licking Gerard's cock like a pro when his fingers find their mark and even though Pete can't see it, he know, knows, when Frank's two fingers slip into Gerard's ass. Gerard bucks off the ground, adds his other hand to his mouth and Pete can hear what's left of the strangled moan after Gerard chokes it off.
Pete's crotch is throbbing now, screaming for attention. Without actually realising it, his free hand has found its way up to his mouth and he's sucking on his own two fingers, a vague mirror of Frank moments before. His tongue plays over the pads of his fingers, tasting salt, sucking down to his knuckles, wishing it were a cock, his own cock somehow impossibly in his mouth, getting ached for release.
He's sucking silently on his own fingers and pressing down uselessly at his crotch with his other hand when suddenly the light in the room changes. The DVD player goes into standby, flicking the TV to it's default blue screen, bathing the room in blue light. Blue light that is much, much brighter than the menu screen was.
Gerard notices the change immediately, his head jerking up to glance around the now-more-illuminated room. His eyes alight on Pete immediately and Pete just wants to die on the spot. There is absolutely no mistaking what he's doing. What he's been seeing. Gerard processes it all in a nanosecond, his mouth falling open in shock and panic - yes that's panic - on his face.
Pete pulls his fingers out of his mouth and starts to sit up, but realises it'll only wake Mikey so he just stays really really still. He and Gerard are staring at each other across the room, shock palpable. Pete's waiting for an admonishment - something silent, a mouthed word, a hand signal telling him to fuck off. He's locked on Gerard's face, so he's confused when that face softens, mouth falling slack. Then he realises. Frank's still going. Frank's got a mouthful of dick and a vision narrowed to basically just Gerard's crotch so he hasn't even noticed the blue room. He's still giving Gerard a champion blow job and Gerard is just folding back into it. Falling back down on to the carpet and letting Frank have his way.
Letting Pete watch.
And Pete doesn't know how, but he knows he's allowed to watch now. So he watches, devouring every line, every motion. His fingers slide back into his mouth, sucking down, his other hand flexing over his cock through his jeans. Gerard's playing it up now, arching and rolling, rubbing his hands over his chest, grabbing handfuls of his own hair. It's like watching live porn and Pete is out of his mind with want right now. He wants to jerk off so hard. He wants to wake up Mikey by shoving a dick in his face. He wants... he wants. But none of these are options. So he watches. Just watches.
Gerard's getting close, he can tell. Frank's head is bouncing, in time with the hand on Gerard's dick. Frank's other hand is twisting, plunging, reaming Gerard's ass in a way that makes Pete ache to watch. He does it so well. Gerard's got one hand locked in Frank's hair, his hips pressing up rhythmically towards his lover's face. His other hand is trapped over his mouth, his face is screwed up, his hair wild. Pete's watching, staring at Gerard, biting absently at his fingers, unable to concentrate on anything but the passion before him.
Then Gerard peels his eyes open and stares back. Just stares at Pete, locking on to him as his face crumples and that's it, Pete's watching Gerard come, watching Gerard watch him watching Gerard come. And it should be wrong and weird and sick but it's just hot, so hot he might pass out. Gerard doesn't make a noise but his face forms a silent scream then he falls back onto the floor, panting.
Frank gives Gerard's cock a few last licks before crawling up to lie on him and they kiss long and laguid. Gerard is limp and boneless but Frank's still rutting at him, still hard and hot and Pete knows this isn't over.
Gerard pries Frank's mouth of his by tugging at his hair. Then he's got two hands pressed to Frank's cheeks and he's turning his lover's head toward Pete, introducing him to his one man audience. Pete tenses but doesn't look away, there's no hiding from this now. He waits for Frank to react. It's shock first, mouth dropping open and turning back to look at Gerard. Gerard's just smiling at him, all post-orgasmic bliss and Frank stifles a chuckle against Gerard's throat, looking wicked and still extremely horny.
Pete can't help but relax. That could've gone much worse. Frank might be shorter than him but he still doesn't want to face him off in a fight. His stomach drops as Frank leans back on his knees, slowly and deliberately unbuckling his belt, looking up to watch Pete watch him do it.
Yeah, it's definitely not over yet.
Frank isn't as showy as Gerard. He undoes his jeans in quick sharp movements, all efficient and economical. When his cock springs free Pete runs his gaze over it like a caress, trying not to lick his lips and failing. Frank just grins at him wickedly before turning his attention back to Gerard, folding his legs back and pressing him into the floor. Pete knows it's not luck that he has the perfect angle to see Frank press his cock home. They fuck gently and messily, lips everywhere, hands grasping. Gerard's still boneless and fluid from his orgasm, Frank fucks like he plays, hard quick strokes, whole body spasms.
Pete drinks it all in, committing it to memory, knowing it'll be masturbation fodder later and not even caring how sick and perverse that is.
When Frank comes his whole body shudders, jack-knifing forward, collapsing onto Gerard, somehow amazingly silent through it all. Gerard's arms gather Frank close, stroking down his back, gaze flicking between Frank and Pete, smiling idly at Pete, so completely aware of how fucking out of his mind this all is. Frank comes back to life, resting his cheek on Gerard's chest, expression all dreamy as he strokes the milky skin of Gerard's chest. He glances over to Pete also and suddenly the two of them are looking at him, sighingly satisfied and so fucking smug Pete wants to explode.
It should be awkward after that, but it isn't. Frank and Gerard straighten their clothes and slip away, disappearing into the bedroom. Pete lies in the quiet blue living room, cock pounding between his legs and wondering what the fuck just happened and what the fuck to do about the rock in his pants. After considering and discarding a few options he creeps quietly from the couch to find the bathroom. He opts for the ensuite that adjoins the bedroom Frank and Gerard disappeared into.
His eyes blur when he hits the light switch, but he leaves it on. He can't get his pants open fast enough and soon he's leaning one arm on the wall, jerking off with abandon, angling his body toward the the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom. The open doorway.
It's too bright inside to see if he has an audience, but he's pretty certain he does. That thought gets him over the line as his knees weaken and he comes all over his hand.
He's still dizzy with orgasm when he hears a giggle and slow clapping from the darkened bedroom.
He can't help but smile.
end
Curious about Mikey's reaction? Sort-of sequel over here.
Title: The Blue Room
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, allusions to Pete/Mikey
Rating: R/NC-17.
Length: 2.6k
Warnings: Sex. Voyeurism.
Disclaimer: All of my own invention.
Summary: Pete accidentally watches Frank and Gerard fucking. The watching stops being accidental.
Author’s Notes: Written for the prompt Frank/Gerard - voyeurism - someone is watching them over at bandomkinkmeme (which is the best thing to happen to bandom since I've been here. Holy hell my f-list is full of porn - yay!). Noteable also that this is my first time writing Mr Wentz
Fantastically awesome cover art by b_dsaint
The Blue Room
"I don't think this is a good idea." The voice is barely a whisper.
"Shhh. Don't be a pussy." The other voice is a little louder but still in hushed tones.
Rustling of fabric. Scrape of cloth against cloth. Wet sucking noise. Okay that's kissing. Whoever the whisperers are they are kissing now and Pete is definitely awake.
The rough corded upholstery of the couch is pressing in the side of his face. He can feel Mikey warm at his back, snoring softly into the cushions. He peels his eyes open slowly, not seeing much but blotches and fuzz at first. He wills his eyes to adjust, scanning the darkened room for the source of the kissing. There's more cloth rustling and he can hear the sharp pull of nasal breathing. The wet sounds are more enthusiastic. There is definitely tongue involved now.
Something warm uncurls in Pete's stomach, but he ignores it. He's being nosy and a gossip, but not a perve. He just wants to know who's making out in the middle of the lounge room. Once he's satisfied his curiosity he'll go back to sleep.
His eyes are starting to adjust. The only light in the room is coming from the TV, which is displaying a menu screen for whatever the last movie they watched was. Something with blood and screaming, but it wasn't enough to keep them all awake. If he listens carefully he can hear the menu music looping.
He takes a survey of the room. Ray's asleep on the other couch, his hair easy to pick even in the dim light. Those are Bob's feet he can see sticking out from behind Ray's couch. Mikey's behind him sharing this couch. That leaves...
He can see them.
Frank and Gerard. His brain finally makes sense of the shapes and shadows on the living room floor just across from him, putting the pieces together to form a picture. Frank's on top of Gerard, their mouths locked. Gerard's hands are trapped in Frank's hair. If Pete squints he can see the crease of Gerard's closed eyes. One of Frank's hands is up under Gerard's shirt, moving slowly. Their hips are pressed firmly together, Gerard's legs apart, Frank between them.
Well shit, Pete thinks. I guess they like making out offstage too.
So now he knows the source of the noise he can go back to sleep, right? Except he isn't. His eyes wont close. They're locked to the picture in front of him. A picture that, he has to admit, is pretty fucking sexy.
Frank's broken the kiss now, tonguing his way down the curve of Gerard's neck. Gerard's got his head thrown back, face pure ecstacy as Frank starts sucking at the hollow of his neck.
"Frank..." Gerard's voice is frail, still a whisper. "We should stop." He doesn't sound like he wants to stop, in Pete's opinion (not that his opinion counts for anything in this case since he really should just stop fucking looking right about now.) "Someone will see." Gerard gasps out, a little hitch in his breath that makes Pete look lower, seeing that Frank's got a hand somewhere in the vicinity of Gerard's crotch and by the sound of it, he's doing something Gerard really really likes.
Frank crawls up Gerard's body again, leaving his hand where it is, getting it trapped between them.
"No one's gonna see." He assures Gerard in low whisper, kissing him again, "They're all asleep."
Gerard glances around at this and Pete has to fight the urge curl up and hide, staying completely still instead. Unnoticeable. The light of the TV isn't enough to illuminate him and he's thankful when Gerard's gaze skips quickly past him, to Ray, to Bob and back to Frank. Frank's grinning like he knows a secret. Pete can see his arm moving between them. Gerard's head falls back little, mouth slackening. His fingers spasm in Frank's hair, he's fighting to keep his head up.
"They might wake up." Gerard's voice is a desperate whisper and Pete can hear it, hear in his voice how turned on he is, what Frank's doing to him, how much he wants it. It sets off an answering blush of warmth in Pete, crawling down his neck, over his chest, arrowing to his crotch. He is not doing this. He is not.
"You'll just have to be quiet then, wont you?" Frank teases, before covering Gerard's mouth with his and then they are done talking. There's only the wet slurp of kisses and the rub of fabric and the hiss of breathing. Pete's jeans are too tight and it's taking real effort for him to control his own breathing. He feels the firm press of his own hand on his crotch and he's forced to acknowledge that he is turned on. Really fucking turned on. By Mikey's brother making out with his rhythm guitarist. And this is sick, Pete realises. He's sick. And perverted.
But it's too late now. He's in it to his neck and he can't stop. He's past the point of making a noise, pretending to wake up. Past the point where he'd successfully be able to go back to sleep. No, apparently he's going to do this. He's going to watch them.
Having sorted that out in his mind, however dissatisfactorily, his eyes devour the scene in front of him. Frank's raising up off Gerard now, making space between them for his hands. Flick and click of a buckle undoing and the sound of Gerard's zipper coming down is way too loud in the quiet room. Pete doesn't realise he's holding his breath until the zipper is open and he breathes again. Gerard's gone boneless, arched back on the floor. Frank pushes Gerard's shirt up, exposing white skin that he immediately locks his mouth on, tonguing at Gerard's hip as he tugs Gerard's pants down.
When Gerard's cock springs free Pete nearly gasps. He can't see much in the dim light, but fuck, that's definitely Gerard's cock and he's definitely hard. Frank's fingers lock around the base and Gerard bucks up into his hand. Gerard is naked from chest to knee now and Pete's eyes are eating up all that white skin. He doesn't want to think about it, but his brain is charging ahead without him, making mental comparisons between the Way brothers, very much against Pete's will. Gerard's body is rounder, softer looking than Mikey's. Mikey's all sharp angles and long lines, which Pete loves, but Gerard. Gerard's different. No less beautiful, Pete realises belatedly, somehow slightly more feminine.
He has to stop this line of thought so he switches his focus to Frank. Frank who's licking all over Gerard's belly and gripping Gerard's cock and somehow smiling devilishly the entire time. Pete's cock decides to remind him how much it would like to be included in all this, but all Pete can do is press his legs together, trapping his hand between his thighs, palm hard against his fly. It's definitely not enough.
Frank glances up at Gerard, wicked smile still on his lips, then he leans down and takes Gerard's cock into his mouth. Gerard's hand flies to own mouth, slapping over it and Pete can hear the tiniest snatches of choked moans still leaking out. Apparently Gerard isn't good at being quiet. Frank's head is moving, slowly up and down. He's still got one hand on the base of Gerard's cock, working him with mouth and hand together. He moves with confidence. He's done this before.
Pete's cock is aching. He knows he's probably leaking precome inside his pants, all over his underwear. Gerard is writhing on the floor in front of Frank, at his mercy completely. Frank pulls off Gerard's cock, making Gerard look at him, just in time to see Frank pushing two fingers into his own mouth, licking and slurping at them. He removes the fingers and reattaches his mouth to Gerard's dick, then Gerard is back to squirming and covering his mouth, eyes squinched shut, face a mask of agonised pleasure.
Pete's watching Frank's other hand now. The one that's not gripping Gerard's cock. It's dipping between Gerard's legs, arrowing towards his ass. He's still sucking and licking Gerard's cock like a pro when his fingers find their mark and even though Pete can't see it, he know, knows, when Frank's two fingers slip into Gerard's ass. Gerard bucks off the ground, adds his other hand to his mouth and Pete can hear what's left of the strangled moan after Gerard chokes it off.
Pete's crotch is throbbing now, screaming for attention. Without actually realising it, his free hand has found its way up to his mouth and he's sucking on his own two fingers, a vague mirror of Frank moments before. His tongue plays over the pads of his fingers, tasting salt, sucking down to his knuckles, wishing it were a cock, his own cock somehow impossibly in his mouth, getting ached for release.
He's sucking silently on his own fingers and pressing down uselessly at his crotch with his other hand when suddenly the light in the room changes. The DVD player goes into standby, flicking the TV to it's default blue screen, bathing the room in blue light. Blue light that is much, much brighter than the menu screen was.
Gerard notices the change immediately, his head jerking up to glance around the now-more-illuminated room. His eyes alight on Pete immediately and Pete just wants to die on the spot. There is absolutely no mistaking what he's doing. What he's been seeing. Gerard processes it all in a nanosecond, his mouth falling open in shock and panic - yes that's panic - on his face.
Pete pulls his fingers out of his mouth and starts to sit up, but realises it'll only wake Mikey so he just stays really really still. He and Gerard are staring at each other across the room, shock palpable. Pete's waiting for an admonishment - something silent, a mouthed word, a hand signal telling him to fuck off. He's locked on Gerard's face, so he's confused when that face softens, mouth falling slack. Then he realises. Frank's still going. Frank's got a mouthful of dick and a vision narrowed to basically just Gerard's crotch so he hasn't even noticed the blue room. He's still giving Gerard a champion blow job and Gerard is just folding back into it. Falling back down on to the carpet and letting Frank have his way.
Letting Pete watch.
And Pete doesn't know how, but he knows he's allowed to watch now. So he watches, devouring every line, every motion. His fingers slide back into his mouth, sucking down, his other hand flexing over his cock through his jeans. Gerard's playing it up now, arching and rolling, rubbing his hands over his chest, grabbing handfuls of his own hair. It's like watching live porn and Pete is out of his mind with want right now. He wants to jerk off so hard. He wants to wake up Mikey by shoving a dick in his face. He wants... he wants. But none of these are options. So he watches. Just watches.
Gerard's getting close, he can tell. Frank's head is bouncing, in time with the hand on Gerard's dick. Frank's other hand is twisting, plunging, reaming Gerard's ass in a way that makes Pete ache to watch. He does it so well. Gerard's got one hand locked in Frank's hair, his hips pressing up rhythmically towards his lover's face. His other hand is trapped over his mouth, his face is screwed up, his hair wild. Pete's watching, staring at Gerard, biting absently at his fingers, unable to concentrate on anything but the passion before him.
Then Gerard peels his eyes open and stares back. Just stares at Pete, locking on to him as his face crumples and that's it, Pete's watching Gerard come, watching Gerard watch him watching Gerard come. And it should be wrong and weird and sick but it's just hot, so hot he might pass out. Gerard doesn't make a noise but his face forms a silent scream then he falls back onto the floor, panting.
Frank gives Gerard's cock a few last licks before crawling up to lie on him and they kiss long and laguid. Gerard is limp and boneless but Frank's still rutting at him, still hard and hot and Pete knows this isn't over.
Gerard pries Frank's mouth of his by tugging at his hair. Then he's got two hands pressed to Frank's cheeks and he's turning his lover's head toward Pete, introducing him to his one man audience. Pete tenses but doesn't look away, there's no hiding from this now. He waits for Frank to react. It's shock first, mouth dropping open and turning back to look at Gerard. Gerard's just smiling at him, all post-orgasmic bliss and Frank stifles a chuckle against Gerard's throat, looking wicked and still extremely horny.
Pete can't help but relax. That could've gone much worse. Frank might be shorter than him but he still doesn't want to face him off in a fight. His stomach drops as Frank leans back on his knees, slowly and deliberately unbuckling his belt, looking up to watch Pete watch him do it.
Yeah, it's definitely not over yet.
Frank isn't as showy as Gerard. He undoes his jeans in quick sharp movements, all efficient and economical. When his cock springs free Pete runs his gaze over it like a caress, trying not to lick his lips and failing. Frank just grins at him wickedly before turning his attention back to Gerard, folding his legs back and pressing him into the floor. Pete knows it's not luck that he has the perfect angle to see Frank press his cock home. They fuck gently and messily, lips everywhere, hands grasping. Gerard's still boneless and fluid from his orgasm, Frank fucks like he plays, hard quick strokes, whole body spasms.
Pete drinks it all in, committing it to memory, knowing it'll be masturbation fodder later and not even caring how sick and perverse that is.
When Frank comes his whole body shudders, jack-knifing forward, collapsing onto Gerard, somehow amazingly silent through it all. Gerard's arms gather Frank close, stroking down his back, gaze flicking between Frank and Pete, smiling idly at Pete, so completely aware of how fucking out of his mind this all is. Frank comes back to life, resting his cheek on Gerard's chest, expression all dreamy as he strokes the milky skin of Gerard's chest. He glances over to Pete also and suddenly the two of them are looking at him, sighingly satisfied and so fucking smug Pete wants to explode.
It should be awkward after that, but it isn't. Frank and Gerard straighten their clothes and slip away, disappearing into the bedroom. Pete lies in the quiet blue living room, cock pounding between his legs and wondering what the fuck just happened and what the fuck to do about the rock in his pants. After considering and discarding a few options he creeps quietly from the couch to find the bathroom. He opts for the ensuite that adjoins the bedroom Frank and Gerard disappeared into.
His eyes blur when he hits the light switch, but he leaves it on. He can't get his pants open fast enough and soon he's leaning one arm on the wall, jerking off with abandon, angling his body toward the the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom. The open doorway.
It's too bright inside to see if he has an audience, but he's pretty certain he does. That thought gets him over the line as his knees weaken and he comes all over his hand.
He's still dizzy with orgasm when he hears a giggle and slow clapping from the darkened bedroom.
He can't help but smile.
end
Curious about Mikey's reaction? Sort-of sequel over here.