fic: Closer (Frank/Gerard)

Jul 29, 2008 23:24

I’m trying to kill my writer's block, so I wrote something for the porn battle meme (ha ha, I know, what?). But it turns out I can’t write anything short so the fic doesn’t fit the character limit they have. So I’m just gonna post it here instead!

Closer
Frank/Gerard
~1800 words
R (for pointless, plotless porn /o\)
for the prompt shandy
Set during Summer of Like (Warped Tour '05)



There are approximately thirty paper cups on the bus table, each one filled with combinations of booze, soda, apple juice. Coffee and beer? Frank scrunches up his nose in disgust and puts the muddy looking drink back on the table. It bumps against a handful of others, and Frank watches as it starts a domino effect that spills half of the drinks over surfaces and down on the floor, the toe of his sneaker.

Motherfucking Wentz, he thinks, eyebrows drawn into a frown as he tries to kick his shoe and wet sock from his foot. The floor is fucking sticky as hell.

Frank's all for parties when it's time for parties, but never here. Not on this bus. And didn't he declare it a party-free zone at the start of tour while Gerard busied himself with a sad dollop of face paint and avoided every look that he got?

*

The bus is quiet now, noise and people poured outside into the dark. Frank's eyes sting in harsh florescent light partly from not sleeping when he should have slept, partly from being outside smoking so long.

He thinks about getting some shuteye, but a soft scratching noise from the other end of the bus distracts him enough that he stumbles over bottles and pieces of clothing on his way there.

"Gee?" Frank asks when he finds the guy sitting in the small square space between the couch and the wall. His knees are drawn up and there's a notebook resting on the planes of his thighs.

Gerard glances up, surprised, but melts quickly back into hunched shoulders, head down and elbows jutting out as he continues to draw.

"It smells like that fuckin' bar in Wantagh over there," Gerard mumbles to his notebook, but it's Frank that answers him.

"I thought you were out like, I dunno. With Ray or something?" He says lamely even as he knows Gerard hasn't exited the bus much these days.

Gerard makes a noise as if to agree with Frank's quiet truths.

"You were back here the whole time? When. When people were trashing the front of the bus? No one came here?"

"No one came," Gerard echoes, studying Frank's face behind a veil of hair. "Frank." He smiles. "Shut up, dude. I'm fine."

"Yea, that's why you're hiding here looking fucking miserable, drawing. Like, what the fuck. It's. It’s like one of those movies where there's a house party and everyone's getting fucked up in the living room while this awesome but slightly unsociable dude -- or chick, whatever, could be a chick -- hides in the bathroom tub all fuck you world and shit." Frank knows he’s babbling but he can’t help it.

"What the hell are those movies?" Gerard asks.

"Shut up. What're you drawing anyway?" Frank kneels by Gerard's feet, stuffs his hands on Gerard's soft side and his knee as he tries to get his neck twisted enough to actually see the inked page. There's like a gorilla-shaped man in the middle or something, Frank's eyes continue to hurt. "That. What's -- what is that? It's like King Kong in a space suit."

Gerard makes a noncommittal noise, tries to support Frank by his upper arms, which is probably a good thing because Frank's totally misjudged his own sense of balance. "'S'not fuckin' King Kong, dude."

"Lemme see," Frank whines, squirms enough to make them both lose balance, ends up tumbling down on Gerard's lap. He scrapes his cheek on the edge of the metal wire that's keeping the notebook pages together. "Oww," he whimpers elbowing Gerard in the stomach by accident.

Gerard flails pathetically before he gets a good grip on Frank's shirt. He pushes Frank off his lap with a dull thud -- that had been the back of Frank's head colliding with the wall. Frank kind of knows what ‘seeing stars’ means now.

"Shit shit, Frank, are you-"

"Shut up, just. Don't fuckin' -- ow," Frank gets out as he lets Gerard detach his hands from his head with just the tiniest bit of struggle.

He blinks up at Gerard's stupid face that's just inches away from his own studying his wounds. That pointy nose brushes against Frank's eyebrow as Gerard inspects Frank's entire skull in a way that reminds Frank of monkeys grooming each other’s furs.

"Your cheek's bleeding," Gerard says finally, thumbs a small drop of blood from under Frank's eye and presses a tentative kiss on the wound. Frank wonders if he might be sitting on the notebook.

"Better?" Gerard asks in a murmur. His stupid pointy face is still really close and Frank's hip feels numb because of the way his leg is twisted between Gerard's thighs. He flushes, out of nowhere, and pulls Gerard into an awkward hug because right now he can't think of a better way to hide his face.

"Mmph," Frank answers into Gerard's t-shirt.

"You're a real fuckin' menace, did you know?" Gerard continues. He's stroking his fingers on the back of Frank's head, gently over the spot where there's probably already a bump forming. "Like, what the fuck was that? You couldn't just ask to see it? You had to get all bigass fuckin' clumsy four-legged spider on me?"

"Urgh. Don't talk to me about spiders," Frank mumbles, shifts himself back into Gerard's lap. He ends the hug with a quick kiss on Gerard's cheekbone, because, fuck it, he kinda loves this guy, it's true.

"Hi," he says as Gerard's fingers make random shapes on the back of his head.

*

It happens kind of out of the blue like most things in Frank's life. He's just fisting Gerard's collar trying to get leverage, and Gerard's thigh under Frank’s balls twitches just right, and then Frank has to jerk his hips up, just enough to brush against Gerard's belly.

Frank makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and presses closer into Gerard's warm body, rocking a little, testing ground.

"Whatever you do, don't fucking push me away," Frank says hurriedly. Gerard's started panting against the meeting point between Frank's collarbones, and Frank can feel Gerard’s dick pressing into the end of thigh just under Frank's ass.

And fuck, this is so not what he had in mind when he found Gerard fucking hiding on his own fucking bus. But, goddamn it still feels like the best idea he's ever had.

He starts bucking against Gerard's belly urgently because it feels so nice. Then makes a pathetic sound when Gerard -- with some kind of sudden super strength -- gets him to stop moving almost completely.

"Wait, Frank, just wait a sec," Gerard says shakily. He looks as turned on as Frank’s feeling, but he's still managing a slight frown and his bottom lip is sloping floorwards.

"What? Whassit? What’s the matter?" Frank garbles, digs his fingers into Gerard's jaw, pushing at skin. He tries to kiss Gerard on the mouth but Gerard twists his head away.

"I just," he says, pupils wide and face pink. Frank could stare at that face forever, he'd be totally down with that. "Frank. Is this -- this isn't some comfort fuck because you've got this weird idea in your head that I need to be comforted? Because, seriously. I'm never gonna drink again because I never want to drink again. Not the way it makes me feel. And I wasn't hiding from those people, from our friends. It just didn't feel like the right place to be that moment and--"

Frank cups Gerard’s face as he kisses him. "Shut up. I'm here because I fucking wanna be here. With you. So just. Quiet now. Or loud, if that's what you want. Whatever you want," Frank promises against Gerard's mouth before sucking his crooked lip between his teeth.

And everything's just awesome from there. Gerard pushes up against Frank with the same kind of urgency that's got Frank's hand moving between their bellies. Frank's trying to palm Gerard's dick through sweatpants -- the guy's in fucking sweatpants -- and his own while Gerard runs his hands down Frank's back and ass, holding him even closer, nipping a path along Frank's collarbones.

Faint yells of party people rain in through half-open windows but that's the last thing on Frank's mind. He struggles his jeans open, relieved when Gerard finally sticks his hand down there, gets his fingers around Frank's dick. It’s kind of loose and awkward but it's enough to make Frank keen like he just can't help himself.

Gerard licks into Frank's mouth where all those embarrassing noises are free to escape. They’re good there. He keeps pumping Frank with a sweaty palm, small flicks of wrist, urging him on with occasional nonsense words.

"Fuck fuck, Gee. Geegeegee," Frank babbles. Gerard presses Frank’s dick against his belly with the heel of his palm, and Frank comes with a shout, kind of embarrassed at how fucking easy he is. But just. Gerard’s fucking face, his voice and soft belly that’s rippling underneath Frank’s dick.

It takes a while to find his voice, and it crackles weirdly when he says, "Fuck yeah. Fuckin' shit, Gerard, just. C'mere."

Gerard groans appreciatively while Frank’s pushing his sweatpants over his hips. He gets his mouth on Gerard's dick, like, immediately. No nonsense. Right down to business.

It doesn't take long for Gerard to come into Frank's mouth -- he tries to fight Frank off before he does, does a pretty bad job if Frank is asked -- and he looks like he's going to apologize any moment now, that stupid mouth already twisting with remorse.

Gerard's a nice guy, but Frank already knew all about that.

He frowns down at Gerard’s pink damp fucking sexy as hell face. "I'm gonna punch you in the face if you apologize for that. I fucking mean it, motherfucker."

"Oh," Gerard breathes. He pokes Frank gently on his side, moves his palm onto the small of Frank’s back with questioning pressure. Frank's dick is still hanging from the vee of his pants, and it brushes against Gerard's when he slumps down, rests his head under Gerard's neck. The scratch under his eye stings when it connects with Gerard's damp t-shirt, fabric flakes gluing into broken skin, and he thinks he should probably disinfect it before he falls asleep.

"You're missing a shoe," Gerard comments after a while of trying to breathe in sync (it would work better if Gerard didn't have a fucking weird breathing rhythm or if Frank wasn't still recovering from a bad case of head cold). Frank laughs sharply without lifting his head. He waits for Gerard to wrap his arms around his back, or to maybe start rubbing the bump on his head like earlier. That’d be nice, too.

The notebook rustles underneath them, probably torn. Frank makes a mental note to buy Gerard a new one, maybe one with vampires on the jacket. He would like that. He would fucking love it.

geebee/frankie, fanfic: mine

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