Fic: Untitled Frank/Gerard
Untitled Ficlet
Frank/Gerard
NC-17
AU
~2500 words
For silentdescant, who encourages these sorts of things. This is just a little snippet of an idea I had about the Frank/Gerard AU fic we've been talking about writing.
It’s almost two in the morning by the time Frank drags himself up the three flights of stairs to his apartment, Gerard following behind him. Frank hears Mama’s impatient snuffling as he unlocks the door and she sneaks out into the hallway, stepping on his toes in her haste to get to Gerard, who bends down to pick her up. Gerard buries his face in her neck and makes a pleased noise, and Frank thinks he tells her that he’s missed her. He smiles to himself and takes her leash from the hook next to the door.
“I’ll take her for her walk,” Gerard volunteers, glancing at Frank and trying to nuzzle Mama’s ears at the same time.
“You don’t have to,” Frank tells him, clipping the leash to her pink leather collar. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“I know I don’t have to,” says Gerard. “I want to.” He scratches under her chin. “I can do it. I won’t lose her, Frank. You wanted to take a shower anyway.”
“I was going to try and talk you into the shower with me,” Frank admits.
Gerard makes a face.
“Fine,” he sighs, “you take her. I’m totally starting to think you like Mama better than me.”
Gerard grins and turns back toward the stairs. “I like you both, Frank,” he says earnestly, and disappears with the dog.
Frank shakes his head and goes into his apartment, nudging the door closed, careful to make sure that it doesn’t latch and lock Gerard out. He leaves his keys and skeleton gloves and coat in a pile on the table and pushes the button on the answering machine. There is a message from his mother (“Frank Anthony, I haven’t seen you in nearly three weeks”) inviting him over for Sunday dinner (“I’ll make eggplant parmigiana”) and asking about Gerard (“I want to meet him, baby, bring him home to dinner”), and one from Jamia (“Frank, you’re never home”) telling him about her date with some girl named Lindsey (“God, Frankie, she’s amazing”). Frank doesn’t erase the messages-maybe he’ll remember to call them back. He toes off his shoes and puts a pot of coffee on for Gerard despite the late hour. It’s Friday and neither of them has to wake up early the next morning-maybe it will convince him to stay the night.
“Shower,” Frank murmurs to himself, and starts stripping off his clothes, leaving them in the ever-expanding pile in the corner. He pulls a hoodie from the foot of the mattress on the floor and chucks it into the pile as well. Mama’s been curled up in it, sleeping, for the past two days.
Frank starts the water in the tiny shower in his tiny bathroom. The tiles are cold on his bare feet. He thinks again about Gerard’s discomfort with being close to him after he’s finished a shift at work, figures there must be some reason that Gerard only orders coffee or a Coke or a Shirley Temple (seriously, what the hell?) when he comes into the bar, but Frank hasn’t asked yet. He just takes a shower if Gerard comes home with him after Brian closes up, and it’s not like he minds because he doesn’t exactly enjoy smelling simultaneously like a brewery and an ashtray. Frank is more curious about why Gerard will never shower with him, won’t so much as take off more than his shoes when he’s at Frank’s apartment. He knows Gerard likes him-the kissing is pretty fucking amazing and Frank doesn’t think Gerard’s got a volume of poetry stuck down the front of his pants-but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get up to any sort of naked shenanigans. Frank’s trying to be patient, to be okay with it, because he really likes Gerard, but his dick and his right hand are far too well acquainted these days.
And just thinking about Gerard and jerking off gets Frank hard. He tries to ignore it as he washes his hair, but he only gets harder as he starts soaping his chest, and finally Frank gives in. He braces himself with one hand against the pale green tile while the other reaches down to cup his balls, slides slick and wet along the length of his cock. Frank stands under the spray, tries to muffle the little noises he can’t help but make as he thinks of Gerard, and comes before he’s even found a good rhythm. He stays in the shower for another few minutes, just breathing, before finally shutting off the water and pulling a clean towel from the stack on the shelf next to the sink.
Gerard is standing in the middle of the apartment inhaling steam from the mug cradled in his hands when Frank comes out of the bathroom. Gerard’s still wearing his shoes and his peacoat, and Mama is lying at his feet, chewing on a treat. Frank watches Gerard’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he sips his coffee.
“Hi,” he says quietly.
“Mmm, hi,” Gerard replies. “You made me coffee.”
“I did.” Frank smiles.
“You made me good coffee.” Gerard looks up from his mug and over at Frank. “And you’re not wearing clothes.”
“I was in the shower,” Frank points out. “And I’m wearing a towel.”
Gerard nods slightly, apparently distracted. “I didn’t know-Frank, you have-wow.” He approaches Frank carefully, reaching out a tentative hand, stops himself. “Can I touch?” Gerard gestures to the tattoos on Frank’s chest with the hand still clutching his coffee.
“Yeah, of course,” Frank grins. “Maybe you should put down your cup first, though. I, uh, I’d rather not get burned by scalding coffee, you know?”
“Oh, right,” says Gerard, “good idea.” He sets his mug down on top of a takeout menu and just stands in front of Frank for a minute, looking, before circling behind him. “I just want to touch all of them,” Gerard whispers.
“Please,” Frank breathes. “I mean, if you want to. You can.” He watches Gerard, hopes he isn’t going to scare him away.
“You’re sure?” Gerard asks.
Frank nods. “I want you to. I like when you touch me, Gee.”
Gerard’s cheeks flush, and he looks like he wants to protest, but he just shrugs out of his coat and his hoodie, leaving them hanging on the back of one of the chairs shoved under the table. He steps out of his beat up Converse, and Frank notices that he isn’t wearing socks. In jeans and the t-shirt of some band Mikey’d dragged Frank to see months ago, Gerard is the most naked Frank has seen him since they met.
“Bed?” Frank suggests, uncertain.
“Okay, yeah,” Gerard says, only a little hesitant. He ducks his head and shuffles across the wood floor behind Frank until they’re toeing the edge of the mattress. “How do you-how should we do this?”
“Hey,” Frank soothes, sliding his hands over Gerard’s shoulders. “It’s just me, okay?” He presses a kiss to the corner of Gerard’s mouth. “You won’t, like, freak out if I take off my towel, will you?”
Gerard shakes his head, laughing a little. “No, Frank.”
“All right.” Frank nudges Gerard’s nose with his own, and with a flick of his wrist, the towel is pooled on the floor. “I’m going to lay down, okay, but not until you tell me how. Okay, Gee?”
Gerard nods and takes a deep breath before he says, decisively, “On your back.” He sneaks a look at Frank to make sure what he’s asking is all right.
Frank smiles and falls to the mattress, stretching out on his back, the sheets cool and soft against his skin. He settles with one arm behind his head and the other flung out at his side. “Okay,” he says.
Gerard looks down at him and bites his lower lip. “Shit, Frankie,” he says, like he can’t believe his eyes. “You look-fuck. I really wish I had my sketchbook.”
“You promised me touching,” Frank reminds him. “Get down here and touch me, motherfucker.” He lifts his hand, offers it to Gerard. “I’ll let you draw me all you want next time, okay?”
Gerard kneels on the mattress next to Frank and trails one index finger along the outline of the birds tattooed on his hips. His thumb traces over the word ‘And’ between them, and his eyes widen when Frank’s dick twitches between his thighs.
“Sorry,” Frank apologizes. “Sorry, Gee. It’s just-you’re touching me, and it’s really good.”
“Really?” asks Gerard. “Just from me touching you?” He moves his hands to the ink on Frank’s chest.
“Fuck, all you have to do is look at me,” Frank tells him. “Sometimes I get hard as soon as I see you.” He doesn’t want to scare Gerard, telling him these things, but fuck it, Frank wants him to know. “I, uh.” He pauses, swallows. “I jerked off in the shower thinking about you.”
Gerard’s mouth quirks into a smile as he explores the tattoos around Frank’s wrists. “I wondered what was taking you so long in there.” He takes Frank’s left arm in his hands, kisses the heart inked on the inside of his forearm, strokes the handle of the knife sticking out of it with his tongue. “I think about you too, when I-you know,” he mumbles into Frank’s skin.
“Yeah, I know,” Frank says, and he’s half-hard at that admission, trying not to think about what Gerard might look like stretched out in his bed, ghost white against the black sheets, with a hand on his dick. He does think about it, though, and it makes him feel just guilty enough to say, “We don’t have to do this. If you don’t want to, fuck, I can just go jerk off again, put some clothes on.”
“I know I don’t have to,” Gerard replies, and gently sets Frank’s arm down before sliding down to the end of the mattress. “It was my idea, remember?” He curls his fingers around one of Frank’s ankles, thumb stroking over the arch of his foot. Gerard catalogues the tattoos on Frank’s shins with the other hand and drops a kiss to the inside of one of his knees. “Turn over, okay?” he whispers.
Frank doesn’t say anything, just rolls over, trapping his cock between his stomach and the sheets and giving his hips a little thrust.
“Jesus,” Gerard sighs from somewhere behind him. “Frank.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Frank says into the pillow. “I can’t help it.” He tries to still himself.
“No, fuck, don’t be sorry,” Gerard tells him. “Just-you look so fucking good like this, Frankie, god.” He shuffles up until he’s straddling Frank’s thighs, his hands grasping at Frank’s waist. “So good,” Gerard repeats, his breath warm on the small of Frank’s back. “Can you come again?” he asks, kissing up the curve of Frank’s spine.
“Oh, fuck,” Frank moans. “Yeah, I can-yeah.” He rolls his hips against the mattress and the friction on his cock is almost unbearable.
“How long will it take?” Gerard says, pressing himself against Frank’s ass and grinding a little.
“Shit,” Frank chokes. “Gee, what-god, keep doing that.” His hands fist into the sheets and he arches up against Gerard. “Not long,” he stutters out, shivering when he feels Gerard’s teeth on his shoulder.
“Come on,” Gerard murmurs against the scorpion on Frank’s neck. “So good, Frankie. I want you to come for me.” He kisses the flush of Frank’s cheek.
Frank doesn’t have time to think of a response, much less actually say anything, before he’s coming because he’s lying naked under Gerard, whose hands have been touching him everywhere, and he’s been waiting for this, and even though Gerard still has his clothes on, it’s so fucking good. When Frank comes back to himself a few minutes later, Gerard is still on top of him, mouthing at the back of his neck, dick still hard against his ass, and oh. Okay, yeah, Frank can work with that. He wriggles back against Gerard, trying to get his knees and elbows under him.
“Frank?” Gerard says, and slides off him, onto the mattress next to him.
Frank can’t think of anything to say, just leans in and kisses him, licking the taste of coffee from Gerard’s lips. He slips a hand under the hem of Gerard’s t-shirt and presses his fingers against warm skin, humming into Gerard’s mouth. “I want to blow you,” he murmurs, “okay?”
“Frank,” Gerard protests.
“Shh,” Frank interrupts. “Just let me.” He fumbles with the button on Gerard’s jeans and pulls the zipper down. “I won’t take your clothes off, I promise,” he says. “Just let me-I want to.” Frank gets his hand into Gerard’s pants and gives him a squeeze before pulling him free of his jeans.
“Fuck,” Gerard breathes. “Frank, fuck, you…”
Frank smiles up at him and takes Gerard’s cock into his mouth.
“Oh,” he pants. “Okay, you-fuck. Frankie.” Gerard bites at his lip and slides his hands into Frank’s hair as Frank watches and leans into his touch. “Shit, oh, shit, Frank, Frankie, I’m fucking close already.” Gerard tugs at Frank’s hair. “You have to-fuck-seriously, you have to stop, you shouldn’t, oh.”
Frank ignores the insistent pulling at his hair and takes Gerard as far into his mouth as he can, sucking harder and rubbing his thumbs along the skin of Gerard’s hips. He watches the twist of Gerard’s mouth and hums his approval at the trembling of Gerard’s thighs.
Gerard gasps out one last “Frank,” before he comes with a moan loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and Frank is swallowing around him. He’s helpless to do anything but shake through the aftershocks as Frank’s mouth slows and he finally pulls away. Gerard’s eyes are closed when Frank kisses the head of his cock and tucks him back into his jeans, but he smiles at the gesture.
“Can I kiss you?” Frank asks. It’s maybe a stupid question, but he and Gerard haven’t had the post-blow job making out discussion yet, so it’s sort of justified, he figures.
“Fuck, yes,” Gerard says. He pats feebly at Frank’s shoulders. “Come here.”
Frank doesn’t have to be told twice-he crawls over Gerard and settles full-length on top of him, pressing their mouths together in a messy kiss. “Okay?”
Gerard laughs. “Better than okay.”
“You’re staying tonight, right?” Frank tucks his head under Gerard’s chin.
“Yeah, I’m staying.” Gerard slides his arms around Frank and rolls them over onto their sides. He gets the blanket pulled up and covers Frank.
“Mmm, good.” Frank fits himself against Gerard and yawns. “I like you here.”
“I like me here, too,” Gerard tells him. “Sleep, okay?”
“Yeah, sleep,” Frank mumbles. He fists a hand into the back of Gerard’s shirt and makes a sleepy noise into his neck. “’M going to blow you again in the morning, just so you know.”
“Okay,” Gerard agrees.
Mama watches them from her spot across the room and eventually goes to lay on the mattress by their intertwined feet.
...continues here...
Frank/Gerard
NC-17
AU
~2500 words
For silentdescant, who encourages these sorts of things. This is just a little snippet of an idea I had about the Frank/Gerard AU fic we've been talking about writing.
It’s almost two in the morning by the time Frank drags himself up the three flights of stairs to his apartment, Gerard following behind him. Frank hears Mama’s impatient snuffling as he unlocks the door and she sneaks out into the hallway, stepping on his toes in her haste to get to Gerard, who bends down to pick her up. Gerard buries his face in her neck and makes a pleased noise, and Frank thinks he tells her that he’s missed her. He smiles to himself and takes her leash from the hook next to the door.
“I’ll take her for her walk,” Gerard volunteers, glancing at Frank and trying to nuzzle Mama’s ears at the same time.
“You don’t have to,” Frank tells him, clipping the leash to her pink leather collar. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“I know I don’t have to,” says Gerard. “I want to.” He scratches under her chin. “I can do it. I won’t lose her, Frank. You wanted to take a shower anyway.”
“I was going to try and talk you into the shower with me,” Frank admits.
Gerard makes a face.
“Fine,” he sighs, “you take her. I’m totally starting to think you like Mama better than me.”
Gerard grins and turns back toward the stairs. “I like you both, Frank,” he says earnestly, and disappears with the dog.
Frank shakes his head and goes into his apartment, nudging the door closed, careful to make sure that it doesn’t latch and lock Gerard out. He leaves his keys and skeleton gloves and coat in a pile on the table and pushes the button on the answering machine. There is a message from his mother (“Frank Anthony, I haven’t seen you in nearly three weeks”) inviting him over for Sunday dinner (“I’ll make eggplant parmigiana”) and asking about Gerard (“I want to meet him, baby, bring him home to dinner”), and one from Jamia (“Frank, you’re never home”) telling him about her date with some girl named Lindsey (“God, Frankie, she’s amazing”). Frank doesn’t erase the messages-maybe he’ll remember to call them back. He toes off his shoes and puts a pot of coffee on for Gerard despite the late hour. It’s Friday and neither of them has to wake up early the next morning-maybe it will convince him to stay the night.
“Shower,” Frank murmurs to himself, and starts stripping off his clothes, leaving them in the ever-expanding pile in the corner. He pulls a hoodie from the foot of the mattress on the floor and chucks it into the pile as well. Mama’s been curled up in it, sleeping, for the past two days.
Frank starts the water in the tiny shower in his tiny bathroom. The tiles are cold on his bare feet. He thinks again about Gerard’s discomfort with being close to him after he’s finished a shift at work, figures there must be some reason that Gerard only orders coffee or a Coke or a Shirley Temple (seriously, what the hell?) when he comes into the bar, but Frank hasn’t asked yet. He just takes a shower if Gerard comes home with him after Brian closes up, and it’s not like he minds because he doesn’t exactly enjoy smelling simultaneously like a brewery and an ashtray. Frank is more curious about why Gerard will never shower with him, won’t so much as take off more than his shoes when he’s at Frank’s apartment. He knows Gerard likes him-the kissing is pretty fucking amazing and Frank doesn’t think Gerard’s got a volume of poetry stuck down the front of his pants-but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get up to any sort of naked shenanigans. Frank’s trying to be patient, to be okay with it, because he really likes Gerard, but his dick and his right hand are far too well acquainted these days.
And just thinking about Gerard and jerking off gets Frank hard. He tries to ignore it as he washes his hair, but he only gets harder as he starts soaping his chest, and finally Frank gives in. He braces himself with one hand against the pale green tile while the other reaches down to cup his balls, slides slick and wet along the length of his cock. Frank stands under the spray, tries to muffle the little noises he can’t help but make as he thinks of Gerard, and comes before he’s even found a good rhythm. He stays in the shower for another few minutes, just breathing, before finally shutting off the water and pulling a clean towel from the stack on the shelf next to the sink.
Gerard is standing in the middle of the apartment inhaling steam from the mug cradled in his hands when Frank comes out of the bathroom. Gerard’s still wearing his shoes and his peacoat, and Mama is lying at his feet, chewing on a treat. Frank watches Gerard’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he sips his coffee.
“Hi,” he says quietly.
“Mmm, hi,” Gerard replies. “You made me coffee.”
“I did.” Frank smiles.
“You made me good coffee.” Gerard looks up from his mug and over at Frank. “And you’re not wearing clothes.”
“I was in the shower,” Frank points out. “And I’m wearing a towel.”
Gerard nods slightly, apparently distracted. “I didn’t know-Frank, you have-wow.” He approaches Frank carefully, reaching out a tentative hand, stops himself. “Can I touch?” Gerard gestures to the tattoos on Frank’s chest with the hand still clutching his coffee.
“Yeah, of course,” Frank grins. “Maybe you should put down your cup first, though. I, uh, I’d rather not get burned by scalding coffee, you know?”
“Oh, right,” says Gerard, “good idea.” He sets his mug down on top of a takeout menu and just stands in front of Frank for a minute, looking, before circling behind him. “I just want to touch all of them,” Gerard whispers.
“Please,” Frank breathes. “I mean, if you want to. You can.” He watches Gerard, hopes he isn’t going to scare him away.
“You’re sure?” Gerard asks.
Frank nods. “I want you to. I like when you touch me, Gee.”
Gerard’s cheeks flush, and he looks like he wants to protest, but he just shrugs out of his coat and his hoodie, leaving them hanging on the back of one of the chairs shoved under the table. He steps out of his beat up Converse, and Frank notices that he isn’t wearing socks. In jeans and the t-shirt of some band Mikey’d dragged Frank to see months ago, Gerard is the most naked Frank has seen him since they met.
“Bed?” Frank suggests, uncertain.
“Okay, yeah,” Gerard says, only a little hesitant. He ducks his head and shuffles across the wood floor behind Frank until they’re toeing the edge of the mattress. “How do you-how should we do this?”
“Hey,” Frank soothes, sliding his hands over Gerard’s shoulders. “It’s just me, okay?” He presses a kiss to the corner of Gerard’s mouth. “You won’t, like, freak out if I take off my towel, will you?”
Gerard shakes his head, laughing a little. “No, Frank.”
“All right.” Frank nudges Gerard’s nose with his own, and with a flick of his wrist, the towel is pooled on the floor. “I’m going to lay down, okay, but not until you tell me how. Okay, Gee?”
Gerard nods and takes a deep breath before he says, decisively, “On your back.” He sneaks a look at Frank to make sure what he’s asking is all right.
Frank smiles and falls to the mattress, stretching out on his back, the sheets cool and soft against his skin. He settles with one arm behind his head and the other flung out at his side. “Okay,” he says.
Gerard looks down at him and bites his lower lip. “Shit, Frankie,” he says, like he can’t believe his eyes. “You look-fuck. I really wish I had my sketchbook.”
“You promised me touching,” Frank reminds him. “Get down here and touch me, motherfucker.” He lifts his hand, offers it to Gerard. “I’ll let you draw me all you want next time, okay?”
Gerard kneels on the mattress next to Frank and trails one index finger along the outline of the birds tattooed on his hips. His thumb traces over the word ‘And’ between them, and his eyes widen when Frank’s dick twitches between his thighs.
“Sorry,” Frank apologizes. “Sorry, Gee. It’s just-you’re touching me, and it’s really good.”
“Really?” asks Gerard. “Just from me touching you?” He moves his hands to the ink on Frank’s chest.
“Fuck, all you have to do is look at me,” Frank tells him. “Sometimes I get hard as soon as I see you.” He doesn’t want to scare Gerard, telling him these things, but fuck it, Frank wants him to know. “I, uh.” He pauses, swallows. “I jerked off in the shower thinking about you.”
Gerard’s mouth quirks into a smile as he explores the tattoos around Frank’s wrists. “I wondered what was taking you so long in there.” He takes Frank’s left arm in his hands, kisses the heart inked on the inside of his forearm, strokes the handle of the knife sticking out of it with his tongue. “I think about you too, when I-you know,” he mumbles into Frank’s skin.
“Yeah, I know,” Frank says, and he’s half-hard at that admission, trying not to think about what Gerard might look like stretched out in his bed, ghost white against the black sheets, with a hand on his dick. He does think about it, though, and it makes him feel just guilty enough to say, “We don’t have to do this. If you don’t want to, fuck, I can just go jerk off again, put some clothes on.”
“I know I don’t have to,” Gerard replies, and gently sets Frank’s arm down before sliding down to the end of the mattress. “It was my idea, remember?” He curls his fingers around one of Frank’s ankles, thumb stroking over the arch of his foot. Gerard catalogues the tattoos on Frank’s shins with the other hand and drops a kiss to the inside of one of his knees. “Turn over, okay?” he whispers.
Frank doesn’t say anything, just rolls over, trapping his cock between his stomach and the sheets and giving his hips a little thrust.
“Jesus,” Gerard sighs from somewhere behind him. “Frank.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Frank says into the pillow. “I can’t help it.” He tries to still himself.
“No, fuck, don’t be sorry,” Gerard tells him. “Just-you look so fucking good like this, Frankie, god.” He shuffles up until he’s straddling Frank’s thighs, his hands grasping at Frank’s waist. “So good,” Gerard repeats, his breath warm on the small of Frank’s back. “Can you come again?” he asks, kissing up the curve of Frank’s spine.
“Oh, fuck,” Frank moans. “Yeah, I can-yeah.” He rolls his hips against the mattress and the friction on his cock is almost unbearable.
“How long will it take?” Gerard says, pressing himself against Frank’s ass and grinding a little.
“Shit,” Frank chokes. “Gee, what-god, keep doing that.” His hands fist into the sheets and he arches up against Gerard. “Not long,” he stutters out, shivering when he feels Gerard’s teeth on his shoulder.
“Come on,” Gerard murmurs against the scorpion on Frank’s neck. “So good, Frankie. I want you to come for me.” He kisses the flush of Frank’s cheek.
Frank doesn’t have time to think of a response, much less actually say anything, before he’s coming because he’s lying naked under Gerard, whose hands have been touching him everywhere, and he’s been waiting for this, and even though Gerard still has his clothes on, it’s so fucking good. When Frank comes back to himself a few minutes later, Gerard is still on top of him, mouthing at the back of his neck, dick still hard against his ass, and oh. Okay, yeah, Frank can work with that. He wriggles back against Gerard, trying to get his knees and elbows under him.
“Frank?” Gerard says, and slides off him, onto the mattress next to him.
Frank can’t think of anything to say, just leans in and kisses him, licking the taste of coffee from Gerard’s lips. He slips a hand under the hem of Gerard’s t-shirt and presses his fingers against warm skin, humming into Gerard’s mouth. “I want to blow you,” he murmurs, “okay?”
“Frank,” Gerard protests.
“Shh,” Frank interrupts. “Just let me.” He fumbles with the button on Gerard’s jeans and pulls the zipper down. “I won’t take your clothes off, I promise,” he says. “Just let me-I want to.” Frank gets his hand into Gerard’s pants and gives him a squeeze before pulling him free of his jeans.
“Fuck,” Gerard breathes. “Frank, fuck, you…”
Frank smiles up at him and takes Gerard’s cock into his mouth.
“Oh,” he pants. “Okay, you-fuck. Frankie.” Gerard bites at his lip and slides his hands into Frank’s hair as Frank watches and leans into his touch. “Shit, oh, shit, Frank, Frankie, I’m fucking close already.” Gerard tugs at Frank’s hair. “You have to-fuck-seriously, you have to stop, you shouldn’t, oh.”
Frank ignores the insistent pulling at his hair and takes Gerard as far into his mouth as he can, sucking harder and rubbing his thumbs along the skin of Gerard’s hips. He watches the twist of Gerard’s mouth and hums his approval at the trembling of Gerard’s thighs.
Gerard gasps out one last “Frank,” before he comes with a moan loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and Frank is swallowing around him. He’s helpless to do anything but shake through the aftershocks as Frank’s mouth slows and he finally pulls away. Gerard’s eyes are closed when Frank kisses the head of his cock and tucks him back into his jeans, but he smiles at the gesture.
“Can I kiss you?” Frank asks. It’s maybe a stupid question, but he and Gerard haven’t had the post-blow job making out discussion yet, so it’s sort of justified, he figures.
“Fuck, yes,” Gerard says. He pats feebly at Frank’s shoulders. “Come here.”
Frank doesn’t have to be told twice-he crawls over Gerard and settles full-length on top of him, pressing their mouths together in a messy kiss. “Okay?”
Gerard laughs. “Better than okay.”
“You’re staying tonight, right?” Frank tucks his head under Gerard’s chin.
“Yeah, I’m staying.” Gerard slides his arms around Frank and rolls them over onto their sides. He gets the blanket pulled up and covers Frank.
“Mmm, good.” Frank fits himself against Gerard and yawns. “I like you here.”
“I like me here, too,” Gerard tells him. “Sleep, okay?”
“Yeah, sleep,” Frank mumbles. He fists a hand into the back of Gerard’s shirt and makes a sleepy noise into his neck. “’M going to blow you again in the morning, just so you know.”
“Okay,” Gerard agrees.
Mama watches them from her spot across the room and eventually goes to lay on the mattress by their intertwined feet.
...continues here...