In the Dark
Title: In the Dark (Alternately Titled: That One Time Megan's Friend Requested a Cute, Self-Conscious Chubby!Frank Fic and Instead She Tried to Write Porn for the First Time About a Chubby!Frank with Body Issues) (also here on AO3)
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,566
Warnings: Poorly written explicit sex and extremely slight body dysmorphia issues.
Disclaimer: This is in no way real. If it was real the sex would probably be a lot better.
Summary: The problem wasn’t that Gerard was stupid; the problem was that he wasn’t always the most observant guy around. Sometimes he just misses things that maybe he should have noticed. He hadn’t thought anything of it the first time Frank had pushed his hands out from under his shirt and said, “I’d rather touch you.”
A/N: This is basically my first attempt at explicit sex, so, uh, don't be mean? D:
The problem wasn’t that Gerard was stupid; the problem was that he wasn’t always the most observant guy around. Sometimes he just misses things that maybe he should have noticed. He hadn’t thought anything of it the first time Frank had pushed his hands out from under his shirt and said, “I’d rather touch you.”
Gerard had been a little preoccupied with Frank’s tongue on his dick, and his tattooed fingers inching past the waistband at the back of his jeans to wonder if there was any ulterior motive. He hadn’t had any reason to think otherwise.
He hadn’t thought any of it the times following that either, like when Gerard had been giving him a hand job and Frank had pulled away the hand gripping the flesh on his hip, grasping Gerard’s fingers tightly in his own and murmuring, “Gee, please, need to come.”
Frank had left his clothes on the first time they had sex, too, but Gerard was so frantic with the need to be touched, to be fucked, to feel Frank against him and inside him that he’d thought Frank just didn’t want to waste time to shuck his shirt and pants. He’d certainly acted like it and, honestly, Gerard had been so overwhelmed with the weight of Frank heavy on top of him, the scratch of his beard against his neck, the feel of the rough denim against his thighs that he couldn’t really think past how good, and right, and fucking perfect it all felt.
He didn’t notice that Frank was always either partially clothed, or how the lights were always too low to actually see anything. Frank had once said he didn’t want Gerard to see what he was doing; he wanted Gerard to feel it, and Gerard had lost his train of thought when Frank’s hand had slipped up his shirt and pressed against the soft skin of his rib cage.
The only reason he’d thought about it at all was because he and Frank had been watching some shitty ass horror movie set on a remote island when Frank had sighed and said, “Fuck, I haven’t been to the beach in forever.”
Gerard had immediately suggested taking a weekend to make a trip to the beach, because shit, what he wouldn’t give to see Frank shirtless, skin hot from the sun and dripping salty ocean water onto the towels they would lay in the sand. He could already imagine rubbing against Frank, the grit of the sand uncomfortable and almost painful with the friction, but being unable to care because of the way he reacted whenever Frank touched him.
But Frank had laughed, not moving his eyes from the scene taking place onscreen where a bikini-clad girl was gushing blood from her neck, and said, “No one wants to see that.”
And, fuck, Gerard had been so fucking confused, like, what the hell? Who wouldn’t want to see that? He’d never seen Frank shirtless and this would the perfect opportunity-and then he was horrified to realize that he’d never actually seen Frank shirtless.
They’d been dating for well over six months, fucking for almost as long, and he’d really never seen Frank shirtless.
It made him start thinking about how, if he really thought about it, he’d never seen Frank totally naked. At least not with the lights on anyway. He wouldn’t let them shower together. He’d get dressed while Gerard was still asleep, or when he was in another room.
How the fuck had he not noticed that?
He’d laughed with Frank, though, toeing Frank’s thigh and saying, “I’d want to see that.”
Frank had just sent a self-deprecating smile in the direction of the TV. “I don’t even want to see that.”
~*~*~
The plan was to get Frank so riled up he wouldn’t be able to think about pulling Gerard away from his chub. Gerard bides his time until one of Leathermouth’s show nights. Frank is always really fucking turned on after his shows, slamming Gerard against the brick wall behind the venue and jerking him off hard and tight, covering his mouth to muffle his moans.
Gerard watches Frank scream and writhe around on the floor, a bruise already forming under his eye from where he launched himself into the crowd earlier. Sweat is showing through both layers-both layers, what the fuck-and Gerard wants to throw his clothes on the floor, cool him off with his tongue and lick the sweat pooling at the bottom of his spine.
He can just tell from the way Frank’s throwing himself hard against the stage that tonight’s going to be a good one, especially when Frank starts clawing at his chest during the chorus. To most people it’s just another part of the show, but Gerard knows from experience that he gets off on quick, light touches to his nipples.
After the show he slams Frank against the wall in the men’s restroom, barely remembering the shut the lock before going down on him despite Frank’s hands initially scrambling for the button on Gerard’s jeans.
“Nope, not tonight,” he says, hand gripping the base of Frank’s dick, “tonight’s all about you.”
His hands are everywhere after that, scratching at his hips and thighs, pinching his nipples through his shirt, rippling his fingers around his dick where his mouth can’t reach. He licks, and sucks, and Frank’s gasping out, “gonna come, Gee,” a lot sooner than he’d really wanted.
Gerard swallows without a word of complaint, sitting back on his heels and palming his erection. Frank kneels in front of him, kissing away the drops of his come on the corner of Gee’s mouth before going to return the favor, but Gerard shakes his head, eyes closed as he says, “Not now. I want to wait until we’re home.”
~*~*~
There’s a rush to pack up all of Leathermouth’s gear when they exit the bathroom and then they’re saying their goodbyes to the guys and in the van on the way to Frank’s tiny house. They aren’t inside even five minutes before Gee’s pushing him against the door, already panting like he’s a run a fucking mile. He squeezes Frank’s dick through his jeans and Frank’s eyes roll to the back of his head from the want.
But then Gerard’s breath is hot and damp against his cheek, next to his ear, and he’s gasping, “Take it off. Everything. All of it. Off.”
Frank freezes up instantly, because the lights are still on and he’s stupidly self-conscious about his body when it comes to Gerard. He’s avoided being naked in direct light for a while, like a shitty-ass weight-based creature of the night, because Jesus fucking Christ he really likes Gerard and he doesn’t want his stupid flabby stomach and chubby thighs and shit to turn Gerard off.
(Man, like what the fuck, he thinks almost sadly, when did he turn into a fucking pussy about his weight?)
“Sure; let me get the lights.” He says, turning to the switch behind him.
Gerard makes a high pitched, keening sound like he’s in pain, and suddenly he’s pressing himself against Frank’s back, murmuring fast and low, “No, I wanna see you, Frankie, please. Lemme see you?”
And, shit, it’s not like Frank can say no to that, no fucking way. So he swallows hard and says, “Gee, I-yeah. Okay. Fine,” and Gerard reaches down, grabbing the hems of both of his shirts and ripping them over his head.
The shirts get caught on his chin and ears before they come off, of fucking course, and Frank thinks he is probably too old to get embarrassed about such things.
Once they’re off, though, Gerard just kind of steps back and stares for what feels like forever but is most likely only a few seconds, eyes roaming all over Frank’s exposed torso. The staring is making Frank nervous as fuck, so he scrubs his fingers through his hair; it’s already messed up, because of the whole ripping-his-shirt-off deal, so it’s not like he’s making anything worse. He tells himself not to cover his stomach, where his tattoos have kind of stretched a bit from when he gained all this weight, because it’s not that bad, and he’s definitely too old to cower behind his hands like some shy kid in a locker room.
But maybe Gerard can see it in his eyes, because suddenly he’s tracing Frank’s chest and belly tattoos with his fingers, and then following with his mouth. He’s nibbling and sucking at the pudge next to his belly button when he sighs, “Jesus fucking Christ, Frankie, you’re fucking beautiful.”
He sounds kind of awed and dazed, like Frank is some kind of priceless work of art by some old dead dude whose name he can’t pronounce.
He opens his mouth to say something, but midway through he realizes he wouldn’t know what to say, where to start. Like, “Oh, thanks for not being repulsed by my fat,” or “wow, if I had known you’d like my chubby ass, I totally would have taken my shirt off before now,” or maybe even “are you one of those people who only fucks fat people,” but then it doesn’t matter, because all he can focus on is where Gerard’s mouth is hot and wet and sucking a bruise into the curve of his shoulder.
Frank’s mouth drops open even further as Gerard pinches a nipple and he gasps, arching into the touch.
“Aaahhhh,” is about the extent of his verbal capabilities when Gerard takes the chance to stick his tongue in his open mouth and lick hungrily at his teeth, which should be really fucking disgusting but instead it’s just really hot.
“MmmmFrank,” Gerard moans into his mouth and nips at his bottom lip. “Fuck me, need you to fuck me, Frankie, c’mon.”
And really who is Frank to deny the man his needs?
He kisses him hard and open-mouthed, the sound of it wet and dirty as he pushes Gerard’s jean off his hips and grabs a handful of his ass, digging his fingers in and rolling his hips.
They stumble to the bedroom, shedding the rest of their clothes in the hallway. Frank shoves Gerard to the bed, climbing between his open legs and, shit, he can’t think of anything he enjoys more than being here, like this, with Gerard, and even if there is something better, he isn’t exactly in prime thinking mode.
Gerard’s eyes are glazed over and he’s breathing heavy even though they’ve only really kissed and dry humped since getting to Frank’s house. He’s touching himself the way he always does when he’s waiting for Frank to hurry up and get with the fucking program, the pace steady and just on the side of too rough.
Frank scrabbles for a condom and the bottle of lube in the drawer in his nightstand and he almost laughs thinking that when he bought them months ago, before meeting Gerard after one of his shows, he wasn’t exactly expecting to get a lot of use out them.
With the condom on, fingers slicked and ready, he places a hand on top of Gerard’s bent knee, sliding it up and around the back of his thigh where it meets the curve of his ass.
His fingers trace Gerard’s entrance but he leaves them there, asking, “Ready, Gee?”
“Fuck yeah I’m ready, motherfucker,” Gerard gasps, wriggling around on the bed, and Frank does laugh then, sliding one slick finger in, spreading him open steady but quick. Gerard lifts his hips in short little hitches, pushing back against his movements.
He’s gotten two fingers in and is about to use a third when Gerard slaps his hand away, grabs his dick, and says, “I told you I was ready, motherfucker,” but really breathlessly, so it doesn’t sound as harsh as he was probably intending.
It gets the point across, though, and then the slow stretch and give of Gerard’s body around him is fucking perfect and he lets out a loud moan to mirror the man’s beneath him, because there’s no way he can hold back. He pulls away and then slams back in, fast and determined, and finding Gerard’s prostate a few thrusts in.
He pulls back despite Gerard’s keening protests to hook his legs over his forearms and push them against his chest to change the angle before resuming the pace.
Gerard whimpers like it was torn out of him, thighs tense, toes curling, and yanking at the short hairs on the back of Frank’s neck when his fingers are unable to find purchase elsewhere. “Love the way you feel, Frankie. Love it-love it when you’re on top, heavy and holding me down, so that I can’t-can’t move unless you want me to.”
“Y-yeah?” He says, between thrusts, for lack of anything better to say, but maybe enough to keep Gerard talking.
“Mmmyeah,” Gerard hisses when Frank hits his prostate on a particularly hard thrust, “Love the weight of you on and-fuck-against me, solid and-and just, like, really… really fucking good. Love the feel of it, wanted-wanted to see it, too.”
And, fuck, Frank kind of feels bad about being self-conscious when Gerard was totally into him and liking him like this anyway.
“Jesus, Gee, fucking-fucking love you.” His voice is still hoarse, fucking wrecked from the show and the sound of it sends shivers down Gerard’s spine. Gerard arches his back against the tremors, and the words, pushing up into the weight of Frank on top of him.
The world around them completely disappears; nothing existing except for the tight, hot clutch of Gerard around him, dick sliding slickly against his stomach, sweat dripping onto his chest, and he stupidly thinks that they’ll have to have sex with the lights on from now on, because there’s no fucking way he’s missing out on any more of Gerard’s sex faces.
“Come for me, baby.” Gerard whispers against the shell of Frank’s ear, tightening impossibly more around him, heels digging into the backs of his thighs and rolling his hips hard against the other man’s. He pulls Frank’s earlobe into his mouth before nosing around to the other side and kissing the S//C symbol behind his ear.
Frank can only take so much and when Gerard sucks hard on the scorpion tattoo high on his neck while lightly scratching a nipple with his nail, he comes.
Gerard’s starting to jack himself off, but Frank nudges his hand away and pulls out, maybe a little too soon given Gerard’s hiss of discomfort. He gets his mouth on Gerard’s cock, and his fingers, still fairly slick from earlier, back in Gerard’s ass. It doesn’t take much for him to come after that and soon he’s thrusting hard and coming down Frank’s throat and Frank is just fucking taking it, like he was born to suck dick.
Frank rolls to the bed beside him, breathing hard and licking his lips.
Gerard’s fingers find his in the dark and for once the darkness is only because his eyes are closed.
~*~*~
“Told you I’d want to see that,” Gerard breathes later after they’ve cleaned themselves up, curling up against Frank’s side beneath the covers.
Frank doesn’t answer, but instead kisses him, and he thinks that maybe he wouldn’t mind taking a weekend to go to the beach, as long as Gerard is there with him.
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,566
Warnings: Poorly written explicit sex and extremely slight body dysmorphia issues.
Disclaimer: This is in no way real. If it was real the sex would probably be a lot better.
Summary: The problem wasn’t that Gerard was stupid; the problem was that he wasn’t always the most observant guy around. Sometimes he just misses things that maybe he should have noticed. He hadn’t thought anything of it the first time Frank had pushed his hands out from under his shirt and said, “I’d rather touch you.”
A/N: This is basically my first attempt at explicit sex, so, uh, don't be mean? D:
The problem wasn’t that Gerard was stupid; the problem was that he wasn’t always the most observant guy around. Sometimes he just misses things that maybe he should have noticed. He hadn’t thought anything of it the first time Frank had pushed his hands out from under his shirt and said, “I’d rather touch you.”
Gerard had been a little preoccupied with Frank’s tongue on his dick, and his tattooed fingers inching past the waistband at the back of his jeans to wonder if there was any ulterior motive. He hadn’t had any reason to think otherwise.
He hadn’t thought any of it the times following that either, like when Gerard had been giving him a hand job and Frank had pulled away the hand gripping the flesh on his hip, grasping Gerard’s fingers tightly in his own and murmuring, “Gee, please, need to come.”
Frank had left his clothes on the first time they had sex, too, but Gerard was so frantic with the need to be touched, to be fucked, to feel Frank against him and inside him that he’d thought Frank just didn’t want to waste time to shuck his shirt and pants. He’d certainly acted like it and, honestly, Gerard had been so overwhelmed with the weight of Frank heavy on top of him, the scratch of his beard against his neck, the feel of the rough denim against his thighs that he couldn’t really think past how good, and right, and fucking perfect it all felt.
He didn’t notice that Frank was always either partially clothed, or how the lights were always too low to actually see anything. Frank had once said he didn’t want Gerard to see what he was doing; he wanted Gerard to feel it, and Gerard had lost his train of thought when Frank’s hand had slipped up his shirt and pressed against the soft skin of his rib cage.
The only reason he’d thought about it at all was because he and Frank had been watching some shitty ass horror movie set on a remote island when Frank had sighed and said, “Fuck, I haven’t been to the beach in forever.”
Gerard had immediately suggested taking a weekend to make a trip to the beach, because shit, what he wouldn’t give to see Frank shirtless, skin hot from the sun and dripping salty ocean water onto the towels they would lay in the sand. He could already imagine rubbing against Frank, the grit of the sand uncomfortable and almost painful with the friction, but being unable to care because of the way he reacted whenever Frank touched him.
But Frank had laughed, not moving his eyes from the scene taking place onscreen where a bikini-clad girl was gushing blood from her neck, and said, “No one wants to see that.”
And, fuck, Gerard had been so fucking confused, like, what the hell? Who wouldn’t want to see that? He’d never seen Frank shirtless and this would the perfect opportunity-and then he was horrified to realize that he’d never actually seen Frank shirtless.
They’d been dating for well over six months, fucking for almost as long, and he’d really never seen Frank shirtless.
It made him start thinking about how, if he really thought about it, he’d never seen Frank totally naked. At least not with the lights on anyway. He wouldn’t let them shower together. He’d get dressed while Gerard was still asleep, or when he was in another room.
How the fuck had he not noticed that?
He’d laughed with Frank, though, toeing Frank’s thigh and saying, “I’d want to see that.”
Frank had just sent a self-deprecating smile in the direction of the TV. “I don’t even want to see that.”
~*~*~
The plan was to get Frank so riled up he wouldn’t be able to think about pulling Gerard away from his chub. Gerard bides his time until one of Leathermouth’s show nights. Frank is always really fucking turned on after his shows, slamming Gerard against the brick wall behind the venue and jerking him off hard and tight, covering his mouth to muffle his moans.
Gerard watches Frank scream and writhe around on the floor, a bruise already forming under his eye from where he launched himself into the crowd earlier. Sweat is showing through both layers-both layers, what the fuck-and Gerard wants to throw his clothes on the floor, cool him off with his tongue and lick the sweat pooling at the bottom of his spine.
He can just tell from the way Frank’s throwing himself hard against the stage that tonight’s going to be a good one, especially when Frank starts clawing at his chest during the chorus. To most people it’s just another part of the show, but Gerard knows from experience that he gets off on quick, light touches to his nipples.
After the show he slams Frank against the wall in the men’s restroom, barely remembering the shut the lock before going down on him despite Frank’s hands initially scrambling for the button on Gerard’s jeans.
“Nope, not tonight,” he says, hand gripping the base of Frank’s dick, “tonight’s all about you.”
His hands are everywhere after that, scratching at his hips and thighs, pinching his nipples through his shirt, rippling his fingers around his dick where his mouth can’t reach. He licks, and sucks, and Frank’s gasping out, “gonna come, Gee,” a lot sooner than he’d really wanted.
Gerard swallows without a word of complaint, sitting back on his heels and palming his erection. Frank kneels in front of him, kissing away the drops of his come on the corner of Gee’s mouth before going to return the favor, but Gerard shakes his head, eyes closed as he says, “Not now. I want to wait until we’re home.”
~*~*~
There’s a rush to pack up all of Leathermouth’s gear when they exit the bathroom and then they’re saying their goodbyes to the guys and in the van on the way to Frank’s tiny house. They aren’t inside even five minutes before Gee’s pushing him against the door, already panting like he’s a run a fucking mile. He squeezes Frank’s dick through his jeans and Frank’s eyes roll to the back of his head from the want.
But then Gerard’s breath is hot and damp against his cheek, next to his ear, and he’s gasping, “Take it off. Everything. All of it. Off.”
Frank freezes up instantly, because the lights are still on and he’s stupidly self-conscious about his body when it comes to Gerard. He’s avoided being naked in direct light for a while, like a shitty-ass weight-based creature of the night, because Jesus fucking Christ he really likes Gerard and he doesn’t want his stupid flabby stomach and chubby thighs and shit to turn Gerard off.
(Man, like what the fuck, he thinks almost sadly, when did he turn into a fucking pussy about his weight?)
“Sure; let me get the lights.” He says, turning to the switch behind him.
Gerard makes a high pitched, keening sound like he’s in pain, and suddenly he’s pressing himself against Frank’s back, murmuring fast and low, “No, I wanna see you, Frankie, please. Lemme see you?”
And, shit, it’s not like Frank can say no to that, no fucking way. So he swallows hard and says, “Gee, I-yeah. Okay. Fine,” and Gerard reaches down, grabbing the hems of both of his shirts and ripping them over his head.
The shirts get caught on his chin and ears before they come off, of fucking course, and Frank thinks he is probably too old to get embarrassed about such things.
Once they’re off, though, Gerard just kind of steps back and stares for what feels like forever but is most likely only a few seconds, eyes roaming all over Frank’s exposed torso. The staring is making Frank nervous as fuck, so he scrubs his fingers through his hair; it’s already messed up, because of the whole ripping-his-shirt-off deal, so it’s not like he’s making anything worse. He tells himself not to cover his stomach, where his tattoos have kind of stretched a bit from when he gained all this weight, because it’s not that bad, and he’s definitely too old to cower behind his hands like some shy kid in a locker room.
But maybe Gerard can see it in his eyes, because suddenly he’s tracing Frank’s chest and belly tattoos with his fingers, and then following with his mouth. He’s nibbling and sucking at the pudge next to his belly button when he sighs, “Jesus fucking Christ, Frankie, you’re fucking beautiful.”
He sounds kind of awed and dazed, like Frank is some kind of priceless work of art by some old dead dude whose name he can’t pronounce.
He opens his mouth to say something, but midway through he realizes he wouldn’t know what to say, where to start. Like, “Oh, thanks for not being repulsed by my fat,” or “wow, if I had known you’d like my chubby ass, I totally would have taken my shirt off before now,” or maybe even “are you one of those people who only fucks fat people,” but then it doesn’t matter, because all he can focus on is where Gerard’s mouth is hot and wet and sucking a bruise into the curve of his shoulder.
Frank’s mouth drops open even further as Gerard pinches a nipple and he gasps, arching into the touch.
“Aaahhhh,” is about the extent of his verbal capabilities when Gerard takes the chance to stick his tongue in his open mouth and lick hungrily at his teeth, which should be really fucking disgusting but instead it’s just really hot.
“MmmmFrank,” Gerard moans into his mouth and nips at his bottom lip. “Fuck me, need you to fuck me, Frankie, c’mon.”
And really who is Frank to deny the man his needs?
He kisses him hard and open-mouthed, the sound of it wet and dirty as he pushes Gerard’s jean off his hips and grabs a handful of his ass, digging his fingers in and rolling his hips.
They stumble to the bedroom, shedding the rest of their clothes in the hallway. Frank shoves Gerard to the bed, climbing between his open legs and, shit, he can’t think of anything he enjoys more than being here, like this, with Gerard, and even if there is something better, he isn’t exactly in prime thinking mode.
Gerard’s eyes are glazed over and he’s breathing heavy even though they’ve only really kissed and dry humped since getting to Frank’s house. He’s touching himself the way he always does when he’s waiting for Frank to hurry up and get with the fucking program, the pace steady and just on the side of too rough.
Frank scrabbles for a condom and the bottle of lube in the drawer in his nightstand and he almost laughs thinking that when he bought them months ago, before meeting Gerard after one of his shows, he wasn’t exactly expecting to get a lot of use out them.
With the condom on, fingers slicked and ready, he places a hand on top of Gerard’s bent knee, sliding it up and around the back of his thigh where it meets the curve of his ass.
His fingers trace Gerard’s entrance but he leaves them there, asking, “Ready, Gee?”
“Fuck yeah I’m ready, motherfucker,” Gerard gasps, wriggling around on the bed, and Frank does laugh then, sliding one slick finger in, spreading him open steady but quick. Gerard lifts his hips in short little hitches, pushing back against his movements.
He’s gotten two fingers in and is about to use a third when Gerard slaps his hand away, grabs his dick, and says, “I told you I was ready, motherfucker,” but really breathlessly, so it doesn’t sound as harsh as he was probably intending.
It gets the point across, though, and then the slow stretch and give of Gerard’s body around him is fucking perfect and he lets out a loud moan to mirror the man’s beneath him, because there’s no way he can hold back. He pulls away and then slams back in, fast and determined, and finding Gerard’s prostate a few thrusts in.
He pulls back despite Gerard’s keening protests to hook his legs over his forearms and push them against his chest to change the angle before resuming the pace.
Gerard whimpers like it was torn out of him, thighs tense, toes curling, and yanking at the short hairs on the back of Frank’s neck when his fingers are unable to find purchase elsewhere. “Love the way you feel, Frankie. Love it-love it when you’re on top, heavy and holding me down, so that I can’t-can’t move unless you want me to.”
“Y-yeah?” He says, between thrusts, for lack of anything better to say, but maybe enough to keep Gerard talking.
“Mmmyeah,” Gerard hisses when Frank hits his prostate on a particularly hard thrust, “Love the weight of you on and-fuck-against me, solid and-and just, like, really… really fucking good. Love the feel of it, wanted-wanted to see it, too.”
And, fuck, Frank kind of feels bad about being self-conscious when Gerard was totally into him and liking him like this anyway.
“Jesus, Gee, fucking-fucking love you.” His voice is still hoarse, fucking wrecked from the show and the sound of it sends shivers down Gerard’s spine. Gerard arches his back against the tremors, and the words, pushing up into the weight of Frank on top of him.
The world around them completely disappears; nothing existing except for the tight, hot clutch of Gerard around him, dick sliding slickly against his stomach, sweat dripping onto his chest, and he stupidly thinks that they’ll have to have sex with the lights on from now on, because there’s no fucking way he’s missing out on any more of Gerard’s sex faces.
“Come for me, baby.” Gerard whispers against the shell of Frank’s ear, tightening impossibly more around him, heels digging into the backs of his thighs and rolling his hips hard against the other man’s. He pulls Frank’s earlobe into his mouth before nosing around to the other side and kissing the S//C symbol behind his ear.
Frank can only take so much and when Gerard sucks hard on the scorpion tattoo high on his neck while lightly scratching a nipple with his nail, he comes.
Gerard’s starting to jack himself off, but Frank nudges his hand away and pulls out, maybe a little too soon given Gerard’s hiss of discomfort. He gets his mouth on Gerard’s cock, and his fingers, still fairly slick from earlier, back in Gerard’s ass. It doesn’t take much for him to come after that and soon he’s thrusting hard and coming down Frank’s throat and Frank is just fucking taking it, like he was born to suck dick.
Frank rolls to the bed beside him, breathing hard and licking his lips.
Gerard’s fingers find his in the dark and for once the darkness is only because his eyes are closed.
~*~*~
“Told you I’d want to see that,” Gerard breathes later after they’ve cleaned themselves up, curling up against Frank’s side beneath the covers.
Frank doesn’t answer, but instead kisses him, and he thinks that maybe he wouldn’t mind taking a weekend to go to the beach, as long as Gerard is there with him.