ficlet: Leave a Message After the Tone
Now that I have dragged myself out of my unfortunate bout of emo from yesterday and part of today, thanks to being given some music and having someone who had no idea I was even upset be randomly super nice to me, here's another one of those ficlets I was talking about.
In other news, as I looked through my finished fics, I realized just how many WIPs I have currently. >.< At LEAST four that will definitely end up getting finished. Another one that is a possibility. Oh yeah, and one or two that I've promised to write but haven't started. How does this happen? Especially when several of them are going to end up being pretty epic!
That said....FICLET TIME.
Title: Leave a Message After the Tone
Word Count: 1,571
Rating: R
Pairings: Gerard/Frank
Disclaimer: I do not own them, and this definitely never happened. Set some random time in between tours, I suppose.
Summary: Gerard's just trying to grocery shop when he gets Frank's message.
Notes: I have no excuse for this. It came into my mind one day and I wrote it, sent it to
monanoche, and...that was that.
Leave a Message After the Tone
Gerard’s phone started ringing at a really inopportune moment, all things considered. He was driving to the supermarket, and his phone went off just as he pulled into the parking lot and was nearly hit by a pick-up truck making an illegal left turn. The phone slipped off the passenger seat, where he’d tossed it when he got into the car, and disappeared under the seat. By the time he’d parked and patted around for seemingly forever beneath the seat, the phone had started trilling the ring set for messages, and One New Voicemail! was scrolling across the screen.
As he headed into the grocery store, a blast of air conditioning nearly blowing him back with its intensity, he flipped open his phone and dialed his message inbox. Phone up to his ear, he grabbed a basket and then surreptitiously ducked into the cereal aisle, checking to be sure that his sunglasses were in place to discourage anyone from looking closely enough to be able to tell who he was.
The message was from Frank, and it started out normally enough. “Hey fucker!” Frank’s voice told him, “Answer your fucking phone once in awhile.”
Rolling his eyes, Gerard examined some of the fancy coffees near the end of the aisle, eyes bugging out as he flipped one of the bags over to check the price.
“Okay, well, what the fuck. This would’ve been better if you’d picked up, but that’s okay.”
Distractedly, Gerard switched the phone to his other ear, finally caving and grabbing an imported coffee. He could afford it this one time, and Brian wasn’t around to sigh disapprovingly and shake his head. If he wanted specialty coffee, he could get the damn specialty coffee.
“Right now I’m in my bedroom, lying on that blanket you gave me for my birthday. The one you had the pattern specially made for?”
Gerard had no idea why Frank felt it necessary to share this, but he didn’t really mind. Sometimes he just wanted to narrate his life to someone, too. Usually then he-well, ended up calling Mikey or Frank, so it was understandable. He started heading for the fruit aisle, stopping along the way to grab a package of cookies.
Imported coffee and cookies were completely acceptable purchases, thank you very much.
“I just unbuttoned my jeans, and my hand is in my pants.”
Right in the middle of the frozen foods, Gerard stopped dead, pulling the phone away from his ear to stare at it. Okay, when he called to talk about his life, that was not what he normally started in on. As Frank kept going, though, he put it back to his ear, even as he thought to himself, don’t do it.
“I’m still going pretty slowly, just like you do when you’re starting on the bus, making sure no one can hear you. My hands are smaller than yours, so I doubt it feels the same, but-ah-but that’s okay.”
Eyes widening, Gerard muttered, “Shit.” He thought he’d been so good about being quiet. Realizing that he was just standing there in front of the microwaveable hot dogs, he forced himself to keep moving, reminding himself that he was going for the fruits.
“I’m pretty sure it would feel better if it were you. You’d start to speed up, like this-”
Not like Gerard was straining his ears to listen, or anything, but he thought he could hear a quick slide of skin-on-cloth, like Frank’s arm was brushing quickly against his T-shirt or blanket-the blanket that Gerard gave him, Gerard remembered, face heating-as he quickened his hand.
“And I’d just be moaning, telling you how good it was. Ahh, Gee, you’d be overtop of me, with your hair falling all around your face, and your concentration expression on, fuck, you’d look good like that, shirt off and jeans still on so that you were getting some friction from the denim.”
Gerard had to put a hand on the edge of one of the fruit stands, almost knocking down a pyramid of apples in the process. He looked around dazedly, wondering when he’d gotten there, and what he was looking for. His mind was stuck on the images of Frank whispering into the phone, getting off on the scenario he was painting for Gerard.
“And I’d be sprawled under you while you jacked me off, clutching at your back and leaving red stripes there…oh god.”
Unconsciously, Gerard pressed the heel of his hand against his crotch, breath speeding up. Frank’s voice was getting progressively more breathy and ragged as he went along.
“And then you’d cup my balls with your other hand-I can’t do that right now, or else I’d drop the phone-and swipe your thumb across the head of my cock. Oh fuck.”
Suddenly Gerard remembered that he was standing in the middle of the fucking supermarket, and he was hard as all fuck in the fruit aisle. Desperately he looked around, spotting a sign for the bathrooms at the end of the aisle. Quickly he set down his basket, speed-walking towards the restroom while still trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy to anyone who might happen to be watching.
“And I’d come, and it would be so fantastic, because you’d be the one touching me. I want you to do that so badly.”
Gerard pushed open the door of the bathroom, slamming it shut behind him and locking it before he stumbled over against the wall and sank down into the corner, fighting his pants open and shoving his hand in as fast as he could manage. He assumed that Frank was just about done, and he wanted to come with the memory of that voice still as fresh as possible in his mind. Why hadn’t Frank ever told him before how fucking sexy he sounded during sex? Gerard felt that withholding that information was completely uncalled for.
There was a little moan that crackled over the line, soft enough that Gerard thought Frank was probably trying to hide it. Picturing Frank, knees bent up, hips coming off the mattress as he thrust into his hand, Gerard’s head dropped back against the cement wall with a dull thud.
“And we’d cuddle there for a minute, but then I’d get impatient even though you were the one that was still hard. And I’d push you off of me, and make you sit up, and get down on my knees for you beside the bed. You’d be undoing your pants, and I’d push your legs apart and kneel in between them while you clenched them against my shoulders.”
Oh god. The hottest thing that had ever happened to Gerard was phone sex going on in a supermarket bathroom. Not even phone sex. Answering machine sex. He couldn’t bring himself to care a whole lot.
“I wouldn’t tease much, because really, I’m dying to know what it would be like to have your dick in my mouth. So I’d just start sucking you off right away.”
Clearly Frank was trying to kill Gerard. He bit his lip and jacked himself faster.
“You’d put your hands in my hair, and you’d be too polite to fuck my mouth, but you’d be just quivering while you restrained yourself. And then you wouldn’t be able to help it, you’d thrust a little, and I’d hold your hips down so you could move a little, but not too much.”
Gerard reflected that it was going to be pretty pathetic if he came before Frank had. Judging from how Frank’s voice was starting to break up, though, maybe he wouldn’t end up doing that after all.
“You’d-ahh, fuck-you’d taste so good and-oh my god, Gee, I want to suck you off, seriously, I can’t even-fuck. You’re so fucking. You’re. You’d come in my mouth, I want to swallow you down, and uhnnn.”
His words trailed off into a chorus of unintelligible moans and whimpers that he wasn’t trying to hide anymore, and Gerard thought, oh shit, I’m hearing Frankie come.
Pushing up into his hand, he came all over his hand and the bottom of his stomach, fingers curled rigidly around the phone.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, at the same time that the harsh breathing on the answering machine subsided a little and Frank’s voice chirped, “Call me back!” sounding only slightly lower than normal.
Snapping the phone shut as his hand dropped onto his leg, Gerard panted, blinking at the opposite wall of the small bathroom. Finally he pushed himself shakily to his feet and grabbed a few paper towels to swipe at the mess on his stomach, finishing off by rinsing his hands and buttoning himself back up.
Then he grabbed his phone back off the floor and shouldered open the bathroom door, glancing around guiltily as he completely bypassed his partly-filled grocery basket and headed for the front of the store.
As he crossed the parking lot, he dialed Frank’s number, and when Frank picked up with, “Yo,” Gerard half-yelled, “What the fuck was that, Frankie? What were you thinking?” He waved his free hand around a little bit, too, but there was no one to see anyway.
Frank laughed for about thirty seconds. After he stopped, he asked, “So, are you on your way over?”
Pulling his keys out of his pocket, Gerard replied, “Be there in ten.”
In other news, as I looked through my finished fics, I realized just how many WIPs I have currently. >.< At LEAST four that will definitely end up getting finished. Another one that is a possibility. Oh yeah, and one or two that I've promised to write but haven't started. How does this happen? Especially when several of them are going to end up being pretty epic!
That said....FICLET TIME.
Title: Leave a Message After the Tone
Word Count: 1,571
Rating: R
Pairings: Gerard/Frank
Disclaimer: I do not own them, and this definitely never happened. Set some random time in between tours, I suppose.
Summary: Gerard's just trying to grocery shop when he gets Frank's message.
Notes: I have no excuse for this. It came into my mind one day and I wrote it, sent it to
monanoche, and...that was that.
Leave a Message After the Tone
Gerard’s phone started ringing at a really inopportune moment, all things considered. He was driving to the supermarket, and his phone went off just as he pulled into the parking lot and was nearly hit by a pick-up truck making an illegal left turn. The phone slipped off the passenger seat, where he’d tossed it when he got into the car, and disappeared under the seat. By the time he’d parked and patted around for seemingly forever beneath the seat, the phone had started trilling the ring set for messages, and One New Voicemail! was scrolling across the screen.
As he headed into the grocery store, a blast of air conditioning nearly blowing him back with its intensity, he flipped open his phone and dialed his message inbox. Phone up to his ear, he grabbed a basket and then surreptitiously ducked into the cereal aisle, checking to be sure that his sunglasses were in place to discourage anyone from looking closely enough to be able to tell who he was.
The message was from Frank, and it started out normally enough. “Hey fucker!” Frank’s voice told him, “Answer your fucking phone once in awhile.”
Rolling his eyes, Gerard examined some of the fancy coffees near the end of the aisle, eyes bugging out as he flipped one of the bags over to check the price.
“Okay, well, what the fuck. This would’ve been better if you’d picked up, but that’s okay.”
Distractedly, Gerard switched the phone to his other ear, finally caving and grabbing an imported coffee. He could afford it this one time, and Brian wasn’t around to sigh disapprovingly and shake his head. If he wanted specialty coffee, he could get the damn specialty coffee.
“Right now I’m in my bedroom, lying on that blanket you gave me for my birthday. The one you had the pattern specially made for?”
Gerard had no idea why Frank felt it necessary to share this, but he didn’t really mind. Sometimes he just wanted to narrate his life to someone, too. Usually then he-well, ended up calling Mikey or Frank, so it was understandable. He started heading for the fruit aisle, stopping along the way to grab a package of cookies.
Imported coffee and cookies were completely acceptable purchases, thank you very much.
“I just unbuttoned my jeans, and my hand is in my pants.”
Right in the middle of the frozen foods, Gerard stopped dead, pulling the phone away from his ear to stare at it. Okay, when he called to talk about his life, that was not what he normally started in on. As Frank kept going, though, he put it back to his ear, even as he thought to himself, don’t do it.
“I’m still going pretty slowly, just like you do when you’re starting on the bus, making sure no one can hear you. My hands are smaller than yours, so I doubt it feels the same, but-ah-but that’s okay.”
Eyes widening, Gerard muttered, “Shit.” He thought he’d been so good about being quiet. Realizing that he was just standing there in front of the microwaveable hot dogs, he forced himself to keep moving, reminding himself that he was going for the fruits.
“I’m pretty sure it would feel better if it were you. You’d start to speed up, like this-”
Not like Gerard was straining his ears to listen, or anything, but he thought he could hear a quick slide of skin-on-cloth, like Frank’s arm was brushing quickly against his T-shirt or blanket-the blanket that Gerard gave him, Gerard remembered, face heating-as he quickened his hand.
“And I’d just be moaning, telling you how good it was. Ahh, Gee, you’d be overtop of me, with your hair falling all around your face, and your concentration expression on, fuck, you’d look good like that, shirt off and jeans still on so that you were getting some friction from the denim.”
Gerard had to put a hand on the edge of one of the fruit stands, almost knocking down a pyramid of apples in the process. He looked around dazedly, wondering when he’d gotten there, and what he was looking for. His mind was stuck on the images of Frank whispering into the phone, getting off on the scenario he was painting for Gerard.
“And I’d be sprawled under you while you jacked me off, clutching at your back and leaving red stripes there…oh god.”
Unconsciously, Gerard pressed the heel of his hand against his crotch, breath speeding up. Frank’s voice was getting progressively more breathy and ragged as he went along.
“And then you’d cup my balls with your other hand-I can’t do that right now, or else I’d drop the phone-and swipe your thumb across the head of my cock. Oh fuck.”
Suddenly Gerard remembered that he was standing in the middle of the fucking supermarket, and he was hard as all fuck in the fruit aisle. Desperately he looked around, spotting a sign for the bathrooms at the end of the aisle. Quickly he set down his basket, speed-walking towards the restroom while still trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy to anyone who might happen to be watching.
“And I’d come, and it would be so fantastic, because you’d be the one touching me. I want you to do that so badly.”
Gerard pushed open the door of the bathroom, slamming it shut behind him and locking it before he stumbled over against the wall and sank down into the corner, fighting his pants open and shoving his hand in as fast as he could manage. He assumed that Frank was just about done, and he wanted to come with the memory of that voice still as fresh as possible in his mind. Why hadn’t Frank ever told him before how fucking sexy he sounded during sex? Gerard felt that withholding that information was completely uncalled for.
There was a little moan that crackled over the line, soft enough that Gerard thought Frank was probably trying to hide it. Picturing Frank, knees bent up, hips coming off the mattress as he thrust into his hand, Gerard’s head dropped back against the cement wall with a dull thud.
“And we’d cuddle there for a minute, but then I’d get impatient even though you were the one that was still hard. And I’d push you off of me, and make you sit up, and get down on my knees for you beside the bed. You’d be undoing your pants, and I’d push your legs apart and kneel in between them while you clenched them against my shoulders.”
Oh god. The hottest thing that had ever happened to Gerard was phone sex going on in a supermarket bathroom. Not even phone sex. Answering machine sex. He couldn’t bring himself to care a whole lot.
“I wouldn’t tease much, because really, I’m dying to know what it would be like to have your dick in my mouth. So I’d just start sucking you off right away.”
Clearly Frank was trying to kill Gerard. He bit his lip and jacked himself faster.
“You’d put your hands in my hair, and you’d be too polite to fuck my mouth, but you’d be just quivering while you restrained yourself. And then you wouldn’t be able to help it, you’d thrust a little, and I’d hold your hips down so you could move a little, but not too much.”
Gerard reflected that it was going to be pretty pathetic if he came before Frank had. Judging from how Frank’s voice was starting to break up, though, maybe he wouldn’t end up doing that after all.
“You’d-ahh, fuck-you’d taste so good and-oh my god, Gee, I want to suck you off, seriously, I can’t even-fuck. You’re so fucking. You’re. You’d come in my mouth, I want to swallow you down, and uhnnn.”
His words trailed off into a chorus of unintelligible moans and whimpers that he wasn’t trying to hide anymore, and Gerard thought, oh shit, I’m hearing Frankie come.
Pushing up into his hand, he came all over his hand and the bottom of his stomach, fingers curled rigidly around the phone.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, at the same time that the harsh breathing on the answering machine subsided a little and Frank’s voice chirped, “Call me back!” sounding only slightly lower than normal.
Snapping the phone shut as his hand dropped onto his leg, Gerard panted, blinking at the opposite wall of the small bathroom. Finally he pushed himself shakily to his feet and grabbed a few paper towels to swipe at the mess on his stomach, finishing off by rinsing his hands and buttoning himself back up.
Then he grabbed his phone back off the floor and shouldered open the bathroom door, glancing around guiltily as he completely bypassed his partly-filled grocery basket and headed for the front of the store.
As he crossed the parking lot, he dialed Frank’s number, and when Frank picked up with, “Yo,” Gerard half-yelled, “What the fuck was that, Frankie? What were you thinking?” He waved his free hand around a little bit, too, but there was no one to see anyway.
Frank laughed for about thirty seconds. After he stopped, he asked, “So, are you on your way over?”
Pulling his keys out of his pocket, Gerard replied, “Be there in ten.”