Ficlet: and roll my stockings down (Brian/Mikeyway, R)
Title: and roll my stockings down
Summary: or, alternatively, Mikey Bobs His Hair.
Pairing: Brian Schechter/Mikeyway
Rating: R
Warnings: Crossdressing
Word count: 808
AN: For perspexsea, originally posted here.
Brian was used to a lot of things, really. He was far from a blushing bride when it came to the rock and roll biz. He was accustomed to the sorts of mayhem that My Chem as a whole got up to.
He was even used to walking into the dressing room to see Mikey Way peering intently into the mirror, fixing his makeup. (Admittedly, this normally occurred prior to the show, but still, not outside of the realm of possibility.)
It was the addition of the black beaded flapper dress that gave him pause.
“Um,” he said. “Was there a bet I didn’t know about?”
Mikey finished smudging the kohl around his eyes, then looked up. “No.”
Damn. Mikey had showered and brushed his hair for once, and it fell around his perfectly made up face just like a 1920s siren. Brian took a deep breath and tried not to notice how the slinky short dress was made for Mikey’s bony frame.
“Something I should know about, then?” Brian kept his voice light. “For the press release.”
Mikey shrugged, turning around and leaning against the counter, crossing his arms. The dress still didn’t look ridiculous. Brian had possibly spent so much time around the band that he had gone mad. He hoped it was temporary.
Was he supposed to be guessing what was going on? It wasn’t like he’d barged in for no reason whatsoever. He was looking for his phone, and Bob had mentioned seeing it in the dressing room...
Oh.
“Who stole my phone?” he asked. He was going to have to work on the filter between his brain and his mouth.
Mikey lifted the beaded hem of his skirt to reveal Brian’s damn-lucky phone tucked neatly in a garter belt. “Guess I found it,” he said. “Do you want it back now?”
The words came out in an awkward rush, as though Mikey had been practicing them in his mind and hadn’t settled on the perfect delivery yet.
Brian only licked his lips just then because his lips were suddenly dryer than the Sahara. Not because of the way Mikey fuckin’ Way’s thigh looked bare under the light.
Brian was fucked, and he knew it.
“This is the weirdest fucking seduction I’ve ever been subjected to,” he said. He meant to pause a second, build suspense, but Mikey was just looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “You’re fucking pretty.”
“Then why are you still way over there?”
Brian had no clue.
“I have no clue,” he said even as he was fixing the problem. Up close, the makeup wasn’t incongruous, but the way the beaded dress sparkled under the lights around the mirror was definitely out of the fucking ordinary.
“What the fuck is up with this anyway?” he asked, tracing along the neckline. Glancing down, he couldn’t help but admire the way the dress settled on the smooth angles of Mikey’s frame, the way the dress bunched in the front where... oh. Oh.
“I saw you looking at Gee’s drawing,” Mikey said. Brian struggled to follow the conversation.
A lightbulb dimly flickered on in his brain. Flipping through Gerard’s sketchbook, stopping and staring at a particularly striking portrait of a flapper... “That... that was you?”
He was still fondling the beading on the dress, he realized, though his hand had drifted further south. Mikey had spread his legs, and Brian stepped between them, hand sliding across the silky material to rest on Mikey’s hip. Mikey exhaled sharply.
“Mmm-hmm,” and Mikey was kissing him, hands coming up to loosely clasp behind his neck, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there.
Brian kind of lost himself in the kiss, corny as that felt. He stepped in even closer, pressing their bodies close together, enjoying the feel of Mikey squirming against him as he repositioned more comfortably against the counter.
He slid his hand up under the hem of the skirt. Mikey grasped at his t-shirt a little tighter, pulling the neck almost uncomfortably tight against his throat, all without breaking the kiss. He slowly slid his hand up until he felt the cheap scratchy lace and elastic of Mikey’s garter. He groped around for a second before finding the plastic rectangle of his phone, which he plucked out to send it clattering across the counter. Mikey scrabbled at his hand a second, trying to keep it under the skirt, until he seemed to realize what Brian was doing.
“Don’t want to make any accidental calls right now,” Brian affirmed. “Not with what I’m hoping to do.”
“That’s a good plan,” Mikey replied. His lipstick was smeared; Brian could taste it still. “Both of them.”
Brian didn’t really feel compelled to question anything after that except the lock on the door.
Summary: or, alternatively, Mikey Bobs His Hair.
Pairing: Brian Schechter/Mikeyway
Rating: R
Warnings: Crossdressing
Word count: 808
AN: For perspexsea, originally posted here.
Brian was used to a lot of things, really. He was far from a blushing bride when it came to the rock and roll biz. He was accustomed to the sorts of mayhem that My Chem as a whole got up to.
He was even used to walking into the dressing room to see Mikey Way peering intently into the mirror, fixing his makeup. (Admittedly, this normally occurred prior to the show, but still, not outside of the realm of possibility.)
It was the addition of the black beaded flapper dress that gave him pause.
“Um,” he said. “Was there a bet I didn’t know about?”
Mikey finished smudging the kohl around his eyes, then looked up. “No.”
Damn. Mikey had showered and brushed his hair for once, and it fell around his perfectly made up face just like a 1920s siren. Brian took a deep breath and tried not to notice how the slinky short dress was made for Mikey’s bony frame.
“Something I should know about, then?” Brian kept his voice light. “For the press release.”
Mikey shrugged, turning around and leaning against the counter, crossing his arms. The dress still didn’t look ridiculous. Brian had possibly spent so much time around the band that he had gone mad. He hoped it was temporary.
Was he supposed to be guessing what was going on? It wasn’t like he’d barged in for no reason whatsoever. He was looking for his phone, and Bob had mentioned seeing it in the dressing room...
Oh.
“Who stole my phone?” he asked. He was going to have to work on the filter between his brain and his mouth.
Mikey lifted the beaded hem of his skirt to reveal Brian’s damn-lucky phone tucked neatly in a garter belt. “Guess I found it,” he said. “Do you want it back now?”
The words came out in an awkward rush, as though Mikey had been practicing them in his mind and hadn’t settled on the perfect delivery yet.
Brian only licked his lips just then because his lips were suddenly dryer than the Sahara. Not because of the way Mikey fuckin’ Way’s thigh looked bare under the light.
Brian was fucked, and he knew it.
“This is the weirdest fucking seduction I’ve ever been subjected to,” he said. He meant to pause a second, build suspense, but Mikey was just looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “You’re fucking pretty.”
“Then why are you still way over there?”
Brian had no clue.
“I have no clue,” he said even as he was fixing the problem. Up close, the makeup wasn’t incongruous, but the way the beaded dress sparkled under the lights around the mirror was definitely out of the fucking ordinary.
“What the fuck is up with this anyway?” he asked, tracing along the neckline. Glancing down, he couldn’t help but admire the way the dress settled on the smooth angles of Mikey’s frame, the way the dress bunched in the front where... oh. Oh.
“I saw you looking at Gee’s drawing,” Mikey said. Brian struggled to follow the conversation.
A lightbulb dimly flickered on in his brain. Flipping through Gerard’s sketchbook, stopping and staring at a particularly striking portrait of a flapper... “That... that was you?”
He was still fondling the beading on the dress, he realized, though his hand had drifted further south. Mikey had spread his legs, and Brian stepped between them, hand sliding across the silky material to rest on Mikey’s hip. Mikey exhaled sharply.
“Mmm-hmm,” and Mikey was kissing him, hands coming up to loosely clasp behind his neck, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there.
Brian kind of lost himself in the kiss, corny as that felt. He stepped in even closer, pressing their bodies close together, enjoying the feel of Mikey squirming against him as he repositioned more comfortably against the counter.
He slid his hand up under the hem of the skirt. Mikey grasped at his t-shirt a little tighter, pulling the neck almost uncomfortably tight against his throat, all without breaking the kiss. He slowly slid his hand up until he felt the cheap scratchy lace and elastic of Mikey’s garter. He groped around for a second before finding the plastic rectangle of his phone, which he plucked out to send it clattering across the counter. Mikey scrabbled at his hand a second, trying to keep it under the skirt, until he seemed to realize what Brian was doing.
“Don’t want to make any accidental calls right now,” Brian affirmed. “Not with what I’m hoping to do.”
“That’s a good plan,” Mikey replied. His lipstick was smeared; Brian could taste it still. “Both of them.”
Brian didn’t really feel compelled to question anything after that except the lock on the door.